Stigmata

by L M Adams

  “You’re distracted, Jaevia. Your mind is drawn to the curse instead of what Lucien is thinking.” Tabari tries to coax me into trying again.

  I sigh, “I’m okay with not reading Lucien’s thoughts, he’s blunt as fuck, I’ve never had to wonder what he was thinking before.”

  “Thank you, Wench.”

  Jack laughs, “That wasn’t a compliment.”

  “It was to me.”

  I roll my eyes at the both of them.

  Tabari turns in his seat to look at me again. “Then think of this. You are a goddess of the night with the power to make or destroy life. Every time you try to connect to Lucien all you are drawn to is the curse within him? Not his thoughts of love, his hopes for the future, not even his obnoxious overbearing thoughts to own you – no, you’re drawn to the curse… every… single… time.”

  I sigh and look out of the window.

  “You are the eventide, Jaevia.” His voice drops, attempting to be gentle and soothing, Tabari has never really been good at that. “It may not be what you wanted for your life, but it is what you are. What happens the next time you’re hurt? Or angry? Will you reach to your power base – your moon, your sun in love? Or will you reach for the power of the curse and bring about the end of days?”

  “No pressure, huh?” I mutter, knowing that he is right.

  The eventide is raw power, my wants, my thoughts give it purpose. The combination of the eventide and Lucien’s curse would be… cataclysmic.

  “You need to be able to connect with the man inside of Lucien, not just for his sake, or your sake, or even the sake of your love. You need to be able to connect to him for the sake of the world.”

  I look back at him, “What if I can’t? What if my power is based in sex? And pain? And destruction? What if that is all that I am and that is why I can connect to those same things within Lucien and Jack?”

  Tabari gives me a rueful smile and turns around again settling back into his seat, “Even a blind man can see your love for them is deeper than power. Don’t let the power define your love, we all know you’d give it all up for your happily ever after.”

  Problem is, he’s wrong, the old Jaevia would – the one from so long ago and so far away would have given it all up for them. The person I am now? This goddess in the making? I know that we are only safe so long as we have power and our survival is more important to me than our love.

  Yeah, I walked away from trying to be the savior of the world, I walked away from making all of this my responsibility. But I am still Jaevia, Dark Queen, The Goddess to Come, The Destroyer of Worlds, and well she? She isn’t a fucking idiot.

  Tabari doesn’t push me anymore and we do the rest of the drive to the Youth Center with Jack going over wedding plans. We have another meeting with the wedding planner tomorrow and also a meeting with the jeweler to finish our wedding bands.

  My mother will be back for the final fitting of my wedding dress tomorrow as well. I’m getting married in a week. The thought makes me smile, I never really believed we’d actually make it down that aisle. Perhaps Lucien and Jack are just as persistent as I am. Downright indomitable in their desire to claim me in every way there is for a man to claim a woman.

  The streets are busy with people going about their lives as if the darkness didn’t step into the light and say boo. Perhaps when nothing makes sense habit makes for the best medicine.

  The Twisted Eventide Youth Center sits on the other side of Druid Hill Park, opposite of the warehouse. It would probably be faster for us to cut through the park, but the park still has a host of problems. Filled with drunkards and drug users, pushers, pimps and hoes. The world has almost ended at least twice in the past year, and still nothing has really changed at all. I would be sad if I still cared.

  We make the drive around the park on Auchentoroly Terrace, past the large lake. It may be a trick of the eye, but I swear I see horses off in the distance running up a large hill within the park.

  “Jack?” I whisper.

  “Yes, love?”

  “Do you…”

  But whatever I saw is gone and I’ll feel like an idiot if I mention it. Perhaps it was a trick of the light combined with a wanting in my heart. I miss riding, I miss it a lot.

  “Do you have a snack?”

  “Of course. Tabari look in the glove box, there should be some energy bars.”

  There’s a long pause, “Where?”

  “Under the spare clips beside the grenades, Lucien’s idea of the proper order of things.”

  Tabari huffs, “Weapons first, snacks later?”

  Lucien grunts, “Aye, a dead man can’t be hungry.”

  In Lucien land that makes perfect sense. I hate that I agree.

  Tabari hands me the bar and I munch on it absentmindedly as I stare into the tree line of Druid Hill searching for wild horses.

  Lucien picked the place for the youth center, a shopping mall once known as Mondawmin Mall. It seems Mondawmin Mall got its name from a Native American deity, known as Maandamin, a benefactor who sacrificed himself to feed his people. Lucien thought it was a good story, deemed Maandamin a worthy god and said it would be a blessing to locate the Youth Center in a building named after such a being.

  The building was condemned. Lucien has spent countless hours and Goddess only knows how much money just getting a portion of it up and running. Never complaining, never feeling defeated.

  As we get closer to the center it is easy to see the benefit of having Lucien’s gold flood into the area with purpose, creating jobs, revitalizing the community.

  We pull to the front of the mall. I expected a large crowd, if nothing else I figured people would want to at least get a look at the fallen queen, maybe poke me with a stick or some such.

  Instead the parking lot is mostly empty except for a couple of news vans, a few cars. Mostly its CNAE trucks and the hummers my own security force uses.

  The mall is two stories, the entrance that we’re using as the front is the double high glass surrounded by brick. A large sign above it, Eventide Youth Center, good press Jack says. But I know Lucien, he didn’t do it for the press, he did it because under that gruff, barbarian, irritating, bullheaded exterior – he’s a good man with a heart of gold.

  Instead of it being a joyous occasion, with children running around and people coming here for the help they so desperately need; they see me, and they think that it’s bad, and they stay home.

  So as Jack opens the car door for me and I step out, I feel a wash of pain and shame, not for me, but because people have so very obviously shunned Lucien’s efforts – and he’s a sensitive man.

  I give him a worried glance, but he seems okay. Mostly scanning the people that are here, looking for a threat. I guess his first duty is to always see me safe. Perhaps later he’ll let himself feel bad about it. But knowing Lucien, he won’t. He won’t in any way that is evident to anyone at least.

  Lucien and Jack flank me as we walk across the brick laid cul-de-sac that sits at the front entrance. Young trees and bushes already planted and waiting to erupt with life with the coming spring line the sidewalk where the handful of people are gathered.

  In front of them and to the sides are a line of CNAE officers all dressed sharply in their blue BDUs, M4 assault rifles held across their fronts at rest, but always at the ready.

  For the life of me I can’t tell if the CNAE are here for my protection or to try and protect the world from me.

  Did Peter send them?

  Did Bishop?

  Does it matter?

  Along with the CNAE are my little toy soldiers and they are considerably more badass than anything Peter or Bishop could send my way.

  The berserkers – Quinn Monroe’s lost clans are ours now, or more specifically they are Lucien’s. Quinn had begged Lucien to take them under his wing, to become their king, to help mend the rift between the therians – the ones that betrayed their oath and their god, Ra.

  I had been against it, Lucien had been
against it, but the berserkers had proven their loyalty and their worth to us in our battle against Azazael. Quinn had sacrificed his life to see us safe. To soldiers, to us, that means something, that means everything.

  A few of the berserkers we’d already taken in. The B-Boys as we call them, are all part of the Queen’s Guard. The berserkers that returned home with me from Camp Haven – Carter, Hezekiah, who we call Kiah, Adam and once there was Drew, but Drew didn’t make it through our battle with Azazael in the sands of time. He died saving our lives. I hadn’t known until recently that Kiah, our youngest berserker, was best friends with Drew.

  I hadn’t known enough about the kid to really mourn him properly, and that made a sadness and guilt settle in my heart. You should know the people that die saving you… you just should.

  To look at them standing at attention in their black BDU’s, a patch on their uniforms of a sun and moon – the symbol of the eventide – you wouldn’t know that they are anything other than handsome fit young men. Hidden is the beast right beneath the surface.

  But I know the monster inside of them intimately. The berserker, men turned to half beasts. With the body of wolves standing on hind legs. Vicious and all but impervious to most magics or enchantments. They were made to guard the world of man from magic, from the old gods… from beings like me.

  They are turned into these monsters in the most brutal of ways. Hunted, beaten, tortured, raped while being eaten alive… slowly. Who wouldn’t be crazy after that?

  I remember Hornigold’s notes well…

  If a warrior survives the berserk state, it brings about an emotional deadness and vulnerability to explosive rage and permanent hyperarousal — hallmarks of post-traumatic stress disorder. Perhaps the berserk state, is at the heart, their most severe psychological and psychophysiological injuries.

  Their magic is nothing but PTSD on steroids. Their pain the source of their power. That too I know much about.

  I walk towards the building, flanked by the men I love, surrounded by the monsters I now call my own.

  Nothing can touch me, nothing but the disdain I see on people’s face as I walk past them. There are some things even Lucien’s strength cannot shield me from.

  I think I do a good job of hiding the hurt, keeping my head held high, never letting them see how much it costs me to keep going.

  I think I hide it well.

  We do the song and dance, just as we planned.

  The grand entrance and intake to the Youth Center sits in the long-ago food court portion of the mall. A large fountain in the center under a massive skylight. A large spiral staircase that goes up to the second floor.

  Lucien planted trees, real life trees indoors. The place is beautiful beyond belief. Shining white marble, gold inlay, the energy fresh and clean. The rising moon above us shining her light down on us; it should have been perfect. It should have been so many things.

  Instead, I look out at the mostly empty rows of folding chairs, a few cameras in the back and think – it would have been better if they had come with pitchforks and torches, at least then we would know that they cared.

  I glance at Lucien standing to the side, hands folded neatly behind him. I try to read his thoughts, find out if this is hurting him as much as it is hurting me. But there is nothing but the curse and that is a fire no one should gaze into.

  “Thank you for joining us…” I start my prepared speech; the one Jack had written for me.

  Welcome everyone, proclaim my desire to help, remind people that I only want to help – see look, look at this shiny new Youth Center that wasn’t even my idea. No, it was my husband’s idea, I’m just slapping my name on it, it’s not even mine, it’s his and he deserves your thanks. But you won’t even come here to get the help you so desperately need because I am the monster in the dark and I didn’t have the good sense to stay there.

  “… we hope that you will enjoy the facilities, that you will see the center as our efforts to be a helping hand to mankind now and for years to come. Thank you.”

  Pause for the scattering applause from the twenty people that are here. Smile, walk over to the ribbon, don’t cry, just smile. Take the big scissors they hand you, don’t go find Peter and stab him with them. No, cut the pretty big red ribbon that’s tied across the large glass doors that lead further into the center.

  Explain that the center has mini apartments for families, so they can stay together. A full-service medical clinic, ready to take on nurses and doctors. Mental health facilities, drug and alcohol rehabilitation centers. Using both mankind remedies and magic to try and fix people’s lives. Classrooms ready to be filled with young eager minds, an indoor pool and playground – a place where children could feel safe.

  Cut the ribbon and welcome… no one.

  Smile again for pictures.

  Breathe.

  7

  Jaevia

  “That wasn’t so bad.” Jack whispers as he opens the door to go further back into the center.

  “I’d rather not discuss it.” I clamp down on my tongue and my burning desire to yell at him for being wrong!

  That was humiliating, not just for me, but for Lucien. Jack is so fucking keen on being king of the goddamn world he couldn’t let it go?!

  Some pressure between my shoulders ease as we move away from the front doors. A few people are joining us for a tour of the center, along with one or two media crews. About twenty people in all, including Lucien, Jack and Tabari.

  My work is done and Jessica Lee, the director of the center, is taking over. It wasn’t expected that Lucien would be running the place, his life is filled with monster slaying and blood curses, no, it was better for him to find someone to take over for the day-to-day operations.

  Mrs. Lee actually came highly recommended by Annette, Big Mike’s widow. She’s human, but I don’t hold that against her. Mrs. Lee is a pretty woman, at the middle of her lifespan – gentle graying hair cut short in a cute bob. One or two wrinkles she seems to wear with pride and an easy smile that seems to warm even the coldest of hearts. She’s past youthful mistakes and now filled with the wisdom of age and still has enough energy for the job.

  She worked as a grief counselor for people in the fringe for the past twenty years. As she says, she’s seen it all and heard it all. Working with us when we are trying to do good in the world – well it wasn’t a hard decision for her.

  We stop in front of one of the converted stores with white frosted windows for privacy, a sign on the door that reads: Intake. Three of the intake rooms are on each side of the open concourse, another six upstairs. Living trees, bushes and flowers in the center of the concourse, I can see the work of Kitty and the pixies here easily. A pretty picture meant to relax and welcome the souls who need it the most. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was some witch-work in the foliage.

  Jessica step up taking over the tour. “This is one of our triage centers. Here, we’ll ascertain the needs of the person coming in for help, medical needs, mental health needs, social support requirements. If they have no immediate medical emergencies, we’ll assign them housing in one of the mini apartments, get them clean clothes, food and assign them a caseworker to step them through the process of restarting their lives.”

  “How many can you take in?” One of the reporters asks.

  He’s a bit on the younger side, eager. By the look of him he isn’t with National News, which is owned and operated by KIRA Industries. So he must be from a smaller independent news station, and there aren’t many of them.

  Mrs. Lee smiles warmly, “Mr. Ramzia has fitted out forty temporary apartments here and also provided transitional housing off campus for a family or a person when they’re ready to strike out on their own again.”

  “You call this a youth center, are all ages welcome?”

  “Yes, our services are open to anyone of any age. We are ready to help at risk youth, but anyone who needs help can come here.”

  “I have a question for Ms. Knightley.”<
br />
  I plaster on a smile and turn around to face the media again. “Yes?”

  “Some are wondering, are you trying to buy people’s support with this center?”

  I clear my throat gently and glance at Jack. “No, of course not. My fiancé, Lucien, has had plans for the youth center for some time now and…”

  “So we’re supposed to believe this is just by happenstance and you are not trying to create good optics for yourself after being exposed?”

  I swallow slowly. “Exposed… as what?”

  “As a false prophet. You are not a bringer of light, you are a herald of death.”

  I’m so dumbstruck I stand there like a deer in the headlights.

  “Isn’t it true you are trying to indoctrinate our youth into your cult of sex and devil worshipping? Luring them here so you can corrupt their hearts and minds?!”

  Jack rushes forward. “All right, I think that’s all of the time we have today. Jaevia has a lot of…”

  “Is that what you think?” I finally whisper, staring at the man. “That’s what you think of me?”

  “Is it true that a god or a goddess gains power from their worshippers? Isn’t that what you’re doing? Using your power of lust, your money, to lure us all in and turn us into your worshippers?”

  Jack turns to me, eyes wide. “Let’s go Jaevia, let’s go.”

  I see Lucien moving towards the reporter, but it’s too late, it’s all too fucking late.

  “I don’t want shit to do with you! With any of you! You all can go to fucking hell and rot. You think I’m evil? Me?! You don’t know the meaning of the word! You’d better get to your knees and pray that you never see the true face of evil!”

  “Jae, please baby.” Jack grabs my arm, trying to turn me away.

  I yank away from him. “The real monsters will come for you one day. They will rain down with hellfire and on that day, you’re going to wish for a place at my feet you ungrateful wretch!” I scream at the top of my lungs. The air fills with the scent of magic and lust. Smelling of citrus and blood.