On the southern shore of Great Brittain, there was a house of solid brick. It was a fairly big structure, though it seemed small in comparison with the grand Church it was built next to. Officially, it was known as the convent of Weeping Angels, but everyone knew that what it really was, was somewhere where unwanted or parentless girls could be dumped without a second thought. Then, the nuns would 'convert' them into something 'the lord in Heaven could be proud of', which usually meant beating te poor children until they were too afraid to be something else than they were told to be. The nuns succeeded almost always in their purpose, usually able to send girls on their way who had turned from being sinners and pagans to well-formed, obedient young women. Almost always. There were some 'rotten apples' as the reverents in the church liked to call them. Tegan was one of those apples. What with her dark red shiny hair that curled down to her waist, her petite figure and that daring smile on her delicate features, she had been something to look at since the summer she had turned fourteen. And she was completely aware of that fact. She knew what effect she had on men – and some women –when she shook her long hair behind her shoulders or when she showed just that teensy bit more leg than the sisters allowed her to. The sisters had deemed her a hopeless cause. Tegan had been such a burden on their shoulders that, one day, they found themselves sitting around a long, rectangular table in order to solve the problem for once and for all.
"We cannot allow her indecency in the convent anymore. It would be an insult to God if we should let her stay." One of the sisters said, the others nodded in agreement. Except for one.
"Where will she go? If we send her on her way she'll not survive a week. Doesn't God instruct us to protect others?" the sister spoke up in a soft but pleading voice.
"She has refused to repent for her sins. Enough chances have been given and she has made her choice. She chose to look like a harlot. Sister Mary is right. We cannot allow her to continue her herecy whithin these sacred walls." The mother-superior said. The sister who had spoken up lowered her eyes. Another sister leaned over the table towards her.
"Don't be upset, sister Eunice." she started, "I for one am convinced that Tegan will surprise us all in her resourcefulness."
"I think we all know what 'recourcefulness' would keep her alive, and none of us are surprised by it." The sister on the far end of the table grumbled louder than she had intended to. She straightened up immediately when the mother-superior shot her a stern look.
"None of that indecency here, sister Magdalene." she said.
"I don't think that Tegan would ever go as far as to sell herself." sister Mary said in an almost protective tone. She lowered her voice and leaned in as if she was sharing a big secret.
"I always thougt that something was different about the girl, but last night, my suspicions were proven right." Every pair of eyes around the table widened in curiosity. Even mother superior betrayed herself by leaning in slightly.
"A few days ago, when I was sending everyone to bed, she was stalling as she always does. Then, when I threatened to use my cane on her if she wouldn't go to bed that instant," sister Mary paused to collect herself, "I could've sworn I heard her snapping her fingers and the candles behind me suddenly lit up and set te curtains ablaze." sister Mary sat back in her chair awaiting the responses from her sisters.
"The devil is in that child." Sister Magdalene said, breaking the stunned silence.
"Why come forwards with this information now, sister Mary? Why did you not share this before, when you requested for this meeting." the mother superior asked. Sister Mary gave a sad smile.
"I know this may sound silly, but I helped to raise that child from the moment she was left here on the doorstep. I taught her how to write, how to read. It may be harsh for me to accept that that sweet girl who brougt me a flower every day from the moment she turned five, has turned away from our Lord's guidance and offered herself to Satan. But, although it hurts to see her lose her way, I am mostly scared of her since that night. Scared of what she could do if she would stay. I thought her indecent behaviour would suffice to send her away, but I do not want any of you to think so ill of her. Tegan wouldn't fall so low as to sell herself." Sister Mary lowered her eyes when her little rant was over. The room fell silent again.
"If what you say is true, than she has fallen futher from God than we had previously thought." The mother superior rested her chin on her laced fingers and did not speak a word while she thought. The other sisters also sat in silence, awaiting the Mother superior's decision.
"After the recent events just told to us by sister Mary, the child can certainly not stay in the convent. I am quite torn, truth be told. Like sister Mary, I have seen the girl grow up into a remarkable young woman. A sinner in the eyes of God and an annoyance, but remarkable." Mother superior said and fell silent again. "Yet, I cannot condone her further heresy. If she truly is an agent of Satan, she needs to be either reformed or eliminated. This goes beyond ourselves, my children. I will speak to father Anthony about this issue." She rose and walked out of the room, leaving the eighteen sisters giving meaningful glances at each other. Father Anthony was greatly respected by the surrounding villagers, but nearly every sister in the convent knew that his vow of abstinence was nothing but empty words to him, whether the sisters were willing or not. But the mother superior trusted him and he was the head of the local church, wasn't he? God wouldn't have chosen him if he hadn't been worthy, would he? 'We should all feel honored that a man of God would grace us with such attentions' a sister had once said after one of the novices had come crying to her after father Anthony had forced himself on her. A week later the novice threw herself into the sea. The sisters had grieved silently as the father had condemned her soul to Hell for taking her own life.
"Cecilia." Father Anthony called upon noticing the mother-superior approaching in the garden. "To what do I owe the pleasure." He smiled invitingly. Father Anthony was an older gentlemen at about forty with a kind face. His kind blue eyes and those wrinkles that appeared around his eyes whenever he smiled – which was often – inspired great trust in his church and the surrounding villages.
"I have a problem concerning one of the novices." Mother-superior started. Father Anthony's smile faltered for a fraction of a second but recovered quickly.
"Which one?" he asked.
"Tegan. You know…"
"The orphan with the red hair. Yes, I am familiar with her." There was a dangerous twinkle in his eye that the mother-superior chose to overlook.
"I am worried about her presence in the convent influencing the other novices." The mother-superior continued. Father Anthony gave her a bemused smile.
"How so? Is she bringing men into the convent?" he asked.
"No. Sister Mary informed me of an… incident."
"Is that so?" he asked, turning his attention to the garden. The mother-superior frowned slightly in annoyance of being ignored for a wilting rose. She leaned closer to father Anthony.
"Tegan is tainted by the devil." She hissed in his ear. Father Anthony flinched a little at the sudden hostility of his childhood friend. He looked at her, bewildered.
"Tainted how?" he demanded. The mother-superior told him the story sister Mary had told her. She may have exaggerated a few details here and there. In her version, Tegan's eyes had turned black she had actually thrown the candles across a room against the curtains with nothing but her mind. The Mother-superior briefly reflected on her exaggerations, but brushed her guilt away with an ease striking to even herself. Father Anthony looked at her, wide-eyed.
"This is indeed troublesome, Cecilia," he said, his voice trembling slightly, "You were right in your judgment as to not allowing her to stay in the convent. But sending her away will just shift the problem to another location. As God's servants, we cannot let Tegan live." The mother superior looked at him, shocked.
"Doesn't that seem a little excessive?" She asked. Father Anthony's expression hardened.
"This is a demon we are talking about, Cecilia. Nothing is too excessive." He barked, a frantic tone creeping through his usually soft voice.
"A demon?!" the mother-superior yelped.
"Yes. Black eyes, telekinesis? I have seen it before. Bring her to me and I'll take care of her." Father Anthony said, his voice still a little shaky as he turned away from the mother-superior and strode towards the church. The mother-superior raised her hand in order to stop him, suddenly feeling very guilty for her exaggerations in Mary's story, but the father had already gone. She called his name, but he just raised his hand to silence her.
"Bring her to me, Cecilia." He ordered. The mother-superior recognized that expression on his face. Nothing she would say would change his mind now. Sweat pearled on her forehead. Did she just send an innocent girl to her death? Innocent?! She is not an innocent. If not for devil-worshipping, she is definitely guilty of other sins. She did set the curtains on fire with just a snap of her fingers and the way she prances around like a prostitute… The more the mother-superior thought about the novice called Tegan, the more she believed she was guilty. Yes, some minor details might have been exaggerated, but the outcome stayed the same. The girl was trouble and that needed to be fixed. And father Anthony was going to fix it. So, with her heart a whole less heavy, she made her way to the novice quarters.
Tegan was in her small room, looking out of the window when she noticed the mother-superior and father Anthony speaking to each other. The conversation had looked serious and, even from a distance she could tell father Anthony's panicked expression. She could guess what they were talking about and smiled a little. It had been a foolish, impulsive decision to display her… abilities like she did a few nights ago, but o how she reveled in the terrified expression of sister Mary. Tegan had no problems with the good nun, but she just wasn't nearly having enough fun in the monastery as she would like to have had. The curtain incident had just been a splurge, but it may cause her some trouble yet. The mother-superior and father Anthony's little talk convinced Tegan all the more of the idea that had been forming in her mind for some time. She had to leave. The sooner the better, she thought as she gathered her few belongings in a small satchel. Clothes, the little gold she had,… Tegan was so occupied with her task at hand that she didn't hear the footsteps approaching in the hall. She jumped up when the mother-superior suddenly threw open her chamber door.
"Are you preparing to leave, child?" the nun said with a sugary sweet voice after seeing the room ruckus Tegan had made. Tegan had never trusted her. Preaching about honesty, chastity and justice when lusting after the dear father who had assaulted half her peers all the while covering for his sorry ass? If there was anything Tegan hated more than everything in the world, it was a hypocrite and she had never attempted to hide any of her indignation. She put on her confident smile she usually wore and held her chin high.
"Actually, Cecilia, I am." No use to lying now, Tegan figured.
"Mother-superior." The mother-superior corrected tirelessly, "Any specific reason for your departure?" Tegan shrugged.
"Change of scenery, tired of being watched and judged all the time, the priest next door who keeps trying to back me into a corner… Choose whatever reason you see fit." Tegan casually said while taking her cloak out of the chest by the foot of her bed where she kept all her clothing. From the corner of her eye she could see the mother-superior stiffening at the accusations towards her childhood friend and smiled inwardly.
"You are not leaving this convent, child. Not just yet. Father Anthony wants to speak with you." The mother-superior said, her voice a little bit harsher than before.
"Oh, I bet he does. Are you pimping your precious novices, now? What will the good father give you in return? Some 'speaking' for your own?" Tegan smiled wildly even after the nun's back of her hand hit her jaw with a loud slap. Tegan wiped away a trickle of blood seeping from her split lip.
"Have you been wearing sharper rings? Jesus Christ." Tegan knew all she was doing was angering the nun, but it was as if it were stronger than herself. She'd rather be beaten into a bloody pulp than to show any submission towards the heavy, in black and white clad woman standing in front of her. The mother-superior looked at her with a face as of stone.
"Follow me, girl." She simply said a little too composed. Tegan knew the mother-superior was not a cruel woman. At least not in a direct sense. She did not enjoy any physical punishments she was sometimes forced to inflict. The father-comment must have really hit home, Tegan thought amused. But it was no use to push the nun's buttons any further, how satisfying it may be. Tegan knew how to evade the father's advances, so she saw no real harm in following the mother-superior. Yet, there was this faint worry in the back of her mind when she thought about how fiercely the nun and the father had looked at one another. She couldn't know for certain that they had been discussing her, but the mother-superior visiting her right after seemed like too much of a coincidence. They have no proof except for Mary's word, Tegan reassured herself, but the feeling didn't pass.
The novice quarters were adjacent the church, with their small rectangular windows looking in on its colorful garden, bathing in the summer sun. It formed a stark contrast with the corridors of the sleeping quarters when stepping out of a novice's room, which were illuminated solely by windows looking into the convent courtyard every twenty feet or so – more often than not covered by heavy curtains – and some candles every here and there. Tegan smiled slightly when she glanced at the scorched curtains in the light of her open door. With the natural light mostly blocked and the candles that barely lit up anything, the dark often felt heavy and ominous to most people. Tegan remembered being deathly scared walking to her room as a little girl. The thought amused her now. She had not been scared of the dark corners of the convent in a long time. Instead, she found herself thinking of the dark as something seductive. Shielding, almost. Tegan always was on her worst behavior when the lights went out. As she walked just a step behind the mother-superior and felt the comfort of the dim corridor washing over her, Tegan could think clearly again. She glanced out of the windows in passing and saw the wall and the gate that shut the convent off from the rest of Britain and saw the few soldiers standing guard on the wall. Following the mother-superior willingly suddenly struck Tegan as the most foolish decision she could have made. She had lost the element of surprise and anonymity. If she would attempt to run now, she'd not even reach the gate before getting caught. Tegan's anxiety grew with every step now. She still didn't know for certain why she felt such alarm. Besides lashing out at her, the mother-superior had not said anything about a punishment or being restraint. And yet, Tegan had a feeling she wouldn't see that gate for some time now, and the thought scared her. Her smile faltered, suddenly not so confident anymore. She was just a girl, after all, dabbling in witchcraft or not.
"Mother?" she asked in a small voice. The mother-superior turned, seemingly ready for another snarky jibe, but as she immediately noticed the change in the girl, her features turned worried.
"What is it, child?"
"Am I going to die?" Tegan asked. The mother-superior eyes widened at the question. She seemed to struggle to find an answer for a few moments.
"I don't know, Tegan." The mother-superior looked at her melancholically. That may have been the first time Tegan had heard those three words from her superior. Tegan's mind was shrouded in doubt and helpless frustration. She felt tears well up in her eyes, brutally aware of how vulnerable she was. The insecurity of whether or not her life was going to continue was torture to her and the fact that the mother-superior didn't know either – the mother-superior, who had always had an answer to everything – made the feeling even worse. The mother-superior gave her one last regretful look before she turned and started walking again. Tegan didn't say anymore, but glanced around as they went through the small gate separating the convent and the church's garden. She took in everything. Every color seemed so vibrant, alive. It was as if the birds were chirping happier than usual, the bees buzzing louder than she was used to, the sea almost unbearably loud behind the convent wall. It all seemed so horribly off. Maybe because she actually looked and listened. Or maybe everything really was brighter on her dying day. Whichever it was, Tegan felt a little bit better that this would be one of the last things she saw.
Father Anthony was waiting on them in the church, praying on a kneeler in front of the richly decorated altar in the back of the space. He turned towards Tegan with a stoic expression, barely even acknowledging the mother-superior as they walked towards him. Tegan may have been scared to death, but that did nothing to hide her stubbornness. It was one thing showing her fear to the nun, but she refused to give the father even the least bit of satisfaction. She held her chin high and didn't back down when he attempted to stare her down with his blue stare. The knot in her chest tightened when she could have sworn that the corners of his mouth lifted a bit. She then realized that death was not the worst case scenario. As if to emphasize her thoughts, the father's eyes swooped over her body for a fraction of a second. The mother-superior must have noticed it too. Even with the nun's back towards her, Tegan could see her tensing up. Father Anthony turned his attention towards the mother-superior.
"Thank you for bringing the girl to my attention, sister." He smiled, showing too much teeth for it to be friendly. At least to Tegan. The mother-superior, apparently, did found it reassuring judging on the way her shoulders lost some of the tension. She gave the father a small nod.
"Father…"
"I will take her from here." Father Anthony interjected. Tegan's heart started to beat faster with every word he said. A surge of adrenaline shot through her body as the father reached for her. Without consciously making the decision, she lashed out at the hand coming towards her and heard the father's yelp. Seeing the father clutching his hand with now four, red welts and his furious expression when he turned towards her, Tegan backed away, her eyes wide. She was just about to turn to the door and start running when she bumped into the solid figure of the mother-superior. Before she could push away, the nun's arm were locked tightly around Tegan's body, holding her in place. Father Anthony walked up to her and unceremoniously hit her across the face, adding a red handprint to the split lip the mother-superior had given her earlier. Tegan's body stiffened with the sudden pain. She choked back a sob, even in the disadvantage refusing to show her weakness. The father took her arm again and yanked her roughly out of the mother-superior's hold. Tegan struggled and scratched, but then the second slap hit, harder this time and she went limp in the father's hold as she couldn't hold back the tears anymore.
"Father," the mother-superior began, her eyes concerned as she gazed at the weeping girl, "Maybe I should accompany her."
"That won't be necessary, sister." Father Anthony curtly said, "This will not be pleasant for me nor the girl, but it has to happen. I do not wish to bring a third party into this dreadful situation." The mother-superior did not respond. She turned on her heel and walked away. When the closing sound of the heavy wooden door echoed through the church. Father Anthony pulled Tegan along with him towards a trap door behind the altar with three heavy padlocks. Tegan watched as he fished four keys attached to a cord around his neck out of his robe and unlocked the trap door. Her eyes still felt a little swollen because of her crying, but other than that she was completely calm again. On the outside, that is. The fear knotting inside her chest was no nearly painful as the father dragged her down a set of stairs into a dark tunnel. Like with the hallway in the convent, the dark soothed her a little bit. Father Anthony couldn't see her face so she didn't have to pretend to be strong for a little while. The while soon ended when Tegan noticed a light in the distance lit up the tunnel more and more with every step she took. How is this happening? Tegan thought. This must be a dream. A horrible nightmare. Yes, that's it! I will walk into that light and then I'll just wake up in my bed. Mary will be standing over me nearly pushing me out of my bed, I'll pray and I'll go to the gardens and tease the guards. That's what will happen. She tried to convince herself, but even her inner monologue didn't sound so confident anymore. Tegan had had dreams and nightmares before and she knew the difference between them and reality. This was reality, she knew. But still, she hoped. She hoped because she feared that if she didn't she'd lose her mind completely then and there, and even though she was more scared for her life than she had ever been, Tegan preferred to die with her dignity – even if it was the tiniest bit – intact. She hoped desperately that she would make true to that promise to herself, but she also knew she was already failing.
The origin of the light was a large, cave-like space. Water was dripping down the rocky walls and the floor slightly uneven. Tegan idly assumed that a body of water had probably ran through here at some point but then her gaze settled on more pressing matters. A large wooden table on a stone platform in the middle of the cave dominated the space. In fact, it was the only thing in the cave. When father Anthony pushed her out in front of him up the platform, Tegan started to have an idea of what would be done to her. The strangest was the pentagram in a circle and some symbols painted on the platform, but it wasn't what most concerned her at that moment. Six cuffs, covered in similar symbols as the one painted on the platform, on chains were attached to the table. One in each corner and two in the center of long sides. The other end of each chain went through a hole in the table and spun around a turning wheel. Tegan now also saw the smaller table next to the torture device with all sorts of knives, saws and clamps. All the blood drained from her face. She didn't need to wonder any longer whether or not she'd die.
"Lie down." Father Anthony ordered. Tegan hesitated.
"Come now. If you comply, this won't be half as bad as you are imagining it in your head." He continued as he saw Tegan's fearful look towards the cuffs. He walked around the table and went to stand next to her.
"Why are you doing this?" Tegan asked in a small voice.
"You know why." Father Anthony's voice softened as he tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear. Then without any warning he grabbed a fistful of hair and pushed her on the table. Tegan gave a silent grunt but climbed up. He pushed her down, flat on her back, and started to lock her wrists and ankles in cuffs. They were so heavy, Tegan could barely lift an arm. Father Anthony disappeared under the table and Tegan heard the squeaking of the turning wheel as the chains tightened and pulled her arms and legs taut. Her breathing quickened as her mobility was taken away from her, her heart beating alarmingly loud in her ears. All possible scenarios went through her head, from best to worst. A tear escaped her eye, rolling down into her hairline. Father Anthony's head appeared above her own, wiping the wet trail the tear had left away.
"I know that this is not how you thought it would end, Tegan. I am sorry that it had to come to this, but I cannot allow an abomination to God and man to walk freely on this earth. Do you understand? It would be a crime far worse than murder." His voice was soft and urging, as if he almost believed his own excuses, but the humor in his eyes betrayed him. He liked to do this. He reveled in seeing her without a way out, restricted, helpless. And who knows how many others had lain on that table before her. Tegan had thought she knew what hate was before, but the anger and disgust that welt up in her when she looked at the face of her captor was almost frightening to her. And the worst part of it all was that she wouldn't even be able to use her witchcraft to get out of this situation. Like any girl with a slightly twisted mind raised in a place where diversity was not welcome, Tegan had been drawn to the darker side of witchcraft. Little things, like moving something a little bit with nothing but her thoughts, or manipulate the guards to let her go outside had never been a problem to her. When she had stumbled upon a spell book in a large chest in one of the backrooms of the convent – by pure coincidence- it hadn't taken long for her to uncover her love for fire. She had studied those spells exhaustively for years, but only a little progress had been made. When Tegan had set the curtains on fire, she had only known how to do it for a few weeks. And that was when there was fire present for her to manipulate. She couldn't summon fire out of thin air. Not without the proper spells and experience. Adding to that that she practically had ignored every other chapter in that book of spells, and Tegan was ready to hit herself if she would have been able to do so. Manipulating water would have been grand, for starters. Manipulating her captor would have been even grander. Then she would be able to make him cut into himself for a change. Tegan's murderous thoughts came to a halt when a thin knife, covered in dried blood came into her line of sight.
"Who are your accomplices?" Father Anthony demanded. Oddly enough, imagining how she would kill the father had calmed her a little bit. Tegan knew she was still going to die, but the thought didn't scare her as much as it did a couple of minutes before. Because she knew. She knew that in some way or another, father Anthony would pay for his actions. She knew the moment he had leaned over her with his smug face, holding his bloodied knife, not looking nearly as threatening as he thought he did.
"Accomplices to what?" she asked, her voice even. A sharp pain in her left hand made surprised her and she let out a scream. Father Anthony held then knife threateningly above her face again, the tip now covered in fresh blood.
"Your smart mouth is not going to be of aid to you this time, demon." He spat. Tegan smiled through the throbbing pain in her hand.
"Demon? Isn't that a little bit over dramatic?" Father Anthony chuckled darkly.
"Listen, you black-eyed whore. Either you tell me where your allies are or I will take the long and painful route to return you back to Hell, where you belong." Black-eyed? What is he talking about? The father disappeared again for a moment and the next Tegan's face was splashed with water. She gasped in surprise. Father Anthony didn't ask any further. From the corner of her eye Tegan could see him looking at her confused.
"What are you?" Tegan was still breathing hard, recovering from the cold water. She swallowed. Black-eyed? That was the first time she had ever heard someone using the term 'black-eyed'. The pain shooting through her right hand pulled Tegan out of her thoughts. Father Anthony grabbed her face with both hands as he peered into her eyes and started chanting in Latin. Latin was commonly not taught to the girls in the convent, but Tegan knew some words here and there. Even with only the few words she knew, Tegan understood what the father was repeating over and over again. Her eyes widened in alarm. He's mad! He has completely lost his mind! After reciting the same string of sentences over a dozen times, father Anthony looked down at her in frustration. Tegan cocked an eyebrow, torn between being weirdly amused by the open frustration in the father's face and deathly scared for the knives on the table next to her.
"So, you are not a demon." He muttered, more to himself than to her. He muttered another string of Latin, different than the apparent exorcism. This time, the words did have an effect. It was as if the blood in Tegan's veins started to heat up and she cringed visibly at the sudden pain.
"A witch." Father Anthony smiled, absolutely delighted, "It has been a while since I have dealt with one of those before." He started to circle the table, tracing Tegan's body with the tip of his knife.
"Nonetheless, you are a danger to this community and an insult to God. Who else is in this coven of yours?" Tegan shifted in nervously in her restraints. Throughout her spell book it had been obvious that most witches worked in group and had acquired their abilities through a deal with the devil. Tegan had never made a deal, though, and she had never met another witch before.
"I have no cove-." Tegan screamed as Father Anthony's knife penetrated her thigh, tears streaming down her face.
"Lies!" he shouted over her screams. Before she was aware of it, Father Anthony had climbed atop the table, straddling her body between his thighs and looming over her.
"A witch never works alone." he looked at her intently and let out a deep sigh, "Tegan, this could all be over so quickly if you would just cooperate with me. Tell me where you're coven hides and I will not publically execute you." His voice dropped and he drew the tip of his knife down her neck suggestively.
"I cannot tell you what I don't know." Tegan's voice hitched, partly because of the throbbing pain where her thigh had been pierced by the knife but mostly because of the definite direction she saw the torture going. Suddenly, she welcomed the knives. She wished for the knives. Anything but what Father Anthony was going to do to her next.
Tegan had forgotten how many days had passed. Or had it been months? She didn't want to think how bruised and battered her body probably was from the endless tortures father Anthony performed on her. At times he stayed away for hours on end and Tegan did not know which she thought of as worse. With the tiny part of her brain that hadn't numbed, the part that she treasured with every fiber of her being, she often caught herself wanting him to come back. At least she wouldn't be alone. At least she would feel something. The knives were still her favorite. The pain they caused was bearable somehow and at times strangely cleansing. The worst were the priers. None of her nails or teeth had survived father Anthony's boredom. Because that's what it seemed to Tegan. At first he had continued to question her, trying to make her reveal herself. But now, the father didn't say anything anymore. Not even when he would climb on top of her and forced himself in her mouth. Tegan would have forgotten how his voice sounded if it hadn't been for the countless 'visitors' he negotiated with, who payed him for an hour alone with the witch whore. By the thirtieth visitor – give or take – Tegan didn't feel anything anymore. She had stopped resisting, stopped calling out, cursing them and their wives and their children, because what was the point? All of her dignity and willpower were officially gone. Now all Tegan could do was hoping to die fast. It wouldn't last that much longer, she knew. She could already feel herself fading. She wondered if she would go to Heaven, if there even was a Heaven and, if she'd be sent to Hell, what God would be so cruel as to let an innocent child be tortured.
She heard soft steps approaching her. Strange. She hadn't heard the creaking door open and close. A shadow loomed over her but Tegan did not turn her head. "Now now, child what has been done to you?" A low, rumbling voice asked. It wasn't the father's. A cold hand took Tegan's chin and turned it towards the owner. An angular face with harsh features and framed by blond curls was standing over her. In the middle of that face, two bright yellow eyes were staring at her. Tegan's eyes widened and she opened her mouth to scream, but nothing but a hoarse squeal exited her mouth. The corners of the thing's mouth quirked up in amusement.
"Cut out your tongue, did he? Awful messy work, I must say. The man is clearly an amateur." The man tilted her head as if to inspect her. Tegan's breathing was heavy. She blinked feverishly. Surely this must be some sort of illusion, caused by her isolation and constant torture. But no matter how much she shook her head or blinked, the monster looming over her did not leave. It smiled, exposing a set of pearly white teeth.
"I am real, darling," it moved to the table with torture instruments near Tegan's head and picked on up, studying it before bracing two hands on either side of her face. "You seem awfully surprised. One would think someone with your ancestry and abilities would be more accepting towards a demon." The thing's yellow eyes lit up as if to emphasize his words. Tegan's eyes still stood wide and fearful. A demon, he had said. The very being she was accused of being. Tegan wondered how father Anthony could have been so thick as to confuse her with the thing looming over her. The fact that she didn't have yellow eyes seemed a clear clue of her innocence. But, thinking back, the good father most likely just needed an excuse to tie her up. The demon sighed regretfully.
"You could have been extraordinary, you know? I've been watching you for a while now. No guidance but a dated spell book, and yet you have managed quite a bit of arson. Consider me impressed with your potential. A shame it's wasted now. A witch isn't much without her tongue. Or at least some of her sanity," the thing moved around again, picked up a pair of priers and continued to twirl them around in his hand, "Even if you weren't chained up in here it would have been a waste, though. A human body and mind is so… limited, so confined. Tell me," it looked down at Tegan, who stared back, forgetting her fear for that low harmonious voice for a second. "Or nod, more likely. You do not seem to be enjoying yourself out here, what with the continuous rape and cutting that has been going on and such." It looked at the little girl expectantly and Tegan shook her head, not daring to break eye contact.
"Hmm, I can imagine what vile things you would do to the good father Anthony, given an opportunity." The demon mused. His words sparked something in Tegan. She had shoved the want for revenge away from her thoughts the moment she had stopped resisting. She had just wanted to die from that point on. Before father Anthony had stopped interrogating her, he kept going on about 'demon deals' of some sort. Was this what the demon leaning over her was offering? A way out? In exchange for what? Tegan missed her tongue more than ever. The demon tapped his index finger on her nose.
"I can almost hear your thoughts brewing in there. I can give you what you want. Well, to an extent. I'll free you, give back everything that was taken from you from the priest and, in ten years to the hour, you're mine." The demon smiled, but sighed dramatically when he saw the question in Tegan's eyes.
"You know, you seen like an intelligent girl. I don't have to deceive or manipulate you. You see, your abilities are stronger than with any witch your age I have ever seen. Do you know how demons are created?" the demon asked. Tegan shook her head again.
"In the rare cases they are mutilated angels who fell from Heaven. But most of them are just humans, tortured for ages after being dragged to Hell. Not every human gets so lucky, though. Just the ones who, ten years before their untimely death, gave their soul in exchange for something they want." Tegan swallowed nervously. The demon ignored her discomfort and continued.
"Of course, a human demon is just a worst case scenario human. It still has a certain human... weakness that never really goes away." Tegan shivered when the demon dragged the cold metal of the priers slowly up her leg.
"I had always wondered what would happen when something with a little more bite to their soul turned. To spare you the suspense: I have already tested it. Blood-witches. I have dragged hundreds down with me before and they all turned out to be so disappointing. And dead. I have a good feeling about you, though. You're not a half-breed like the other ones. I can feel it pulsing under your skin. So much potential. So, what are you going to do? You could let the priest torture and rape you to death, knowing he'll probably get no comeuppance in the end. Or, take my deal, raise some hell and have a very real possibility of becoming something more than the orphan girl, looked down upon by everyone for her nature." Tegan closed her eyes, slowed her breathing and forced herself to think as coherently as she could manage. More than ever, she wanted to make the father pay. And the men who had raped her, and the mother-superior, and that traitorous bitch Sister Mary. She wanted to make each of them pay, preferably in the most painful fashion imaginable. But Hell? Becoming a demon? Was it all worth the revenge? A voice at the far back of her mind screamed 'NO!'; but a louder voice, a grating voice she recognized to be the mother-superior's caught her attention: 'You are an abomination to the Lord.' the voice said. 'Watch your sinful tongue, girl. It may cost you your passage to the heavenly gardens.' Dozens of accusations and threats Tegan had received over the years swirled around in her head, clouding her thoughts. She had always brushed them away with an easy smile, but then again she had never believed in an afterlife before. Now, confronted with the truth, she was truly scared. So much done, so much said. So many sins. Tegan realized that there was not a chance she was going to Heaven when she died. Not with her blood, with her thoughts she never spoke aloud but occupied her in the dead of night. She was a witch and an abomination. God would not accept an abomination in his gardens. The thought of becoming a demon at time started to look more and more appealing. And she did want to make them all pay. Tegan opened her eyes, looked the yellow-eyed demon straight in the eye and nodded. The demon grinned a devilish grin and leaned closer, his hand caressing her cheek.
"Very well, child." He closed the remaining distance and kissed her hard on the mouth. Tegan's eyes widened in surprise.
"The deal has been sealed." The demon said when he straightened. And with a snap of his fingers, the cuffs around Tegan's wrists and ankles unlocked. She tentatively moved her wrists around, wincing when the raw flesh ached after having been still for so long. The demon sighed when she tried to lift herself up on her elbows and promptly collapsed on the hard stone table again. With a surprising gentleness, he lifted her up and set her on her feet on the cold rock bottom of the cave. Her knees buckled, not being used to support that much weight – even if Tegan had been starved to half her usual weight – anymore. Another snap and Tegan felt the wounds all over her body closing. A throbbing pain in the back of her throat took her by surprise. She quickly realized that her tongue was growing back, inch by agonizing inch. When it was back to its full length and Tegan thought it would finally be over, another pain spread; in her gums this time. She gave a scream when her new teeth broke through and fell to her knees on the ground, blood dripping out of her mouth. It was strange hearing her own screams again after so long. Still heavily breathing, she carefully moved her newly formed tongue over her teeth. A chuckle escaped her lips, and then another one, until she lay floored, laughing. The demon just watched her, bemused by her sudden outburst of laughter. Tegan sighed deeply and smiled at the demon standing over her.
"Thank you." She croaked. She felt stronger than ever before. The lack of food and water still gnawed in her stomach, her skin dangerously taut across her bones. But her mind? Her mind had never been so clear. All the power she felt surging through her veins, all the potential she had never been able to make true on. It was intoxicating. Hoisting herself up with much effort, the demon caressed her face as if he were her father.
"Have fun." He simply said and turned on his heel to walk away. Tegan blinked and then he was gone. She looked confused around but then half-smiled to herself.
"I will." She whispered back.