DSP still holding onto Flash plushy both are holding a sign that says 'disclaimer': I love my Flashy-pooh, I love my readers, I love fruit, mushrooms, sushi, dark chocolate, and cake. But I don't love to be sued, so JL isn't mine, I just wanted to make sure we all knew this.
Chapter 5
In the darkness of night the slender form of a resting body could be seen through the sheer fabric of the mosquito netting of the canopy draped above to cascade in shimmering layers of silver.
Circled within a dark skinned woman laid curled into near fetal position, her round face pressed into the cool soft pillows whilst she hugged the large spell book, the Morrum, into her breast covered in a satin night shirt.
In her state of unconsciousness her thin fingers rubbed idly against the plated gold coils of the book's spine stroking against the leather, its musky yet pleasant smell drifting into her nose with each even deep breath she took in her slumber.
High above settled about the rafters where her friends, her murder of crows all nestled down in many nest made of twigs, bits of shiny litter, and oddly enough hundreds of clothes hangers. Their heads bowed down into their own breast they too slept in the peaceful calm of night with their mistress.
All was indeed peaceful until a prolonged moan rumbled from the woman's closed mouth as she uncurled from her rest her eyes opening onto the dark. A small fluttering within her chest aided with a feeling of love brushed against her senses.
"Wolfie?" She asked onto the emptiness before stretching her hands out past the spider silk like canopy to lay her hand down upon the headset of a phone.
The ring was low, a pleasant tinkling sound made by bells unlike the modern phones that worked digitally and what have you. Despite her expectation of the call her voice remained edged with grogginess, "Hello."
"This is a collect call from-" She did not allow the emotionless automated voice continue with its useless speech, she had heard it enough times to know what to do. Pressing the five in the center of the dial pad she collapsed back into the pillows of her bed fight off the silent call to return to her moments of peace.
"Wolfie, what's wrong?" She asked yawning in mid-sentence.
There was the sound of shifting on the other end of the line before a deep masculine voice spoke. "Sorry to call you so late, Angel. But you know I had a…um feeling that I'm going to be getting some visitors soon."
The news pushed aside her thoughts of drifting off to sleep. "How soon?" She asked aware that someone must have been behind him listening to every word he said.
"Very soon. I won't be able to call you anymore after this. Angel, what should I tell them?" The voice sounded desperate as if begging her to make a critical decision which in turn humored her briefly; after all he was older than her.
"Whatever they want. Listen Wolfie; don't get yourself into anymore trouble, especially because of me. Cooperate; tell them all that you know, okay?"
For awhile both ends of the line were silent only their breathing could be heard mingling in the ear pieces.
"Ok. Angel, I'm sorry about all of this, if I wasn't-"
"Wolfie, what's done is done. I'm a big girl now you can't be my big overbearing brother all the time."
Again he was silent before sighing again in defeat. Feeling that it was her duty to ease his worries she smiled lightly hoping that somehow he could feel it, "I met her today." She said in a soft song like tone.
"Oh, at last? How was she?" He asked, the tinge of sorrow in his voice replaced with happiness for her.
"She did not disappoint me. I can not wait until the time comes-"
"Angel," Wolfie's voice as her cut in made her halt, "You remember what I told you right? About this kid's plans and what will happen if he succeeds?"
"Yes. I know what I'm going to do." The seriousness of her words faded as she stretched out amongst her pillows allowing her free hand to brush the canopy net, a small smile tugging at the edges of her lips. "Or can't you see that, Wolfie?"
There was a soft chuckle from the other line. "Angel, you never was the type to let some stay happily miserable. I love you girl."
"I love you too." She breathed before hanging up. A pain of guilt rapped at her heart with the knowledge that her own flesh and blood blamed himself for her situation in life. It was true that with her brother's imprisonment a hefty amount of stress was placed on herself, but never had she thought of blaming it all on him.
"After all I made the decision, so who's to blame but myself." She reasoned fighting hard against the human flaw to take the easy way out and place all responsibility for her current life on her brother.
Curling back beneath the sheets her eyes scanned about the room, her sight long adjusted to the dark. It wasn't so bad being Klarion's minion, she reasoned with morality.
The Past
She remembered the day very well when she had fallen into the dark void after an attempt of suicide only to awaken to find she had not died as she had planned from the extensive pills and alcohol but was alive and well.
When she had opened her eyes again all she saw was a glorious light that basked heavenly warmth on her chilled skin. The gentle coos of city domesticated pigeons harshly ripped her from her splendorous reverie of peace and threw her brutally into a rude awakening onto reality in an oversized bed in an oversized room.
The first person to greet her was the one eyes man, perhaps the age of forty, with a tray of clear foods for her to consume. Angered that her plans had been thwarted she did not want to be helped by the stranger, but the smell of the offered consommé quickly had her stomach pitted against her mind.
He had not helped her to eat, bathe, or dress, allowing her to struggle with her tired body most of the morning before escorting her weak body to a large study.
It was then she met her soon-to-be-master, Klarion the witch boy. He did not ask her why she had tried to end her own life, but asked what she wanted of the rest of it. After all what was she to do with her life going as it was and with the addition of her attempted of suicide, surely the world would not take kindly to that.
"You've tried to kill yourself, should word get out of such instability you will be forever tainted in the eyes of those around you. You can't ever return to what you deemed as normal." Klarion had stated that fateful day, "But should you choose to stay in my services then I can help you. Help you with your troubles, and help you to control your powers instead of them moving out of your control wearing you down."
She remembered sitting in silence of the armchair listening to the sweet voice of temptation lure her into world some did not believe truly existed except for in fairy tales, but then again stranger things had happened before.
With her state of mind it all seemed like the glorious light of hope in the deep abyss of despair cast in eternal darkness. Tired of the dark she reached for the light without hesitation.
She had the witching ways about her; underdeveloped since the last she had even thought about her so-called 'powers' was when her neo-pagan grandmother was still alive. In time he had given her advanced training in the craft while the one-eyed man by the name of Theodore Hedley trained her in combat. Even to the day they had bestowed her with an interchangeable sickle/ball and chain enchanted to extend and collapse in its length to suit her every command and suit her desires.
It was a year into her 'training' she was laying comfortably on the floor of her attic loft when Klarion had came one day holding a silver goblet in his small hands.
"What's this?" She had asked looking away from the book of herbs she was studying for the hour before moving onto the next.
The usual dark look in his black eyes did not waver as he smirked handing her the glass. "You desire wings don't you? Did you get a feather like I told you?"
She flipped to the first page of the book showing a beautiful black feather that shined a brilliant color of blue indigo in the light. "I got it the moment you told me to, Master." She said showing great pride on the outside while within she laughed at the notion that that she, a woman of 20, wished to impress a mere child.
The spell was simple, something she had rehearsed over and over again when he had told her of it. She eyed the darkly beautiful feather as the foreign words flowed like black honey from her own lips. She had found it littering the ground where Cagney, the crow with a lame foot nested about (She had found the poor bird hoping in a grocery store parking lot unable to get airborne instinctively she brought it home to mend.), the way the colors changed before her eyes when the suns shinning rays struck the lovely surface made her breath hitch. Instantly she knew she had to have wings of such color. When she realized the breed of bird from which it had fallen the excitement grew, crows and ravens all had a great history as mysterious and powerful figures. They fitted with her plans perfectly.
She drunk the liquid from the goblet, it wasn't as sweet as the scent made her believe, rather like a bitter nectar made thick by tasteless honey. But all the while bearable.
As the concoction was making its way down her throat Klarion drew the feather down her lower backside painting on two nearly crescent shaped diagonals moving from her spine out to where the hem of her dress stopped above her rear.
She sat the goblet down beside her, her heart quickening with anticipation as the incantation was coming to its end.
She did not know what to expect of her change, the books did little to describe what she was to feel, would the wings just suddenly appear, or would they grow over time? For some odd reason the spell's description was rather lacking in details.
Just as quickly she suddenly found out why, so not to discourage the use of it. The pain was immense starting at the very tips of her toes moving slowly upwards the feeling of hot pins and needles being hammered into her flesh relentlessly moving down to the small of her back where the feather brushed marks were painted. Falling forwards onto her stomach she writhed in her pains.
Fire, she felt like she was on fire and every move she made fed onto the flames engulfing her with a painful suffocating heat.
Groaning deeply her tear filled eyes focused on her nails as the opaque color became murky slowly turning a translucent black. "Ooow." She howled when the pain merely increased when the sickening sound of flesh stretching to complement the bones of her fingers as they elongated making her hands resemble something like claws.
The heat clustering about the markings on her back grew until the dark marks elevated with the growth of two small humps. The skin atop the small lumps growing over her backside exploded with long black feathers spraying blood back in a slanted splatter across the wall. The droplets flying all over as the new wet appendages moved wildly in her adjustments.
For the most part the pain had dimmed but was still intense enough to have tears pricking the corners of her eyes but to her a great relief, it as if someone had throw frozen water over her burning body. Tired and highly exhausted she collapsed to the wood flooring huffing deeply with labored breaths making the bloody wings bob with the heavy lifts and falls of her backside.
Her eyes spied her forgotten master seated on her bed with his legs folded before him, "You did not say that it would hurt." She huffed regretting her words as even speaking made the pain spike and dull in pulsating waves.
Klarion smiled after enjoying the sight of his new minion's transformation from the bed's foot. "Everything comes with a price."
"It still hurts, and my hands are cold." She softly stated edging off the sting slightly.
"It will fade in time, but you still have a price to pay come the finial stage of your transformation."
"Pay for what exactly?"
He never answered her he simply warned her that she had a long night ahead of her.
Taking the chance she crawled into her bathroom, the cool tile and porcelain felt wonderful to her skin. But the feeling faded as Klarion's mock warning came upon her leaving her in fits of pain and continuous vomiting throughout the night well into early morning.
But when at long last the pain had stopped and her body was released of the spell she gathered herself before the full lenght mirror to gaze delighted at her wings, hers. Something she had desired for so long and finally was able to obtain. With uncontrolable fits of giggles she gave in to her exhaustion to rest.
That was the first change, the change to her body to accompany her wings, the shifting of organs, and the reformatting of bones making them denser yet somehow light enough to be lifted by the black wings now protruding from her lower back.
Her second and final change did not come until later, long after she had master her wings, both hiding and calling them forth and using them to take her into the sky above. Her second change came with a much greater price than the debt she paid in excruciating pain when she was bestowed her wings. It came at a price she wasn't so ready to pay.
Then it happened, the day she took the book for herself. Larouse was a fool; he knew what he had gotten. When she had happened upon him in his home he was in the midst of conducting one of the simpler spells.
He too had fallen victim to that human flaw of greed. Her rudimentary knowledge of the man told her of his power-hungry and chauvinistic nature and if it wasn't for the ironic twist that the very book that could give him all the power he desired wouldn't react to his commands because he wasn't female he would have been as he wished.
With a heavy blow to his spine via her ball and chain she took the Morrum, which called alluringly out for her to take, back to the manor to Klarion for the 'waking' as he called it.
After getting Klarion's approval she went about the process of 'waking' the book.
"Wake up sleepy head." She cooed before pressing her thumb into the sharp pin of the clasp lock on the cover, flinching when the skin broke and her blood flowed over the pin spreading into the hallow coils.
Klarion and the valet Theodore stood watching her lick her tongue over her lips in a sinful sense of pure euphoria. She felt it in her chest, her stomach, and her toes, it was practically everywhere, invading every sense, intensifying it briefly. It felt so good it was painful. Oddly enough, no man had ever made her feel as good as she did at that moment.
At long last the feeling faded and she withdrew her thumb instinctively placing the appendage into her mouth while the Morrum began to glow rejuvenating itself and adjusting to her needs. The pages were no longer brown and stiff with age but crème colored and pliable as if it were brand new, the inks were restored and the spells where written in a fashion that could easily be understood.
There was something different about her scent, something missing. Decaying, the death of cells and her body, it had ceased. The feeling of dying, a feeling she was far accustomed to, had vanished like a distant memory. "I'm…I'm…" She could not get the words out of her mouth. "Am I immortal?"
One would have felt overjoyed at such news but she felt as though something precious had been ripped from her, just like the day the doctor announced to her with false sympathy that she had miscarried a six week old fetus and that it was impossible for her ever to have a child of her own.
Empty and numb, that was how she felt.
"What have you done?" She asked turning to Klarion with a wild look building hysteria. Her voice cracked as a sob ripped through her being, "What have you done?!"
Klarion's pale devilish face did not waver with the pained cry of accusation from his minion. "I've done nothing to you, it was the Morrum. It rather likes to be with its chosen mistress for as long as it desires. Besides you aren't immortal, merely bounded to the Morrum to live for as long as it is in exsitance. In my opinion it was a fair exchange."
"Fair? To suffer the pain of watching those that I love die while I remain the same?! How is that fair?!" She demanded angrily wiping the tears from her eyes.
"Everything comes with a price Medea, or have you forgotten that already?" He asked cruelly staring at the broken figure before him. "And you can be destroyed but I doubt that book will allow its mistress to leave it anytime soon, lets not forget that Morrum was fabricated in the 12th century and has made it to now. And also keep in mind that you aren't indestructible or invulnerable, should you break an arm, a leg, or a wing, it must heal as any human must."
"Please no." She begged the tears returning. There was no telling how long it would take for the Morrum to be destroyed, in the process allowing her to die.
"Get over it Medea, you knew what you were getting into when you agreed to work for me." He said leaving her to mourn the loss of her mortal life.
Crying she crumbled onto the ground her belly cramped with her pained sobs, her throat soar from cursing the world about her and her own ignorance. Succumbing to sleep doing nothing else but accepting her cruel fate. She gave a feverish laugh in scorn to herself, to live forever until all was gone, perhaps she would keep company with that other immortal, Vandal Savage, for as long as she could stomach yet another power mad fool.
Present
The morning had at long last chased away the darkness and the shadows that hide the modern day monsters. Cracking open an eye she growled at the bright light of day cursing herself for having foolishly forgotten to close the curtains. Stopping her curse of the sunlight short she observed a feeling of great content and comfort. Looking for the source of this feeling she lifted her dark wing to reveal a small pale hand hanging over her hip and resting somewhere within her silk nightshirt. Following the hand she peered at Klarion snuggled against her back snuggled happily between her wings.
She had wondered many of the times after that day if she regreted the choices that she had made. At times she could answer 'no' then again when she thought to her fate she could answer 'yes'. But in the end the answer was the same as was her destiny. Now she had no choice but to accept it until the day came someone could end her existance whenever that my be.
"Disgusting little pervert." She grumbled removing his hand from the innards of her shirt and pulling him into her embrace. 'I am Medea, the sorceress, lady of the crows. I am not good nor am I bad. I am gifted with powers beyond human understanding. I am cursed to witness and feel the mortality that is denied of me. My existence is tragic. But for my master I shall live it.' She thought slipping back into the world of sleep.
TBC...
DSP again I hope I've answered some of the questions asked. But then again what of the intro of 'Wolfie'? Why doesn't Medea want to fight Hawkgirl but finds no trouble in taking down the rest? Why am I asking these questions? Who knows I'm just nutz my duckies! Thank you Yami for that word, I haven't stopped calling people that yet.
And thank you all for your reviews!
