All day, Kearney resisted the urge to leave Marquette's house. The Atrox was calling to her, but it wasn't time for to leave. If and when she left, it would be on her own terms, and not because some big, pompous shadow was impatient for her to come and "rescue" it. She had some things she wanted to get done first. She walked up Marquette's "Grand Staircase" and into her bedroom, closing the door softly behind her, as to not alert the others that she was in there. She knew, though, that Marquette wouldn't care.
Her hands shook as she turned the knobs of the shower in Marq's private bath to her desired preference. Her mind went utterly blank as the water hit her. Marquette would cleanse herself before going into the Underworld, calling it her purification. Everything Kearney would begin to do would be her own purification, from both the light and the dark. Only shadows would be the one she would allow herself to cling to. This was her own rite.
Wrapping a towel around herself, she headed towards the bathroom mirror, searching for a pair of scissors. Finally finding them, she pulled some of her hair up, moving it down some until she found the preferred length. She felt some satisfaction when she heard the blades bite into her beautiful read hair. Snip, snip, snip, and that piece was gone, falling to the floor. She moved on, sizing up another piece, and cutting that part too. Her flaming hair fell the floor with a thump until all of it was shorn. The rest that was left fell onto her shoulders with a straight finesse, a guarantee of her strength.
With that completed, she walked back into Marquette's bedroom, heading straight for her large, walk-in closet. She flung the doors open wide, walked into the grand space, her fingers touching different fabrics and garments that belonged to her beautiful sister.
Kearney examined them critically. This had to be exactly perfect, something that would change it all. Her hand rested on a black and red dress. Curious, she pulled it out gently, feeling as though she just found something that was the exact perfection she was going for. The dress reminded her so of the clothes the ancients before her had worn. She dropped the towel she had around her body, and then pulled the dress over her head, letting the soft material flow against her body, then clinging as if it had been made just for her. The bodice was black and narrowed at the waist with straps up further on her shoulders to hold the garment up. The skirt flowed out a bit, reminding her of a tiny stream back in her hometown as it swayed and lived, first shimmering red and then black, going back to red instantly. She searched the bottom of the closet, looking for Marquette's favored black heels, the ones that laced up her ankle and calf and were open-toed.
After dressing, she walked back out to the main room and into the bathroom again. Searching through the drawers, she found the curling iron, plugging it in. After brushing her hair out and waiting for the curling iron to heat up, she curled her hair so that the red curls would bounce along her shoulders. She lifted her chin to examine herself, her hair, and her glowing radiance that seemed to return so swiftly. She loved the way she looked, but she still needed the make-up that would make her ethereal. She knew where Marquette kept it, back on her vanity table where she sat not so long ago and told her her secrets.
Her hands, so steady before, now shook as she took off her moon amulet, and then the dragon medallion her father had given her. Now she felt that there was no need for them, but it felt different, being without her comfort. But the moon was inside of her, and the dragon… Picking up a thick black pencil, she lightly sketched the face of a dragon around her blue eye, as if it were beginning to devour the delicacy. She sketched the outline of the dragon's body down the side of her face until the tip of the tail was dipping into her cleavage. Glancing down at the medallion she once wore, she continued filling in the lines of the dragon until it was a close replica. She wasn't an artist, but even she had to admit that it was looking good.
Satisfied with the design, she proceeded with her make-up now. She took the same pencil she had been drawing with to fill in her lips until they were dark and fathomless, like her soul now felt. She found red gloss and rubbed it across her lips so that they shone the same red and black as her dress. For her eyelids, she used Marq's precious liquid silver, praying she would forgive her for using it, and filled it in. Finally, for the final goddess touch, she used the glitter lotion to touch up her arms and neck, her shoulders, and finally her gorgeous hair.
Taking a few steps back, Kearney examined herself. Her look was what she was going for. Ethereal. She was a dragon now, the Princess of Darkness.
She grabbed a tube of lipstick, pulled off the top and placed it on the mirror.
Thank you, Marquette. For everything. I hope you can forgive me for the troubles that I have caused. Take care of my amulets for me.
Kearney
There was a ripple in the air, and Kearney turned to face her father and Stanton. She smiled coldly at them. Alexander stepped forward, kissing the top of his daughter's head.
"Hello, Father."
Alexander glanced back at Stanton. "Don't forget the Prince."
"Stanton," she acknowledged slowly.
Stanton watched her lazily, no care in the world for him at this moment. "I see you're not wearing your moon amulet."
"I'm no longer a Daughter," Kearney stated firmly, renouncing whom she was truly deep inside.
"Then we waste no more time," her father said, a happy tone in his voice, glad that she was not fighting what so inevitable.
Kearney shook her head, continuing that icy smile. "I'm not going anywhere."
Her father lost his smile and replaced it with a look of smoldering anger. "What do you mean?" He eyed her coldly.
"She wants you to release Marquette," Stanton said for her, tasting a bit of her mind. The bit she wanted him to.
Alexander chuckled. "You're worried about her?"
"I'm not going anywhere until I know that she is safe."
Sighing loudly and for dramatic effort, her father released his hold over Marquette. Her body curled on the floor, soft moans mumbling from her mouth. "Satisfied?"
Kearney looked at Marquette, wishing things were drastically different, then nodded. "Yes. Thank you."
Stanton watched Kearney with amusement. She touched his arm.
Good-bye, Stanton.
Good-bye, Kearney.
Take care of my sisters for me.
Kearney walked over to her father, resting her hand on his arm. He smiled at her, seeing the beautiful creature his little princess had grown up to be. For a mere fraction of a second, he felt a pang of guilt, because he knew what he was offering his daughter up for. She was to be the catalyst for the Atrox to begin anew. His master and lord. His god. Her god, now. She was going to willingly give up her life for him. He should have been proud of that, but oddly, he wasn't funny how the Atrox had said she would die torturously if he didn't bring her, how it would kill her slowly in front of him and his sons, but now she was going to die in front of him, just like the Atrox said. Maybe it would be swift. And she would just give her power to him.
"I'm ready for the ceremony, Daddy," she whispered, looking at him with his eyes. For a moment, her felt guilty. For a moment, he saw his beautiful Maris. Then the moment passed and he knew exactly what it was that he was doing now.
She felt strange, being there, standing with her father, without her moon amulet to keep her safe, to give her comfort. But her decision had been made, either on her own, or for herm she did not know quite exactly. She smiled at her Father to reassure him, but thought of her love for Aidrian.
"Wonderful. You will be the first Princess, the most powerful."
If only you knew, Father, she thought grimly.
Only two more chapters!
