Tristan wasted no time, picking her up and carrying Lucinda
from his father’s study down to Kyle’s room. A shout, which made even Tristan
cringe with how hysterical it sounded, and Kyle threw open the door; before he
could ask, Tristan passed him and set Lucinda down on the couch, knocking
several stacks of books over, and nearly knocking Tristan’s steaming cup of tea
onto Lucinda’s unconscious form.
Without speaking, Kyle moved him out of the way and checked
Lucinda’s eyes; their black color made him snatch his hand back, especially
when a tear, stained dark, fell from Lucinda’s eye to the floor below, leaving
a steaming imprint on the cold stone.
“Get Matthew and Devon; they’re training in the main
courtyard. Katrina might be with them, otherwise, find her and Hathor. I’ll
keep an eye on Lucinda.” Kyle said.
Tristan nodded and bolted from the room, even as the bookcase
began chucking books across the room… in a neat pile beside Kyle’s knee.
*********************
Hathor and Katrina met him at the top of the stairs,
“What’s wrong?” the jackal asked.
“I don’t know. Lucinda’s unconscious again and her eyes are
black,” he glanced at Katrina, “Where’s Devon?”
“Coming. I called him the moment I heard your shout.” she
said, “Matthew has something to deal with on his end and will come as soon as
he can.”
Tristan ran back towards the room, just as Kyle began opening
and closing books in rapid succession. Tristan prayed he’d find something to
help her.
****************************
Lucinda blinked as a fire burst forth in the darkness,
casting dancing shadows around an all too familiar room. An impossibility; the
last thing she’d remembered was talking with Tristan in his father’s study, not
standing in the center of her Mother’s library.
“My, my,” she spun around as a chill voice spoke, “it’s so good to see you, daughter.” Her
mother sat in a high-back armchair, with a small table and a steam cup of tea
beside her.
Lucinda blinked, and hours had passed, the red-gold light of
the dying sun casting the room in hellish glow. And still her mothers scarred
and branded face appeared pale and corpse-like. She rarely bothered hiding those
scars when around her daughters; they all knew they were there.
“Why am I here? What did you do to me?” Lucinda asked.
Her mother smiled and Lucinda felt her stomach twist, “What
makes you think I had anything to do with what’s happening?”
“Don’t, Mother. I know your handy work when I smell it.”
Lucinda spat.
Her mother’s smile turned brittle but never faded, “Oh
daughter, you know I can’t abide the stench of decay! Why would I ever send a
rotting soul to haunt you?”
Lucinda glanced around the room; the hearth, the dark-wood
bookcases, the glass bell jars covering skulls, skeletons and bones of various
creatures and beasts. It all looked and felt real; even the opulent carpet
she’d spent many an evening standing on in this exact spot, repeating her days
lessons while her mother corrected her sharply when she made a mistake.
Lucinda closed her eyes and placed her hands over her ears,
“It’s not real, it’s not real…”
“True,” her mother’s voice didn’t change volume, “but that
doesn’t change anything does it?”
Lucinda glanced up at her, fighting back angry tears,
“Release me!”
Her mother laughed softly, “Why? Does a fisherman throw back
the biggest catch after struggling for hours to reel it in? Why bother
releasing you when it took this long to drag you down?”
Lucinda tried to move, but found her feet rooted to the
floor, “So I was right. You do have something else up your sleeve.”
Her mother picked up her bone-china sugar jar and began spooning
sugar into her tea, “Of course I do. I always do. Why would I hide such an
obvious truth as that from you?”
Lucinda glanced around again, trying to find something to
break the illusion; the grandfather clock chimed seven as the sun dipped below
the horizon. She tried whispering below her breath but before she could get half-way
through her incantation, her lips sealed closed. When she tried reached up to
force them apart, she found her mouth was gone.
“Now, now, Lucinda,” her mother said, “none of that.”
Katrina sat down beside Kyle and began pouring over the
books he’d already discarded in case he’d missed something. Hathor stood beside
him,
“Ky, I’m not familiar with Necromancy. I put the dead to rest
not raise them. Why do you need me here?” She asked.
“Because you calm me down; I’m a hair’s breadth away from panicking
and the last time I panicked I turned my best friend into a bookcase. Pretty
sure Tristan will gut me if I end up turning his wife into a teapot or
something.” He said.
Hathor smiled before sitting down beside him; every so often
she placed her hand over his as it began to shake and a moment later it
stopped.
Tristan glanced up as Devon came into the room, “What’s happened
this time?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” Tristan said, “She was fine, upset and
worrying and then…”
Devon leaned over her and opened one of her eyes gently, “Black
eyes, dark tears. You find anything yet, Ky?”
“Working on it,” Kyle said, nose in a book, “I’ve found ten
different things it could be. Really wished the body would have different symptoms
for each disease.”
Devon grunted, “Anyone else smell that?”
Hathor glanced up slowly from her place beside Kyle, “You
smell it too?”
Tristan glanced between them, “What?”
“Decay,” they said.
Lucinda blinked again and the bright light of noon strewn
across the floor and to the right of her mother’s chair. She ran her tongue
across her dry lips and found her mouth had returned.
“Release. Me. NOW.”
Lucinda said.
Her Mother shook her head, replacing the sugar jars lid
before stirring the tea, “Not yet. We have time before they try to kill you.”
“What?” Lucinda asked.
“Sudden fainting spell, eyes turned black, tears running
dark, the smell of decay… as far as they’re concerned, I did send a rotting
soul your way.” Her mother said.
“Why kill me? You spent so much time arranging this marriage,
laying traps inside my own head, why kill me? You haven’t accomplished anything!”
Lucinda shouted.
Her mother picked up the saucer and gently placed the cup to
her lips, “I haven’t?” she asked before taking a sip.
Lucinda felt the anger rise again, and she tried wrenching
her feet from they remained frozen, “WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS—”
Her mother flinched at her shriek and glared at her, “Do
keep you voice down. I’m still in the same room, child.”
Lucinda took a deep breath, “Why am I even here other to torture
me?”
Her mother shrugged, “Not my fault you haven’t used your time
wisely.”
Lucinda ground her teeth; her mother always made meetings of
any kind with her a sick game. Once, she’d tried to get a friend of hers
pardoned; her mother had agreed to it, rather easily, she’d thought. Later her
friend was pardoned of the crimes Lucinda had mentioned, but remained in prison
for the crimes Lucinda had failed to mention in her plea. Another time, her mother
had asked as series of questions, and soon after she was led outside where a
group of people waited to be executed. The numbers she’d gotten wrong were
called, and those prisoners were dragged to the waiting gallows.
Petrified, Lucinda swallowed, “Why am I here?”
“Because I want you to be.” Her mother asked.
Lucinda snapped her jaw shut so quickly she heard her teeth clack
together.
“Why did you want me to be here badly enough to trap me
here?” she asked.
“Because you were getting a little too friendly with the
tigers and I saw the only course of action as to neutralize you before you
became an actual threat.” Her mother said.
Better but she’s still
dodging. Specific questions… how the hell am I supposed to know what to ask?
And is she even telling me the truth? Lucinda thought.
“Are you telling me the whole truth?” Lucinda asked.
Her mother snorted, “Of course not. You haven’t asked for
the whole truth, just parts of it.”
She tried one more time, “Am I a threat to you?”
Her mother smiled, “No. You’re not.”
“Do I have the potential to become a threat to you?” she
asked.
Her mother’s smile fell, “…Yes. You do.”
@karanthos @zarcake-writes @terato-imagines @momolady @inumorph @howtobangyourmonster
MonstersinBlackSilk 