(Author's Note: Quarantine has us all writing, huh? Well, enjoy the chapter! Stay safe out there!)
2002
"This is unfair."
A red-headed woman wearing a black veil stood back with her arms crossed. A small 6-year old stood in front of her on a stool, refusing to wash the dishes with the scrub-brush clenched in her small hand. She looked from the brush to the child's eyes.
"Really? A stand-off?" she sighed.
"Spencer's the one who spilled the bullet box, not me! He lost them and I—"
"Was also in the weapons closet without permission?" her eyebrows arched.
The child sniffled and looked at the scrub-brush.
"This is unfair! I should be playing in the snow too!"
"Complete your chores and I'll think about it." Her position did not falter. "You got cut some slack yesterday because it was your birthday, but today is back to business. And the business is that you pay your dues when you make a mistake. That's all there is to it."
"Well what about Spencer, huh? What's HE gonna get?"
The woman sighed again.
"Spencer has his punishment coming as well. Do not fret. Complete your chores and you will be free to play in the snow sooner."
The woman turned from looking at the child toward the door with the intention of attending to paperwork. However, the stomp of a foot redirected her attention. She did not turn around.
"This SUCKS!"
"Emily!" she snapped. "Not another word!"
With silence following her command, she continued out the door and closed it behind her as she strode down the hallway to her office.
Cecilia
Cecilia Armstrong was not a strict woman, nor was she an easily-angered one. However, when it came to the children, those traits were a façade in order to keep them in line. If they were going to become hunters, it was necessary for them all to learn discipline and the importance of hard work. She loved them all, though. She truly did. Even though the children might have thought otherwise now and again.
"Ah, sister, you really are too hard on that one." A voice said.
Coming up the adjacent hallway was Delilah, smoothing down her habit as she approached with bright eyes and small smile.
"Sister," Cecilia nodded. "You understand, surely. To keep them disciplined for when their time comes."
She unlocked her office door with a ring of large keys, eyebrows furrowed in thought. Delilah remained in her spot, not moving. Cecilia paused her key-clinking.
"Was there something else you wanted, sister?"
"Inside, yes."
Finishing the three padlocks, she scurried inside with Delilah in tow. She closed the door behind them and offered her friend to sit, which she did. Cecilia sat behind her desk and pulled out a notepad, ready to jot down information if necessary.
"What is it that you wanted to say?"
From her habit, Delilah revealed a manila folder she had been carrying and placed it upon the desk, sliding it to Cecilia's side. She took it, opening it gingerly.
"Multiple individuals in a several mile circumference around the monastery have wound up dead in a sacrificial manner. Blood sigils, eyes gouged out…"
Cecilia peered at the photographs without reaction.
"It's in a perfect circle around the monastery."
"It's a warning." Cecilia rubbed her chin.
"Sister," Delilah creased her brows, puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"Get the trackers ready for a night sweep." She closed the folder. "As a precaution, of course. The situation is troubling, but nothing to spend our best hunters on. I assure you; I will keep track of this. Thank you for bringing it to my attention."
That was Delilah's signal to leave the office, which she understood and did briskly. Once the door was closed tightly behind her, Cecilia unlocked a drawer in her filing cabinet that was labeled "A.F.E." and slid the folder into it, once more locking it securely.
Emily
"Mother Cecilia," Emily started. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Well, you just did." She commented while tucking her in.
"No, no, a REAL question!"
Cecilia smiled.
"Of course, little one. What is it?"
It had been months since the incident. In December, the trackers came back without a scratch and the monastery was warded. No further attacks occurred. It was as it always happened, and it no longer came as a surprise to Cecilia and the rest of the nuns. However, some of the children didn't pick up on the pattern and thought each new attack was as exciting as the last. But that was only some of the children.
"Do you know the red man?"
Cecilia's hands froze on the blankets while a lump formed in her throat.
"Why do you ask, darling?"
Emily kicked her feet a little bit from under the covers, as if out of excitement. However, her face appeared to be scrunched with deep thoughts.
"The red man told me that he was going to come for a visit. But I don't know him. You told me not to talk to strangers, so I told him to go away."
"Good job." Cecilia smiled. "You're absolutely right; you don't know him, so you tell him to go away!" she tickled her lightly, emanating a giggle.
"But Mother, you didn't answer my real question."
"Ah, I suppose you're right!"
As she sat on the edge of her bed, Cecilia considered her words carefully. Emily could tell. Her eyes were wide and observant, watching Cecilia's every move as she pondered how to explain.
"I only know him from stories." She explained. "The red man is a bad man, Emily. He tells you really nice things but is a liar. And you know about lying."
"It's bad, but necessary." Emily nodded strongly.
"We lie to get something."
"So what is the red man trying to get?"
"I don't know, but if he tells you to do something, you stay away and don't do it. Listen to your gut—"
"My belly."
"—yes. If your belly says it's bad, you run away. You're a very good girl for telling me about the red man and for listening to your belly."
"He told me I was a good girl too. I don't know why."
Cecilia swallowed, but remained calm.
"When did he tell you this, darling?"
Emily kicked her feet again. Feeling the length of the day weigh on her, she yawned while she talked.
"I was sleeping and he was dreaming with me."
Rubbing her eyes, she let out another mumble.
"I don't really want him to visit."
Cecilia tucked a piece of Emily's hair behind her ear.
"Of course not." She smiled sweetly. "I've kept you up past your bedtime, haven't I? You have training tomorrow with Delilah and Marianne."
Standing from the bedside, she hovered her hand over the switch of the lamp on the nightstand.
"Mother Cecilia, what if the red man comes to dream with me again? You said he was a bad man. I don't want to dream with a bad man."
"Oh, darling." Cecilia kneeled down. "Keep telling him to go away. In the morning, or even the middle of the night, you tell me if he bothers you and you're afraid. Okay?"
"Uh-huh." Emily rolled onto her side. "Okay."
"Good girl." She switched the light off. "Sleep well, darling."
Emily always hated the dreams with the red man. Always always always. He chuckled all the time and he seemed to move away from her before she could get a good look at him. As if he were a flicker of dust on her eyelid, swimming away from sight but still detectable.
"Hey…Mother said to go away!"
Her legs were shivering while she looked around the room on fire. She had never seen this room before. It was hot, and she knew that fire was dangerous if not controlled. However, her anxiety kept her frozen until that annoying piece of dust settled in her sight. The red man was here.
"She did say to go away, didn't she?" he replied.
Her breath caught in her throat as he appeared closer to her.
Did he walk? His legs didn't move. When did he get right there?
"I don't want to talk to you!" she yelled.
"But I thought I told you I was going to visit? Aren't you excited?"
He was closer to her again.
"Stop! Don't get any closer!"
She tried to force her body to take a step back, but there was something holding her in place. As she began to sweat, she looked up at the ceiling to see eyes looking down at her. She screamed, tears forming in her eyes. The red man looked up to the ceiling and then quickly back at her.
"Oh! Oh, no." his expression visibly changed. "Darling, please, don't cry."
Instead of chaotically teleporting closer to her, he actually scurried in her direction and kneeled down to her level.
"Do the eyes scare you? Do you want those to go away?"
"I WANT YOU TO GO AWAY!" she screamed.
Taken aback, he snapped his fingers. Suddenly, the room was no longer hot. There was no sign of suspicious murder-eyes on the ceiling. While she still shook in fear, she felt strangely at ease with the new stillness. However, the red man was too close to her for comfort.
"Go away!" she shouted. "I want to go home!"
"Are you still afraid of me?"
"Yes! Go away!" she clenched her fists and punched his shoulders. "Go away! Go AWAY!"
During the barrage of child-fists, the red man's facial expression didn't change. He only appeared to be contemplating the situation as he allowed her to beat his shoulders to a presumable pulp. She eventually tuckered herself out, backing away from him when her senses were back in order.
"Did you get that all out of your system?"
She didn't say anything, but she did nod her head.
"I apologize for scaring you. I won't do it again."
She didn't reply.
"Do you want me to take you back home?"
After another moment of silence, she sniffled and wiped her nose.
"Yes, please."
The man smiled, satisfied.
"Just as long as you don't visit me!" she hollered.
"Oh, darling." He placed his hands on his hips. "This was the visit."
2003
Cecilia had been told the night after about the "nightmare visit" and praised her child for resisting the red man. However, it was after that where the recurrence of these reports made her concerned. Emily reported similar kinds once a month, which evolved into once a week, twice, thrice, until finally it was every night for an ongoing period of time. She was more fatigued, irritated, paranoid.
In August, the children ranged from 6-10 began their firearms training, with close supervision of course. Each child was given a firearm full of blanks to assure as much safety as they could in case of misfire. Mother Cecilia overlooked their progress on the sidelines for safety and analysis, carrying a clipboard with her to take notes. Targets were placed in a range behind the monastery on the border of the forest that surrounded the building. As each child fired at their assigned target, nuns scurried around to assist those taking their first steps in training. Commotions were common, as the first day of training could be considered overwhelming. The intensity of those ruckuses were mild, crying being the most intense.
No child had ever threatened another before.
"Mother's favorite can't even hit her target!" a child taunted. "You shootin' the deer out there instead?"
Delilah could be seen kneeling to talk to Emily at her eye-level, who was visibly trembling and red-faced. The gun was in her hands being gripped tightly and was the current object she was looking at. She didn't want to look anyone in the eye. She didn't want to be seen—at all. Delilah's voice in her ear was garbled until the other child—Randall—decided to speak again.
"You gonna cry? Gonna call for mommy?"
"Randall," Delilah warned, "that's enough. Focus on yourself."
Emily looked back up at her target.
"Go on, child, try again. This is what training is for, it is for you to learn." Delilah urged.
With a deep breath, she tried again. When she shot, she clipped the wood of her target, which was the first time she had made contact. She smiled, realizing that she had succeeded at hitting the target.
"Splinters, splinters!" Randall chanted and clapped. "Splinters splinters!"
It was like a school chant that got louder and louder as more children joined in. She looked around at the other kids' targets and saw the amount of bulls-eyes and bullet holes that littered the wood and paint. Sweat dripped from her hairline and off her chin as she felt the sun beat down on her, watched kids gather around the commotion. Her hands shook as she let one hand off the gun to hover over her chest.
"You don't like this. Not one bit."
Her eyes widened at the sudden voice. As the surrounding children joined in on the chant, the laughter, the clapping, she felt her breathing quicken, her one hand's grip on the gun tightening.
"You don't deserve to be called out. You don't deserve to feel unsafe."
"What do I do?" she whispered to herself.
Delilah stood to calm the children and scold them for their actions.
"Get angry."
"Splinters, splinters!" Randall shouted louder. "Splinters, splin—"
Emily took a step forward and shouted in her loudest voice,
"SHUT UP OR YOU'LL BE MY NEW TARGET!"
Her voice reverberated in a tone that was not her own and silenced the chanting, the laughing, the clapping. Randall's eyes widened in fright as he fell onto his bottom from the shock of the reaction, crawling away as frantically as he could.
Cecilia looked up from her clipboard.
Delilah turned around and attempted to rest her hand on the child's shoulder.
"Emily, you need to take a step back—"
She whipped around and smacked the hand away from her with the firearm, causing Delilah to cry out in alarm.
"DON'T TOUCH ME!"
In a flash, Cecilia was there to trap her child in a firm restraint from behind, isolating her wrists to she would lose grip of her training weapon. It fell into the grass with a thud, and the child began to shudder as tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Oh…oh no, oh no…" she whispered.
Delilah stepped back and ushered the children into a group, escorting them away from the scene. Randall was taken by Sister Marianne, whose eyes remained on Emily despite being forced to walk the opposite direction. Cecilia did not move her stance.
"I'm sorry…I'm sorry…!"
Cecilia's voice was calm.
"My child, what happened? Please tell me."
She began to hiccup as she shook her head.
"I couldn't hit the target and Randall kept making fun of me and then the other kids joined in and called me "splinters" and, and—"
"Breathe." Cecilia released the restraint after hiding the firearm in her habit.
She did, and she turned to face her.
"I got angry. I didn't feel good, I felt hot, I didn't want to be here anymore. I wanted them all to go away." She didn't look at Cecilia. "I wanted to make them go away."
Cecilia kneeled down and placed her hands on Emily's shoulders.
"Let us go inside. Training is over now, but we can try it again another time."
She nodded, ashamed.
"Chin up. We will talk in my office. Out of the sun, with an ice cream. Understood?"
"U-Understood, Mother…"
As they stood and walked back to the building, Cecilia's blood ran cold. She was holding her composure for the sake of the children—especially the one by her side—as well as her sisters, but what just happened made her breath shallow.
That was not her voice.
2005
That outburst was not the last. Cyclically, she would become angry and yell at her fellow children when she felt pressured. It was always in the summertime or during the winter, the exact halves of the year. Her birthday was one of those times, as if she…was advancing…to some degree. Each time, there was a change of the air around her. It seemed like static pulsed through the room when she spoke, like spikes rained down on the skin of those around her. However, the outbursts were shorter, especially as she grew older. There was a type of snap back, a shift, where Cecilia could notice when she regained control of her emotions.
It was time to dig into these changes.
"Am—am I in trouble?"
They each sat on either side of Cecilia's desk, the vents whirring with blowing air. Cecilia had a file pulled out and open on her desk and she had yet to speak. She was merely thinking.
"No, no. I just wanted to talk to you."
"I feel like I'm in the principal's office."
Cecilia chuckled.
"I suppose I am the principal, aren't I?"
That got a small laugh out of her. Good.
"You're 9 years old now."
"I am 9 years old now."
"I wanted to bring something up that may be slightly uncomfortable for you. It may even dig into your memory a little bit, it's been a little while."
That emitted no real response. Also good.
"I wanted to talk about some of these times you get really upset. You yell sometimes and it scares some of the other children. The Sisters have also spoken up about it."
She noticed her fidget.
"You're growing to be a fine hunter, and more than anything I want you to succeed. I just need you to be open with me about what's happening."
Emily took a deep breath. In this space, she always felt comfortable. She believed it was the aura Cecilia herself gave off; it was always calming and serene, like she had the full power of the space and no harm would come to either of them.
She relaxed.
"Let's go back to a few years ago, darling. To the gun range. Do you remember that?"
"Oh, this is a fun memory. You relied on me for the first time."
She physically waved by her ear, like a fly were surrounding her head.
Cecilia squinted.
"There's nothing there." She looked down at the file, but then back up. "Unless there is?"
Emily was silent for a long time, before finally telling the truth with narrowed eyes.
"I hear a voice sometimes. It talks to me like it's my friend, and it gives me…advice. Advice I don't like."
"Did you hear the voice at the gun range?" she asked calmly.
"Yeah…it was the first time I heard it. Whenever I get mad or sad or stressed or anything…I hear him."
"Who's "him"?"
She looked into the distance vacantly, as if she was trying to think of what Cecilia just said.
"That's a good question. I know he's a him. And he sounds kind of familiar."
She definitely wasn't avoiding the question; she just had no absolute clue who or what she was hearing in her head. Assigning him a name made him more permanent to her, so she had not done that.
"What did he tell you to do back then? Do you remember?"
She thought back to when she couldn't hit her targets. How she felt suffocated, ready to run away, ready to…lash out. That was something she hated feeling. She didn't want to feel it. Ever.
"He told me that I didn't deserve to feel unsafe and that I should get mad at Randall. So I yelled at him because he wouldn't stop making fun of me."
Cecilia wrote that down with a nod. Without looking up, she continued.
"And the time in the dining room. When Paige took your food."
"He told me that everything was about survival and that I had earned my food. I got mad at him first, but then I pulled her hair to get the food back. He laughed like he was having fun."
Another note was written.
"What about when Skylar asked about your dad?"
Emily put her head down.
"Darling, you know that one hurt a lot. He deserved it."
"He told me just now that when I punched Skylar in the face, he deserved it. I don't think so. Skylar made me really really sad, because I don't have a dad, but I shouldn't have punched him. He just needs to mind his own business."
"Why does his voice sound familiar?" Cecilia asked.
Emily straightened up suddenly and placed her fist in her palm.
"It's the red man."
Cecilia cleared her throat, the anxious lump she had been hiding reappearing in her windpipe. Of course it was him. Of course it was. Her silence must have been too long, because Emily began to fidget.
"What do I do, Mother? How did he get in my head? What am I supposed to do?"
"Darling, you must breathe. I promise you, everything will be fine. Thank you for sharing with me these things have been happening, but please tell me…why didn't you tell me before? Why let all this simmer?"
"I…" she wrung her hands together. "I thought you would be angrier at me. Think I was a bad hunter for hearing things talk to me." Swallowing, she looked at her legs. "I was also afraid of the voice getting mad at me for bringing it up. I didn't want to make you sad or mad or anything…"
Cecilia stood from her chair and walked around the desk, giving her student a tight hug. Emily returned it with a stressed sigh.
"I care about you very much. You are important to me, to us, to everyone. You may not feel that way, but we love you more than you know."
She felt tears sting her eyes.
"Thank you, Mother."
"For now, please report to me when he speaks. Everything. If he gets mad, he cannot hurt you. He won't. I assure you."
"How do you know?"
Cecilia pulled away and looked at her seriously.
"Trust me."
Cecilia
Once the children were tucked into bed, Mother Cecilia scurried through the hallways of the monastery in her night clothes to the inner church, the most warded area in the entire building. Children had the choice to pray there if they chose, and warding classes were taught within for utmost safety. They were once in another corridor…but due to recent circumstances, classes needed to be shifted.
A lantern was in her hand. Turning on the hall lights would alert the other nuns and potentially the children, and she did not want to draw unwanted attention to what she was about to do. As quietly as she could, she opened the mahogany door and slid through the opening, shutting it behind her with a soft clunk. The moonlight shined through the stained glass windows and onto the pews below, dust glimmering from the rafters as it fell. She made her way to the front, where a series of statues lined the wall of various deities from multiple faiths; they were each surrounded by candles. It was the belief of the monastery that all religions were intertwined, and there was no wrong answer of whose modes to follow. She and the nuns just so happened to be Christian.
Before the statue of Christ, she paused and took multiple breaths before placing her lantern on the ground next to her and kneeling in prayer. As she clasped her hands together, she closed her eyes and tilted her head down before speaking aloud.
"Forcas," she prayed, "I require your aid. Astaroth has reached out to the child and she is in danger. Please, give me your strength and mind."
There was silence for several seconds, but then the candles' flames around the statue flickered. There was a quick gust of air that effected their light, which also grabbed Cecilia's attention. She abruptly turned around, still on her knees, and found herself in the shadow of a tall man with black hair and blazing blue eyes. He wore a blue sweater and black slacks with the same color dress shoes to match. As he stood, the outline of wings shined with the blinding aura of his power before it finally faded away, as if they were invisible.
"Cecilia Armstrong." He greeted. "It's been quite a long time."
She got to her feet with a smile on her face.
"It certainly has. Thank you for coming so quickly."
He looked around the room, taking in his surroundings. The blue glow of his eyes faded into their natural brown color.
"Could you fill me in on what has been happening?"
They walked circles around the pews as Cecilia began to break down the past 3 years. She started with the nightmares, continued with the gun range, and described every other occurrence that seemed to be the cause of Astaroth. Finally, she alerted him about the presence of the voice in Emily's head. Forcas halted in his tracks.
"She's been hearing him?" he asked. "He's been trying to sway her decisions?"
"Yes." Cecilia nodded. "However, she has retained her emotions. She feels guilt, craves friendships, cries when the wildflowers bloom. Her humanity is still very much intact. In fact, she has told me she's afraid. She wants it to stop."
Forcas crossed his arms and nodded.
"That is excellent to hear. I believe she can be saved, we just have to be careful. There are a few things I can provide to you to keep her safe. Warding would be a good start, ones that I have not shared with you before."
"She herself is not effected by warding, so I am unsure if he is as well. If he's taking residence in her mind, could he be using her as a scapegoat from warding? Could that work?"
"I admire your thinking aloud, but it sometimes startles me." He commented.
He placed his hand on his chin, thinking.
"Does he seem to visit her the most in her dreams?"
"Yes, as well as in August and around her birthday."
"In August?" Forcas asked angrily.
Cecilia took a step back; his eyes had begun to glow blue, except their presence did not feel the least bit comforting.
"That's his month." He said. "That is when his power is the strongest. He must be digging deeper during August…that must be why he's submerged this much."
He made his way for the mahogany doors, out of the inner church. Cecilia scurried after him.
"Forcas! Where do you think you're going? What if someone sees you?"
"It is August now, Cecilia. What if he is with her right now?" he stopped, just before the doors. "Where is her room?"
"Forcas—"
He touched two of his fingers to her forehead and his eyes glowed for a moment. Cecilia went cross-eyed to look at them.
"Ah, yes. There she is."
"Forcas, wait-!"
Before she could stop him, he vanished with the echoing flap of wings.
"Dammit." She hissed.
Emily
She sat in an arm chair, back turned to her usual guest. Luckily, the red man had learned to adjust the temperature of the room so it was always comfortable to sit in. He had made multiple changes, actually. In fact, he had even begun to decorate. It started with tea and cages, but eventually switched to tables and fancy chairs, as well as doors. He kept the cages around, in corners of her vision where she couldn't quite reach, but she knew that they were there and she absolutely hated them. She wasn't allowed to know where the doors went, but he allowed her to paint them. It was like he was gradually moving in.
"Darling, your tea is going to get cold. Won't you drink with me?"
He never seemed to listen to her.
"I don't like tea." She said. "I don't care if it gets cold."
She heard the pout in his voice as he spoke again.
"Tea is quite delicious. But I suppose you might consider it bitter, so how about hot chocolate instead? Would you drink that?"
"What if you POISON it, HUH?" she retorted.
"Now why on Earth would I poison you, darling? Don't you trust me?"
She turned around to face him, her prior position on the chair making her butt and spine uncomfortable. He was staring at her again. Intently. That always made her angry; why was he staring at her all the time?
"Why are you called the red man if you wear black all the time? Your hair is black too. It's because your eyes are red all the time, right?"
He chuckled and placed his tea on its saucer.
"My eyes can turn black, too." He leaned forward a bit. "Would you like to see?"
The aura in the room changed drastically at his question, which made her recoil away from him with distrust written across her face. His slender grin caught her off-guard; he had rarely made such a face at her.
"No." she swallowed. "No thank you."
His smiling face was suddenly disturbed by a rumble. A quake. A tremor.
"What is that?" he hissed.
The room became blue and white, and he began to cry out in pain. The arm chairs disappeared and Emily plopped onto the floor, squeaking in surprise when she landed.
"WHO'S THERE?!" he shouted.
Emily looked all around the room in fear, watching as unfamiliar sigils engraved themselves into the walls and seemed to cause harm to the red man. He hissed loudly as his body began to smoke, and spittle sprayed out of his mouth as he strung curses aloud that echoed the space. A door behind her opened, one emitting light. It was her way out, her way to wake up and get out of this nightmare. As she stood and scrambled for the door, the red man screamed after her.
"NO! EMILY, COME BACK!"
The command only scared her more, gearing her speed beyond her usual sprint. With the room glowing white behind her, she prepared for her sudden alertness of being awake.
She opened her eyes and sat up quickly in a cold sweat, alarm taking control of her body as her hairs stood on end. Despite being out of the dreamscape, she knew there was still something amiss.
There was someone else here.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she slowly looked up and to the left to see a pair of glowing blue eyes. A faint frame of the body was visible, and it appeared to be looming over her bed. Before she could cry out, two fingers gently poked her forehead and a masculine voice spoke to her.
"Do not be afraid. You will not remember this."
Her eyes grew heavy and she nestled into her bed once more, closing her eyes to go back to sleep.
Cecilia
By the time she reached the living quarters of the children, she could see a faint glow appear beneath the door frame of Emily's room. Bolting through, expecting to see a frightened child, she saw a sleeping one. Forcas was tracing a sigil onto the wall with his fingers, which immediately faded away. He did the same on the child's bedframe, and on the floor beneath her bed.
"Forcas!" she whispered aggressively.
"Don't worry." He stated at normal volume. "She woke up during the process, but I put her back to sleep. I ensured that she will not remember this."
Cecilia let out an irritated sigh, closing the door behind her and slumping against it. She watched as Forcas concluded his process by taking a deep breath and stepping back.
"What did you do?" Cecilia tiptoed over. "Will she be alright?"
"Astaroth has been forced out." Forcas said. "The warding I completed was done with my grace—it will be very difficult to break."
"With your grace?!" she exclaimed.
Realizing her volume, she hushed herself once more. Emily had not stirred.
"With your grace?!" she hissed more quietly.
"Yes. His influence over her is gone for now. The only way he can re-enter is if she were to make a deal with him. She is a strong girl with a strong mentor—I do not foresee her doing this."
Cecilia smiled at the praise, but Forcas was not done yet.
"However, warding does not last forever, as you know. It can be chipped away with great force—and with great hardship. As she grows, the more difficult tests she will face; because this warding protects her mind as well as her body, she must remain…okay. For lack of a better word." He paused. "The most difficult will be her family."
"You still intend on reunification?"
"You do not?"
Cecilia looked at the child solemnly.
"The longer I spend with her…the more I begin to believe that she is my daughter. We have been through almost 10 years of life together; she has taught me to love and to laugh, as I have taught her to hunt and to survive."
She put her hand up to prevent Forcas from interrupting her.
"I may not be Mary, or even a proper stand-in, but I know of John." Her tone turned dark. "I know of his methods. His patterns for hunting. The negligence of his own boys. I will not have her be raised in an environment that makes her feel less than she already feels because of Astaroth. I will ensure her happiness until…"
"She must be reunited eventually, Cecilia." Forcus sighed. "I'm sorry."
Cecilia crossed her arms and watched the child sleep.
"Do you know anything about her brothers?" she whispered. "Do you know if they are kind? Protective? Gentle?"
Forcas snickered at the last adjective, but cleared his throat directly after to pass it off as something else.
"Forcas."
"From what I've observed, "kind" is a…colorful way to describe them."
Cecilia glared at him.
"Do not look at me like that. Reunification is written, and we must not tamper with that."
She changed the subject.
"If the warding is broken…or if there is a threat of him re-entering her consciousness, and I can no longer provide aid. What are we to do?"
"I will take her under my care if something were to happen to you. We have discussed this."
Cecilia looked at Emily again, silently.
"Thank you for your assistance tonight, Forcas. I genuinely appreciate your efforts. If I require you again, I will pray for you."
"Good night, Cecilia. I await your prayer when it is time."
Without another word, only a flap of wings, Forcas was gone in the blink of an eye.
Emily
The red man suddenly stopped coming, and she could never put her finger on when it was the last time she saw him. He was a blur in her mind at a certain point, and sometimes it frustrated her when she thought about it too hard. When she brought it up with Mother Cecilia, she was told to focus on preparing for her first official hunt and that she should be grateful for the silence.
The first official hunt.
Because her 10th birthday was approaching, her first hunt was on the horizon. According to the nuns, she would be partnered with one of them to investigate a case in a particular radius around the monastery. It would be up to them to decide the creature to hunt, and the other children cannot be assigned to the same hunt. While this process was not graded in any manner, it would determine what kind of additional training the children would need before they slowly became more and more independent. She pushed it into the back of her mind, now that there was space to do so.
As summer ended and autumn swiftly came and went, winter bore its fangs on the eve of her tenth birthday. Christmas was always meant to be fun, snowy, vibrant. This year, it felt emptier than usual. Each child got their respective gift from the nuns, her own being a plaid shirt that she had seen in a magazine. Despite this gift, something felt lonely. As if there were someone else she should share this Christmas with.
As she laid in her bed under the heavy blankets, she turned her head to the side to watch the digital clock blink in red at her. It read 11:57.
I wish I had a real family to spend Christmas with. There would be more gifts, and I would be able to buy things for the people I love.
11:58.
We could bake cookies without rationing them, and we could stay up all night in matching pajamas without being yelled at to go to bed.
11:59.
We'd be a big happy family with Christmas cards and a cat and some pie. I really really want that. Is it bad to want that? I don't think so.
12:00.
"Happy Birthday to me." She whispered into the blanket.
In years' past, the red man began to sing to her when the clock struck midnight. It was always eerie, yet also oddly refreshing. She wasn't the only one wishing her…self…a happy birthday. But this year, there was only the creaking of the pipes and the vents as the heat kicked on. She rolled onto her side, tucking the blankets in close to her like a burrito, and looked out the window to see the moonlit tree branches sway in the gentle wind.
From outside her door, she began to hear a soft melody. A humming.
Without moving her body, she looked toward the door that faced her bed. Whatever this humming was, it was getting closer. However, it did not break a certain volume, as if it was trying to remain quiet. She decided to sit up, keeping the blankets wrapped around her for warmth and protection. The humming was at its loudest now. With a gentle jiggling of the doorknob, the door slowly creaked open to reveal Mother Cecilia in her night clothes, vibrant red hair visible to her for the first time in a long while. She was holding a small plate with a cupcake atop of it and a lit purple candle poking out.
"M-Mother Cecilia?"
"Haaaaappy biiirthdaaay to yoooouuu…" she sang softly. "…happy biiirthdaaay to yoooouuuuuuu~"
Emily smiled, dropping the blanket from around her.
"Happy biiiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrrthday dear Emily…." She sat on the side of her bed.
Staring at the cupcake, she licked her lips. It was vanilla cake with chocolate icing, the only valid combination. Cecilia looked at her expectantly, gesturing her head at the candle as she continued to hum.
"I gotta make a wish first, hold on."
She squeezed her eyes shut.
I wish for a happy family.
With a powerful breath she blew the flame out, making Cecilia laugh in the process. She waited for her permission to eat the cupcake; she was given the nod and promptly dug in, carefully removing the candle first.
"I wanted to surprise you on your special day. This is big for you; your first hunt is soon, you aren't hearing the red man's voice, and most importantly…"
Emily paused her chewing.
"…you hit double digits."
As the child finished her treat, Cecilia pulled a small box out of her pajama pants pocket. Of course she noticed immediately and stared at the box as the gentle hands held it. With a big swallow, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and looked up at Cecilia questioningly.
"It is your birthday present, darling." She handed the box to her. "From me to you. I hope you enjoy it, I tried to find something that would match your budding aesthetic."
Her eyes sparkled as she accepted the box from her mentor, the sparkle turning to a slight glisten of wetness when she realized that Cecilia had put careful consideration into this gift.
She had been thinking of her.
Emily opened the box to see a pair of lightning bolt earrings. They were larger, as if meant for teenage style instead, and of the dangly style. She had been so accustomed to stud earrings and had never had these kind before; it made her ecstatic to try out such a change.
"I'll admit, I got them from one of the stores in the mall that high schoolers walk into. I hope they are not too flashy for you, as I know you like to remain toned down. But I also know you read those wizard books and the motif is the lightning bolt. Because the character is a survivor, yes? You are as well."
Cecilia tended to ramble sometimes. She was doing it right now. But no matter what, Emily didn't mind; as long as she enjoyed talking, she enjoyed listening. With a smile, she gave Cecilia a hug.
"I like them a lot! Thank you, Mother Cecilia."
She patted her back in response.
"Of course, darling. It is your special day, therefore you deserve to feel special in return."
After a brief pause, she talked again.
"Emily, turn around. Look outside the window!"
She turned around to see flurries of snow drifting past the glass, nearly making her squeal in response. Before Cecilia could say anything, Emily rushed out of her bedroom in the direction of the common mud room, where all the shoes were stored by the front doors to the monastery. Giggling the whole way, she made a dash for her shoe cubby to don her snow boots. Cecilia scurried around the corner, as if to scold her and rush her back to bed, but she instead slid her own boots over her feet. The child paused as she watched. Cecilia gestured to the door.
"Well? What are you waiting for? The snow's out there, not in here."
With a squeal, Emily bounded out the doors to the monastery and into the cold winter night, snow sticking to her hair as she ran in circles around the grass. Cecilia followed her outside, with much less enthusiasm, and smiled with her arms crossed as her child ran about freely.
The snow felt wonderful. While everything around her was cold, she let it sink in that this was her first snow without a devilish companion. This was HER snow. This was HER birthday. Nothing was going to fuck up her life anymore. She was going to be as happy as could be, red man be damned. She turned around to see Cecilia kneeling down to hand her some mittens.
"Happy Birthday, darling."
Several Months Later
"I'm sorry? A who?"
"A demon. That is your assignment."
Emily stirred as she sat on her hands.
"For real? That's…hard, isn't it?"
"Compared to?" Cecilia rose an eyebrow.
Compared to normally, the office had become stuffy and claustrophobic. Emily found herself swallowing nervously and looking around the room to avoid eye contact.
"Well…I was expecting like…a vampire or something…"
"All monsters are difficult to eliminate, you know that. A demon is just a little more…whimsical."
"I don't think that's the right word you want?"
"I suggest practicing what you've been taught and review the texts. Anything could happen out there and I want you to be prepared. This is now cakewalk, I'm sure you understand."
"But…Mother, if I may, you have not told me who will be accompanying me out of the Sisters."
Cecilia stacked her papers neatly into a pile before looking up at her pupil.
"Me, of course."
August
Taking deep breaths seemed to be an Olympian task as Emily readied her equipment. The night had finally arrived; she was about to prove herself to the nuns and the rest of the children that she could succeed as a hunter. According to Cecilia, there had been several demon sightings over the last few weeks scattered around the forest and neighboring communities and it had taken a lot of work to pinpoint the ringleader. Knowing that they were within a certain perimeter of the monastery's assistance made Emily feel better as her shaking hands slid her gun into the holster on her belt.
Just remain calm. Everything will be just fine, it will. It will! You're with Mother Cecilia, who is the veteran of the whoooooole monastery. She's "Mother" for a reason and wouldn't be accompanying you if she didn't have faith in you. Is that backwards thinking?
The sound of boots on hardwood behind her startled her, forcing her to look up and around to see Cecilia in far different attire than she was used to. Any part of her habit, her resounding signature appearance, had been removed except for her veil. She was wearing jeans, combat boots, and a black button-down with a rough cotton jacket. It was very…different…to see her in this apparel. However, it matched Emily's own plaid and jean combo, converse and earrings being the only outlier. Cecilia kneeled down to her eye level.
"Are you nearly ready? I expect to return to the monastery by tomorrow morning, so you mustn't take much longer."
Emily nodded.
"Just five more minutes. And-and I'll be good to go!"
Cecilia nodded and stood back up. Their attention was then suddenly pulled toward an adjacent hallway.
"Mother Cecilia…a moment, would you please?"
It was Sister Delilah. She appeared nervous as she watched the two of them prepare for departure.
"Just a moment, darling." She left her side.
While Emily couldn't make out that much of the murmuring coming from the two of them, she could sense the urgency in both of their voices. Pausing tying her shoes, she looked over in curiosity and focused on their direction to hopefully catch a bit of what they were saying.
"…reckless? Demons are…at this hour…your absence?"
Ah, the Sisters must be concerned for Mother's safety. That's all.
"Time…essence. She must learn…prevent tragedy…"
Tragedy? Did Cecilia just say that?
"Help me understand…files…keyring…this summer…"
Emily gave her full attention, a little too obviously, to the conversation now.
"I…only one capable…it is time…"
I don't understand a thing of what's going on right now. I should stop listening.
"Emily? Are you listening to us?"
Cecilia and Delilah were looking right at her.
Shit!
"Nope! I'm just waiting for you!"
Stinky! Stinky liar!
"Of course." Cecilia turned back to Delilah. "If I do not return at a suitable hour, you are formally in charge until I do return. My office is to remain locked, as I have the keyring. Do not enter it under any circumstance. We should be back by morning. Have Dorothea linger near border two, just in case we need urgent back-up. However, I don't anticipate that happening. Is all of this understood?"
"Yes, Mother. Thank you, Mother."
Delilah turned and walked away without another word. Cecilia approached Emily and patted her shoulder reassuringly.
"Let us go, darling."
The monastery lied in the center of a dense forest, a dirt driveway leading out into civilization which also served as a marker in case one gets lost. The forest that surrounds them is separated into three parts before it dissipates completely; each part was lined with warding to prevent monsters from entering the monastery and harming the children and the nuns. Children are not allowed to venture the forest alone due to safety concerns.
For this mission, the demon in question has been lingering in the third ring of woodland, which borders nearby towns and communities. What they—both Emily and Cecilia—already knew was that it wasn't a frequent visitor and has possibly taken an interest in nearby townsfolk, using the bodies of farmers to sustain itself and carry out its orders. If this demon was the ring-leader like Cecilia assumed, it had to be taken out as soon as possible. However, while this was Emily's crucial first hunt, Cecilia seemed to be more on edge than one would think, considering how experienced she was.
Emily's holster felt heavy with responsibility, but also just generally because she had never used one in live practice before. Her holy water also lined her belt, well hidden by her flannel but still easily accessible if need be. She swallowed as the sound of snapping branches echoed in the darkness of the expansive forest. The monastery was far behind them, and she knew that, but part of her wished and hoped that it was closer than it actually was.
"Remember to keep your noise to a minimum." Cecilia told her. "I know we are not in the third ring yet, but that does not mean you cannot be heard."
Emily paused and began to watch her footing a little more, which lessened the amount of branches she was stepping on. She smiled to herself as she adapted to this footing instead of tromping forward with blind courage. This was where speaking stopped for quite a long while. The moon hung over them, dancing through the branches and illuminating their path in areas their flashlights were better meant to be off. They passed through the second ring with only a few sightings of deer and nothing more. However, there was a certain scent that grew stronger and stronger as they neared the third ring.
"Mother, do you smell that?" Emily whispered.
Cecilia inhaled.
"Is it sulfur?" she whispered back. "Because if so, I do not."
Funny. She thought.
The air grew heavier, it seemed. The trees appeared taller, scarier. Her teeth began to chatter a bit, and she did not realize until Cecilia placed a hand on her arm.
"My dear," she whispered. "Do not be afraid while I am here. This is as important to me as it is to you, if not more. I will protect you."
Emily nodded and swallowed the lump in her throat.
"Why did you come with me, Mother? Why not another?"
Cecilia was quiet for a long time while scanning their surroundings. She finally answered her as she lowered her hand to her own gun holster.
"I must begin to train you for something you cannot handle alone; something that threatens to hurt you and other children like you."
Oh. Oh. OH?
"Mother—I—what? Children like me? A threat?"
That was certainly a left-field response.
"It is something I have been watching for a long time, and I want to be able to share it with you when you are prepared. That is why I wanted to oversee your hunt tonight; it is because I want you prepared and by my side."
They entered the third ring and the smell in Emily's nostrils got stronger. She instinctively led their search in that direction. While they had just entered this section of forest, it felt as if they were being watched on all sides.
"What do you mean?" she asked her mentor.
"I cannot tell you now. It has to wait for just a little bit longer, but please trust me when I say that I will be with you every step of the way."
Emily turned her head to look at her and watched the moonlight radiate from her mentor's brilliant red hair.
"How long must I wait to know what you're talking about?"
The scent was growing closer. Emily had yet to get her gun out.
"Just a little longer. I have plans for us, truly I do."
Cecilia's eyes darted around as there was a heavy SNAP of branches just to the right of them. Emily clumsily pulled her gun out, still distracted from the information overload that Cecilia was providing her with. Her own eyes began scanning the trees as she felt her heartbeat in her ears.
Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm!
The smell was right on top of them, but it was not sulfurous. It was beyond that; something that she couldn't describe. Her nostrils were overwhelmed with the stink of it.
"Do you smell it?!" she said.
How did I not notice this before?! It's right here, but where?
"I do not smell sulfur, Emily—" Cecilia's voice paused before growing more panicked. "—Emily, what do you smell?"
"It's so disgusting, it's absolutely hellish-!"
Another snap of a twig made them divert their attention again. They decided to stand closer together with their guns trained on the locations of the sounds.
"Describe it to me. Is it familiar? Does it speak to you?"
"It's disgusting, absolutely horrific—but at the same time, it calls to me. As if I'm…" she swallowed. "…home."
"Well," a deep voice stated from the trees, "I don't think I smell that bad."
Slowly, a little too dramatically, a figure stepped out into the moonlight to make their acquaintance, hands outstretched in greeting as if expecting applause. As the light finally met his face, the sheen of his pure black eyes was visible to them both. His smile was crooked, as though he were ghoulishly hungry. The man was at least six feet tall with work boots and rugged denim apparel. This vessel was either a farmer or another form of worker from one of the local communities.
Emily's hands shook as she kept her gun's aim on him. Cecilia's, however, remained still as her face reverted to its poised demeanor. Any trace of panic had visibly left her face.
"What, that's it?" the demon chuckled. "This is the welcoming party? A half-baked kid and her red-haired stepmother?"
Emily kept her eye on the target as she unlatched the holy water from her belt. His head moved slightly as he placed his attention on her, but Cecilia took one step forward.
"Don't move." She ordered. "Hands where I can see them, demon."
He blinked, his eyes rid of the black sheen from before. In a mocking tone, he repeated what Cecilia said back to her as he rose his hands very slowly over his head.
"You're Cecilia Armstrong." The demon smirked.
"Good to know that I have a fan club." She didn't flinch.
"Something like that. We demons talk, you know. We talk a whole lot about how you're quite the mover and shaker around the hunting world. Dabbling more in demons now, are we?"
Emily flicked holy water onto the demon to shut him up, making him hiss angrily and flinch for a moment before Cecilia shot his foot. He did not recoil from the shot, but it sure as shit pissed him off. Cecilia rose her gun to his chest again, still not breaking her calm demeanor. She flicked her head in Emily's direction as a signal.
"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo, omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te—"
As Emily recited the exorcism, the demon began to writhe in pain while also starting to laugh.
"Cecilia, Cecilia…you think this is going to work, hm? You truly believe it will?"
She shot him in the kneecap, making him wail and fall to his uninjured one. When his hands reflexively fell down, she shot him in the shoulder to force them back up—despite that being somewhat impossible due to a new gunshot wound.
Emily splashed him again, making him growl, annoyed.
"Stop that, dear." He said, seemingly in warning.
For a moment, her incantation faltered. However, she shook her head and kept going. The demon attempted to stand on his bum leg which resulted in a larger splash of holy water.
"Give it up, Cecilia." He shook his head and laughed again. "I am a man of theatrics, you know."
Cecilia furrowed her brow and began reciting the very same exorcism. However, the demon lowered his arms and walked towards them. Emily, very much panicked, began dousing him with more water. Cecilia shot one more round into his chest, which only seemed to entertain him. He stopped and looked at Emily, who stared wide-eyed at him with her gun back in both hands.
"Hello, darling. It is so good to see you."
For a moment, her heart seemed to stop. Her breath caught in her throat.
"My eyes can turn black, too." She remembered. "Would you like to see?"
Her breathing returned, but quickened, and instinctively she shot into the demon's stomach.
"IT'S HIM!" she screamed.
Cecilia retrieved her own holy water and began to spray him, continuing to recite the exorcism to no avail. Scratching his head with both hands feverishly, he began to yell at higher and higher volumes until both he and Emily could not hear Cecilia's incantation.
"THAT'S ENOUGH!"
He flung both of his hands to the side and both Emily and Cecilia went flying into trees at least fifteen feet from one another. The wind was knocked out of both of their chests, Cecilia's gun tumbling from her hands and into the grass. Emily's, however, remained locked in her grip as she felt tears run down her cheeks.
The demon approached them, keeping his hands extended to hold them in their places. His eyes turned black again and he shook his head, disappointed. Like melting ice cream, the black in his eyes began to drip from the eyelids and down his cheeks, giving way to an all-too-familiar shade of deep red.
Emily's heart sank.
"It took me a while, but I got you back." He was talking to her directly. "An entire year spent apart. Can you believe it?" he laughed. "I had no idea what I was going to do without you, without your soul—"
"EXORCIZAMUS TE, OMNIS IMMUNDUS SPIRITUS—" Cecilia shouted.
With an annoyed sigh, the red man clenched the fist holding Cecilia in place. Her exorcism was cut short again and she found herself unable to speak at all.
"That isn't going to work. So please, don't even bother."
"Let us go." Emily pleaded. "I'm sorry that we somehow got separated, I know you really liked it in my head—"
"SOMEHOW?" he scoffed, raising his eyebrows in shock.
Cecilia closed her eyes as the red man began to laugh. He looked at her with a wide grin.
"You didn't tell her?! You honestly didn't say a damn word?!"
While red-eyes had his attention on Cecilia, Emily forced her arms to move, even just a little, so she could try to raise her gun.
"You stormed into our shared mind with that man and you didn't even tell her that YOU were the reason I was cast out?" he yelled. "Oh, no, that would be too much credit to you, wouldn't it Cecilia?"
That break in concentration on her was all she needed to force her gun to chest level and aim, sweat soaking her forehead and hairline. His power was truly immense, and how she was able to keep her arms up must have been some kind of miracle.
"Who REALLY cast me out, Cecilia? Who was it? What's his name?"
"Leave her alone!" Emily shouted.
Without hesitation, she unloaded the remainder of her bullets into the red man's chest, hoping that it would be enough to stall him so she could reunite with her mentor.
The red man was shocked enough to release his grip on the two of them, giving Emily enough time to sprint to Cecilia's side. Panting with wobbly legs, she reloaded her gun while she told Cecilia to pick up hers. Cecilia also dug a whistle out from underneath her shirt, blowing it furiously before speaking to her pupil again.
"My dear—" Cecilia panted. "Thank you, but we must run!"
"If we run, he will catch us! If help arrives, we have a chance!"
The red man inspected the bullet wounds that littered his vessel's body. He growled before slowly looking in their direction.
"You've grown to be quite bold without me, my dear. To litter me with holes from a gun."
"I'll do it again if you come any closer! Bet on it!"
He smiled in surprise.
"Bet, hm?"
A blink. That was all the timing it took for him to close the gap between them. He had pushed Emily aside and gone for Cecilia first, as she was by far the bigger threat. Cecilia's instincts were fast, but not that fast; she moved her head out of the way from the full brunt of the red man's fist but was still grazed with such force that she was sent crashing to the ground. Emily, with a shriek, stumbled to her feet and ran to Cecilia's side.
"Mother, no!"
She inspected her mentor, who was bleeding from the temple and cheek but nothing more. Her calm expression had been replaced with one of frustration and ferocity.
"This is too much for us. We must call for—"
"Call for who, Cecilia?!" his voice echoed behind Emily. "CALL FOR WHO?"
The red man wrapped his hand around a swath of Emily's hair and pulled her head back, getting a clear look of Cecilia's horrified face. Though she struggled against his grip, she flailed her fists against his arm and legs. Cecilia raised her arms to reveal Emily's gun in her hands as she shot six bullets into him, hoping he would unhand her.
"Cecilia, stop making him angry! Please, stop!"
Emily was thrown away from Cecilia again, rolling to a stop by digging her feet and elbows into the dirt. Through the hair that messily covered her eyes, she saw him walking towards Cecilia as she began to yell the exorcism at him again, crossing herself multiple times.
"I'm sick. And tired. Of all of you. MEDDLING WITH MY PLAN!"
With every pause in his sentence, he proceeded to kick Cecilia in the ribs. It was gruesome to see and listen to.
Without thinking about it, Emily pushed off from her position in the grass. She undid the cap of another container of holy water and she eyeballed the red man's knees. Knowing she wouldn't be able to tackle him from the waist up, since he was massive, she knew it would be worth it to take him out at the kneecaps. Screaming, she barreled into his knees and forced him to buckle beneath his own weight. On the way down, Emily doused him in holy water and hoped for some to enter his mouth. Cecilia sat up and crab-walked backward and against a tree.
"YOU LEAVE HER ALONE!" Emily shouted.
Emily began punching the red man in the ribs, since she hadn't quite made it to his face yet. His massive hand reached out for her and she reared back, nearly caught once more to be thrown.
"Darling, even you of all people are beginning to get on my nerves!" he hissed. "Do not make me harm you!"
She spit on his face, which earned another hiss. With an aggressive wave from his hand, she was flung off of him and thrown into the same tree Cecilia was resting against. The breath once again knocked out of her, it took longer to rise from her crumpled position when she fell to the ground. Tears streamed down her face and her head was screaming at her in pain, the rest of her body following suit. She felt eyes on her, as well as Cecilia's hand on her back.
"Mother…" she coughed into the grass. "I failed you—I'm sorry—we're in trouble—"
She heard the red man get up and brush off his jeans.
"Now then. You're both finally willing to listen to reason I suppose."
Mother's most likely got broken ribs. I probably have a concussion. This is really bad; this is too much for the both of us. Are…are we going to die here?
"My sweet angel," Cecilia whispered. "this is not your fault. I promise you."
Upon hearing her words, she raised her head to watch the red man walk closer and closer. She heard Cecilia beginning to whisper under her breath.
"No." the red man growled. "NO! Stop that!"
She narrowed her eyes in confusion. What was it this time? This was no incantation she knew. It wasn't in Latin, either. This was a language she didn't recognize. However, whatever it was, it emitted warmth from Cecilia's hand, which still remained on her back for comfort.
"I love you very much, Emily. Please never forget that."
She angled her head to look up at her. There were tears in Cecilia's eyes. Why?
"Come to us now." Cecilia said aloud. "Forc—"
Cecilia was cut short with a snap. Not the snapping of fingers.
It was the snap of a neck.
The warmth stopped.
Everything stopped.
Cecilia's body slumped to the ground away from her. The hand fell from her back and into the grass as the force of gravity pulled it away. Standing above the heap was the red man, shouting at it. Shouting at her. Shouting at them.
Mother?
Her arms and legs shook as she crawled, still not recovered from her blunt meeting with the tree trunk. Something rang in her ears as she shook Cecilia's shoulders.
"No. No, no, no." a voice said. "No, darling, I'm sorry. I—I was just angry. You understand, don't you?"
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she began to cry, shaking Cecilia's shoulders harder.
"No. NO! You know I hate to see you crying!"
She couldn't quite comprehend the words that dribbled out of his mouth. Noise, all of it. Everything was noise. But not the right noise. Where was Cecilia's noise? Where did her noise go?
"Stop doing that. Stop CRYING!"
She shook her head.
"Mother! Mother! Cecilia!"
The red man hit his head with his own fists, as if trying to make everything stop or be quiet.
"I HATE IT WHEN YOU ARE UPSET!"
"I HATE YOU!" Emily shouted.
A quick shock of pain went through her temple.
Black.
This is where she became hazy, almost drunk-feeling. This is when her original memories started. What she could remember was painful, muddled, noisy. Except the noise was more like fragments of television static and not an actual noise. Everything was connecting by thin filaments that she was suddenly granted access to. Painful filaments, like nerves, cementing themselves into thicker strands as the memories built upon themselves. Awareness came back to her for just a moment, where she remembered she was still with the red man in her head, but that's all it was before she was swallowed back up.
The crack of pain to her temple that night was suddenly connected to opening her eyes in a pitch black forest, flashlight too far away to actually find, blood filling her nostrils.
Her first memory.
"Can you hear me? Oh. No, no, no. This won't do."
The first voice she heard.
Both hands were on her head. It hurt, badly. It was excruciating. She was met with something wet on her left hand, coming from her temple. Wet. Warm. Sticky.
Blood? Blood, right?
"W-what happened—" she hiccupped. "Help me—what—what happened?"
Through her panicked breathing, she slowly moved around and leaned against something to balance. At first, she thought it was a tree. It took her a few seconds to realize that it was a person…that was no longer moving.
"Oh…oh no—" she fell backward in shock. "What happened to her…what happened?!"
A man crouched down to her level. Not too close, but not too far away.
"Who are you?" she was becoming more cognizant. "Where am I?!"
"Darling, you had an accident." His voice was soft.
Why couldn't her eyes focus on him?
"You and your…friend. You were both attacked in the forest. It looks like you were kicked in the head. Does it hurt?"
She backed away from him. Who was this guy? How did he know this?
"Where am I?"
"Emily—"
"Who's that? The lady?"
She kept checking her hands as blood continued to soak them. The man paused for a moment before speaking again.
"That's…your name. Emily."
"Is it?"
Tears were streaming down her cheeks. Whenever he spoke, it was too loud. Her eyes were foggy, and she felt sick to her stomach.
"I—I wanna go home…" she squeaked. "Please…I wanna go home…"
"Help is on the way, darling." He told her.
"Don't call me that." She said.
"Of course, I'm sorry."
He sounded hurt by that.
There was a rustling on the other body, as if someone was going through her clothes. She slowly looked over to see the man going through pockets. Her eyes were adjusting to light, or lack of it rather, slowly but surely.
"What are you doing?"
"It looked like she was taking you to see someone. Which means…"
She looked around at the forest around her and kept crying.
"Your wallet. Here, take this. See, your name is in here—"
She ripped it from his hand when he got too close, the blood making it slide out of her hand and into the grass. Before she could think about going to pick it up, she turned her head away from the man and the body and puked into the grass.
"That's it, let it out." He told her. "Here, you must not be able to see right. I'll read to you."
He picked up the wallet and wiped it with his shirt, cleaning it of the blood. She did not protest, but rather sat against the tree with the body.
"Let's see now." He sat across from her at a fair distance. "Emily Jane Winchester, born December 26th, 1996. You're 10 years old. You live in the monastery a few miles from here. See, everything's right here for you." He tossed the wallet back in her direction; it landed in the grass.
"Okay…" she shook her head. "That's good to know…"
"Do you remember anything about what happened? About who did this to you?"
Shaking her head again, more tears fell from her face.
"No…no I don't…I don't know…"
When she looked up through her fingers at the man, his eyes flashed red, but then darkened to black. She hoped it was just from her head injury, but seeing that made her chest tighten in fear as if out of instinct.
There was shouting in the distance, flashlights flickering through the trees. They were calling out two names, one being her own. The man stood and backed away from her even more, as if in a hurry to leave.
"Which means you don't know where your brothers are?"
"B—brothers…?"
He smiled.
"I see. I understand."
It appeared that he turned his head in the opposite direction as her and didn't look away. He looked like he was trying to intimidate an animal, to state clearly that he was a predator of some kind. For a moment, she couldn't take her eyes off him. It wasn't until she heard another voice where her attention was brought back to what was happening.
"Emily?! We heard the whistle—are you hurt? What's happened?"
The woman was very beautiful. She was wearing black robes and a black veil, but she could tell her hair was a chestnut color. She had a bag on her back, which she removed as she kneeled down to her eye level. Emily blinked.
"Who are you?"
Her face appeared to be taken aback. Slowly, she pulled a rag from her bag and pressed it to Emily's head, just above the temple. A shriek was to her right, but before she could look, a hand forced her head to stay in place.
"Please stay still, honey. Don't look at Mother Cecilia, it must be scary."
Tears dripped from her eyes and she couldn't stop them. The woman wiped them away.
"Who is she?"
Shock again.
"Honey, do you remember what happened?"
Emily shook her head. The woman looked at a group of women huddled around the body.
"Take Cecilia back to the monastery. Don't wake the children; this must remain quiet. We will hold a vigil when we…find out what happened…"
There was the sound of feet running on the grass and the sudden glimpse of the body that had just been sitting next to her. The women carrying the body were dressed just like the other one. Her attention was brought back to the one in front of her.
"Don't worry, we'll get you home. It's going to be okay."
"The man said we were attacked."
"What man?"
Emily went to point to where the man was just standing, but he was gone. Confusion splashed across her face as she recognized the empty space. Her hand slowly lowered again and the woman kissed the top of her head, which she found slightly strange.
"You must have been hit pretty hard, honey. Can you stand?"
Emily picked up the wallet the man had given her and took the woman's hand, standing wobbly with her. She looked up at her.
"What's your name?"
The woman covered her own mouth before answering, as if she had just realized the gravity of the situation. Looking around before doing so, she kneeled to her eye level again and provided her with a smile.
"My name is Dorothea, and I'm going to bring you home."
The Door
Clawing back to the surface of consciousness, Emily staggered away on her hands and knees from the open door and Astaroth, who had been waiting patiently for some time. The door slammed shut, which did not surprise him. He tucked the keyring away and into his suit pocket. Her head hurt and images swam past her eyes at an alarming rate. It was so much, too much, that she couldn't fully digest it all at once.
"So, how was it? Taking a leisurely walk down memory lane, I mean."
She extended a hand out at him as she sat on her butt, pushing herself farther and farther away from him with her feet. They remained in an endless expanse, a void; the only other thing visible being the newly unlocked door. With her one hand, she held her hurting head. Her open, outstretched palm slowly came together to form a closed fist, which transformed into a solid point with her index finger.
"It was you who gave me amnesia."
He took a step forward.
"Yes. I apologize."
Slowly, she got to her feet. She didn't let down her arm for a moment, continuing to point at him while she stood. Her other hand, supporting her head, moved to her face. Through her fingers, she glared at him.
"You kicked me in the side of the head."
He looked wounded by that statement.
"That is also true."
Neither of them spoke for a moment until he cleared his throat and took another step.
"I was hoping that would not be the series of facts you held onto from this experience. I originally hoped to talk about Cecilia."
A jolt of pain coursed through her head and she took another step back.
"You killed her."
"That I did."
"All this time, you've kept my past hidden from me. How did you even have access to any of this? How would you know to give it back to me? HOW was this given back to me?"
"Trauma works in fickle ways, darling. I just merely…persuaded it out."
Around them, other doors began to appear. They were of different materials and all very spread out from one another. Each one's appearance made her head pound. Astaroth hummed and watched her reaction to the doors manifesting.
"Ah, this is no good. Perhaps I fed you too much at once."
She finally lowered her pointed finger and let it dangle to her side, the other one clenching into a fist.
"I'm done with this. I'm telling the boys and we will find a way to cast you out of my mind. I remember you saying it happened for a whole year on that night. I don't know how, but it needs to happen again. You're—"
"A monster, yes." He finished. "I've been told that."
Hands trembling with anger, she forced her brain to quiet down as she tried to maneuver through the glacier of information that had just been bestowed to her.
"Trust me, darling. I won't be cast out again."
She turned heel and ran. The more she did, the more doors that entered her sight. All of them were familiar and they guided her way back to the common room where she and he always met for tea—against her own will obviously—and forced herself to try and come to her senses.
"I'll be awaiting our next chat." His voice rang in her ears.
Impala
With a sharp inhale, she opened her eyes. She was still lying on her back in the impala in the same position as when she went to Astaroth. How much time has passed?
"Would you turn that down? That's the third Blue Öyster Cult song in a row, I'm bored of it."
It was Sam.
"What did you say to me? Bored? Of Blue Öyster Cult?"
The music got louder.
"Dude!"
She unfolded her hands, which were apparently across her chest, and she wiped a copious amount of sweat from her forehead. Gross, but telling. How much stress was her physical body under just now?
"That was quick." Dean remarked. "How's it hangin'? Did you shut him up?"
She sat up and poked her head between their seats, squinting at the clock.
"How long was I out?"
Dean glanced at the clock before looking back at the road.
"Twelve minutes. Not that long at all."
Sam looked at her in mild confusion.
"Why are you sweating so much?"
She blinked and sat back in her seat, buckling back up so Dean wouldn't get pulled over.
"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh." She scrunched up her face and puckered her face. "Well, uhhhhhh, I suddenly remember 10 years of my life? Kind of? And it really fucking hurts my head?"
Dean gave her a sharp look via the rearview mirror.
"How is that possible? From before you were ten?"
She nodded, rubbing her temples.
"What…" Sam asked, "…do you remember?"
"I did have a mom. Or…well…something like a mom."
She folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them. Her tone was sad as she remembered what she looked like. It was still hazy in her mind, but it existed. An image was able to form.
"What? Really?"
Sam sounded very enthusiastic about learning more while Dean focused on the road.
"Keep talking, I'm gonna find us somewhere to grab a bite to eat. That sound alright?"
"Yeah, that's fine." Emily nodded.
This was odd. It was as if there was a spotlight on her and she was giving some kind of testimony. She didn't particularly care for this feeling.
"Her name was Cecilia. She had red hair and I think she was a nun. But everybody called her "Mother". I think that means something in the church world, doesn't it? Like she's really high up or something?"
Sam got a little notebook out of the glove compartment.
"Really?" she raised a brow. "Really Sam?"
"What? This might be important!"
"I mean…yeah, I guess so? It just feels weird that you're taking notes on my past."
"Well," Dean chimed in. "It's not something we've ever really talked about."
"I tell you about my past all the time, it's kind of a thing." She joked.
"No, I mean from before you were ten. How you got amnesia, why, that kind of thing. All you told us was that you got it on a mission when you were ten and boom, that's it. Yeah, the other stuff after that's important too, but this is pretty big."
Dean had a point. After their initial meeting, they never really did discuss her amnesia again. It just seemed to be a fact they all knew about and they just lived with it. But now, this was a chance to learn more.
If only all of it was in one stable piece.
"I'm going to be honest—when Astaroth gave these memories back to me, it all came back so fast that I don't have a hold on much of it. It's in pieces, and it's really foggy. Like…they're there, but they aren't stable. They're really flimsy and go away quickly when I'm about to get a grip on them."
"Hey that's better than before, isn't it?" Sam pointed out. "You never had the opportunity to remember before, but now you've got a shot. So just take it step by step and soon it'll all be in your hands again. Right?"
She sat up a little straighter at his statement, which filled her with warmth. Nodding with a smile, she realized that they were both right.
After taking a deep breath, she told them what she could. She told them about Cecilia—or at least as much as she could remember at the moment—and how she accompanied her that night when she lost her memory. When she talked about how Astaroth intercepted them, that's when the questions began.
"So the demon you were hunting was actually just Astaroth pretending to be…a different demon? As a trap to corner you?"
"Apparently, yes. He mentioned that he had been cast out from my mind and he needed to get back in, so he had to set up a whole theatric scheme to make that happen. But he and Cecilia seemed to somehow know each other. He knew a lot about her and things she had done or known about."
"Cast out?" Dean interrupted. "He was in your noggin before?"
Her head started to hurt.
"Yeah…apparently. That seems to be beyond this haze, though. I'm sorry."
"No, don't worry about it." Sam reassured. "What you already told us is huge. Seriously. It means he can be cast out again, and there's a possibility for it to be permanent."
A glimmer of hope. It felt good.
"There's one small detail nagging at me, though." She narrowed her eyes and looked at the middle console. "It's something that's ducking out from sight, like a blur in your eye that you try to look at but slips away. You know what I mean? It's there, but not there."
She eyeballed Sam's notebook, which was already filled with scribbles.
"Can I snag a piece of paper from you?"
Sam nodded and tore a blank sheet from it. She took out a pen from her backpack, snugly on the floor of the back of the car, and began scribbling something.
"She was talking before Astaroth killed her."
"ASTAROTH killed her?" Sam asked.
"Snapped her neck, yeah. He seemed—" her head pounded and she squinted. "—upset about that. That he had done that."
"Oh, great. A demon with feelings." Dean rolled his eyes.
"More like a demon with regret." Sam corrected.
"Anyway, she was saying something. But I didn't understand it. I just remember hearing gibberish and then a name."
"Now THAT is really helpful." Dean's eyebrows shot up.
She handed her paper to Sam, who took it a little too excitedly. He stared at it for a long time before saying anything.
"Fork." he said.
"Fork?" Dean asked.
"I just remember Fork." She shrugged.
"Was Cecilia…referencing a passage? Calling someone…?" Sam tried.
Emily shrugged again.
"We were trying to exorcise a demon all night, so maybe it was something really advanced that I was never taught."
Dean pulled onto a highway and remained in the right lane, since this topic was taking up a lot of concentration that he usually used when speeding in the left lane.
"What are the circles?" Sam asked. "You scribbled two circles."
"Whenever I think of "Fork" I have this weird…image of blue circles. Like eyes or something. But it's only a flash, like an incomplete memory, and it really HURTS."
"Maybe that's something he gave you by accident." Dean pondered.
They all went silent again. During this silence, Emily dug a bottle of Tylenol out of her bag and swallowed two of them with a bit of water. Thank you, McDonalds, for providing bottled water. Sam, meanwhile, closed his notebook and tossed it onto the floor between his feet.
"Let's shelve this for now, then. No point in rooting through something that gives you pain, so we'll come back to it when you have a better grip on it. Dean?"
Dean was focused on the road and didn't provide an answer other than a grunt of approval. His hands tightened on the wheel for a moment.
"It's been a long two days, with what happened in Philly and all. Let's find some grub, hit a motel, and call it for the day." He suggested. "Like Sam said, we can get back to this another day."
The other two siblings nodded in approval, sitting back in their seats as the Impala raced down the road.
Motel, Night
Sam was already passed out while Dean was drinking a beer at the table. Emily was close by, clipping her finger and toe nails to "try and de-stress" across the room. Dean watched her as she inspected her cuticles, waving her hands and stretching her toes as she progressed. After her shower, she always tended to do this. "Self-care", she called it. He stared at his beer bottle as he tilted it back and forth in his fingers.
"Hey." He started.
"Hey hey." She didn't look away from her fingernails.
"Let's talk about something."
"Something like…?"
He took another swig of his beer.
"Marcus."
That got her attention. She put the nail clippers down on the bathroom counter before walking back out and joining him at the table.
"Marcus told me about one of the things you actually remembered today. He said he was there when, or after I guess, your mentor died. I don't know if he ever told you that or not, but—"
She nodded.
"Yeah, he told me once that he found me in the woods but wasn't sure what to do. He said he thought I was demon prey or something so he spied on me before coming to get me. And then, well, yeah."
"Oh." His tone was surprised. "So you already knew that."
"Yeah, kinda. When Marcus told me about that night, it was after I got used to living with him and the colony. But that explanation came from a memory where I woke up from…" she raised her eyebrows. "…well, I guess being kicked in the head." She laughed quietly.
"Did he mention how the guy that was there with you asked about your brothers? Or anything like that?"
She looked out the window and hummed while trying to think.
"No. That never came up. In fact, I didn't remember that myself until just today, actually."
"Oh." He looked back down at his beer.
"Astaroth did mention my brothers that night; he asked me if I knew where they were. I mean, I didn't know until a month or two ago that I had brothers, so I guess that never seemed to be relevant for Marcus to bring up. But no…that topic never came up again. Hell, when I was growing up he always said "don't say the W word" to everyone in the house. I thought it was some swear I wasn't allowed to know about."
Dean chuckled and shook his head. He took another swig of his beer before he talked again.
"My guess is that Marcus knew about us. And that he knew Astaroth also knew about us. So he probably wanted to keep that detail from you so he could protect you from him."
"You're probably right." She eyeballed his beer.
"What?"
He looked at the bottle too.
"Do…you…want a swig?"
"No, I'm just looking at it." She laughed at his suggestion.
He shrugged and finished it off, setting the bottle down between them.
"I uh…just thought you should know what he told me. Now that you're getting your memories back and all, I mean."
She smiled.
"Thank you, Dean. I really appreciate it."
Sighing, she placed her chin on her fist.
"He thought he could do a monumental task by himself without me ever knowing it."
"You mean—"
"Keeping me away from Astaroth forever. In essence, that was probably impossible. But he did it for me. To try and keep me as much of a normal kid as he could."
"I know I should have said something earlier. I'm sorry, I know you've been agonizing over it ever since he died, and I know you've kinda resented me for it."
"Oh shut up, would you? I have not. Besides, when would this have been a relevant thing to talk about?" she waved her free hand with emphasis. "Like, "hey guys I know I just beat a reaper, but I gotta let you in on some sick shit". Or "nice vampire save everybody, let's talk secrets"."
Dean shrugged and nodded in a confused yet light manner.
"All that matters is that this is another clue for Sam's notebook, and one day we can start fitting together all the pieces." She stood up. "For now, I'm beat. I'm gonna hit the hay on my pull-out couch and listen to some tunes until I float away on a sweet, sweet heavy metal dream cloud. Yeah?"
He chuckled.
"Yeah, that sounds nice."
With a light step, she strode to the couch and pulled out her dinky mattress, plopped down on it, and made the springs echo in a way that convinced the both of them she had just broken it. She snagged her earbuds from her backpack and got comfortable. Before laying down though, she looked at her brother one last time.
"Thank you again for telling me that. It means a lot to me that you can trust me with what he told you. Don't open another beer and have some sweet dreams, okay?"
Dean smiled.
"Yeah. That sounds like a plan."
"Goodnight."
He gave her a little wave.
"Goodnight, Junior Mint."
