by Sariah Skye
“Hey!” I protested, trying to wrap my arms around my private areas. Briefly I noticed that I was unbound, but I didn’t have time to relish in the feeling, as they began scrubbing me with wool cloths, and sprinkling my skin with various substances from the bottles.
“Stop that!” I tried to pull away, but one of them with unnatural strength—probably magically enhanced—pinned my arms to my sides, preventing me from moving too far.
They were very thorough as they scrubbed me down, from my head, into my ears, all around my breasts and even in between my legs (which made me feel extremely violated), then poured every oil and liquid in their possession over every inch of my body—from hair, to toe, and everything in between. Everything. The first stung like a jellyfish sting, the second hot like a screaming sunburn, the next oil cooled, and the last soothed. They all felt different, but smelled the same: like sweet sage.
Now that I was clean—and cleansed with no idea what, or why—the three silent women surrounded me, linked arms, and bowed their heads.
“What are you—” before I could finish my words, we’d blinked again, and I was pulled into that same vortex. Like being sucked into a vacuum cleaner, but silent. This time completely dark, but just as instant.
When I reappeared, the women were gone, but I was face to face with the crone, who stood in a very similar—but larger—cave-like room.
“She is ready, sisters!”
I swallowed nervously. Standing atop a stone dais in the center of the room, surrounded by nine cloaked figures. In unison they removed their hoods, revealing various haggard appearances. I cringed, taking in each one. All old women, who barely looked like they could be alive, they were so old. Some had tufts of long, white scraggly hair; others had none at all. Their discolored skin hung off their faces, sagging their cloudy eyes. They were one step away from looking like zombies.
“Oh my fucking God. I’m in The Walking Dead,” I said to myself. “Where the Hell is Darryl when you need him? Anyone got a crossbow?” I retorted loudly. The room full of zombie-women gasped.
The crone in the middle glared, and she snapped her fingers.
I screamed, as a piercing shock shot me in the back. The painful current zapped up and down my body, the pain so great I couldn’t stand upright. I sagged to the ground, writhing in pain. “Stop!” I begged, as my naked body convulsed on the ground.
The pain ceased, and I panted as it subsided.
“You will not disrespect my sisters. I don’t care who you are. Is that understood?” She demanded.
I began to say something smart, but bit my tongue, looking up at her as she poised her fingers ready to snap. I acquiesced, and nodded.
She clicked her tongue. “Finally. If I’d known it was that easy to get you to quiet that smart ass mouth of yours, I would have zapped you years ago.”
I slowly sat up. She reached out a hand for me, but I ignored it, even as I struggled to peel myself off the ground, feeling stiff and sore.
“Who are you?” I finally managed to gasp out, when I’d finally managed to stand. “What do you want with me?”
The crone’s thin lips spread into a twisted smile. “Oh, I have big things planned for you…my daughter.”
I blinked, confused, until she waved her hands in front of her face in a sweeping motion.
“Oh my god.” I slowly stepped backward, stunned. My breath left me, like I’d just been stabbed in the chest.
The face that stood before me—in the crone’s white cloak—was replaced with a younger, dark eyed, blonde version.
In other words? My mother.
The crone was my mother.
CHAPTER 31
“Mom?! How could you do this? What are you?” The absolute betrayal stung at me like a knife plunged, and twisted into my back. My mouth quivered, and the tears promptly began to fall.
My mother. My very own mother kidnapped me. I lived with her my entire life. She’d always been kind, and loving, and totally open minded. The only thing she was never quite open about was my father. I believed her when she said she didn’t know anything.
I guessed now, that was probably a lie. Along with everything else in my life.
“You know what I am, Avie,” she said, gesturing, and pointing to her “cronies.” Normally, I’d chuckle at my own idiotic pun, but I was too horrified to do anything right now but scream, cry, or kick someone’s ass. And unfortunately, I was too weak for the latter. And naked—I was reminded as the cold stone was hard underneath my butt. “I’m a witch. A very powerful witch. I didn’t just give it up when you were born. Oh no,” she clicked her tongue as she spoke.
Two of the haggish women stood from their kneeling position, bowed their heads at her, and strode gracefully to my side.
“Oh hell no,” I spat, as the two hags grabbed me by the elbows with surprising strength, and dragged me kicking, screaming, and spitting across the room to a wooden stake, plunged deep into the stone, that sat before a stone slab that jut upwards from the dirt ground. “Get the fuck off me, you bags of bones! My dog wouldn’t even chew on you! In fact, she’d turn around, and pee on you. And she’s a girl, girls don’t just pee on anything! She’d make an exception for you! I bet she’d shit on you too!” I spit in the direction of one of them, making sure to hack up a good loogie before I let it fly. It landed on one of their veils, but she didn’t even acknowledge it. “What the hell are you doing to me?” My arms were wrenched over my head, and tied with the same peculiar ropes from earlier. I pulled and yanked, my efforts fruitless as the rope was fastened so tight this time, it dug into my skin. I felt my wrists burn, and a trickle of thick, warm liquid trailed down my arm. I glanced up at the blood that had been drawn, and cringed. “You are trying to kill me!”
My mother laughed shortly behind me. “Come now, with your supernatural heritage, a little blood loss won’t harm you, and you know it.” She shook her head, rolling her dark eyes at my cross expression. “I know how you fight everything, so it’s necessary.”
“Necessary? My ass…” I muttered. Still fighting the ropes, I paused to glance around. The remaining hag ladies had been “dispatched,” and were re-entering from various parts of the cavern-like room from seemingly nowhere. There appeared to be no entrances, or exits. Just solid rock all around us, with several of the red-flame torches in strategic places, floating near the wall. “Where exactly are we?”
“Ah! Finally, an intelligent question.” My mother snapped her fingers for one of the hag ladies, carrying a blanket. She draped the thin, silken material over me, and even though I was tied up, I was thankful to at least not feel quite so exposed. “You need to stay clean and pure for the ritual.”
“What ritual? And where are we!?” I asked again.
“Yes! Right. Well, we’re underneath your little club. Way underneath,” she said, with a chuckle.
I gasped. “Summer?”
“She’s fine, fine. As far as I know. Last I saw her, she was fawning over some cage dancer. But how quickly you came running when you thought she was in trouble.” She laughed deviously.
“I—” and I realized what happened. My face sunk, crestfallen. “You faked the video.”
“It was too easy. A little spelled video—you were frantic!” She laughed again. “You’re so predictable! I wasn’t expecting that friendship with the incubi, though. That was something new. I can’t believe you thought four men would be into you, if one never would be.” She giggled tauntingly, exchanging a laugh with her sister witch hags; who all wheezed in reply. I think they were supposed to be laughing, but I wasn’t sure.
“So we’re under the Stargazer? Did you take all those supes? The ones on the void web?” I asked, sickened at the idea. A weight settled in my stomach, like an anchor, making me nauseous. I was thankful I hadn’t eaten in a while; it’d surely come back up now.
My mother sighed. A couple of witch hags set some ritual items on the table: a smudging stick, various crystals and stones, more glass bottles of oi
ls or other liquids…as well as a basket full of dismembered body parts.
You know, usual evil witch stuff.
“Are those the dead supes’?” I nodded my head towards the basket, as my mother inspected it, rummaging for this, or that. She placed a gray feminine hand on one corner of the table, a pile of toes on another. I couldn’t help but gag.
“These?” She held up a dirty arm, attached to a floppy hand. It seemed to be waving at me, and disgusted, I looked away. My mother giggled at her morbid antics. “Unfortunately, yes. Some of them, anyway. The rest from local graveyards. Sometimes you need old bodies for the sacrifice.”
I choked on a gasp. “Sacrifice? I thought you weren’t going to kill me?”
“Oh, I’m not. In fact, I’m going to be giving you a gift. But it will require sacrifices. It won’t be pretty, I’m afraid. But you gotta do, what you gotta do,” she said flippantly, tossing a handful of small ears and fingertips over her shoulder. She barked at a random hag to take the “wrong” parts away. “And make sure you add four more stakes. We should have company soon.”
I winced. “Company?”
“Yes. For too long we’ve been trying to harness the debauchery of the club goers…but without the incubi sucking the sexual energy from them, it doesn’t do much good. It sustains our lives—and my appearance, only just, along with some talismans. But that will change tonight.” She explained with such nonchalance, like she was discussing a game of Bingo: no big deal.
“Wait…incubi? You know about the incubi?” I asked, swallowing. If she knew about them…
“Oh your four male friends? Yes, I know all about them. Who do you think cursed them?” She looked at me, and flashed me a sly wink. “Now, I wasn’t expecting you to ever befriend all of them. I didn’t even know they were still alive until you brought them home!”
“You? But you’re—” I began, not really sure where I was coming.
“I’m a witch. An old witch. Forget Marian Dawson,” she said, scoffing at the mention of her human name—my mother’s name. “You may have heard of my past as Morgaine le Fey; the most powerful witch of the Isle of Avalon,” she said boastfully. “With the incubi pulling energy from their victims, and the small amount of sexual energy I could enchant from various club goers over the years, I was able to sustain myself, and what remained of Avalon. But now it just isn’t enough. They stopped collecting energy, and my good demon boys all died long ago. So, enough is enough. It’s time to resurrect the power.”
I blinked, baffled. “What power?”
“The power of the Isle of Avalon, my child,” she said simply.
“The—what!?” I replied, dumbfounded. “How can you harness the power of an island?”
She groaned, and let out an exasperated sigh. Speaking an unfamiliar dialect, she barked at one of the hags, who blinked out of sight briefly, before returning with a small, awkward, rusty bowl with a crooked stand, and an ill-fitting lid. The hag handed it carefully to my mother, and bowed in deference. My mother held it in her hands, gazing at it lovingly, like a beloved child. “See this? What do you call it?”
I snorted, as she lowered it in my view. It was nothing more than a tarnished bowl. “It’s an ugly dish of some sort.”
She grew wide-eyed for a moment, before laughing my comment off. “Oh, naïve Ava! This beauty contains the Holy Grail—the power of the isle of Avalon. Able to heal soldiers, restore youth and beauty as long as the isle stands!” She kissed the lid, before setting the awful dish on the stone slab, amidst all the dead body parts. “Observe.” My mother reached for a gnarled, decayed finger; it’s owner obvious dead for a long, long time, judging by the exposed bone. I shuddered in disgust.
My mother held the digit in her thumb and pointer finger, and opened the lid. A light mist poured out of it, as my mother seemed to dip the part into the bowl for a split second.
She pulled it out, revealing a healed finger; complete with skin, no wounds or decay, and even a manicured nail. “This is probably how it looked when the owner of the finger died. Had this been a full person, they would have been reanimated.”
My mouth fell open. “Like, a zombie?”
She considered this. “I suppose that’s an accurate term. A zombie, yes. But without a soul, it’s nothing more than a shell. Now, to someone already alive, soul intact—that magic can sustain them forever. It’s part of what created the incubus curse, after being gifted the spell from the Underrealms.”
“Underrealms?” I said, with shock. “So, Hell?”
“Something like that. Hell isn’t the fire and brimstone and red, scary demons. But there are demons, be assured. They gifted my coven—the Coven of Avalon—the power many years ago. My grandmother received it first—your great-grandmother, actually. I was the witch in power when Avalon fell,” she said, face drooping sadly.
“How did Avalon fall?” I inquired. Not that I believed her. Her story, like everything else, was a lie. It had to be.
She waved me off with a flippant gesture. “Another time. You’ll have plenty of time to learn all the history.”
I swallowed deeply. “So…how are you going to bring back Avalon?” I dared ask.
“Ah, that’s where you come in! We’re going to transfer the power from the Grail, to you!” She said, almost giddily. “Isn’t that exciting!?”
I shook my head quickly. “No, no it’s not. Not even a little bit. No!”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, it will be. Trust me.”
I snorted loudly. “Trust you? I’ve been living a lie—a lie you fed me—my entire life! I’m supposed to trust you?”
“Ugh, Avie, some things are bigger than you. Besides, I didn’t totally lie. You are my daughter. Your name isn’t just coincidence—you were always intended to be the recipient of the isle. It wasn’t an accident, me copulating with your father,” she said, with a devious smirk, and I shuddered at the notion. “I knew of your father’s abilities long ago, and I’ve been following him over the years. With the help of Avalon—we were able to create you, Avie. Now that his lady-love is long gone,” she said, with the evilest of cackles, “I could finally have my way with him. Oh, and it was so worthwhile too!”
“Ew.” Was all I said, making a disgusted face.
She ignored me. “With your cambion combined supernatural human heritage, you are strong enough to take the power, and not…you know, die. Like others have,” she said bitterly, flicking a finger absently at the various amputated appendages on the altar. “If I were able to take it for myself, believe me—I would have. But, as a mere witch, I cannot without it killing me.”
I sighed, shifting from my position, kicking my legs out in front. “So how do you do that?”
“Oh it’s simple. Four strong enough supes, surrendering their lives, as my witches and I cast the spell in the gate to the Underrealms will transfer all of it, into you.” She said, turning to me with a sympathetic expression. “I’m sorry, but unless it kills you, and I was wrong…well either way, it’s really going to hurt.”
I recoiled at the notion. “And…four supes have to be sacrificed? Are you sure?”
She shrugged. “Oh, three would probably do it. But, I figured—they’re all friends, why not?”
My brow flew upward. “Four? Friends?”
She shouted that ancient language again, and clapped her hands together once. In four corners of the room, appeared four extremely large men. Well, “men” isn’t the right word. Their eyes were yellow, skin red, and muscles bulged so hard, the thick veins on their bodies nearly burst. I could swear, one had little horns atop his head too. So much for there being no red, scary demons.
My attention was diverted: each man carried a very similar, unconscious man. One brunette and large, one blond, one Chinese, and the other auburn-haired with unmistakable winged tattoos across his chest, and up his arms.
“Nooooooooooooooo!” I cried out, watching each red-skinned man dump Mathias, Trystan, Bash, and Xander in a corner. I fought my restrain
ts again, the blanket falling from my body as I flailed. “I won’t let you! You can’t!”
My mother sauntered over to me, with a face full of mock sympathy. “So predictable, the way they came running for you to the club. I’m sorry, I know, you think you’re friends with them. But they’re nothing more than demon hybrids. Cursed humans, created to do my bidding. I hadn’t known of their whereabouts in years, and they failed me. Failed me!” She shouted, her shrill voice echoing against the walls of the cavern. “Did you think they were attracted to you? Were you to them? Did you sleep with all four of them?” She cackled evilly, as the tears pierced my eyes like knives; each wet trail burning like fire on my cheeks. “That was only the curse, Ava. Nothing more.”
“You’re wrong! You’re wrong!” I shouted repeatedly, as the red men tied the unconscious each incubus to a stake just like mine. Their feet were also bound, and the men stood behind the stake, arms crossed over their thick chests like bouncers. One of them appeared like it could have been the thick-necked, tiny-penised bouncer from the other night; the one who angered Mathias. He seemed to have a personal sense of satisfaction seeing the former gladiator subdued, but perhaps that was my skewed perception. I didn’t know. I didn’t care. I just knew, that unless something happened, they were going to die.
They would die because of me. Because my psychotic mother, and this Avalon shit. I still didn’t understand it. I had no idea how any of it could work, but regardless, I knew she’d kill them anyway.
And it was all my fault.
CHAPTER 32
That was only the curse, Ava. Nothing more.
My mother’s insidious words echoed over and over in my head, as I sat on the hard ground, restrained, totally helpless. Every now and then, I tugged at my wrists, hoping somehow, they’d loosened enough for me to break free.
If only I could use my power. In the best of situations, it was sporadic. This? Under duress? Not happening.
As if my mother could hear my words, she chuckled. “Don’t bother trying to use your shield, Ava,” she said, with a hint of a chuckle. “Not that it would respond, but there are numerous wards and things preventing any magic that I don’t initiate.”