Enemy
She is waking. She is remembering. It is only a matter of time.
Unknown
“Fuck!” I scream out, falling back into the brighter, fire lit grotto. My back strikes the ground, knocking worryingly flashing lights into my vision.
“Put that freak down!” a shrill voice comes from somewhere nearby.
The mossy ceiling slowly swirls into view, followed by a pale face with long, dark hair.
“Hey,” Cass’ soft voice precedes my double vision deciding on a singular image.
On her.
“Ugh,” I groan out, bringing up a shaky hand to rub at my violently painful eyes. “What the fuck.”
“She is a blight on our people!” the same voice, Gareth’s I think, shrieks again. “She will be the end!”
“Shut him up,” I mumble, waving a hand in his general direction.
There’s a scream of pain and a thudding of something hitting the ground.
Cass’ eyes widen as she turns to look at what just happened.
“Your shadows…” Cass’ eyes trace the path between my hand and whatever happened to Gareth.
“Did I kill him?” I ask, trying unsuccessfully to sit up. The sudden vertigo sends my stomach into a downward spiral and I flop back again.
“No, you picked him up and tossed him across the room.”
“Shame,” I whisper, and watch as Cass stands again, face becoming stony.
I feel the acute slap of disappointment as she moves to wherever Gareth is. I want to be in her presence—at least until my intestines stop revolting.
Morgana’s face now appears over me. Her red hair is even brighter this close up. She’s a little older than I first thought. Hints of wrinkles tinge her eyes. A normally aging Remnant, rather than immortality like Cass.
“What are you feeling?” she asks, sounding somewhat sane rather than what Bast had made her out to be.
“Like I just saw the secrets of the universe then puked up my guts,” I mumble, closing my eyes again.
Cold hands palpate my abdomen, and I shudder at her touch. Except they warm a little as something gurgles and roils within me.
“Oh, please don’t make me throw up again,” I hiss out, feeling the cold turn to warmth and then to an almost unbearable heat.
“Sorry, hun,” Morgana says. “There’s some real weird shit with your aura.”
“Oh, that’s what Bast meant,” I say, gritting my teeth as the sensation shifts to a strange buzzing.
“What did I mean?” Bast’s voice comes from my other side.
Apparently all the councilors had just decided to stick around after my freak out. How lovely.
“That she’s batshit,” I say, and Morgana’s hands turn icy once again before they leave my torso.
“Ah,” Bast says, her affixed panther mask bobbing in affirmation, “yes I did say that.”
I glance over at Morgana, but she’s grinning in triumph. “How do you feel now?”
I shift a little and feel less like puking. Slowly, I push my arms behind me and sit up, careful not to move too fast.
The scene is a fucking mess.
Where the Seers had been now looks like someone uprooted all the stone seats. They’re scattered around the pond, some on their side and several just missing in general.
The green growth of the grotto is still intact, but there are black marks everywhere.
To my left, though, appears to be where all the action is.
“This is outrageous,” Gareth hisses, his petulance erasing any semblance of handsomeness that he’d held before. ”That is not a Remnant. That’s not even a fucking supernatural. That is an abomination.”
I roll to my knees and swat off someone’s hand.
“Clearly she is important to the Prophecy,” Cass’ more modulated but definitively icy voice answers.
I can’t see her face, but her lack of defense is less than heartening. Though giving Gareth any indication of our relationship would likely lead to rumors. And rumors would turn to resentment in a heartbeat.
At least, I hope that’s what she’s avoiding.
”Clearly,” Gareth says, over enunciating the word, “she is too powerful to be allowed. Did you not see the same thing I did? I understand you think she may be useful, but those were not Affliction rifts.”
Useful.
“I saw them,” Cass answers, “and I still believe that, with training, she could be an asset.”
Asset.
I know her words are for them. For the Council. But damn they don’t feel good.
My legs are weak as I stumble towards them. Azazel shoots a glance over their shoulder and moves to intercept me.
I try to wave them aside, but the shadows strike them like a runaway vehicle. They ragdoll across the room and collide with the far wall, falling limply to the grassy floor.
And, somehow, I know they’re alive. I can feel them. All of them.
Oh, God, I can feel all of them.
Cass swirls towards me, eyes wide with confusion and a tinge of fear.
I cough out something wet and spit the gooey red substance onto the floor beside me.
“Say it to my face, Gareth,” my throat hurts. My head hurts.
Everything fucking hurts.
“Hiraeth,” Cass’ warning tone barely even registers. My eyes are locked on the tiny excuse for a man.
“Gareth,” I growl, the noise raw and evermore painful.
Gareth takes a step back, eyes darting between Varun and Cass.
“No,” I snap. “Look at me. I’m the one you want to put down like a feral dog.”
I feel the shadows like they’re extensions of me. Like any absence of light could be manipulated. Like the space behind Gareth’s eyeballs could be used as a weapon.
“Stand down, Acolyte,” he says, finally returning his frightened eyes to mine. “If you attack a councilor you will be Contained.”
I spare a glance at Cass. She’s staring at Gareth like can’t believe he would suggest it.
“Is that so?” I whisper, my nerves iced from the word alone.
“God Queen’s pet or not, you already spent your free chance when you accosted Loki at the meeting. I pity the creature that slew the poor man.”
I huff out a breath, trying to regulate my heart that feels as if it might leap from my chest.
Another gooey wad works its way up my throat, and I spit it at the ground between, narrowly missing Gareth’s foot.
Cass doesn’t try to stop me again. But she also doesn’t move to help me.
So much for that fucking promise.
I can take Gareth and Varun, but I don’t want to hurt the others.
And I don't think I can take Cass.
“Go fuck yourselves,” I grit before turning on my heel and stumbling through the open passageway to the surface.
Or surface-ish.
My blood feels electrified. It’s like my body was supercharged by concentrated Affliction, though I’m pretty sure that would kill me.
Even the underground Citadel looks different now. It hums differently. Like I can see everything and yet nothing at all. There aren’t any spirits, though. They’re not even lurking in the shadows.
It’s like they’re afraid.
Like they saw what I saw and have no idea how to comprehend it either.
I make it to Marla’s bar and fling open the door a little too wildly. It ricochets off the outer wall and startles the nearest patron.
“Sorry,” I rasp before making my way to the countertop.
It’s a quaint place. Only a few chairs and tables line the space just inside the entry with a square area devoted to standing room. The bar top itself has four chairs and I slide onto the nearest unoccupied one.
“Hon?” Marla’s voice is sharp with worry when she turns towards me. “Oh, God, what happened now?”
“I don’t know,” I cough out, dropping my head to my arms.
There’s only a few others in the bar, so I feel less badly about embarrassing myself. Again.
The images of the women’s faces flash along my vision, intermingled with whatever else was in the—
Fuck, I don’t know.
The beyond? The end?
I wasn’t meant to see it. That much I know. Or, at least, not yet. Something about it had felt familiar, but like déjà vu. Like I should already know the ending to this story.
“Arya?” Marla’s voice cuts through my hazy thoughts, and I raise my head to look at her. She slides a mule across the table between us and leans forward. Her brown eyes crinkle with acute worry.
“I don’t know how to explain it,” I whisper, taking a large sip of the spicy liquid. “Was in a meeting with the Council, and suddenly I’m having a damned fit.”
“What did Bloody Mary say?” she asks, and I flinch.
“Nothing. She watched it happen. I nearly killed Gareth without meaning to, but he wanted her to put me down. He said a lot of other things, but the gist is whatever happened scared all of them.”
I watch Marla’s furred throat bob. “Are you in danger?”
I huff out a laugh and take another long pull, draining the cup and tapping it to the table.
“I think the issue is that I am the danger. No one jumped to my defense when Gareth wanted my head. Not even—”
That seems to get Marla’s attention. She pauses mid-refill of my drink, her soft eyes taking me in.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I say, fighting back hurt in my voice. “I’m in control, I promise—”
Marla takes my hands in hers, forcing me to look into her eyes.
“There isn’t a molecule in my body that believes for even a second that you would hurt us. That would you intentionally endanger anyone down here.”
I nod, accepting her at her word. Of all the people in my new life, Marla and Trish have been the only two to never lie to me. To never leave me in the dark.
“God,” I groan, the noise turning into a half-choked sob. “And I thought things were starting to get better. Mary had started to open up to me and—”
“There has to be a reason,” Marla says, squeezing my hand gently. “I don’t believe she’d just let Gareth kill you.”
“She told me she’d follow my lead if I decided enough was enough,” I say, glancing up at Marla. “I should have killed him down there. He threatened me with Containment, Marla and even then no one spoke up for me.”
“Maybe she wanted to make sure you were okay first?” Marla asks, sliding a refreshed drink to me. “Maybe she didn’t think you were up to—”
Marla’s voice trails off, eyes wide and locked on something behind me.
Someone.
I turn in my seat and see her, too.
Cass.
She looks angry. Though I’m not sure at who.
“Leave us,” she says, voice iced and thin.
Marla begins to move, but I put up a hand to stop her.
“No,” I say, standing with a wobble. “No, you don’t get to make Marla leave her own property twice in one week. This isn’t how we’re doing this.”
“Leave, or I punish her,” Cass says, orange irises flashing red.
“The fuck?” I hiss.
I glance back at Marla, and she’s petrified.
“Okay,” I say, pulling her arm to circle the bar’s end. “It’ll be okay, just go home.”
I pull her into a quick hug.
Cass doesn’t flinch—odd. I’m not trying to make her jealous, but I expected some sort of tell.
Marla all but jogs from the bar, giving Cass a wide berth.
When the door closes behind her, I level a glare at her.
“Where the fuck do you get off—”
“Why did you leave?” she asks, voice measured, but in that scary sort of way.
“Excuse me?”
“We had not dismissed you, yet” she continues, taking a step forward.
“I left because,” I begin, knocking back the rest of the drink, “Gareth and I were mutually agreed upon tearing each other apart and I wanted to avoid getting blood on these clothes. They’re yours after all.”
That gets her attention. Her gaze drops from my face to the drink in my hand and then to my chest.
“Answer me honestly, Hiraeth,” she grits out, taking another step closer. Her presence is overwhelming. Her very power inundates my senses.
“What makes you think I’m lying?” I ask, reaching behind the bar and grabbing an entire bottle of something clear. I might as well enjoy myself if this is the end of either my life or, at the very least, this fledgling relationship.
She studies me like she hasn’t seen me before. Like we hadn’t just spent the night together.
Fine. We can play this game.
I flick the cap off the bottle and knock back a swirl.
“You opened a rift to somewhere beyond this plane,” she says, watching me take another pull.
“I’m available for birthdays and weddings,” I say, giving her a grin.
She takes a step forward.
The bottle gets a little lighter.
“What you did should not be possible. Tell me what it was. Tell me what you saw.”
“I don’t fucking know, Cass,” I snap. “I saw things I shouldn’t have seen. And all I know is your voice pulled me out of it.”
I finish the bottle and roll it between my hands.
“It felt like my soul was being pulled from my body. It was excruciating and terrifying and I just wanted you to touch me. To hold me. But, no, you got up and went to check on fucking Gareth.”
His name tastes like bile on my tongue. Or maybe my stomach is retaliating.
Cass freezes, head tilting.
“Do you know who killed Loki and Beowulf?” she asks, and I finally look up at her.
“What?” I ask, hurt that she ignored how much I needed her.
Figures, though.
Maybe—
“Wait,” I say, squinting at her.
Something about Cass’ pale skin is wrong. The outfit she was wearing this morning was lower cut, but now it’s too low.
It shows her collar bone—and there’s no red lightning bolt.
“The hell?” I ask, stumbling a little as I back up. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Cass” grins, but it’s distorted and wrong. Like a mask.
“Impressive,” Gareth’s voice comes from Cass’ mouth and it’s really fucking off-putting. “I suppose Cass chose her lover well. Too bad I’m going to kill you before you can run back to her.”