Darkness Becomes Her

Page 30

I screamed, trying to lift my hands, to hold my hair down, to stop what was happening, but they wouldn’t cooperate. My knees lifted off the ground and I spun, facing the pale, stunned faces of my friends. Arms wide, completely open. No way to hide.
And Sebastian—Sebastian, who had one foot in front of him, was pressing forward but unable to move, unable to help. None of them able to move.
The only action I could make was with my eyes. They connected with Sebastian’s and grew glassy. My throat closed. My heart pumped at a frantic, painful pace. Then my hair began to separate into several twisted and swaying strands. My scalp burned fire.
Dear God, I’m on fire!
I shrieked—a horrible sound. I squeezed my eyes closed, forcing it to stop. Please! Just stop!
And then I felt them stirring beneath my scalp. My mouth fell open as I gasped for air that would not come. Revulsion shuddered through me, making my nerves electric with fear. Tears leaked hot from my eyes. No! No! No!
My scalp split, and it felt like smooth, round smoke slid up and out of my skin, turning and twisting around strands of my hair and becoming vague shadows of living things. Terrifying, living things. Smoky visions of what was to come. Writhing, twining together, a halo of sickening, milky white, yellow, and orange apparitions.
My eyes rolled back into my head. My heart thudded hard, one last time, unable to support the panic-driven adrenaline coursing through my veins. My eyes popped open against my will, Athena forcing me to watch. To see my friends.
My friends.
Backing up. Reaching out to one another for support. Horror whitening their stricken faces and dragging their mouths open.
No, I wanted to beg. Please don’t go.
But I couldn’t speak.
And Sebastian. Sebastian who had that one foot out, trying to break the invisible barrier and help me, stepped back.
He stepped back.
My chest deflated, sinking in, collapsing as the truth and the cold realization gripped the last remnants of hope I had and smashed them into smithereens. It shouldn’t have surprised me, really. Don’t get your hopes up and you don’t get hurt. Don’t trust or love and you don’t get hurt. I’d broken my own rules. And what sane or even slightly sane person wouldn’t run, or shit themselves, or become shell-shocked? I couldn’t blame them.
Crank held on to Henri’s arm, her face pressed against it, eyes as round as Frisbees. They all backed away. All but Violet, who stood amazed, slowly pushing up her Mardi Gras mask to reveal an expression of childlike wonder.
Henri rushed forward and grabbed Violet, jerking her back. She whipped around and bared her tiny fangs at him. He dropped her as though burned.
They were through the gate now, fingers wrapping around the bars and yelling at Violet to come, the voices muted and drowning in the chaos that swirled through my brain, mixing with the pain and the heartbreak.
In an act of defiance, Violet sat cross-legged on the ground. They finally gave up. Henri pulled Crank and Dub away from the bars and ran down the street. Sebastian hesitated, giving one last unfathomable look at me, hovering inside the cemetery, and then he hurried after the others.
Athena released me. A breath whooshed from my lungs as the weight of my body hit the ground, sinking into the softness. The side of my face slapped against the wet earth, and it felt good, that chill.
I stayed unmoving, too weak and too hurt to care.
Athena’s feet hit the ground and sauntered the few short steps to where I lay. Her booted toe shoved my shoulder, pushing me onto my back.
I gazed up at the face of the goddess, the cruel bitch who had a special place in hell, if such a place existed. She dropped down on her haunches and tenderly wiped the single stream of tears from the left side of my face, then rested her elbows on her knees. “You don’t belong here, child. They don’t want you. He doesn’t want you. Even the misfits have rejected you. There is no place for you in New 2, no place anywhere in this world that will accept you for what you are. Your home is with me.”
My chest tightened with the most intense despair and loneliness. Athena was right. The Bitch was right.
“You have until dusk to decide. Come home with me, daughter of Medusa. I will give you shelter, riches, your heart’s desire. You have but to submit to my rule, that is all.” She reached out and lifted a strand of my hair, rubbing it through her fingers, a flash of envy and bitterness passing through her eyes. “What will you do when you turn? Where will you go? Perhaps . . . perhaps after a time I shall lift this curse from your body and give you your life back. Be a good girl, Aristanae, a good little minion, and I just might.”
Another trail of tears followed in the same wet path as Athena stood and disappeared.
I let my eyes close, rolled my body so that it was curled onto one side, pulled my legs and arms in, and cried silently into the wet grass.
Everything hurt. The outside. The inside. And I finally understood what it felt like to be broken. I let the anguish consume me and take me into a world of numb desolation.
After a long moment, Violet sat down behind me and snuggled against my back. The small act hurt so badly, fresh tears flowed. Violet. Little Violet had accepted me, had shown mercy and kindness and loyalty.
I woke to heat at my back and the lukewarm drizzle of rain on my face. Slowly, every muscle protesting, I pushed myself up onto my hip and gazed over my shoulder to see Violet curled up on the grass, with Pascal stretched out beside her. The kid’s hand rested lightly on the leaves beside her face, the exposed wrist and hand so thin and fragile.
I rubbed the dryness from my puffy eyes and waited for my vision to return. Memories flooded me instead. Of my past, my curse, and what Athena had done to me to bend my will.
A depressed sigh escaped me as I gathered my long hair and shoved it over my shoulder. Now I understood why my mother had ended her life, why so many before her had done the same. I knew why the harpy had fled into the swamp, rather than back to civilization. Being alone was far better than seeing the frightened, horrified faces of those around you, those you cared for.
Music drifted through the cemetery, faint and crass. A brass band. Trumpet. Drums. Cymbals.
Violet’s nose twitched. Her black lashes moved against pale skin. Her small hand dipped into the softness of the ground and she pushed herself up. She tucked her black bob behind one ear and then tilted her small face toward the misty sky.
I scooted back some. Dampness had seeped through my clothes and onto my skin. The drizzle gathered and ran down the side of my face. “Violet, why did you stay?”
Pascal waddled into Violet’s lap. Her slim fingers stroked his back as she turned her face away from the drizzle, large black eyes full of weight and mystery. “I thought you looked beautiful.”
Fresh pain squeezed my sore heart. I swallowed down the tears that wanted to rise again and instead gave a small laugh. “Thanks.” Only Violet, only this small Gothic doll with a penchant for reptiles and sequins was willing to accept me.
The time I had spent with Violet since coming to New 2 was short, but from those first interactions, there was a connection. One, I think, that stemmed from our uniqueness, from recognizing a kindred soul. Her staying here with me. Her acceptance of me. I knew then that I’d do anything for her.
“The parade is coming,” she said. “The kids’ parade. We were supposed to be in it.” Her head angled toward the music. “It’s almost dusk.”
Goose bumps sprouted along my cold thighs and arms. The drizzle had forced a low mist to the ground, a thin gray shroud upon the grass. The sky above was lost in a sea of haze and thick clouds. The gnarled branches of the oak tree nearby spread out like dark lightning across the sky.
“She’ll be back soon,” Violet said. “What are you going to do?”
I glanced at the tomb where Athena had appeared. “I don’t know.”
“You should kill her.”
“Me. Kill a goddess.” Right.
Violet shrugged and got to her feet, wiping the grass and bits of stone and debris from her black dress and her hair before righting the mask on her head, leaving it up so her face was still visible.
The music became louder, but the mist hid the Mardi Gras revelers. I stood, shaking out my long hair and shivering despite myself. Knowing what I was, what I’d become . . . I wondered how many of my ancestors had actually been able to live with the change, with being a monster, rather than end their own lives. And how many had died by the sword of the τερας hunters? In the end, the outcome was always the same. So why had Athena decided to spare me?
Going with Athena seemed like my only option. That or disappearing. And where will you go? How can you live with those things on you? Those things that inspired more fear in me than death itself.
Violet bumped me. “She’s here.”
I whirled. Athena perched on the long, thick branch of the oak tree. She jumped down and strolled over. “Have you come to a decision, gorgon?”
This thing, this goddess had caused so much death and heartache to my family, to thousands of women over the centuries. I knew, in that moment, I could never give in. I’d rather die like all the others. But more than that, I’d rather have vengeance. “Go fuck yourself, Athena.”
Violet grabbed my hand, squeezing tightly. I wanted to shove her back, to tell her to run, but doing that would draw Athena’s attention to the child.
Athena struck me across the cheek so quickly, I didn’t even have time to tense. The hot sting and shock sent a gasp through my mouth. My ears rang, and pain shot through my face.
Slowly I righted myself, grinding my teeth together and clenching my fists as I faced the tall goddess. Athena grabbed my chin, squeezing hard, and leaned down close to my face. Her eyes gleamed with an impossible inner light, a beautiful sight if one could get past the cruel twist of her lips. “You should watch your mouth, little one. Or I shall put your head on a stake like I did your mother’s.”
“My mother killed herself,” I ground out, furious that she’d even mentioned my mother.
“And I claimed her body. She looked quite nice outside my temple.”