The first time was the hardest. He had been unprepared and sloppy, and when he got back to the factory he ran straight for his quarters and puked until he was near passing out.
During the hottest shower of his life, he let the scorching water pelt his skin as he tried to weather the maelstrom within him. It had been a test, he knew. A test that he passed, but that left him with so many questions. Questions he couldn't answer. Was this how he would spend the rest of his life? Was this the price for the power that was forced on him? He had thought he paid, with his body. In the loss of family and dignity but he realized now how deeply he was indentured. How they all were.
It would not end, could not end, while she lived.
xx
In those first few years, Miranda barely acknowledged his presence. Not that he particularly gave a shit. She was the reason he had to leave the home he had grown to love and the guardian he had been forced to hate. But over time, that resentment morphed into something else. In the absence of any real interaction, he had found himself vying for her attention.
Maybe it was genuine, maybe Miranda really did just want a family, and what she did to him was out of that need. If that was true, perhaps he could learn to love her too. And maybe it was foolish to think that Miranda had forced Alcina's hand.
No one was more powerful than Alcina Dimitrescu, and if she had wanted him there, she would have made it so. She wouldn't have allowed him to walk out of that room. She would have told him she loved him when he asked. But she didn't...because she didn't. And things were changing for him anyway.
Miranda had begun to warm to him, spoke sweetly to him. When she addressed the family, her gaze found his first. He was allowed to participate in the meetings, which usually made little sense to him. He wished there was someone he could talk to about it, but Alcina would not even look him in the eyes after he left her room that day. Her contempt knew no bounds. Or maybe it was because any time she so much as flicked her gaze toward him he filled his stare with hate that burned hot enough to melt bones. He didn't suppose he cared either way.
Karl had arrived early for the meeting that evening, which was unlike him, but he had wanted to get there before the sun set on the village. He didn't like walking that late at night in the woods alone, despite Mother's promise that what lurked there would never be a threat to him. All the same, he hated the noises they made, the way they breathed. The way they stared.
As his fingers grazed the metal latch on the door, voices drifted to him from inside the sanctuary. He was not the only one to arrive early.
"How disappointing, Alcina. Despite what you may want, the task will fall to the boy." Miranda's voice was sharp, almost violent.
A jagged pain ripped through his hand as his power surged uncontrollably and he tore himself away from the metal handle. Rubbing it, he moved to the window, trying his best to stay out of sight despite the warm glow of dusk threatening to betray his presence.
Alcina's voice was steady and demanding, but the words were tinged with the slightest hint of desperation. "Mother, I don't understand. As always, I am perfectly capable of-"
"Enough." She hissed and waved her hand, dismissing Alcina as she turned to walk toward the pews.
"Why. Why him?" She was pleading now, her voice rising. Not even a shadow of that woman he knew. Miranda stopped moving and Karl stopped breathing. If he wasn't leaning against the sill he would have probably fallen to the floor. Had she just risen her voice to Mother? Questioned her? Had she been drinking too much of that wine she liked so much? Or perhaps, her jealousy and hatred for him was that deep rooted. He didn't want to admit how much that ate at him.
Quickly, too quickly, Miranda whirled and stalked back towards Alcina. As she came within a foot of her target sharp, midnight black wings sprung from behind her, framing her body in a backdrop of death. That threat oozed from her, her power filling the hall. Even through the stone wall, Karls knees buckled. Though Alcina towered over her, that unmoving, unshakeable wall of a woman actually shrank back from Miranda's crushing aura.
"The boy will do it. He is mine now you impudent, ungrateful child and he will serve me as I see fit, however I may find him useful to me - and you will submit." The last word was ground out and echoed through the chamber so violently the wall beneath his hands vibrated. It was a command so finite and solid that he felt a rumble in his chest as if the creature that was forced inside shook with fear.
Why did they care so much about what he did, anyway? And serve her? Didn't he already do that by helping her with her experiments?
"Or, perhaps you forgot our little...agreement? Would you like me to reconsider my assistance? Perhaps, a 'mother' you were never meant to be, hm?" Miranda's face was alight, and her eyes shone with a cold so intense he felt the urge to put as much distance between them as possible. Despite his instincts, he was frozen in place and for one brief, almost imperceivable instant, Alcina's gaze flicked to him.
She couldn't have seen him, he told himself. Her eyes stayed trained on Miranda's face, wide with an expression Karl had never seen, but no words passed her lips. He waited, waited to hear what she could possibly say in her defense as the silence lingered heavy and thick in the room between them. He waited for that feeling in his chest to ease. He told himself he wasn't worried about her.
Almost as quickly as they had sliced into existence, Miranda's wings disintegrated. Black eyes still locked on Alcina, her voice snaked through the sanctuary and slammed into him as violently as lightning splitting a night sky to meet the earth. "Karl, dear!"
His blood froze in his veins. Shit. She knew he was there. Any concern about Alcina melted away replaced with his own gnawing need of self-preservation. Knowing there was no other choice, Karl abandoned his hiding spot and strode into the sanctuary keeping his shoulders high and mouth shut.
Miranda smiled down at him, not so much as a lingering frost in her tone. "How fortunate for you to arrive early! It's long past due for us to have a little chat." Her voice was bright and clear and miles from the gritty, angry tone she had taken with Alcina...who was still standing in the exact spot she had been when he entered. Her face was turned away from him, but part of him wished he could see the scowl that must have been plastered on that alabaster face. Despite it, he could all but feel her vibrating with rage. He hoped she bit her own tongue off stifling herself.
"Yes, Mother." He cast his eyes down and forced a docile, submissive pitch into his words, hoping she bought it. Hoping he wouldn't be punished for eavesdropping.
"It appears we have another instigator. Another one who thinks to question the will of the Dark God. He's been holding meetings in that little shack of his, trying to sow discontent."
Karl already knew what was to be done about those who would disobey her. They all ended up in the same place – under Castle Dimitrescu. His dreams were still haunted by the chorus of those screams that would pull him out of a dead sleep all those years ago. Whose voice was slated to join them?
"Who would do such a thing?" Karl asked in counterfeit surprise.
"Samuel." His stomach sank. Samual was a village carpenter, and a damn fine one at that. He had always been very kind to Karl, but he knew he couldn't disobey Miranda.
"You want me to bring him to the castle?" Alcina's scowl had faded, and in its place was an expression he couldn't read. Was it defeat? He'd certainly never seen her look like that before. He'd been chosen over her, and she must have been fuming.
Why would Alcina fight so hard against him helping? Was she that jealous, that selfish that he could not have whatever it was they were arguing about? He cursed himself for being so foolish, to ever believe she could have cared for him. She only ever cared to help herself.
"I think, dear boy, you can be far more useful to me than that."
Something about her tone gave him a terrible feeling, deep in his stomach. He wanted to ask her how he could do that, what she required of him that made her smile so wickedly - but the look on Alcina's face and that sinking feeling in his guts made him fear that his voice would crack if he spoke the question aloud. Thankfully, she changed the subject before he would have to worry on it further.
"Tell me, how is your tutoring going? Is Rolfe helping you with your duties at the factory?"
His guardian, the squat red-faced foreigner was supposed to be tutoring him specifically in bioengineering and physiology. But that only lasted the first few weeks, when Rolfe realized Karl was far more advanced than he or Miranda had assumed. It only took him correcting Rolfe a few times on his own lessons before he turned his focus completely to overseeing the day-to-day operations of the behemoth weapons manufacturing operation, the main source of income for the village. Or at least, he had before they had lost whatever contracts that kept the machinery churning and pumping and spewing dark smoke into the sky. It lay mostly dormant now. What little duties he had left included keeping the machinery running every so often, oiling parts, and taking orders from her for parts in the foundry. That leech now spent most of his days at the bottom of a bottle and shut up in his father's office. He would love nothing more than to return to the factory that very night to the news that the little shit-stain of a man had drunkenly tumbled over a safety railing and had to be scraped off the lower-level floor.
"It's going well. Yes, Mother. He's a fine tutor."
"Excellent. Perhaps now we can take your curiosity to the next level."
At the ominous sounding suggestion, Alcina turned from them, and walked to one of the solid pews of the sanctuary. She didn't look at them again.
"So, I assume you're up for the task, then?"
His intuition surged and screamed at him to tell her no. "Yes, Mother."
She beamed at him, a glowing expression she had never aimed at Karl. She looked so beautiful, a dark angel. She clasped her hands together. "Ah, of course you would be. You're my favorite for a reason, after all."
He searched for Alcina again from the corner of his eye. And that woman who had once been a god in his eyes, forged from granite and diamond and iron, hung her head.
Despite himself, he felt a surge of pride.
xx
He had gone in unprepared, with only a small knife. He had never so much as killed a rabbit. And Miranda had dismissed him after their meeting with no further instruction save that he was not to do it in the middle of the village with others around and to bring the body back to the factory and await her. And he was in good shape. How hard could it be?
He had quickly found his target. It was no secret that Samuel enjoyed spending his time and coin at the local tavern. So, Karl watched him from a table in the corner and contemplated his options as Sam drank himself into a stupor. It wasn't too hard. Only some friendly conversation and the two men were stumbling out of the bar together. He thanked the black god that his handsome face probably more than made up for his shitty acting. On the short walk to the woods behind the factory, Karl had tried to do it – tried to bring out his knife and end it.
His hesitation was brief, only until he saw them watching. Miranda rarely took the form of a crow, but often used them as sentinels. Their beady eyes were on him.
The carpenter had struggled and begged, and Karl did all he could to block the sound, trying not to think about just how much he underestimated the difficulty of holding on to a handle of a blade covered in blood and the force it would take to drive it through a man's chest. All that blood...
Samuel had seen his hesitation and even with all those horrible, gaping wounds Karl had managed to inflict...he wrestled the knife away. He couldn't have possibly had the strength to use it, but he charged the Lord all the same.
Karl squeezed his eyes shut and felt for the knife in the man's hands – and let it fly. It was the first time he even thought to use his gift. It lodged deep under his chin and through the back of his skull.
Shaking, he brought the body back to the factory, as instructed. Miranda was there waiting for him. To voice her pleasure and her many criticisms then finally, her plans. She had asked him to see if together, they could reanimate him. A perfect storm of man and machine and science. She asked him to do so to learn, to get a step closer to what she hoped he could achieve. And as a reward he could keep whatever he created.
In that moment, the sick realization hit him square in his scarred chest. The focus on bioengineering, anatomy lessons, forcing him to help her in her lab with all those experiments on the villagers. An attempt to create the vessel. To round out the imperfections. But what the hell was she thinking? Would he need to do this to a child? He was no saint that was to be sure. But a child? No. That's where he drew the line. He pictured his father's house. His bed. The last night he had spent there. No. He would not.
'It will be the first of many' she had coldly informed him before leaving him to sit alone with the great black pit that had opened within him, and the weight of Samuels corpse dragging him down into it.
xx
It had been a horrible failure and he had no choice but to dispose of the stinking, rotting corpse before it melted right there on his table. Thankfully, the exercise wasn't without valuable lessons learned.
The first of many.
The following months were filled with more of the same. He wandered the halls of the factory and the back alleys of the village with his guts stretched as tight as a bowstring.
He would work hard and keep her thinking that he was working for her cause. Karl would be clever, report back to her all his failures...but never his successes. Not when he quietly perfected his first Soldat. Or turned his failed soldats into haulers. He would not create something for her to violate. He would see her dead and in the ground before that happened, even if it meant it would take them all out with her.
He had tried to busy himself, distract himself, from those things in the basement he had put there and couldn't help but be drawn to. His own curiosity. Despite his disdain through those long nights, he found solace in his effort. He was proud.
But that changed one warm summer morning when Miranda apprised them of her exciting progress – not with her own endeavors but with Alcina's.
Alcina.
Daughters. They had made her daughters.
Between the smile on Alcina's face and the ringing in his ears and the clicking of the puzzle pieces, Miranda's words landed like thuds of a drum. That bowstring stretched and stretched, threatening to tear his guts apart.
He had gone back home in a violent mood, his powers surging uncontrollably fucking up all his work.
He wanted to kill something. Wanted to hurt someone. He tried to distract himself with his latest project; he needed a weapon. He had only a small knife that first time. And though he had gotten better at wielding it, he needed something better – wanted something better. Easier to handle. Something that couldn't be wrestled from him.
A sword was his first thought, a sword would be fitting. But no, the sword was the crest of that bitch. He needed something more vicious. More violent. Something that was his.
And so he worked. He worked into the night and when it was finally done he used his powers to heft it onto his shoulder. It was perfect. Terrifying. He would need to practice with it, both to wield it and also to make sure he didn't smash his target into ground beef. A hammer, made with the dying parts of his fathers factory and a strips of cloth from his mother's old aprons.
The satisfaction from the exercise was almost enough to slacken that string inside him. He breathed a little easier. He would go back to his quarters and cool off. Tomorrow would be a new day. He left his workshop to greet his new lease on life and temper – but it was Rolfe in the hallway, glaring at him with those red rimmed tiny eyes.
"Unbearable" he muttered under his breath.
"What?"
"Your stench. You reek of those dead bodies. Makes one wonder what goes on down there to make the smell cling to you so. Like a dog rolling in his own shit."
"Fuck you, Rolfe."
"Well, young master, is that any way to talk to your guardian? No wonder the good Lady dumped you back here in my care."
Karl's hands gripped the cloth-wrapped handle of his new toy. "Ha, your care. Like you do anything but drink and steal from my father's coffers. Watch your tongue, Rolfe, or maybe I can inform Mother of your side activities."
Drunk as a fool, a fool enough to not see that prodding him with this weapon in his hands was a deadly gamble. He stumbled slightly as he decided to be on his way. His shoulder caught Karl's as he passed. "Freaks, the lot of you. Goddamn monsters."
Karl would later, much later, reflect on those words. He was a monster, that was true, he had been made into one, had been made in every sense of the word. Each crossroad in his life somehow guided by intentions not his own. And he would take control back. He could choose his actions.
But in the moment he swung he thought of none of that. He thought of breaking bones and smashing organs and the power coursing through his hands that would assure it. He thought of the slow death he could provide and the rush of watching the light in the man's eyes flicker out.
He let that bowstring snap – and he was free.
That first swing was perfection, striking him square in the chest and the glorious sensation of bone shattering reverberated up the handle into his hands. It looks like he wouldn't need so much practice, after all.
He drug the body into the stairwell and kicked it down over the side. One final activity supervised by Rolfe's beady red rimmed eyes. He would deal with the mess tomorrow. His guardian had finally made himself useful, and he needed a new hauler, anyway.
xx
After that, Miranda never asked about Rolfe again. She had added his picture on the alter with the others. Villagers had started leaving coins before it, a tribute, an offering.
Over time and his inability to deliver, she had abandoned her wild theories of creating a vessel. But she still had use for him. There was a place for him, and it was at her side. She put him in charge of the Lycans she created, those test subjects and failed 'shared' attempts at perfecting the human body until they got it right.
He came to loathe those sweet words she poured over him. Words laced with something more horrible than the most deadly poison - nothing.
They were empty.
But they wouldn't fool him anymore. He would play the subservient little errand boy - her executioner, while he built his army.
He would sit by her throne like a good dog and not stray into her path, the price to continue his work. So he would continue this little chess match, this game of strategy and wits. And for the sacrifices he had already made, at least he could make some use of his curse.
xx
It had been so many years since that first time. Karl strode into the sanctuary, no longer afraid of what prowled in the darkness. He knew, of all the creatures that slunk around those woods, he was the most terrifying of all.
"Finally." Alcina said through teeth clenched around her jade cigarette holder.
Miranda didn't even wait for Karl to sit before she began. "The time has finally come. I've gotten some news, for the vessel. The perfect one, right under our noses, mere miles from us."
Karl nearly strained his eyes in the effort not to roll them. This wasn't the first time she'd fed them this line of bullshit. Just like the last time with the girl that was created in Eva's image. When she was killed, Miranda didn't even shed a tear. All failures to her. Nothing would ever be perfect enough.
"I'll be away for some time. I can't tell you how long because I don't know myself."
She held something small and black in her hand.
"I'll need one of you for this important task." She stopped in front of Alcina. "Only the most trustworthy, my most loyal."
Sal groaned from the corner.
She turned to Karl and tossed him the small bundle. A mobile telephone and a charger.
"Keep it charged. Keep it with you. I may need you with only a moments notice. You will be ready when I say." He knew better than to ask what the fuck he was supposed to be ready for.
Alcina only glared, and he lifted one gloating middle finger, sliding it up his nose as if he was fixing his glasses.
"When I call you, you are to come. Don't let me down."
He nodded, and plastered a look of subservience on his face. "Of course, Mother."
"How I favor you, child, despite your...many failures."
Angie giggled from the corner and it took everything in his chest not to rip the fucking things head off. He kept his mask tight. Surrounded by these dumb bitches and that waste of meat Moreau, none could suspect what he had planned. All these wasted years, whoring himself to her in both body and soul. Soon it would be over. And he would take her place.
As soon as she got back from this trip, he would put his plan into motion.
