Late 1945
A fierce winter storm blew in, bringing sheets of icy wind and blankets of freshly fallen snow. The trees were barren, their branches sagging beneath the heavy weight. Ahead lay pristine land, and behind lay the slushy trail from the horse and carriage.
It felt like an apt metaphor for her life and the mess she left behind in favor of the unknown ahead. Pulling her fur cloak tighter around her broad shoulders, she shivered in the gilded carriage. The carriage was expertly crafted, made of fine materials and silky fabric, but it still felt a bit like a cage. A beautiful, gilded cage, but still a cage nonetheless.
"My Lady, we're a few miles from the village. Brace yourself, the road is getting worse," the driver shouted over the howling wind.
Seated across from her was a delicate young woman, nearly half her size. Her blonde hair hung limp from their excess travel, her cheeks flushed bright pink from the biting cold. The maid was half her age, her youthful face shining with a mixture of hope and fear.
"Do not fear. The castle is close," Alcina said as the carriage bounced over a fierce bump.
The girl squealed in fright, gripping the bench seat with white knuckles. "I'm sorry, my Lady. I do not mean to disturb you."
"Disturb me? Hardly. But why are you so fearful?"
"Truthfully, this is the furthest I have traveled from my home. I miss my sisters and my mother terribly, and –" the young woman cut herself off. Her guilty eyes traveled to her new mistress and back to the floor.
"I understand. I too, had family I was once close with." Alcina looked at the girl with pity, even as her heart clenched for those she'd lost. She had no one left. No one she truly cared for, at least.
With the war over and the country torn apart, her uncle ordered her to return home. He wanted her to rebuild her family's castle, the one she resided in as a child with her parents and siblings. While she hadn't seen the damage firsthand, a villager brought the news of the castle disrepair and her parents' demise. Both of her brothers were also lost to the war, and her only sister was somewhere in America, married to a wealthy railroad tycoon.
The village survived, but barely, and the villagers needed stability and a leader. Her uncle wanted to solidify his power in the region, and with her parents and brothers dead, the castle was hers by birthright. After the aid he provided during her hardships, she felt obligated to agree to his request.
She'd spent the last year with him and his family, living in fear that her past would catch up to her. Since her jazz career ended with the beginning of the war, she had no other way to support herself. The disappearance and subsequent death of her cherished husband left her near penniless, and her uncle had mercifully taken pity on her.
Really, though, she believed her uncle just wanted her gone. Out of sight, out of mind. While she'd been respected for her musical talents and sultry voice, that kind of fame was considered more of a scandal amongst the waning nobility. Not to mention her outward appearance, which her extended family always seemed uncomfortable with. They were also ashamed of her inability to entice a "suitable husband" or provide an heir.
She'd married a handsome saxophone player she met early in her career. They'd been happy and in love, or so she thought. The fool disappeared one night, after their five-year anniversary, leaving her devastated. A note was left on their kitchen table, the pretty looping letters of a woman, if she had to guess. It said "if she ever hoped to see her beloved alive, she would have to pay a ransom."
Using her sizable resources, Alcina gave in to the demand without a second thought. Although the sum was rather large, nearly all of her remaining fortune, Alcina simply wanted her beloved Charles home. Despite following the abductors' directions and dropping the money off at the correct place, Charles was still not returned to her.
A shout from the driver pulled her out of her memories. "Hang on, my lady, we are –"
The carriage thumped over an expansive sheet of black ice. It slid to the side, and the horses neighed and reared up, fruitlessly trying to free themselves. They thumped into a jutting rock, tilting to the side on two wheels, careening ever closer to the sheer cliff face.
The driver shouted for the ladies to jump out. His raspy tone was filled with fright and concern, spurning Alcina into action. The blonde handmaid froze in terror. Her wild eyes darted from the door back to Alcina as the carriage smashed onto its side with a resounding thud. The maid screamed, a shrill sound that pierced the late afternoon as the carriage vibrated around them, the wood starting to give way.
"Behind you, jump through the window!" Alcina shouted as she pushed against the door with all of her strength. The window wasn't large enough for her, but the slight slip of a woman could easily fit. The maid still didn't move, and Alcina slapped her across the face, further reddening the girl's cheeks. "Jump!"
The girl looked startled, but obeyed. She disappeared through the window as the door above finally gave way. Alcina braced her arms and tried to heft her weight up. While she ambled her top half out, she felt a slipping, falling sensation in her stomach. It was similar to a dream or nightmare of falling. Fear momentarily made her vision go black as her feet scrambled for purchase. The carriage tumbled over the cliff before she escaped, and the last thing she remembered was hearing the maid scream again.
Thick snow continued to fall. The flakes stuck to her lashes, and she blinked rapidly in an effort to clear her vision. Forcing herself upright, Alcina felt an excruciating pain radiating from her abdomen. The fall ripped her beautiful dress open, and a jagged gash crossed her belly. She grit her teeth together as she pressed around the wound, realizing it was deep, but not enough to be fatal. At least not immediately. Coated in her own warm, sticky blood, Alcina assessed her current situation through the fog of shock and pain.
She was alone, flung from the shattered remains of the carriage. Only one of the horses had fallen, laying dead several feet away. Its poor body was mangled, its legs broken and splayed unnaturally to the side. Glancing up, she saw the sheer cliff face and knew she wouldn't be going up the same way she came down. How had she even survived the fall?
Bracing herself, she climbed unsteadily to her feet. They wobbled beneath her, but she remained standing. The heavy leather of her boots kept her feet dry, but the rest of her body felt frozen solid. Her fur cloak was wet, tiny icy crystals forming along the hairs, and she debated leaving it behind before clutching it tighter around her shoulders.
Every direction she looked was the same. Barren trees and pines, their branches heavy with snow. The surrounding landscape remained undisturbed, save for the site of the accident. She could only hope that the driver and maid would make it to town and launch a rescue party, but with the weather, it seemed unlikely that anyone would find her, at least not before she froze or bled out. The dead horse's blood seeped toward her boot, corrupting the pure white with crimson, and she forced away the rising panic. Resolved that she was on her own, Alcina took a tentative step in the direction she believed the road to be.
Trudging through several feet of snow was slow going, even for someone as tall and powerfully built as Alcina. Her teeth chattered together, ice crystals forming in her fallen ebony curls. She was tired and hungry, and her wound sent sharp waves of agony with every step. Still, she pushed on, determined that her fate was not to die cold and alone.
An hour later, as night fell, reality crept in. Try as she might, it was impossible not to think of how she'd gotten here. If only she'd been born normal, maybe things would've been different for her. Alcina was maternal and nurturing by nature. She'd always wanted to be a mother, but her affliction made that impossible. Despite her lucrative career, she always dreamed that one day, she would find a good man and settle down and have babies.
Thinking of Charles sent a fresh wave of pain through her. Not physical pain, but the kind that kept her awake at night, seeped in despair. His betrayal had been such a shock. She vowed that never again would she allow herself to be duped by a handsome face.
Memories she hated came rushing back as the snow fell harder. They flashed before her eyes, reopening old and festering wounds. After she paid the ransom and Charles failed to return, Alcina hired a private investigator to track down his abductors. It took over a year and every last penny she had to her name, but it was worth it. At the time, she believed she sought revenge on his abductors, but the investigator warned her once they stood outside a nondescript home; her husband was not who he seemed.
The look on Charles' face when Alcina stepped through the door was priceless. It was late, and he laid in bed with his new wife. Another jazz singer they met on their past tour. The singer was young and beautiful, of course. Her fiery red hair and youthful face drew in the crowd, but her lackluster voice failed to keep it. After her fading star fizzled out, Alcina had taken pity and allowed the girl to remain with them until she figured out her next step. The two women had grown close, but apparently not as close as the trollop had grown with Alcina's husband.
A fierce rage coursed through at the sight of them together. Charles looked terrified. After their years together, he knew of her fierce temper and her fixation on abandonment. Once he saw her, he knew he would never leave the room alive. Charles' handsome face was ashen, and he remained silent. The singer begged and pleaded and made excuses, but none of that mattered. They'd robbed her, betrayed her, and left.
The rejection stung worse than all the other rejections she'd faced. Believing that their marriage was solid, Alcina never denied him anything. Their home was modest but well appointed, paid for by her inheritance. They wore fine clothes and drank the best booze, and she even did her best to cook him dinner several nights a week. Both men and women were welcome to share their bed at Charles' behest. Alcina enjoyed the pleasure and debauchery, although the taboo wasn't something she would have sought on her own. His repayment for all of her sacrifices was the ultimate betrayal.
The investigator stepped outside while Alcina exacted her revenge. The singer went first. She put up a fight, but she was much weaker, despite the myriad of bruises her light touch left on Alcina. It was like a single fly trying to swat away a horse, and the singer eventually gave into her fate. Alcina's sharp blade slit the singer's delicate throat, severing her useless vocal cords so she couldn't scream as she died. It took Alcina several minutes to catch her breath, and bruises already formed all over her body thanks to her condition.
Charles, however, she took her time with. While they tried for a baby for years, they had never been successful. She'd gotten pregnant twice, but neither pregnancy came to term. When Charles told Alcina that his whore had been pregnant, she almost stopped. Her hands trembled, the blade of the knife shaking back and forth. A range of emotions washed over her, from jealousy to regret and in between. Then she thought of their dead babies and their twisted bodies rotting in the dirt, and launched herself atop his chest like a feral animal.
Alcina wasn't proud to admit it now, but she'd tortured Charles before she killed him and bathed in his blood. It was no less than he deserved, and even he seemed to acknowledge it. Charles didn't put up a fight, and he didn't even beg until the end, when he whispered over and over through his tears for her to put an end to his misery.
Alcina was ashamed of the memory, even though she reveled in the bloodshed of her vengeance. While it wasn't as fresh as it once was, the pain of that heartache would never abate. The conning couple had spent most of her money, and she fled before the authorities arrived, remaining in seclusion at her uncle's castle. She'd waited weeks and months for her arrest, but it never came.
None of that truly mattered now, trapped out in the elements as she was. Each step was heavier than the last, and she knew she couldn't continue much longer. Sinking to her knees, Alcina contemplated her own life and mortality. Cold and starving, surrounded by nothing but mountains and trees, she gazed ahead and tried to come to terms with the apparent inevitable.
"Hmm. You did not seem the type to give up so easily. I am…disappointed."
Alcina turned toward the voice, her body stiff from the frigid temperatures. Behind her, a beautiful blonde woman stood upon the snow. She held a large lantern, a shining beacon of salvation against the endless night. She was adorned in the most gorgeous gown Alcina had ever seen, trimmed with silver and gold. The elegant stitching gleamed in the lantern's light, casting an ethereal-looking shadow against the gloom. Alcina was positive she was hallucinating.
"Who are you?"
"I believe the better question is, who are you, Lady Dimitrescu?"
"You know who I am."
"Of course," the woman said as she held out her hand. "Follow me. I will keep you safe and warm."
Alcina hesitated. Despite the woman's beauty and outward kind appearance, something seemed off. Whether it was the fact that she radiated warmth despite not wearing a cloak, or how she walked on top of the snow rather than sinking into it, she wasn't sure. "Who are you?"
"You may call me Mother Miranda."
Once the name left her lips, Alcina could see the faint resemblance. Although Miranda didn't look like any nun she'd seen before, her attire was similar, right down to the head covering, which resembled a habit. Figuring that she could overpower the smaller woman if she had any ill intent, Alcina accepted her outstretched hand.
"There is a cave up ahead. We can shelter there."
"A cave?" Alcina asked, shivering in the wind.
"Yes. It is dry at least, and may connect to the other cave systems within the mountain."
Alcina followed, still not entirely sure she wasn't dreaming, and before long, they came to the mouth of the cave. Miranda held her lantern out, illuminating the dark interior before she stepped inside. "See. There is nothing to fear."
Alcina wasn't a fan of the idea, but it was better than the alternative. The moment she stepped inside, she felt better, protected from the fierce wind and storm. Tension leaked from her hunched shoulders, and she stood straighter. Her teeth ceased their incessant chattering, and the warmth enveloped her with each step. Miranda walked further into the cave, Alcina following obediently behind.
"Where are you going?"
"A little further ahead, I see a fire."
"A fire? Who would light a fire in here?"
"That I cannot say, but with any luck they will have medical supplies, so I can tend to your wound."
"Are you a doctor?" Alcina asked, her voice echoing through the cavern.
"I am…more of a healer, of sorts."
Alcina's face twisted with uncertainty. The cave had a musty smell, which overwhelmed the coppery undertones her nose detected. Living in the mountains during her childhood, she remembered the locals talking of a feared witch that inhabited the lands. Her parents insisted it was nonsense, but that didn't stop her and her brothers and sisters from looking. They never found proof of a witch, but the memory flitted through her mind as she followed Miranda. The two women found what appeared to be a crude living area, complete with bookshelves built into the rock and a roaring fire.
Miranda searched a nearby trunk, removing an oversized men's shirt and tossing it to Alcina. "Here. Remove your clothing. We must dry your dress and cloak by the fire before you catch your death."
"What if the owner comes back?"
"I'm sure they would not mind aiding their Lady."
Alcina removed her cloak and dress, and even her undergarments. Miranda took them without comment and hung them near the fire while Alcina dressed in the borrowed men's shirt. It was long and grazed the top of her thighs, but not long enough for her to move or bend comfortably without exposing herself.
"I regret to say, the pants would all be too short, but your dress should dry soon." Miranda walked around the open cavern and examined a book from the shelves. A warm smile spread across her face and she beckoned to Alcina before entering an offshoot. "Oh, there's more down here!"
Alcina observed Miranda. She swore she saw the faint outline of wings on Miranda's back, fading in and out of existence. Was Alcina dead, or hallucinating? Perhaps she was still outside in the cold, freezing to death and dreaming of a beautiful angel saving her.
Regardless, she followed Miranda through the dim tunnel. The first room they saw appeared to be some sort of lab. Books and glass beakers covered every available surface. Spare scrolls of old parchment with crudely drawn anatomy hung on the walls. Dozens of jars adorned the shelves, filled with dark, viscous liquid. The makeshift lab smelled of copper and rot, and Alcina suppressed a shiver.
"Sit here. I must clean your wound."
Alcina didn't have time to look around, and she thought maybe it was for the best. While she considered herself intelligent, she was unfamiliar with science, and didn't want to appear incompetent in front of Miranda. She also wasn't sure she wanted to know the intent behind the stranger's lab, as some of their drawings and equipment appeared quite gruesome. Taking the offered seat, Alcina lifted the shirt, exposing her midriff.
Miranda approached, her slim fingers grazing over Alcina's abdomen. Her touch radiated warmth, and Alcina couldn't help but relax. The scent of wild chamomile and elderflower wafted off Miranda, bringing memories of Alcina's mother to the forefront of her mind. While there was no love lost between her and her father, her mother was always a strong and comforting presence throughout her childhood. She still drank the native, wild foraged tea from time to time, but smelling it on another person was intoxicating.
"You smell like the tea my mother used to drink."
Miranda's face lit up. "The herbs grow near the river. Your mother sounds like a woman with taste."
"I miss her," Alcina said, her gaze landing far off in the distance. "We used to pick the herbs together, on occasion."
"I think it best you lay back, my Lady. The light in here is dim and I need to see."
Alcina obeyed without question. There was something so familiar about Miranda, but she couldn't put her finger on what. Miranda continued to touch her, poking and prodding at the open gash on her belly. She winced in pain, and Miranda hummed under her breath.
"You are truly a survivor, Lady Dimitrescu."
"What makes you say that?"
"You have suffered so," Miranda said, stroking Alcina's cheek before her hands returned to her midsection. "But you have overcome. I think your rewards will be great, my dear."
Miranda slipped a pair of silken ropes over Alcina's wrists before Alcina realized what was happening. "Why are you tying me down?"
"I will not lie to you. This will hurt."
"What are you going to do to me?" Alcina asked, her eyes wide with fright. Despite her unease, she still wasn't truly frightened, even when Miranda restrained her feet. She knew she should be terrified, but Miranda's presence was calming. Alcina felt like she was floating on a soft cloud without a care in the world.
"I am going to make you better."
"Better how?"
"I will give you a gift. The greatest gift the Earth has ever provided, a piece of the Black God."
"I…I don't understand."
"You will, my child. You will," Miranda said, approaching Alcina with a scalpel.
Alcina's mind went blank before an immense pain broke through. Tears streamed down her cheeks as Miranda further opened the wound on her abdomen. The pain was excruciating, worse than anything she'd ever felt in her life, as the scalpel sliced through her flesh as though it were butter. Alcina let loose a flurry of screams. They echoed off the cavern walls, reverberating in her skull. A strangled cry died upon her lips.
"Hush, child, we are nearly finished." Miranda hummed, ignoring Alcina's screams. Once Alcina was sufficiently open, Miranda stepped out of sight before returning with a jar. It was no larger than a canning jar, and filled with a clear jelly and what appeared to be a deformed fetus. "You can have the family you long for. You will be a mother. Our god provides."
Alcina tried to form words, but she couldn't. Contrary to earlier, her body was on fire, feeling like she might spontaneously combust at any moment. The searing pain in her belly sent waves of nausea through her, and she felt the bile rising in her throat. Her limbs felt paralyzed, and when she tried to move, she found she couldn't.
She knew then that it was real. Miranda wasn't a hallucination, nor was she Alcina's savior. She was a demon. A devil come to collect Alcina's soul for her sins. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks while Miranda removed the gnarled fetus. Glancing at Alcina's face, she plunged the object into Alcina's open stomach, and Alcina's abdomen lurched from the table.
It felt like her insides were splitting open, or like she was being torn in half. Another series of screams sounded from her chest. She wasn't sure how long she screamed, or even how long the agony lasted. All she knew was she screamed herself hoarse and eventually the world faded into darkness.
Opening her eyes, Alcina gazed up at an elaborately painted ceiling. It was familiar, a sight she recognized from her youth. Her family's castle. Beneath her was her feather bed, downy soft, and large enough to accommodate her ample frame. A headache pounded behind her eyes, but she forced herself to sit up. Her limbs shook with the effort and her lips trembled. How did she get home? Was Miranda and the bizarre surgery just a twisted dream?
"Hello?"
The blonde maid from her accident opened the door to her bedroom. "My Lady, you're awake!"
"What….what happened?"
"You were in a terrible accident, my Lady. I will fetch the doctor, she will want to –"
"How did I get here?"
"You were very lucky, Lady Dimitrescu. A traveling doctor came upon you after the accident."
"A doctor?" Alcina frowned, thinking of the brutal surgery. Her brain struggled to differentiate whether it was real or a dream. Tossing off the thick blankets, Alcina pulled her nightdress to her chest and gazed at her stomach. Gingerly prodding the supple flesh, she concluded it must've been a nightmare. There was no wound, or even a scar, just a smooth expanse of unblemished porcelain skin. There were no marks, only a strangely full sensation in her belly.
"Was I injured?"
"Not too bad, but you suffered a bump on the head."
"How long have I been asleep?"
"A few weeks, ma'am. If you'll excuse me, I shall fetch the doctor. She is eager to see you," the maid said before disappearing back into the hallway.
Alcina relaxed into her pillows. It was all just a dream. When a knock sounded at the door, her stomach clenched tightly. She frowned before announcing, "you may enter."
Her jaw dropped open at the familiar figure. Mother Miranda. So she was real, and she was the doctor? Tempted to cower back, Alcina clutched her blanket tighter to hide her shaking hands and stood her ground. She was the Lady of the castle, the rightful heir, and she wouldn't let anyone drive her away.
"Good evening, child. I am glad to see you well rested."
"Thank you."
"How are you feeling?"
The tugging didn't abate, and Alcina rubbed her stomach. "Hungry, I think."
"I imagine. You were nearly dead when I found you."
"I had these dreams, and you were there and –"
"Dreams?" Miranda asked, her tone curious and condescending. "Those were no dreams, my darling Alcina."
"But… how? Why would you –"
"I have given you a gift, just as I promised. You will never age, and most wounds will heal. Together, you and I will rule this land."
"What?"
"Don't play innocent. I know the darkness that lies in your heart. I have tasted it. Our God has tasted it, and we are one, now."
So it wasn't a bad dream. Alcina fought through the confusion, even as pieces slipped into place. The movement inside her stomach wasn't an illusion. It was the grotesque fetus that Miranda planted inside of her. Alcina stretched uncomfortably, feeling something begin to take root. "What is happening to me? I feel….different."
"You are different. One of my creations, my child. You will have power beyond which you ever imagined. One day, all of your dreams will come true."
"What do you mean?"
"I know what resides in your heart."
"Am I…pregnant?"
"No. You are adjusting to the presence of our God. But you will be a mother. I promise you that."
Alcina sat pensively, absorbing Miranda's words. As still as she sat, she still felt something moving, reaching throughout her body. Once the sensation engulfed her entire being, a sort of clarity clicked into place. Lifetimes beyond lifetimes flashed through her eyes. Miranda's and even her own memories, but more than that. She saw the world over hundreds of thousands of years, each life absorbed by what Miranda called the Black God, forever preserved by its grace. Memories etched upon memories, languages and cultures she never knew existed, the lives of men, women, children, and even animals. It all flashed before her eyes, and she gasped in surprise. "Thank you, Mother Miranda, for this wonderful gift. Thank you. Thank you."
"It is my honor, but its the Black God you should be thanking," Miranda said, pursing her lips and stroking Alcina's hair.
Miranda looked pleased, but Alcina sensed something deeper. Allowing the corrupted root to take hold, Alcina embraced the knowledge flooding through her. Not quite sure of her newfound power or how to access it, she only had a vague feeling. "But you are sad."
"I am. You are a beautiful accomplishment."
"Perhaps not the one you were hoping for."
"No. I will admit, I was hoping you might be a vessel for my daughter. But I must continue the search."
"Let me help you."
Miranda nodded, her arctic blue eyes focused on the flames flickering in the fireplace. She took Alcina's giant hands into hers, and the two women shared an intense look. Their link to one another wasn't telepathic, but it was far more than an ordinary human could comprehend.
"We have much work to do. Why don't you get dressed? We shall get you fed before we start."
Alcina clutched her throat. "Is my –"
"No. Our God chose to bless you. But he also chose to remind you of your humble origins. Your disease remains. If I had to guess, drinking blood will make you feel better."
The idea repulsed Alcina, not for the blood, but because of what her disease represented. It was her greatest shame and a disgusting weakness. But as she stood and pulled the dressing gown around her shoulders, the familiar ache of shame dissipated. It was replaced with one of deep desire. A hunger that she wasn't sure could ever be sated.
When she thought of what she did to Charles, an involuntary smile crossed her pale lips. Oh, how he deserved it. The memory of his slaughter was her most cherished, and she quietly relived the torture and the bloodshed while she dusted her face with fine white powder. She could almost smell the coppery tang of his blood, and the idea of feeding on Charles excited her.
Behind her, Miranda also smiled, watching her newest creation with unbridled curiosity. "How do you feel?"
"Hungry. I feel as though I haven't eaten in years."
"Excellent. We will find you something suitable to eat. Then we will set to work."
"Work?"
"Yes. We long for the same things and before long, we will both be mothers."
Alcina's gaze met Miranda's in her mirror. A smile twisted at her painted lips, and she straightened her back with the confidence she'd only felt while singing on stage. "I've always wanted a daughter."
"Then a daughter you shall have. Do you have anyone in particular in mind? Your handmaid is very pretty."
The blonde woman that her uncle sent with her. Miranda was right, she was beautiful, and more importantly, she was close by. Alcina waited years to be a mother, and she didn't want to wait any longer. With access to the power of the Black God, she could finally have her heart's greatest wish.
"Yes, I think I should like that."
"Choose another, as well. Some people reject the Black God, and I cannot bear to see you mourn."
Alcina whirled on Miranda. Her earlier distrust seemed like a distant memory. Even the pain Miranda inflicted upon her was nothing compared to the potential. Despite the fact that Miranda was much shorter, Alcina felt power rolling off of her in waves. The wings she saw in the cave hung over her shoulders, sheer and wispy, in the corner of her vision, as though made of vapor. It was a beautiful sight.
"I know you wish for Eva back. But until then, we can care for one another," Alcina said, masking her fear of rejection behind her pretty smile.
Miranda closed the distance and gazed upon her newest creation's angelic face. She recognized the deep insecurity, the twisted and broken soul, blackened with pain and rage and now, their God. She shot Alcina a grateful smile and took her hands with an affectionate squeeze. "I should like that very much, daughter."