Seven Devils
Chapter 29 / And All the King's Men
"In the civilized countries I believe there are no witches left, nor wizards, nor sorceresses, nor magicians."
— L. Frank Baum, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz
Marlene loved watching survivalist reality shows. Mostly because she had a wicked sense of humour and found something incredibly hilarious in other people's misery. It was a very particular sort of entertainment — lounging on the couch with a wide assortment of junk food and criticising a very lost human being who couldn't for the life of them find their way through a wild forest. Somehow, you always think you're invincible from your living room. Though Marlene had no such illusions anymore.
The irony of the situation wasn't lost on her as she wound her way down a decidedly unbeaten track in search of a remote clearing where she could hold the blasted ritual. Marley was surprised by the number of hikers she met along the way. Why they willingly subjected themselves to this trial by exertion was as lost on her as jogging. That made Marlene think of Sam, and her mood plummeted to the deep caverns of hell.
There was no way to escape her thoughts, trapped in the green jungle of misery, where she'd get an occasional slap on the face by a tree branch as a reality check. She wondered what he was doing now. The last time Marley had spoken with Dean, they were still in Massachusetts, on their way to Housatonic to help out an old acquaintance. Sam hadn't reached out once, though. And why should he?
With a bag full of a questionable set of objects, Marlene finally found a quiet little meadow. The sun was very much high in the sky and wasn't blocked by tall trees, too, which was certainly a plus.
Ever the diligent student, Marley laid out the necessary items, lit up the candles and put down a small mirror so that it caught the sunlight, as per her father's detailed instructions. Making sure everything was in order, Marlene unfolded the wrinkled piece of paper she'd been clutching in her hand all the way here, and ran her eyes over the incantation.
Well, here goes nothing
"Vorpes luysi artats' volumy haytnvum e anhogi apaku lchaknerum," Marley read out, frowning at the butchered pronunciation — it was much worse than she'd remembered. She supposed not speaking a language in years would do that, "...aydpes el petk' e lini vor t'ap'arrakan gtnum artats'volumy iren e arrjevum gtnvogh ughu."
*As light's reflection finds itself in pools of soulless glass, so it should be that the wanderer finds the reflection of oneself on the path ahead.
With an awkward grimace of self-doubt, Marlene looked up from the paper. Sure enough, nothing'd happened. Or had anything? She wasn't sure what to expect, but something had to be different, right? Frowning in befuddlement, Marley looked around the meadow. Perhaps, it had been the horrendous pronunciation or the simple fact that the paranoid witches had given Arthur a fake incantation. They were paranoid, after all. That's the kind of thing you'd expect them to do.
But just as Marlene was going to give the spell another try, she spotted a glimmer of light amongst the plush green surrounding her. At first she thought it was the reflection from the glass she'd placed on the ground, but the light appeared to be moving. Marley watched the tiny bundle of light with cautious curiosity. It seemed like it was waiting for her.
"Alright, then," she breathed, bracing herself for what's to come, "Lead the way, buddy."
A Sam-less Frodo, Marlene ventured towards her personal Mordor, where she'd quite possibly face literal doom. Every once in a while she reminded herself she was following an ethereal sphere of light conjured up by an ancient spell. She wasn't even sure about the translation — really, it could've been anything.
"I hope you know where you're going," she muttered after what felt like a very long while, throwing the self-assured bundle an accusing glare, "And don't you dare talk back to me, you incorporeal piece of magic." Marlene thought she heard it huff, but then again, she was going crazy.
When the sphere finally stopped, she, too, came to a halt. It happened quite suddenly, for nothing around them seemed out of the ordinary or indicated the presence of a hidden passage through space and time. But then the little bundle of light began to jiggle in the air, thrashing from side to side, and then exploded. Marlene shielded her eyes from the flash of light that accompanied the sphere's abrupt self-destruction. But it turned out the explosion had been part of the act.
Marley watched in awe as the light burned through the disillusionment charm that veiled the path ahead. It shrunk like a piece of paper set afire and turned into nothingness, revealing a bright glade. "Holy shit," she whispered. It had actually worked.
Marlene walked on slowly, gazing around in absolute wonder. This place vibrated with magic, and she could feel it with every molecule of her being. The grass appeared greener, radiating prosperity and life, even the skies shone brighter — it's like the nature itself was more saturated, nurtured by the magic that soaked the earth underneath her feet.
In the middle of the glade stood a small cottage. It looked to be very old and rather neglected, very out of place in the otherwise vibrant scenery. Marley thought it resembled the house from Hensel and Gretel. She hoped she didn't look too appetising.
Heart hammering in her chest, Marlene took a deep breath to settle it down, curled her hands into fists — for some reason it made her feel very belligerent — and strolled up to the ramshackle house. Without losing a beat and before courage escaped her, she brought one of her at-the-ready fists to the door and knocked a few times. It felt strangely like trick-or-treating.
When the door opened, Marlene's brows jumped at their own volition. Her father'd written so much about the stunning enchantress — Xiomara — she wasn't ready to see a young man instead.
"Barev," she greeted tentatively, "Es — "
"You may speak English," the boy interrupted with a gracious smile. He had an incredibly striking appearance: dark auburn curls and wide blue eyes that glimmered with a hidden knowledge. That, together with his billowy attire, made him uncannily reminiscent of a Greek god. A young, mischievous Apollo.
"Great, because my Armenian is really rusty," a nervous chuckled fell from her lips.
The man simply smiled at her half-hearted attempt at humour, "I am sure it is quite up to par," he said solemnly, a twinkle of mirth in his otherwise serene eyes, "You are Marlene Ter-Gabrielyan." That didn't sound at all like a question.
"I am," Marley nodded, "And you are...not Xiomara."
The young man's face fell at the mention of the witch. "Unfortunately, Xiomara is no longer with us. She has passed to be one with the light — a great honour."
"Oh," Marlene breathed, stumped. She'd read so much about her and thought...
"I am Orontes, her former apprentice," he supplied to reassure her, noticing her crestfallen expression, "Perhaps, you would like to come inside?"
Marley eyed the open door, then glanced back at Orontes. She hadn't come here for Xiomara — she'd come here for answers. And she wouldn't get any if she just kept standing there like a newborn fawn.
"Yes," she replied at last, "I'd like that very much."
𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐
Marlene wanted to crack about a hundred jokes about the house being bigger on the inside, but feared that all the Doctor Who references would go unappreciated by Orontes.
The entire place wasn't just bigger, it was huge. Marlene tilted her head up to look at the upper levels — there were at least three stories. And there was no telling how far and wide the house actually stretched. It smelled of ancient knowledge and well-kept secrets, of wrinkled yellow pages and burned frankincense — it smelled like magic.
"Where is everyone?" she asked, finding the place to be weirdly deserted. She expected it to be like Hogwarts. A very pagan Hogwarts.
Orontes approached her, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous hall, "So close to the winter solstice, all but few have already taken their leave. Only I and high priests remain."
"Why do you do that, exactly? Up and leave every year? Packing must be such a bother," Marley swept her eyes over her surrounding once more.
"We know no other way," Orontes replied ambiguously and continued walking. Baffled, Marlene followed after him, her strides long. "We've been waiting for you, Marlene. The high priests are eager to meet you, much like I was."
She quirked a brow. They need something from you, you dumbo. "Really?"
They traveled down a narrow corridor, which made Marlene slightly claustrophobic. She didn't do well in cramped spaces that smelled of mould and were lit by nothing but half-melted candles.
"Xiomara told us you would come many years ago. That was the last thing she prophesied before her departure," Orontes said, "At last, you are here."
"She knew the mark would break," Marlene said, curbing the accusation in her voice, and snuck a look at his stoic profile.
"It wasn't meant to last."
They wended their way through a maze of passageways into another room. It was small in comparison to the entrance hall and reminded Marley of a place of prayer. It felt peaceful here. Quiet. And awfully dark for a place that was supposed to be the home of a sun-worshipping coven.
"So what do they call you?" she turned to Orontes, looking away from an intricately woven tapestry. It depicted a scene from old Armenian folklore, "A wizard? Warlock? He-witch?"
"Neither," the man replied sombrely, "I am a flamen."
Marlene stared at him, "A flamen?"
"Keeper of the flame," Orontes explained, not perturbed in the slightest by her ignorance, "Like Xiomara before me. I never stray far from this place, even when everyone has long departed. Such is my duty."
"What's a flame?"
He smiled kindly, amused by her curiosity, "You have much to learn about our people, Marlene." Again, Orontes kept walking.
"Where are we going?" Marlene asked. She would very much like to sit down after all the hiking she'd done since early morning.
"To the solarium. The high priests are expecting us. As I have said, Marlene," he glanced over at her, "You have much to learn."
She didn't know what a solarium was but sincerely hoped there would be chairs. Or a very soft couch, that'd be really nice. Also, some refreshments or she would quite possibly black out from dehydration.
On the way to the mysterious destination, they did encounter a couple of young acolytes. They were all women, dressed in white robes, with golden bands encircling their heads. They bowed to Orontes and nodded curtly at Marlene — no words were exchanged. Orontes explained that acolytes took a vow of silence that lasted until the end of their apprenticeship. Marlene was shocked when he told her that it could last up to twenty years.
"But that is insane," she told him and then added, "With all due respect, of course."
"You give away your voice to open your heart. It's an act of true devotion and selflessness," Orontes spoke with an enchanting reverence, "It allows you to hear things you would otherwise miss."
"Wait, so you kept the vow of silence for twenty years?" Marlene asked, aghast at the realisation.
"I have," Orontes admitted, "It is a path of every acolyte."
"I could never do that," she shook her head, unable to fathom such a terrible fate, "I like the sound of my voice too much."
The flamen smiled at her quip. He did that a lot — smiled without another word. It was the kind of smile that made millions of people wonder what the hell Mona Lisa was thinking about. Personally, Marlene'd always found that painting creepy. But with Orontes, that smile was...attractively mysterious.
They stopped before a set of tall, bronzed doors. One would see their like in a grand erstwhile castle, flanked by armoured sentries. Marley almost expected to be announced by a herald when Orontes opened the doors with a mere sway of a hand. Even after angels, demons and old greek monsters, she was still shocked by something as trivial as magic tricks.
But that wasn't where wonders ceased.
The solarium was a wide, circular room with an impressive domed ceiling made out of pure glass. It was true to its name, for the entire space was bathed in golden light which streamed, unabated, from the glass ceiling. It was bright, and rich, and so beautifully intense, Marlene found herself unable to move, eyes shining with amazement.
The glass construction was supported by high Hellenistic columns with beautifully elaborate capitals, making the room look like a sunlit Greek temple. When Marley'd had her fill of the mesmerising architecture, she had a chance to notice an altar in the very centre of the solarium and upon it, a fascinating contraption. It appeared to be a glowing stone the size of a melon, incased within a filigree, golden case. And the sunlight that spilled from the dome passed directly through it.
"Marlene?" Orontes called, breaking her out of the reverie.
"That's the flame, isn't it?" she whispered, eyes glued to the sphere.
"It is," another voice replied, "The gift bestowed upon us by the goddess herself."
Only then did Marley remember the high priests Orontes had mentioned and the true purpose of her arrival. Forcing herself to look away from the flame, she finally paid attention to the rest of her surroundings.
Around the solarium were seated four elders, two men and two women, all wearing robes of white and gold that resembled a sari. The one who'd spoken was an old lady with prominent Middle-Eastern features, her shrewd, wrinkled eyes lined with kohl.
"Marlene Ter-Gabrielyan," a silver-haired man said, his voice striking like thunder, "With us at last. Long have we waited for you, child."
They brainwashed Artaxias into giving up his immortality for a boring human life because they knew his grace would lead you to them today, Gabriel's voice rang through her memory as Marlene looked from one high priest to another, panic starting to bloom in her chest. For the first time since arriving here, Marley felt trapped. She glanced at Orontes. The encouraging smile he gave her was calming. But only slightly.
"You are drained," the other woman pointed out, thoughtful. She seemed more amiable than her kohl-loving friend, "The spirit has weakened the body."
"T-that is why I've come," Marley spoke hesitantly, unsure of how one was supposed to address a high priestess, "The mark I was given — it is gone now. I was..." she swallowed, her throat dry and tight, "I was wondering if you could help me again, like you did before. Put another mark or...or — "
"Your power is killing you and you seek to have it contained," the youngest priest surmised, his dark eyes impassive. Just an objective observation.
Well, if they were going to be so blunt about it..."That's the gist of it, yes."
"We cannot give you another mark," the first woman spoke again, brash and unyielding, "It is impossible."
"Xiomara used Nephilim's grace to apply the rune," Orontes explained to soften the priestess' harsh response, "We have no more."
Marlene's heart fell. Even though she knew the ritual was impossible without Artaxias' grace, she still harboured a sliver of hope, "And is there really no other way?"
The friendly woman smiled, "We did not say that."
"What?"
"We merely said it was impossible to give you another rune," the man with dark eyes spoke again from his seat.
Confused by the oblique explanation, Marley turned to Orontes for a translation. "There is something you need to know about our coven, Marlene," he walked around to face her, "For millennia we have guarded Astłik's flame, and for that devotion, she granted us some of its power," Orontes gestured to the glowing sphere, "Each solstice we harvest the energy the flame's accumulated to strengthen our bond with the goddess. The more there are of us, the stronger is the bond."
Marlene watched flamen as he paced near the altar, "But our numbers are dwindling," he stopped and looked up at her, expression gravely somber, "Elders are dying, there are fewer acolytes with each passing year and the flame...It has grown weaker."
Marley's brows drew into a frown, "Weaker how?"
"The flame is a star," Orontes said, "And like every star, it fades without the energy to keep it alive."
"Can't your goddess fix it?" Marlene looked around the solarium at the priests and priestesses, "She should be able to fix it, right?"
"Oh, but we haven't laid our eyes upon the goddess for dozens of years," the old priest spoke ruefully, "She went into hiding once the flame began to fade."
"We were tasked with finding the remedy," Orontes looked at Marley, "And then your father brought you here, and we knew..." His face was lit up with blinding hope, but all she could think of were Gabriel's words: They're really good at getting what they want. Plus they have both patience and time to cash on their long-term investments, "We knew then that we were saved."
"I...I d-don't understand — "
"Dear girl, there is a great power within you," the kind priestess said, "A great power that has no source, nothing to nurture on but your very life-force."
"And we are in dire need of a powerful being," Orontes continued, his gaze imploring, "One which could keep the flame alive and be able to store its energy."
"And you...you think I?..." Marley spluttered, her mind doing a pretty poor job at juggling this information. Every time she thought it made sense, the entire thing tumbled out of her hands and she had to start anew, "You want me to...become a human conduit for this — this energy? The flame?"
Orontes walked closer to her. She retreated, "It would be a highly beneficial, symbiotic relationship, Marlene. By becoming the host, you'd able to channel the flame's power to stay alive."
They play the long game and they play to win.
"Think about it," Orontes went on, blind to the dumbfounded look on Marlene's face, "Your magic would finally have a wellspring."
Her first urge was to throw the offer right into the flamen's perfectly symmetrical face. To confront him and the shrivelling priests that were one step away from turning into dust about their manipulations and lies. But before she could open her mouth and let her tongue do the damage, a more rational part of her brain kicked in.
She'd come all the way here to find help and here those witches were, offering it. Offering the very solution Marlene had hoped for. And it didn't matter that they had screwed her over some ten years ago — or hadn't, because what did Gabriel know, really? What mattered was that right now, they were willing to give her a way out. A way to stay alive.
Marley felt her anger slip away. She heaved a defeated sigh and looked at the high priests, who appeared displeased by her stalling, then at Orontes — he stood closer, eagerly awaiting her reply.
"Alright," she declared and quickly added before the witches could start celebrating, "But there is something I would ask of your coven in return."
The tawny-skinned witch huffed, "Doesn't your life suffice?"
"It is about Lucifer," Marlene said, ignoring the old hag. The mention of the devil inspired different reactions, but it was obvious that the witches grew visibly wary.
"What about him?" the older priest asked, sounding only mildly preoccupied.
"You must know what he's doing. Haven't you been, like, following the news or something?" The witches remained silent. Marley sighed, marvelling at their ignorance. "He wants to end the world. No new acolytes, no magic, no nothing. Total destruction."
"We do know of his plans," the obnoxious priestess droned, "And have no intention of meddling in the affairs of angels. We care not for their god or their devil."
"What about this world, huh?" Marlene turned to Orontes. He seemed to be the most reasonable of the bunch and had the decency to look remorseful, "Pretty soon you'll have nothing to worship."
"We cannot interfere with what has been ordained," the flamen said regretfully, "If this world is meant to perish, then we must accept our faits."
"With all due respect, but that's some major bullshit, your honors," Marlene crossed her arms and assumed a very matter-of-fact stance.
"You will mind the way you speak to us, girl," the priested hissed, her dark eyes narrowed to contemptuous slits, "Your life might very well depend on this coven."
Marley's nostrils flared, her jaw locked dangerously, "Oh, yeah? Tell me, how's your flame doing?" she wondered sarcastically. Take that, you old hag, "Cause it's looking pretty bleak."
Orontes shook his head, "Marlene..."
"Look — " she broke off, letting out an anxious breath, "I'm sure your goddess wouldn't want the world to go kaboom. Tell me I'm wrong."
"I cannot, but — "
"All I ask is a promise of your help," Marley stood her ground, "Or I'm outta here. And I don't care if I die — if Lucifer gets his way, I'm dead anyway. We all are," she glanced over at the high priests, "So what's it gonna be, o wise ones?"
"We are not to be coerced, you ignorant little — "
"As the keeper of the flame," Orontes said loudly, interrupting the old, crabby witch. His eyes were trained solely on Marlene; collected and pensive, "I shall extend our coven's help to you, Marlene Ter-Gabrielyan, should you ever come to need it, for you are doing us a great service." That was directed at the high priests, who watched the young man haughtily. Marley was rather impressed by his boldness — it couldn't have been easy to stand up to your superiors. Or was he the one presiding over them?...
"Well," she drawled slowly, "Then you've got yourself a deal, he-witch."
Orontes smiled.
𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐
"So, what happens now?"
They had stayed in the solarium, but the room seemed darker now, the sun no longer blazing high in the azure sky above the glass dome. Even the high priests had taken their leave, for which Marley was incredibly thankful — she didn't think she could withstand their scrutiny for much longer. Orontes had explained that the elders' departure was due to the sun's descent — their strength withered significantly this close to the evening.
An acolyte brought over a bronzed bowl at his request. The flamen gave her his thanks and began assembling the ingredients. Orontes had summoned the remaining acolytes to assist him in the ritual, and they all seemed very eager to participate. They were young girls, no older than sixteen, and Marley couldn't help but notice how positively smitten they were with the handsome flamen. The infatuation was quite understandable.
"Once the potion is ready, you will have to drink it," Orontes sprinkled a strangely-coloured dust into the bowl, then mixed in a few dried leaves.
Marlene watched the entire process like a hawk, frowning each time a peculiar ingredient was thrown in. "What was that?"
"Leaves of barberry," Orontes explained casually and accepted a jar from another acolyte's hands. It contained shrivelled herbs, and Marley instantly decided that she didn't want to know what they were. Sometimes ignorance could be a blessing, "Asthik, danaki," the flamen asked. The young girl nodded and brought over an old, curved knife from the altar.
Marlene's eyes widened, "You're not going to — " Orontes held it out to her. She sighed in resignation, but accepted the offering, "— of course you're going to."
"Cut your hand over the bowl," he instructed and stepped aside to make space. Marley'd done her fair share of satanic rituals in the past year, but it had never come to blood-letting. Seemed like she was successfully progressing in the unfortunate craft.
With a pained grimace, she held her hand over the potion and brought the sharp blade to her palm. One sudden move and it ran clean through the thin skin, drawing a hiss from Marlene. She curled her hand into a fist and squeezed it to draw more blood.
"That will suffice," Orontes nodded, pleased.
An acolyte quickly handed her a cloth for the hand, "Thanks," Marley mumbled, pressing it to her palm, "God, do I really have to drink that?"
Orontes blinked at her, "Yes."
"Great," she muttered.
Once all the ingredients have been mixed, the flamen held both palms over the bowl, closed his eyes and began whispering a spell. Marlene couldn't make out what he was saying, but caught some words in old Western Armenian. The liquid in the bowl started to boil right before her eyes, and when the spell finally reached its culmination, Orontes lit a match and threw it inside. The potion fizzled, a cloud of smoke rising from the bowl.
"Is it done?" Marlene inquired tentatively.
"Almost."
Orontes dipped a finger into the potion and walked to Marlene. She shuddered when he smeared it across her forehead in what must've been a rune. The red liquid prickled unpleasantly at her skin. He then drew the same rune on the flame's surface, "Now you drink."
An acolyte handed Marlene a clay jar already filled with the potion. Oh boy, Marley thought, mouth curling in disgust at the sight of the slightly thick, crimson liquid. Hesitantly, she brought the jar to her lips, held her breath and downed it in on sitting. She had to force herself to swallow, squeezing her eyes tightly as the lumpy potion slid down her throat, "Shit," Marlene breathed out in absolute revulsion.
"Disgusting, wasn't it?" Orontes asked, sounding apologetic.
She could still taste iron on her tongue, "What the hell was that crap?"
"A binding potion. It will be activated once you say the spell."
"Okay. Let's get it over with."
"Put your hands on the flame," Orontes instructed. Marlene cupped the sphere, "Now say it with me: "Vortegh ka meky."
"Vortegh ka meky," she repeated.
"T'vogh yerkusy linen."
"T'vogh yerkusy linen," Marley felt a tingle in her fingers.
"Yes kapum yem im aryuny mor aryan het."
"Yes kapum yem im aryuny mor aryan het."
"Mahats'vogh arevy im vkan e."
The flame's glow became brighter, the previously cold stone emitting gentle warmth beneath her palms, "Mahats'vogh arevy im vkan e."* A bout of electricity sparked where Marlene's skin touched the sphere's rough surface, "Ouch!" She instantly let go of it, stung.
"I can't believe it," Orontes whispered, gazing at the flame. Even the acolytes moved closer, their eyes wide with amazement, "It has worked."
Marley wiped her forehead with a cloth, extremely disgruntled, "I sure hope it has," she muttered. Strangely enough, she didn't feel any different herself. No sudden boost of energy, no power awakening.
"Is that it then?" she glanced at the flame, then at Orontes, "It's done?"
"Yes. Yes, it is done," his smile was triumphant, "I thank you, Marlene."
She quirked a brow, "That was extremely anticlimactic. I feel the same."
"Most spells are. Magic can seem surprisingly subtle to those who do not wield it. Believe me, you will soon feel the effects of the binding spell."
"I'll just take your word for it," Marley pursed her lips.
Once the initial shock wore off, the acolytes scattered, busing themselves with cleaning the altar after the ritual. They reminded Marlene of Christmas elves who worked tirelessly in the background without a sound of protest. Slaves of blind devotion.
"I wanted to thank you, Orontes," Marlene told the flamen, "For agreeing to help. Your friends weren't happy about that."
He nodded, "I do recognise the danger of Lucifer's schemes. But we have stayed hidden for very long, Marlene. This is how we survive."
"You're just like my father," she shook her head, "He believed hiding could solve all our problems, too. And now here I am, in witches' lair, drinking disgusting potions and binding myself to glowing flames to stay alive. Life is unpredictable, Orontes," Marley gave him a rueful smile, "Sometimes hiding is simply not enough."
The flamen gave her a long look, eyes narrowed a fraction, "You are wise, Marlene Ter-Gabrielyan."
"Nah, I'm just good with words. It's a linguist thing."
He seemed surprised, "You are a wielder of words?"
"I used to be," Marley shrugged, "I'm wielding other things these days."
Orontes nodded knowingly, his face assuming a wistful expression, "We are entering turbulent times, Marlene. Xiomara had foreseen it. The world at a crossroads, at the mercy of gods."
"Pity gods have no mercy."
In the fading light of the sun, Orontes looked like Helios himself, "If the gods were merciful, they wouldn't be gods."
*Where there is one, let there be two, I bind my blood to the blood of the mother, the dying sun is my witness.
𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐
Orontes saved Marlene the trip back through the forest and transported her straight to her motel room in Oak Creek. In a blink of an eye she was no longer in a sacred temple of the Astłik coven, but in a mouldy single suit. Magic, indeed.
Heaving a long sigh, she headed straight to the bathroom to take a shower — God, she was so filthy. Dirt from the forest and a thick layer of sweat from the hike had stuck to her skin, not to mention the disgusting potion Orontes had smeared on her forehead. Thinking about it still made Marlene nauseous.
She leaned over the sink and studied herself in the mirror. Marley looked fine if a little on the gaunt side, but that was life on the road for you, paired with chronic insomnia. Her hair was the usual mass, skin slightly patchy, dark circles under her eyes that had long become bosom friends. But there was something in the very depth of her hazel eyes, a glimmer of the power that had now resided within her. Marlene felt like Eddie Brock, forced to share her body with an alien entity.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a notification blip on her phone. Giving her reflection another look of distrust, Marley grabbed the phone and frowned at the screen. There was a message from Sam.
Come 2 Albany ASPA need your hlp
"What the hell," she muttered and dialled him. But Sam didn't pick up. Anxiety twisting in her chest like a spineless snake, Marley called Dead instead, but it went straight to voicemail, "Hey, Dean. Is everything okay? I got a pretty weird text from Sam...I hope you're alright," she unzipped her bag and went around the room, collecting her things, "Anyways, I'm heading out now, should be there tomorrow. Call me when you get this."
Marley ended the call and let out a tortured sighed. Well, she'd just have to take a rain check on that shower.