Damned
It is our understanding that those who speak to the other side either go mad or kill themselves. We owe it to them to take that choice away.
Bloody Mary’s resolve seems to strengthen as she turns to look back at the mutilated body. A slight tick plays at her slim neck and jaw. Something about the way she studies Revenant’s corpse almost seems remorseful, even with the declaration.
“What sins?” I ask, feeling weakness seeping through my body again. Whatever power this woman holds, she wields it effortlessly.
Not a woman. A goddess.
Mary turns back to face me, looking down just slightly given the few inches she has.
Dark hair curtains one of her glowing eyes, but they're orange now. Not the red like before. And instead of feeling fear, I’m somewhat numbed by the way she looks at me.
A mixture of assessment and something else I can’t identify.
“They turned their back on their kind. And on humankind as a whole. They forsook us to fulfill the whims of a madman. I could have let anyone else pass judgement, but it had to be me. It had to be my power.”
At the word, the world itself fluctuates. Voids in physical space open and close at random around her. I try to take a step back, but she grabs hold of my elbow.
“Why aren’t you killing me?” I ask, glancing back at Revenant.
Bloody Mary watches me for a few moments. Haunting eyes on a woman that looks ageless and the very definition of beauty. Her skin is paler than my own, but not sickly. Just like she might rarely ever see sunlight. Without much more than her head and neck to go by, it’s tough to tell anything else.
But she is stunning. And likely about to decide the penance for my sins, too.
“I am not a cruel woman, Arya Skovsgaard,” my full name hits me like a truck in this setting. “I do not tolerate betrayal. And while humans have made our lives miserable, they have not yet earned the price that Darkrend is willing to pay.”
“Our?” I ask, somewhat stupidly. “You’re not a Remnant. Remnants can’t just–”
She grins, and the effect is mesmerizing. Gorgeous, perfect white teeth.
“Quite the contrary,” she says, orange irises glimmering. “I am just like you.”
I shake my head, trying to understand how this woman can possibly have been human once.
“What price?” I ask, but she simply throws her hood back over her head. The darkness covers her face at once, leaving nothing but the void. Not even her eyes manage to penetrate its blackness this time.
“Would you like to remain here and wait for the police, or shall I let you get some sleep?”
The power that had been siphoning my own finally lets up enough that I throw a wall of darkness between us. There’s a slight huff of what I can only imagine is an annoyed sigh before her presence disappears entirely.
After a few seconds, I drop the barrier and examine the damage.
The room is obliterated. The full brunt of my power tore right through the metal exterior and into the surrounding buildings. Inky tendrils fly from my hands and arms to sense any form of life in the neighborhood, but it seems Revenant had kept to himself.
I cringe a little at the corpse. He’s literally sucked dry like Mara had been. There’s nothing but skeleton poking through taut skin. Though I see the chaos brand on his wrist, even with the devastation.
Kneeling beside him, I gently grip at his wrist with a gloved hand and the world around me fades.
I rewatch the seen that I could only hear from the outside. Like Mara’s, the audio flickers out around five or so seconds in. But nothing else can be gleaned from the way Mary had killed him.
If only I could speak to him the way I had before. But there’s nothing in this cold void except the cyclical ritualistic execution of a man who probably deserved it.
The room returns as I withdraw my power. The drain isn’t nearly as strong, and I manage to stay standing as I blink back the stars.
“What now?” someone hisses in the corner.
I glance over to see Revenant standing near his corpse.
“You willing to talk?” I ask, knowing what he’ll say.
“Fuck yourself,” he grins back.
“Why are all of you so goddamned mean?” I grumble, moving to the destroyed wall and sliding my helmet back over my head.
But he raises a fair point—what do I do now?
It’s not like I can stop Mary. She just showed that. No one has ever survived an encounter with her, so no one could tell me how to beat her. No one has ever been able to describe her. She’s a literal goddess walking amongst us.
And why exactly would I stop her to begin with?
Revenant was a serial killer. Fyre had devolved into serial homicide, too, in her final days. It’s not like Mary is killing innocent civilians.
I close my eyes for a moment and try to take a few cleansing breaths.
Leaping from the ruined second floor, I land lightly on the grass below. I pick a direction and walk.
As I shadow step at random, the fight with Mary—if you could even call it that—runs through my mind, frame by frame.
She had me begging for death but chose to let me continue this Sisyphean task of existing day by day. Maybe she feels I should be Contained. Or that someone else will do the deed for her.
Maybe the caretaker act was just for her own sadistic pleasure. Build me up just to watch me fall.
Well, Mary, jokes on you. I’m already fucked up. It isn’t hard to push over a two-legged stool.
Or whatever the saying is.
I step through a shadow and find myself standing at the perch overlooking Arthur’s Bookstore. The never-ending hum of the city starts to pick up in rhythm as early light peeks through the dense cloud coverage.
Bloody Mary can’t be stopped. I have no other leads for Malachi’s death. And the NCPD and Guild aren’t going to be convinced of my innocence on words alone.
I glance back down at Arthur’s. The inviting lights and steady aroma of coffee make up my mind for me.
Every prisoner needs their final meal.