Summary:
"You belong with your family."
Rachel crashes to her knees, heaving as the portal closes. Her fingers scale her throat and she lurches forward as the contents of her stomach rushes out; hot and fast, splattering all over the soft, grey carpet and up her sleeves. Gasping, she falls back, recoiling from the rancid smell of bile.
She can't muster a thought. Words evade her. Her tongue lays heavy between her teeth and her eyes blur with tears as her father kneels at her side. "It'll pass." He soothes her back with gentle circles, and she frowns at him. "I forget you're half-human and untrained." Trigon snarls then, but she can't be sure if it's at the smell in front of him or the word human. He stands, pulling her up with him.
Her hand trembles when she raises it to her chin, wiping the wet from her lower lip. The swirling fog lifts and her memories come rushing in, piling on top of each other in a panic. And she can't decide what she needs to know first; Gar's healing, Dick's safety or Kory's recovery after all she put her mind through, again. "My friends," she mutters.
"Grateful," he says, letting go of her wrist. "I suspect."
Rachel glances around as he walks across the large room. From where she stands the three floor-to-ceiling windows boast a shiny skyline and a glistening river. They're high up in some condo somewhere, so high up, so close to the sky, she's hesitant to go any closer. "Where are we?"
Trigon stands in front of the stocked minibar and grabs a bottle of water. "Home."
She turns, taking in the mounted paintings, abstract and cold. The marble fireplace and large mirror sitting atop it with a big TV beside it. "Where's home?" she asks, glancing at the grand piano in the corner of the pale colored room.
"On top of the world," he cracks the seal and closes the gap between them, handing it to her.
Her skin is still vibrating with anxiety from stepping into a hole and being spat out the other side. She starts to move and the room slants, and she tilts with it. When Trigon catches her in his arms, she settles against him, begrudgingly, and allows him to lead her. He isn't made of bone and flesh, and blood, and yet it's all she feels. Sees. A human body, warm and protective, it almost feels real enough to forget that he isn't.
Rachel sits as he settles her onto the chair. She leans against the round table and her stomach clenches when she sees the spread of food covering every inch of it. She's hungry and nauseous, but overriding them both is the fear and uncertainty, because warm food awaits them, and she's forced to consider their arrival was expected.
"Drink," he gestures to the bottle, and then the platters of food. "Eat."
But she doesn't know where to start. The table is filled with cheeses (so many cheeses) and ham, and different breads, vegetables, noodles and pizza. Large chicken legs, meat shavings and desserts also pile on top of each other in trays. It's a confusing range, but nonetheless provoking a groan from her empty stomach. With hesitance, she reaches past the bottle for the pitcher with water and shakily pours herself a glass.
He sits in front of her. "You'll see her again – your mother. You have my word."
Rachel sips her water. "Why would I believe you?"
"I did leave your friends alive, but you're right," he reaches across the table and snatches a black olive from a crystallized bowl. "You have no reason to trust me, and I don't expect you to, just because I'm your father. After all, I'm still a stranger, though I'm hopeful that will change," he leans closer, scrutinizing her from her hair down to her clothes. "eventually." And then throws the olive into his mouth before standing. "These things take time."
Her eyes follow him rigidly as he crosses the lavish decorated room, to stand in front of the window. "I need the bathroom."
"There are five," he glances over his shoulder with a prideful smile. "Take your pick," turning back, he adds, "but don't be long. We'll be in company shortly."
Rachel huddles into the first room she finds and slams it behind her, turning the lock. The room is also large and equally lavish with a bathroom three times the size of her old room. She leans off the door and rushes over to it, hunching over the sink and opens the faucet, splashing water over her face. When she's done, she reaches over and opens the twin faucet in the second sink and leaves both pairs running.
She shakes out of her jacket and wets the sleeve, scrubbing the sick off, and then flings it over the bathtub behind her.
Shaking her hands, she pushes her shoulders back and stares into the mirror. "Okay, you've done this before," she whispers. "you can do it again."
Breathing out, she closes her eyes, and settles into a memory of Dick: When he let her hold his credit card in the convenience store and she bought too much candy. She'd laid it out on the bed in front of the TV in the motel room waiting for Game of Thrones. She remembers how afraid she was moments later in the bathtub, in the dark, hiding from her own reflection and darkness, and how safe she felt in his arms after he'd found her.
But nothing.
"Dick, can you hear me?" but he doesn't hear her or answer. Her mind wanders away to Gar. Green. Green. Green is all she sees. She can't feel or see or hear him either, even when she summons his scent to her nose, the feel of his skin to her hands and his voice to her ears, nothing comes.
Nothing.
Reaching deeper, she thinks of Kory, and submerges herself in the memory of Kory's mind. She remembers how splintered it was, and how memories evaded her. The blast of fire that combusted from her friend's body and consumed Trigon as she tried to protect her, and how safe she felt after Kory saved her from that family. "Please, Kory. Someone. Anyone."
Silence. Stillness. Nothing.
She wants to know they're okay, really okay, and hear their voices to make sure. She knows the sick, heavy feeling settling down in the pit of her stomach won't go away until she does.
Her eyes grow warm and wet, and her heart sinks low in her chest, because she can't feel anyone.
She's alone.
Rachel sniffles, rubbing her sleeve against her nose as she re-enters the suite. The sun is dying, its gleam now faint as it streams across the room, over the long leather soft couch, fading at the foot of the table.
The floor-to-ceiling windows almost trick her into believing she's outside and free. She's never been this high before, this close to the sky, it's beautiful. She remembers begging her mother to skip school and take a day trip to New York to visit the Empire State building. Melissa had kept putting it off, finally having a change of heart when Rachel used her birthday as an excuse. Finally, she had agreed to take her, and then everything happened.
"You're sad." Trigon says without turning to her. "You feel alone."
She steels herself, clenching her fists. "I'm not alone. My friend-,"
"No, you're not," he says. "but you still feel alone," turning on his heel, he looks at her with soft eyes. "I'm afraid those people cannot help you now. Your yearning for them to come for you is a hopeless dream, an unnecessary wish."
"How long do I have to stay here?" Rachel growls.
"I understand your upset," he closes the gap between them and cups her face. "this all feels unfamiliar, but you called on me, and I came."
"I was trying to help my friend," she cries, swatting his hand away.
"You thought of me long before your friend fell ill. I have thought of you as you have thought of me. I've always been with you, even when I couldn't show you."
"They'll come for me," Rachel whimpers. "Dick, and Kory, and Gar – they'll-,"
"Will they?" he raises his eyebrow in question. "tell me, what can they teach you? Mm. Do they know what you truly are – do you?" Trigon turns his back on her and walks back over to the window. "You think they'd understand if they did." He laces his fingers behind his back. "They would not. I have much to teach you and you have much to learn. The sooner you surrender, the easier it'll be to let go of them and this world."
"I won't do it." Rachel cries. "Tell me where we are?"
"Thank you, my dear," Trigon says, turning to look over her shoulder.
Rachel follows his line of sight to a girl in white uniform scrubbing her sick out of the floor. "Wait," she calls, rushing over to her as she makes for the exit, cloth in hand. "Help me, please." Stepping in front of the girl's way, "tell me where we are," she gasps at her eyes. They're black holes. Veins pour down her face like tears.
"Anything for you," the girl says.
Rachel lets her go and she leaves out the door. "Why are you doing this?" she cries, storming back towards him. "Are you going to make everyone follow you?" when he says nothing, she shouts. "Tell me."
She snaps her head to the double doors as they creak open.
"Welcome home, Bee." Trigon says. "It has been too long."
Rachel flinches at bone breaking, sounding like a crackling fire. Her heart takes off in a race and she stares into the dark corridor searching it for answers, as the sound progresses to popping and hissing. It moves and she catches its shadow in the dark, larger and taller than the door frame. It snaps and thrashes, twisting itself in knots.
Her mouth dries and she steps back until she's safely behind Trigon's shoulder. She doesn't know what to expect; hooves, horns, red eyes or a tail. Maybe all four, but she doesn't want it coming in. Glancing up at her father, she frowns at the prideful look on his face, almost mirroring the way she found him looking at Gar before he healed him.
The misshapen shadow shrinks' inch by painful inch making click sounds each time. Then it stills and Rachel holds her breath because she can feel its eyes glaring at her from the dark. It breathes deep and loud, and the draft from it brushes against her cheek, the smell of decay and rot filling her nose.
She grips her father's arm. He doesn't seem so frightening now.
"Stop performing," Trigon says, placing his hand atop Rachel's. "She's harmless." He assures.
Emerging from the darkness in place of the shadow, is a pale face watching her with its eyes on fire, blazing. "As you wish," her voice is raspy, and warm, but Rachel remains at Trigon's side as she steps out of the shadows a human woman. She's tall, maybe taller than Kory, and she wears an expensive looking, navy blue pantsuit with her blazer open. Her hair is red like fire, but her eyes are dark and deep as the night.
"Rachel, this is Bee," Trigon smiles as she approaches.
Rachel inches away, putting distance and the long sofa between them. She watches the two stare at each other intensely, and half-expects them to kiss, but they break out into smiles and embrace each other instead.
"You're here," she says. "In the flesh," snorting, she brushes her hand down his chest. "well,"
Trigon nods towards Rachel and she stiffens as Bee turns to her, pinning her where she is. "Bee, this is my daughter,"
"The Raven," Bee's eyes grow large and lustful, and her lips stretch into a toothy smile. "Raven, it's a pleasure."
"My name is Rachel," she swallows as Bee approaches her with her nose in the air and her big eyes tracing every inch. The smell grows stronger, rot and rust filling the air, and it's all Bee. "What are you?" she hears herself ask aloud.
Bee's face lights up. "Guess," she says, excited.
Rachel's eyes flit across the room at her father and he nods. She thinks she knows. It feels like an old memory trying to claw its way from the back of her mind to the tip of her tongue. Bee's eyes grow larger, and larger making Rachel's palms sweat. Electric snaps at the hairs on her body and she opens her mouth to guess – and Bee mirrors the gesture. "I," she swallows. "I don't know."
"Ah," Bee's face shrinks, but she's sure she's imagining it all. "Not what I was expecting,"
"Give her time," Trigon offers, "in the end it was Angela who brought her to me."
"The organization?" Bee slams herself into a chair at the table and begins picking at the food. First, she pinches an olive, then a slice of rolled ham before biting into a slice of pizza.
"Under revision," Trigon bites, taking a big breath to settle his nerves. His eyes flit up to Rachel still watching them from across the room. He nods to the chair between them and she moves hesitantly to his side, settling down. "I expected Asa to be with you,"
Rachel's knee immediately takes off, bouncing against the bottom of the table. Watching them talk like nothing has happened, like she isn't in a nightmare is unsettling.
"Seeing is believing," Bee says. "He didn't think the Raven could do it, but I'm sure he'll want to see you. Both of you." Her eyes dance over the table and Rachel's spine chills. "You could always summon him." she smirks, "but then if you did, a century old pact would be broken."
Trigon's jaw clenches.
Bee sings. "Might I suggest a show," she says, "something that'll perhaps reignite his - interests."
Trigon glances at Rachel and then back to Bee, smiling. "Everything else in place?" the smile spreads when she nods.
"Then let's feast."
"Does it not eat?" Bee points her sharp chin in Rachel's direction.
"Eat. You'll need your strength," Trigon says.
"For what?" Rachel dares herself to ask.
"Does a child not need sustenance?" he pushes a tray piled high with pizza towards her. "Children love pizza, no?"
Rachel swallows and slides a slice of pepperoni off the tray, taking a small bite, and it's only when she takes her second that he moves his focus back on Bee. The room falls silent and she glances between them engaged in another stare off, but then she hears Bee's voice though her mouth isn't moving:
"we have one more seal to locate." She says. "Do you have the other?"
Trigon looks at Rachel and she drops her head. "Yes. It's safe." He replies aloud. "Eat. After all, it is for you."
Rachel watches Bee empty a tray full of noodles onto the tray of cheese, bread and chicken legs before drawing it close. She thinks she sees fangs as Bee opens her mouth and blinks only to find she didn't, she can't be sure what is what, but she knows Bee isn't human.
"She's insatiable," Trigon watches with amusement.
The room is too quiet, all she hears is bone breaking viciously, and flesh being pulled free by teeth, Bee's teeth, her eyes shining with lust. She doesn't take a breath as she cleans tray after tray of all its contents. Slurping food between her greasy lips, her eyes grow wider and darker with each bite.
Rachel recoils at her ghoulish expression as she tears through meat as though it's fighting back, dribbling, growling and snapping her jaw until it's all gone.
Rachel stares out of the window watching all the lights from the neighboring buildings shine. Bee had long left, thankfully, but the dread remains a tight coil in the pit of her stomach, something terrible is coming, or growing. She isn't sure.
She can't be sure of anything. But she hasn't given up hope Dick and the others will find her, she knows they will, so she'll just have to hang in there until they do. And she can, she knows she can, but it won't stop her from trying to reach them.
"We're cloaked," Trigon's voice pierces through her thoughts. "in case you were hoping to dial out. Your friends, they won't find us."
Rachel turns to him with her fists clenched. "Why am I here – what is that thing that was here and who is Asa?" her eyes grow hot. She can feel the rage blooming in her chest, the blood pulsing through her veins, in her face, taking over. Closing her eyes, she breathes deep until it passes. "What do you want from me?"
"Raven-,"
"Stop calling me that, my name is Rachel. My mother named me." She takes a step back as he steps forward, slowly making her way around the sofa and away from him, until her back is against the wall, where nothing can come out of the shadows without her seeing it first. "I'm not who you think I am, what you think I am."
"Sweet child, you're not who you think you are," he takes a step towards her. "this world has made you afraid. They called it darkness and you believed them."
"it's evil," Rachel scrubs her hand down her face, wiping the unbidden tears. "stuck inside me."
"it's not inside you. It is you. Right down to bone. Until you accept that, you'll always be afraid. If you want control you must relinquish it. Feel the power coursing through you. Channel it. Use it."
"No," Rachel slides to the floor and brings her knees to her chest, dropping her head between them. "Please, stop." She stiffens when she feels his hand atop her head, stroking her like a cat.
"Soon you will realize the truth, that to deny who you are is to accept that you will always be at war with yourself. You're not so different from your friends after all, neither of them knows who they are either. All of them at war with themselves." His breath beats against her hair. "Tell me, Rachel, if they don't know who they are, how they can possibly hope to know and accept the real you?"
Rachel swallows the lump in her throat. She doesn't know.
"The answer is they will not, cannot. But you and I, we are blood, and flesh and bone." He is gentle when he cups her shoulder. "We should be ruling side by side."
"I don't belong here," she whispers, her eyes still squeezed shut, too afraid to see herself in him, same eyes, or mouth, or hands.
He is right about the thing she fears most, she does not know who she is. And her friends may not know who they are, but she knows them. She's touched them, felt their desires, seen their hopes and fears. Lived their histories and traumas. She knows who they are. They are wilful and determined and they care about her, they did even when she didn't want them to, and they won't stop until they're together again. That's who they are. She also knows she will find a way to escape his cloak because she learned a thing or two from her friends about wilfulness and determination.
"You belong with your family."
"You don't know me." Rachel finally looks up, startling at the bright orange light filling the room, flickering in from outside. The ground shakes and she slams her palms down to steady herself because it feels like a bomb went off beneath them. The glass thrums and everything not nailed down rattles. "What's happening?" she follows him with her eyes as he stands and walks over to the window.
The orange light glows brighter, washing over everything. It flashes like a heartbeat. Flash. Flash. Flash.
Her mouth dries and her heart thumps against her chest so hard, she clutches it as she shifts forward onto her knees, scrambling up to her feet. Gulping, she takes a step toward the window. Her stomach twists violently and feverish chill crawls along her spin, seeping into her bloodstream, spreading its cold disease all over her body. Her hands grow numb from squeezing them so tight as she moves closer to the chaos, she can hear down below.
Everything is telling her to turn away, not to look, but she can already taste it in her mouth. Ash. Death. The smell of decay and fear hangs in the air, clinging to her skin, clothes and hair, sticking to the back of her throat.
Pressing her hands against the window, she gasps for air. The heat from the glass burns her palms but she can't pull away. Because the sky is folding in on itself, creating a maelstrom bleeding red, as black thunder cracks across the clouds and whips down.
The ground shakes again.
The moon is scorched red and the sun hangs beside it in the sky, a black hole. Thick ripples of smoke dance along the streets, fire flaring up from the cracked cement as shadows move. Buildings cry and screech as they collapse into each other, crumbling, and flaking under the flames.
And somewhere among all the noise she can still hear the terror and screams.
Stumbling back, she falls on her backside and reels away from the window and the heat and the screams. "Make it stop," she cries, pressing her palms against her ears. "Please."
"In the end you'll surrender," Trigon says. "and it won't be because I'm your father, or because I frightened you into it. It won't be to save your friends from a certain fate, or this world. It'll be because you want to. Because you like how it feels to be powerful, and when that happens – when you surrender, we're going to take this world."
Rachel is encouraged by the fallen silence to glance up, and when she does, it's all gone. The fire, the screams, and the gaping sky is gone. Fluffy clouds thinning across the deepening blue sky takes its place. The buildings gleams under the lights of the city awake and the only thing she can hear is faint traffic droning on below.
But the taste lingers. The smoky air and the smell of flesh and fear. Those piercing screams.
They're all cattle and her father is a wolf leading everyone to their slaughter, and it's her own fault because she called him here. She brought him back, and now she's seen it, her father's plan for her home. A world on fire.
"together," Trigon smiles, turning his back to her to face out the window. "We're going to take it all."
Note: Please forgive any mistakes you find, though I don't mind them being pointed out.