A/N: Hello all~! BritLuvr here. :3 So...yeah. Got tired of waiting for me co-author to get back to me on that Graves chapter and decided you all deserved an update. This one goes to Flyspark, who's been reviewing like CRAZY! Thanks so much, dear! Also, head's up; making some format changes. Do not be alarmed. :) Okay, that's enough of me, I'll let you get to it!
Chapter Twelve: The Secrets Of A New World
The cobblestones were slick with the sticky red liquid gushing from the gaping wound in her stomach. Peering in to assess the damage, she knew she would not make it. She could see the pale coils of her own intestines neatly stacked within, a single loop of the coil dangling lazily out of its fleshy cocoon. She touched it, curious; a horrible, flaming pain shot through her, as if she had touched her distorted face, which felt scalded even in the gentle caress of the night air. Her purple bruises were already yellowing, as if they were physically ill, and the deep lacerations in her arms and chest stung from the dirt that had fallen in them. Her every nerve burned with a white-hot intensity formerly unknown to her, a level of pain which had already caused her black out. Her body was dying, with or without her consent. That, or she had grown more tolerant of the pain. From her sprawled position, she took in her surroundings.
Everything was as it had been before, the dark, unpopulated alley and the night sky with its roaming shadow-clouds blocking the stars from high above. She looked down at her body again, fearful of what new atrocities she might fine: Something whitish and dripping red poked out from one calf, spilling more of her ruby wine across the stones. She moved the leg experimentally, hissing in new pain. It hurt to move, to breathe, to live, but she pulled herself inch by aching inch forward, determined to use her last, fleeting moments of life to make a difference. Starbursts of color flashed before her eyes-red, white, blue, green, purple, black-each big and bright and longer lasting, consuming more and more of her actual vision. The dark street with its crimson river gave way more and more to the flashes of color, and she knew that whatever that monster had done to her before was in the past; she was now locked in a deadly race against time. There was no prize for winning this race, not for her and not for time, but perhaps for the next young woman caught in this situation, the running of this race would be made well worth it.
Her voice was gone, her will to cling to life was used-up. There was only pain, and the flashes, and determination. She pulled herself close to the grating set low in the wall of the nearby building, body going numb and clumsy, stubbornly ignoring her will. Panting with the effort, she used the only thing available to tell her story-and halfway through the painstaking process of telling it, she collapsed, falling on her face, the raw nerves there screaming but the inpact. Their cries fell on deaf ears as the young woman's eyes glazed over.
No one had heard her scream. No one had witnessed her brutal beating, or the horrible mutilations inflicted upon her. No one had watched her die, or smelt her blood when it first hit the uneven stones of the street, or tasted her fear on the air that blew through the darkened alley. Yet, perhaps, someone would read her tale: Scrawled just above the desecrated body, in its own shakey hand with the blood that had once flowed so freely from its own heaving wounds, was a simple message which glinted darkly in the starlight peering out from between the nighttime clouds. In the morning, the police would find her, stripped in more ways than one and lying in a dried puddle of her own blood, but with any luck they would be able to look up from that dark pool of human mortality and see it.
tricked by his song
could not fight him off
stop him before another one di
Sooner than expected, the tiny boat glided out of the darkness and into a new port, a new world, filled with the glittering flicker of candlelight over water. It was a glorious sight, dazzling to the darkness-accustomed eyes of the boat's passengers. With an expert hand, the Angel steered the boat in to the new cavern, smaller than that which housed the body of the lake, yet larger than might be expected. Shilo's tired eyes could not discern the new cavern's exact dimensions, owing partially to the tricks played by wavering candles and partially to the lethargy taking over her small body.
The Angel's domain was fitting for his demeanor; dark and mysterious at the edges, yet radiant and glittering in its immediate embrace. The candles' flames danced on the water, the gleaming cavern walls, the hot melted wax as grew heated and fell to the earth, cooling into a spotty marble of pure white over the uneven surface of the ground, tears of passion grown cold with time.
The boat knocked gently against the shore, jolting Shilo violently out of her own head. The Angel chuckled fondly, clearly taken with her child-like fascination and youthful tendencies. He docked the boat and helped Shilo up onto the solid ground, clasping her hand for just a moment longer than perhaps was necessary.
"Benvenuto, bella; welcome to'a my home." The Angel stepped back with a sweeping bow, encompassing the strange play of light and shadows in one broad gesture. Shilo took small, hesitant steps. Her mind was oddly free of her body, soaring all around in the room in a flurry of curiosity and comprehension of the Angel's strangeness, but her body was heavy, a burden to be heaved to and fro with all of her might. The unusual combination confused her senses further, shrinking and stretching the room at odd intervals as she tried to pull the two errant elements into proper alignment. The Angel, sensing some distress on her part, gently took her by the elbow and guided her away from the docks, fearful that she would fall into the water if proper precaution was not taken.
He lightly steered her to the velvety seat of a grand organ whose pipes sparkled from the intense light given off by the ring of candles surrounding it, twenty at the least—though even simple mathematics were beyond Shilo's flighty mind at the moment. She stumbled and fell onto the bench's cushion, watching in stupefaction as the Angel reverently caressed the keys with his fingertips. It was the only other thing Shilo had ever seen him act so passionately towards; his music. Of course, the organ looming before her now must be the birthplace of his beautiful music, the seat in which she was perched his mighty throne from which he created that other kingdom he ruled so well. She smiled a bit at the thought, a bright, sweet crescent moon gracing the sky of his timeless realm. All the while, the Angel looked on with hooded eyes, greedily drinking in all Shilo so willingly gave.
"Stay here, mia bella. I wish'a to show you something."
Shilo did as she was told, retaining her seat at the musical alter. She lightly ran her fingers over the key and shivered delicately at the thought of the genius produced here. It was a wonder, it was a secret cathedral offering prayers up to some mysterious god—no, angel—of music, a sweet divinity of symphony, the harmonious rapture which entrapped the mortal soul made the mind a slave to its glorious composition. It was a private world in the mind built from the physical presence of ivory and brass, or black and white and bronze and silver and…red?
Shilo frowned, focusing her tired eyes and wandering mind on the misfit color. There was no mistaking it—a deep red, crimson, spotted the floor beneath the organ. It did not touch the scared keys, and yet…. Shilo cast about her, but could not find the comfort she sought. All the candles of this underground kingdom where white, pure…no red wax dared to mingle in their bodies or cling to the shining arms of their candelabras. She looked down again, following the cerise spots with her eyes. As the trail showed no upward inclination towards the organ, she followed it the other way, rising from her seat on the bench. Adrenaline flooded her veins and made light of the once-heavy body, concentrated the once-soaring mind. Her heart beat hard on the cage of her ribs, making a desperate bid for escape, and her breath came light and fast in tiny gasps. Dread filled her as she reached down, slowly prying open the bench's lid to peer below the surface of the mysterious.
Horribly misshapen, bloodied and wrinkled and curling in on itself, revealing a horrific network of disused veins, the thing stared up from the bench's compartment with awful, empty eyes, attempting a smile or smirk that filled her with gut-wrenching revulsion and fear. She fell away in a swoon, unable to control her body, as illness and disgust and fright waged a war in her mind to claim her erratic thoughts. The candles doused themselves and left her utterly alone in a foreign darkness.