-/-

It was a novel experience having your throat ripped out, very visceral; if she was reviewing ways to die Evelyn doubted it would ever top the list. However to be honest she didn't exactly feel dead, not that she had intimate knowledge of what being dead felt like but this felt a little too similar to living to convince her.

Reaching up long delicate fingers caressed her throat. Only there was no jagged bloody mess underneath Evelyn's fingertips but smooth soft skin and she couldn't stifle the gasp of surprise and delight.

"Mother."

Freezing at the sudden intrusion Evelyn allowed her eyes to open; blinking in the bright light as she stared up into the almost concerned face of her other would be murderer, her own flesh and blood. If Evelyn wasn't so disappointed that Hecate didn't have the power and talent needed to murder her herself she might almost have been impressed by the younger woman's sheer gall.

Evelyn hadn't been ignorant of her daughter's growing ego and ambitions; it was in Hecate's nature to want, to crave to lead. She had come by the traits honestly after all, a loving gift from mother to daughter. Yet what Hecate had in ambition she lacked in patience and foresight, it had been a mere opportunistic advantage that had allowed her to strike a killing blow using that beast in human form. Yet Evelyn knew that the reality of actually commanding a coven required more than dumb luck or blind ambition.

In a few more decades once her daughter had grown in experience, strength and cunning Evelyn might have accepted her death at Hecate's hand; might even have welcomed it in some way.

Only the strongest should lead after all and if she was being honest with herself Evelyn had long been growing tired of shouldering that burden…alone…

She had really begun to notice over the last century how little joy she actually took in the minutia of her everyday life. When one had lived as long as she had Evelyn savoured little actually joy from the mere act of living. So if Hecate beaten her in a worthy battle of strength and cunning Evelyn like to think she would have accepted her fate with a proud smile, going to her grave safe in the knowledge her legacy would be safe in the hands of her own wicked child.

Yet now the coven would be ruled by the whims of an impatient petulant child. There would be infighting and their enemies would soon sense weakness and destroy them. Her entire life's work would be destroyed and that should at least cause her to feel something?

Evelyn couldn't actually find it in herself to care like she thought she would. A legacy of ashes wasn't worth spitting on and Evelyn had realised that only too late, amazingly enough just when she had thought her heart hardened enough to no longer care for anything.

Still she had made her choice and it was only at the end that she had realised what an utter fool she had been…youth and beauty meant nothing without love. A daughter who should have protected her instead turned against her to feed her own ambitions and Malcolm…

Again the dead heart in her breast began to beat a little fiercer…

Sir Malcolm Murray…He had been a pawn, a lure, a nothing and yet when it came to the end Evelyn had found herself wanting him. She had fallen for her own fairy tale; had offered him both her heart and eternal life and he had spat on both and yet Evelyn couldn't bring herself to blame or resent him for it.

How could she? She loved him, well in whatever way a creature as dark and twisted as her could still love but she had lost whatever slim chance she ever had of securing his true heart the moment she had settled for enchanting him. Even if they were the perfect match, two bitter imperfect people drained by the suffering of the world and yet able to find simple pleasure in just each other's company. It was too late; Malcolm nursed his grudges like a drunk did his liquor, he would never let himself forgive her.

It was a bitter truth learnt too late to be useful.

"Mother did it work? Did the Master answer?"

Or perhaps not?

Staring up into Hecate's confused face Evelyn took stock of her situation, her hand still gently stroking the soft skin of her neck. Somehow she didn't know how or why but not only wasn't she dead but it seemed that she might just be getting that second chance after all.

-/-