There was a reason she was born so wild and free, of the darkest magic this world had ever known. A deep darkness so wild and so forbidden that even the Gods had taken notice and banished it. But Erie wasn’t just anything; no, she was reborn of the cauldron that not even the deadliest of creatures would drink from. The cauldron was a thing of great power, with the ability for rebirth and reincarnation. It was wild magic that brought back either the purest of heart or the darkest souls. There was no in between for it, and so we’d pushed her parents into it, knowing she would be who they created. And so she existed because we’d demanded it.
I’d held her moments after she was born. I’d found her abandoned on the floor, still in the placenta of her birth, unmoving. I’d pushed my own air into her premature lungs, holding the infant who couldn’t have weighed more than three or four pounds in my hand, staring into her beautiful blue eyes that watched me, filling with the life I breathed into her. The nuns hadn’t wanted to touch her, hadn’t wanted to look upon what they thought was pure evil. They’d left her on the floor where her mother had birthed her, helping her to get away from the evil child she’d helped create. I’d taken her away from that cold, dirty floor, and the moment I stepped into the light, her tiny blue eyes had locked with mine in silence. As if everything in the world had settled into place and was right again.
From the moment I’d walked outside of the crumbling building and held her beneath the Scottish sun that kissed her flesh, I knew she would be mine. Her tiny finger had wrapped around mine, and she made the tiniest of noises while she watched me, as if she felt it too. She hadn’t cried once, hadn’t squirmed as she gazed up at me, as if she sensed that her fate was connected to mine.
The seer who had watched us together cackled, her withered face crinkling as she moved closer to where I stood. She stared at me, cradling the tiny, premature girl in my hands with care. What a fucking sight we had to have been, her covered in the blood of her birth, and me, covered in the blood of my enemies, standing there beneath the sun of Scotland. I’d withdrawn my cloak, wrapping her in it like the most precious holy relic as the old crone watched me, her dull eyes sparkling as if she knew something I didn’t, and maybe she did.
“And what will you do with it?” she wheezed.
“It? She is precious,” I argued, hating the way she’d already been treated.
“Is she? Or is she only precious because without her, your kind will cease to exist?” she countered. “She cannot be both.”
“She will be cherished by all.”
“No, she will suffer for what she is, of that, you can be certain. That girl will know more pain than most people will see in a thousand lifetimes. You gave a sacrifice to create her, will you honor it, or will it have been for nothing? It was the greatest sacrifice a man can make, and yet you stare at her as if she is more than the cure. Her life is as cursed as you are, Sir Knight. She hasn’t even been given a name, and her own mother birthed her onto a floor and left her there to die, alone. And so her life begins anew, with new pain and suffering, but what will you do to stop it? Or will you wait until it is too late to reach her?”
“A name is just a name, as I have held many throughout the years, seer,” I argued.
“So you will not name the wee thing?” she asked as she reached out, touching the child’s forehead with the woad she’d produced from magic.
“She will not be a warrior,” I uttered as I stared at the blue cross that had been painted onto her tiny forehead. It matched her blue eyes, which stared up at me. I lifted mine to the cross, sparkling on top of the ancient church on the edge of what had once been a Celtic stronghold. It had once been a glorious place, filled with laughter and the sound of strong, brave men preparing for battle. It was old, decrepit, and falling to ruins. It was where she was reborn, time, and time again.
“You’re wrong; she is certainly a warrior by birth. She is barely formed, four months early from the womb of that uncaring whore who birthed her. She is a child of Ireland, born from the flames of those who have come and gone before her, created from wild, unimaginable magic. She will be wild, this little wee thing. Your people and the druids are going to break her, but she will rise from it stronger than either of you will ever know. Would you like to see what she will become?” she asked, and I swallowed.
“You can show me the woman she will become?” I inquired.
“Indeed, I can show you what she will become, but not what will make her into that. The future is always changing, and with it, what forges us to become soft, hard, or unfeeling.”
Her hand grabbed mine and we were no longer in the fields outside the crumbling church in Scotland. We were in a strange place filled with corpses that littered the ground around us. A woman with wild red hair and the purest blue eyes I’d ever seen turned around, staring through us as if she couldn’t see us. Her face was painted in the woad of the ancient Pict warriors. Her heart-shaped face was soft, delicate. Red lips the color of freshly drawn blood smiled, transforming her into the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my entire long lifetime. She was beyond beautiful, she was fierce and smiled through her eyes with the purest joy that cut through me as if I could just reach out and touch her, and she’d heal me.
“She will be a beauty, born of the magic of Ireland to heal two races that will both use and discard her unless you protect her, Sir Knight. So name her, and watch over her to ensure she remains of the light, for if she tastes the darkness, you will lose her. Something created of wild magic will never be tamed or fully broken, but she can be turned.”
“Erie,” I uttered as I stared down into the eyes that watched me. “She will be named Erie from the land of which she came. She will be mine to protect from this day forward.”
“If it is true, mark her. Give her your protection; bind her to you in a way that cannot be argued. She will need you; her road will not be an easy one. She is hungry,” she whispered as she produced a glass vile and handed it to me. I accepted it, staring down at the blue liquid within.
The monster inside of me sniffed, assessing what it was, and then smiled as he forced my eyes back to the tiny girl who had yet to close her eyes.
“See that you do not fail her, for if you do, you will lose her.”
“She will have my insignia upon her before the sun sets on this day.”
“And that of the beast within you, for he has chosen her.”
“Chosen her?” I countered carefully, sensing she was not what she said she was.
“You hold his mate in your arms.” She vanished before I could ask anything else.
Back in the present, my eyes lifted to find Erie entering her apartment building, her head down, shoulders slumped, as she did her ritual to see if anyone had disturbed her home before she slid the iron grates over and crawled through it.
The Templar Knights wanted her brought in, but none of them wanted to chase her down. No one in the Order understood her past or cared about her. To them, she was a womb. To me, that girl was everything. She was the infant I held and named beneath the sun of Scotland. She was my past, my present, and my future. To me, she was the budding woman who was torn apart, the one I put back together and prayed that she would come back to me. No, she wasn’t just a womb, Erie was my fucking salvation, and I knew it to my soul.
Chapter 12
Erie
I walked into the apartment and took off my bag, heading to the freezer to open it. Fred glared at me as I smiled at him. He’d been growing easier to deal with since I’d almost died a few times and the realization of what would happen to him if I did sank in. Plus, I knew he was beginning to enjoy our conversations.
“Still alive, I see.”
“I’m literally spelled not to die, Fred. Trust me there, for a while; I tried a lot of ways to skip this portion of my life.”
“Unsuccessfully…I could help you with that. So, did we get hit by the wreckin
g ball again?”
“No, I’ve been busy elsewhere. Besides, I told you, no more wrecking balls for me. I prefer to do things myself.”
“If you’re going to tell me about it, you should know I’m a visual learner.”
“Smooth, Fred. Are you hungry?” I asked, opening the fridge to examine the old milk carton and the three cubes of butter that sat in the fridge. I closed it, grabbing my bag as I slung it over my shoulder and stared at Fred. “I have to go out again for food, do you need anything?”
“My body,” he groaned. “How long do you intend to keep me here?”
“Until hell freezes over,” I shrugged. “You did very bad things, and you’re still unwilling to say they were bad.”
“If I admit it, you will let me go?” he asked.
“No, I just said you were still unwilling to admit it. I didn’t say if you did, that I’d let you go.”
Demons, they never did listen when you said things. Fred was no different. Although he did seem interested in the size of Callaghan’s wrecking ball penis, he still had a lot of things to work on. I closed the freezer door to give him some alone time as the swearing began and I headed towards the door, but the moment my hand touched it, I felt the jolt from the wards. Exhaling as the wards pulsed to life inside the apartment, I frowned deeper.
I peered over my shoulder, dropping my bag as I moved to the window, peeping through the curtain to watch as men in full Templar gear surrounded the building. Fucking hell! I rushed back towards the freezer, pulling Fred out as I stuffed him into my bag. I wouldn’t freak out; I wouldn’t. I told myself over and over inside my head.
“What are you doing? You touched me!” he complained as I moved into the bedroom, grabbing the few pictures I had of Ireland and the lavender soap from the bathroom before tossing them into the bag as well, on top of Fred. Once I had the few items I needed, I rushed to the wall behind the bed, sliding the hidden panel I’d built open and slipped through it. Seven more just like it had been cut through other apartments that still held the remains of those who had lived in them until finally, I reached the fire escape.
Once I was on the fire escape, I went up towards the roof, silently making my way through the metal ladders as I reached the last one, and peered down at the men who watched the exits below. I eyed the building next to us, a greater distance than anyone should leap, and started running as Fred wailed from the backpack he’d been stuffed into, screaming for help.
“Shut up, Fred,” I hissed. “The first thing that they will do is wash you in holy water. Trust me; it’s not what you want. Your body? That will be the least of your concerns with those holy jackasses.” He went silent as my feet hit the edge and I launched myself towards the next building. My fingers grasped the side, and I swung momentarily until I hefted my body weight over the edge and rolled onto the roof, hiding behind the lip of it that rose just enough to hide me as the door to the other rooftop was kicked open.
I listened as the Knights moved onto the roof of the building next to us. After several tense moments of calling down to the Knights below us, they went back inside. Had they been following me from the Guild? I shook off the knowledge and possibility before rolling my eyes at my own stupidity. Of course, they had been because I carried a womb of freaking gold. Or, at least to them it was. I was their mother-freaking Holy Grail, wasn’t that what Fred had called it?
I crawled on my stomach towards the broken door of the rooftop and listened to the noises within. Silence greeted me, utterly chilling silence that took me away from the rooftop, back to the glass room I’d once lain inside, dying over and over again. I exhaled, pushing the fear and pain away as I whispered a silent prayer to the Gods of old, praying they helped me escape the fates that Arthur had spoken of once my time came. Bile pushed against my throat as I closed my eyes and sank my teeth into my arm to prevent the panic attack from spreading to my mind. It took several moments to calm the fear, and the pain I’d inflicted to gain control abated. Exhaling, I took back the control that had begun to slip away.
I wouldn’t be tied to a bed and raped, left there as they watched me bleed out again. Once inside, I pushed through the hidden panel and closed it behind me, doing the same thing with the escape route I’d planned eons ago until I entered the last apartment. There, I opened the window and slipped across to the next building, doing the same thing through it until I was inside the abandoned shopping center that sat on the edge of a main area of Spokane, and entered suburbia.
The Hot Topic store had been set up by me the moment the grid had fallen. The large bed hidden behind a wall of corpses was to keep my scent from being discovered. I tossed the backpack off my shoulders and withdrew Fred and the lavender soap, holding it to my nose to calm the rapid beating of my heart. I had never figured out why it soothed my mind, but it did.
“They’ve begun hunting you in earnest,” he grumbled as I placed him onto a pillow and grabbed the cooler of ice I’d refilled every day for him, just in case it was needed. I’d snuck in here just for him, and to pile more bodies up as the days closed in on me. “For a woman, you do think ahead. I would say I’m impressed, but I’m not.”
“Quiet,” I urged as I stared at him before moving to place him into the cooler. “Be glad I remembered you, or you’d be making bubbles in holy water right now.”
“They do not carry around holy water,” he scoffed.
“They drink it,” I said as I lifted a brow. “They have to; it is part of what keeps them immortal. Inside every canteen or water bottle they carry is, in fact, holy water. They would enjoy sending you to the crossroads, and we all know you would be cursed to walk endlessly as a spirit if they did. Hell is here, and as far as I know, Heaven closed those gates a while ago. Those who die are cursed to nothingness. Would you rather I send you there now?” I asked, hoping he didn’t wish to actually die, or leave me.
I had no one, and while I didn’t mind being alone, having him around helped ease the endless hours of nothingness that I lived in, helped them pass by faster. I turned and looked at him as I stood, pulling the backpack back on as I stuck the soap in the pockets of the jeans I wore.
“What are you doing now?” he asked as I prepared to close the cooler.
“We’re not staying out in the open tonight. There’s a room in the walls here. It’s the room that they used for security, it has bars, and I’ve fixed it, so it’s safe enough for us to sleep in. This is just where I wait to see if anyone is trailing me. I’m not an idiot; I have had this planned for the last year.”
I closed the lid before he could argue and slid the cut wall over, slipping through the narrow space before I pulled him in behind me. Carefully, I slid it back as I listened. The walls here were heavily warded by me, my sanctuary that I’d worked on for the last year and a half as my time dwindled down. Even with the humans alive, I’d begun painting the walls. I’d prepared the apartment buildings as well, waiting for one unit to go vacant before I cut the hole, working my way through them until I’d planned the perfect home for me, one that had an escape route in every room.
The hallways were silent as we walked through them, even within the slimmer parts that weren’t made for human passage. I slid away from the wires, ducking and dodging debris until we turned right, heading down an even smaller hallway that led to the room. Inside of it, I paused, noting the bars of soap and the ice machine that was tiny but should be able to produce enough ice to keep Fred comfortable, and then set him down.
Pictures of Callaghan and the other Knights covered the walls. Next to each picture were the details that I knew about them. The first time I’d met them or ran a mission with them, I had begun taking notes on each and every one of them. I skimmed all of the photos, noting who was outside my building tonight, but that wasn’t what I focused on. Callaghan hadn’t been with them, and he’d been there almost every time I’d ever had to deal with the Templar Knights. So, where was he?
Why hadn’t he come with them to capture me?
Unfortunately, those who had entered my apartment would be writhing in pain on the floors about now. I’d placed undetectable wards that not even their oldest Knights would sense before they went off. I had no plan of not fighting back and had used everything in my arsenal to send that message loud and clear tonight. They’d be too cocky to notice the carpet had been freshly placed. It no longer was covered in the blood Callaghan had left when he’d pretended to save me. Beneath it laid ancient runes, ignited by anyone entering my home without invitation.
The outside of the door literally was a warning written in Gaelic to the Knights. Most of them could read it but chose to ignore the past entirely. They shouldn’t because I was paying for their past crimes that I hadn’t committed. Had they lifted a finger to help the witches who had been burned or murdered, they wouldn’t be cursed today. But long ago, they’d turned their heads and pretended it wasn’t happening, and so started the witches revenge against the Templar Knights.
“Erie, do you know what you are?” Fred asked, and I undid the lid of the cooler, staring down at him as I inhaled the bar of soap I held against my nose.
“Does it matter?” I scoffed in a low voice.
“It should matter, it should matter a lot.”
“How would you know what I am?” I asked as I watched a smile play over his lips.
“I’m going to tell you a story of how you came to be alive, daughter of the cauldron. I’ll start at the beginning since you’re slow on picking up the clues of what you are, should you choose to become it,” he said with an ominous tone as he let the air around us fill with silence before he finally began. “Legend has it that on Friday the 13th, in the year 1307, King Philip IV ordered the arrest of the Templar Knights, along with the druids who had resided in his own court. It started before that day though, a few years before it, as we demons liked to play. Two years prior to that warrant being issued, the witches had begged the Knight’s Order to help them hide from persecution of their crimes, ending with many deaths that were carried out by the Knights themselves, by order of the Pope. Not willingly, of course, as they had made many deals with the devil to remain in power, but to stave off persecution or suspicion of being spelled by the witches themselves, the Knights carried out burning those women.
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