CHAPTER TWENTY: THIS OLD HOUSE
MARIE
The voices filtered in first, and something about one of the men had me keeping my eyes shut a little bit longer, taking the additional time to orientate myself.
“... plan on doing with her?” The male voice spoke, tugging at a memory of long ago, my mind demanding that I recognize the speaker. “It’s not like you can keep her here indefinitely.”
“Did you talk this much with her?” Nicu snapped, and that harsh tone of his voice seemed to suit him far better than those nice pleasantries he seemed to force on people. “Is that why she marked your face?”
Julian. Julian was here. Julian was in on it - whatever it was.
“And you’re a piece of shit politician - what’s it to you?”
Julian’s voice sounded further away, as if he could only throw such insults from a distance.
“Do you have any idea how powerful she is? What other types of Magick she wields? You’re lucky that carving your face up was all she did.”
“She’s sentimental.” Julian didn’t sound half as sure as he should.
“You better be sure about that, because otherwise you are going to be the fall guy. It makes sense - you coming back to seek vengeance, bringing her to her grandmother’s house to torture and keep.”
I was in my grandmother’s house? On instinct my eyes fluttered open, the dim lighting a pleasant surprise as I took in the home I was raised in - the one I hadn’t stepped foot in for a number of years.
“I figured that would make you open your eyes.” Nicu marched across the room, crouching before me, sneering in my direction as if the very sight of me disgusted him.
I spat into his face without, leaving a large glob of saliva dripping from his nose, bit Nicu held my gaze through it all, staring at me with a level of fury and hate that rivaled even Solomon’s, before backhanding me across the face, forcing my face and neck to turn at an unnatural speed.
“You are a disgrace to our people.” He hissed the words at me, placing far too much importance on the impact his opinion would have on me. I had long since accepted that I was not welcome here - that I had broken the customs and laws of our people, labeling me a disgrace to the community as my grandmother hung my shame for all to see on her doorstep, and so I simply glared up at him im defiance, and this time Nicu only clucked his tongue at me, as if I were a wayward child that needed dealing with.
As my neck and face jolted left, the rest of my body remained still, making the burn that much greater for my wrists and ankles were bound.
“Perhaps if Julian had fucked me better I would never have left.” I knew that I was goading them - knew that Julian would snap and storm around, I only hoped that while he was tantruming, he would reveal more of their plan.
As expected, Julian charged forward, a string of profanities falling from his lips as he called me a wanton whore who would never be satisfied. But those were not the words I strained to hear.
“... your only value is your power and how we can funnel that into the earth to open up new lines to draw upon.” Julian switched between French and English, speaking the last sentence with a meaning and purpose I didn’t fully understand, but understood the importance of them nonetheless.
Nicu halted him, effectively shutting Julian up with a secondary slap across the face that left Julian blubbering, tears stinging against his eyes. I understood that pain all too well, my cheek still warm and my eyes still blurred from my own tears that had formed there.
I allowed my gaze to wander, taming in the floral wingback chair - the same one I had to sit in religiously as a child when I had misbehaved and needed to ‘think’. I took in the yellow wallpaper, narrowing my gaze on the section that had peeled up slightly, knowing that I had written a note to my grandmother behind it, sharing with her how much I had loved her and how grateful I was to have her in my life. I had written that when I was sixteen after I had returned from summer camp, and my grandmother had refused to change the wallpaper after that, no matter how ugly it was.
The green rug still sat in its place by the entrance, and imagined that it still wasn;t tacked down, meaning that it slid across the floor if you walked across it too vicariously. How many times had I done exactly that, deeming it a Magick carpet, lost in the idea of flying away from here.
“Our people are ostracized daily, turned away from jobs and homes because they are nomads, and instead of helping them, you have chosen to join yoru little club in America, summoning Demon’s to appease your sexual desires.”
I wanted to tell them that I hadn’t summoned Cort - that I hadn’t simply used him to sate my needs, but in the end, none of that would matter. Nicu was on a crusade of sorts, hunting for thsoe who believed had wronged our community, and in that regard I wasn’;t entirely innocent, but the community had also wronged me.
He crouched before me once more, clutching my chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing me to gaze at him.
“You could have been exquisite - you could have been the Witch our people needed to usher us into a new era, but don’t worry Marie, for I won’t tarnish your name entirely. Every community needs a martyr.”
My gaze widened on his, my mind foggy and slow after consuming whatever he had laced the cold meats with.
“I will offer you this one confession, for if you are to die, you may take my sceret to your grave.”
I swallowed audibly, my throat suddenly dry as I fought the gurgle of bile that seemed to work its way up and down my throat.
“My only regret is that your grandmother had to die in order to draw you back to France.”
The keening wail sounded in my ears and it took me far longer than it should have to realize that it was me making that sound. I heard Julain gasp - heard him demand why, and suddenly Nicu turned on him, gun in hand. It was a simple click and then Julian was falling, his hand clutched against his chest, the blood seeping throigh his fingers as my childhood friend fell face forward against the hard stone floor of my grandmother’s cottage. A hysterical burst of laughter threatened to break free as I had the ludicrous thought that he was about to scrape his knees.
And even as Julian’s mouth opened and closed, gasping for air as if he were a fish on land, it was still eerily silent. Rationally I knew that Nicu must have used a silencer, but emotionally the thought of a silent death seemed an affront to nature herself.
Nicu turned towards me with wild eyes, his gaze scanning my face in satisfaction as he took in my fear, and I wondered if he could taste it in the same way that Cort could taste my desire.
The shadow on the wall seemed to jump in a flurry of motion, darkness clouding Nicu’;s vision as the smellof cinnamon and smoke seemed to blanket me, stealing me away in the dead of night. My mind took a while to catch up - to understand that Cort was hre - that the Demon was somehow saving me, stealing me away into the darkness, and for once I was not afraid.