Page 10

Cloak of Daggers

Grace

I rouse to a painful throbbing in my head, pounding like the great drums at the village fish festival. My head has so much pressure inside. I feel I will either be torn apart or implode. My face is covered by a dark fabric. I shake slightly and feel the bag surrounding my head. My hands are tied tightly behind my back in a scratchy binding as it bites into my wrists. The bag is slightly translucent, and I can see I’m in an elaborate hallway with white columns decorating the sides. Someone grips either arm, and they’re dragging me along a smooth floor. Every now and then, I see an elegant statue or a vast painting placed on the pearl walls. We turn a corner sharply and the force intensifies the throbbing in my head; I moan in pain.

“She’s waking up, let’s hurry. I saw what the little hellion did to Mac’s face.” The male voice chuckles, amused.

We round another corner and go through a set of polished ivory double doors. We enter the room, and I’m pushed to my knees. The guards grip me on either side as they rip the bag off my head. I groan from the intrusion of light and squint. There is an elderly man sitting in front of me, dressed in fine white robes. He wears a tall, white, flattened hat, embroiled in silver swirls and a large full moon in the center. He’s adorned in many jewels, most of them diamonds, with a diamond-encrusted full moon emblem placed proudly around his neck. I know who this is; he is the King’s Priest. He sits on a tall silver throne, in a large hall filled with white marble columns. Each column is engraved with a phase of the moon. Placed along each of the columns is a priest adorned in yellow robes and a pauper hat. They all stare directly at me, scowls set in their privileged faces. I hate them all. They killed Fallon and Evie, and I will curse them to my dying breath.

The King’s Priest raises his chin to me. “You are the child with the Gods’ gifts.” It wasn’t a question, but an accusation.

Scorching fury chatters in my bones, warming my blood to a boil. “You killed my brother,” I spit at him.

“Child, you are so lost. Such is the way with the Gods. They have tricked you. They have cursed you,” he says with fake sorrow.

“You’re out of your minds! My gifts are not a curse! They save people!” I yell, my words full of venom. I become animalistic, writhing in the pale guards’ strong grips as I scream. The man who killed my brother and best friend is sitting before me. All the men in this chamber have dipped their wrinkled hands in my brother’s thick blood. They have trampled over Evie’s cold body.

Their bodies, where are their bodies?

I freeze as I start to hyperventilate. “Where are they? What did you do with them?” My voice comes out hushed as my heart shudders.

The King’s Priest arches a white brow at me as he intertwines his fingers, the massive, gemmed rings sticking out on his pale fingers.

“Where is my brother?” I scream, a sob threatening to break through my words.

“Ah.” The King’s Priest closes his eyes and lets out a breath, nodding his head woefully. He does his best to act sorrowful, but I can see right through it. He is a fraud. “They are traitors, young girl. They aided you in your mission to turn innocent people cursed.”

“Where are they?” I enunciate each word, demanding an answer .

“Their traitorous bodies hang on the King’s Wall for all to see, but for good reason, girl. The sight of their rotting flesh will ease Moon Mother’s tears. They have betrayed her and the faith. She has been deeply wounded by her children, and this will appease her,” he states, a mask of indifference firm on his face.

I break, my fire leaving me in an instant as my head lolls to the ground. My white hair hangs long like curtains covering my shame. Tears overflow, dotting the lush floor as I sob silently. Fresh pain spears my heart as it all comes rushing back. This is real, it really happened. I have failed them. Their bodies hang like traitors because of me. I’ve gotten them killed, and I cannot even care for their bodies.

“This had to happen, child. You have no idea what your gifts do. Your gift sucks life from your own soul. What happens when your soul is gone? Who do you become?” The King’s Priest raises his pompous voice, outstretching his hands and looking to the others for approval.

A room of murmurs sound around me in agreement.

“Nothing happens to me. I am still human. You killed my family for no reason!” I shout in fury, tears streaming my face. His milky blue eyes regard me in fake sympathy, clucking his tongue sorrowfully. I scream in frustration, how dare this asshole pity me. My chest shakes, feeling an inner beast awaken that begs to be freed. It wants violence and retribution. It wants blood.

“And what if you are no longer human? How are we to know you aren’t already part God? What about the others you’ve touched? You have bestowed them with your Gods’ gift and taken their souls. What if they, too, turn into merciless Gods?” the King’s Priest speaks to the room, voicing worries as he turns to each priest. He meets their troubled eyes but avoids mine.

“Listen to me! I was touched by the Moon Mother, not a God!” I plead, scanning the circle of priests for one that will hear me. The distinguished religious men ignore me entirely, and the ones that don’t, sneer at me in disgust.

“Do not listen to her lies, my brothers. She has cursed people with her Gods’ gift and now tries to foul Moon Mothers name. She has deceived good people, and the girl has turned her back on the faith.” He stands abruptly, kissing his gleaming moon emblem and raising it to the room. “Praise Moon Mother!”

“Praise Moon Mother!” the circle of priests shout in unison.

“Bless Moon Mother!” The King’s Priest raises his hands to the ceiling, rattling them with intensity .

“Bless Moon Mother!” cheer the priests, raising their arms to the sky.

“And because you wrought your curse among others, their souls must be cleansed!” he booms, motioning for a door. A white-armored guard comes through, carrying a little girl I recognize with cute chubby cheeks and short pale blonde hair; Anna. Another guard dressed in identical armor drags an unconscious and bound Mr. Weaver inside the celestial chamber.

“What are you doing?” My voice becomes frenzied. “They didn’t do anything.”

“Yes, but unfortunately, you did .” The King’s Priest motions for the guard to continue, and I start to struggle, unable to tear my eyes away from the Moon Guards.

The guard holds Mr. Weaver firm, while another strides over with his elaborately decorated sword. He swings it from its scabbard quickly and strikes it through Mr. Weaver’s heart before I can realize what is happening. Mr. Weaver wakes suddenly, yowling in pain, his eyes wide. He looks at his chest in disbelief, as blood pours from the wound. He tries to talk, but only air comes out of his begging mouth. His fearful eyes start to close and slowly, his head lolls back. The guard pulls his bloody sword out, dripping with innocent blood, as the other drops Mr. Weaver onto the ground with a careless thud. Rich red blood floods out of his chest, staining the luxurious white rugs.

“The next one now,” orders the King’s Priest.

I scream and thrash violently in my bindings. The grips of the guards beside me dig into my arms, but I am blind to the pain. “Please, don’t touch her! She’s just a child,” I plead. “She’s just a little girl, how can you be so heartless? How can you claim you’re doing this for good?”

“She is a child sick with your curse! You have stolen her soul!” shouts the King’s Priest, aggravated. “She must be cleansed, so she can go to our Moon Mother. This is your doing, child. Do not dare try and blame this death on me.”

“Anna!” I cry out. She’s crying in the guard’s arms. He moves to hold her more securely, holding her face buried into his neck. “Please! I’ll do anything! Spare her!” I beg him, tears streaming down my face. “Please.”

The King’s Priest contemplates my offer, smacking his lips and moving his head side to side. Eventually, his cold gaze falls back at me. “I am sorry child, but the Moon Mother calls for cleansing. I will not rob this girl’s chance to see the Blessed Isles because you tainted her with your Gods’ touch. Cleanse her,” he orders. With a flick of his wrist, he motions the priest guard to continue.

I watch in horror as the guard grabs a sharp dagger from its sheath. His eyes, mixed of grass and water, meet mine briefly, and I see the emotion welling inside him. He regards me for a moment as he grips and re-grips his dagger.

“Please,” I mouth silently.

His thick brows furrow.

“Guard, hurry it along. The girl must bleed to go to the Isles.” The King’s Priest’s voice is impatient.

The warring guard is silent, but his shining eyes beg for forgiveness before he turns his head away slowly and trudges to Anna. The pale guard holding her tugs her head back tightly as the man with the dagger comes to stand behind her. I’m screaming and sobbing violently. I cannot watch this, but I must. I did this to her. I touched her with my curse and caused this mayhem. I killed her, and this will be my punishment.

The guard slices his dagger across her throat in one smooth movement, and blood sprays from her neck. I hear Anna’s startled scream instantly turn into gurgles. Her pale head falls back quickly as the guard drops the bloody dagger with shaking hands. The man holding Anna cradles her to his body gently as he looks to the ceiling, his face pained. It happened so fast. I can’t bring myself to look at her lifeless body. I shut my eyes hard and weep. I cry for Fallon, for Evie, for my mother, and for Mr. Weaver. I cry for Anna, the little girl I got killed. I wanted her to live and now she is dead. She will never play again; she will never have another kiss from her loving parents; she will never fall in love. I listen to the guards gather their bodies and bring them out of the hall. I slowly open my eyes and see two piles of blood with a leftover dagger on the ruined rug. I have caused this.

“I thank Moon Mother someone was brave enough to come forward and stop you cursed people from spreading any more of your filth among the good people of Calibria.” The King’s Priest motions for the door on the other side of the Hall. A guard walks in with my mother in tow.

No . Please, not her too.

“Leave her alone! She didn’t do anything!” I scream. “My mom is innocent!”

The King’s Priest chuckles. “Oh, I know she is. She’s the one that turned you in. ”

My world shatters.

There is no way I heard that right. “What did you say?” I question quietly, disbelief thick on my tongue.

“Your good mother saw you for what you were and saw your curse spreading. She came to me and reported you. And for her bravery, I consulted with the Moon Mother, and she has chosen to spare her of a cleansing. She has proven her soul untainted and her faith loyal to Moon Mother,” he speaks with a cheerful tone, smiling at my mother warmly.

I look at my mother. She’s clasping her hands in front of her and watching me intently, but I see no evidence of guilt on her face. She looks at me with belief, belief she is doing the right thing. “Someone had to stop you, Grace.” Her tone is ice cold. My mother is not present in this ghost of a woman.

“You … you got Fallon killed.” My voice is a mere whisper. Bafflement has my head spinning as my body revolts in shock. My gut drops from my body, and my heart jumps to my throat, thumping loudly in my ears.

She winces. “Yes, I would’ve liked for him to be spared, but he was too involved. He had to be cleansed,” she says sternly.

“You betrayed us. Your own family.” My voice level rises.

Her mouth sets in a firm line. “I told you not to spread your curse, Gracie.”

Icy claws rip into my chest and devour what’s left of my soul. “How dare you call me that! You have lost that right! You turned in your own daughter!” I scream, writhing in the guard’s grip, feeling my bindings loosen.

“My daughter died. Whatever came out of the ocean that night is not my daughter,” she remarks coolly as she tips up her chin.

I stop, utterly betrayed. My own mother, the woman I gave my life to, the woman I loved, just signed my death sentence. She killed Fallon. She killed Evie. She killed Anna. I stare at her with loathing hatred. An animalistic urge calls me forward as I scream like a banshee. I catch the guards by surprise and thrust my way out of their grips, snapping the rope tied around my wrists. I make a dash for the dagger on the ground as rage takes over my body. I am going to cleanse that bitch myself. I grip the cool metal, slippery from the blood of an innocent girl, and I lunge for my mother. Before I can make contact, a pale guard catches me by my calf, yanking me to the ground as another tackles me. I scream and thrash. “I’ll kill you! All of you! ”

“Quiet her,” screams the King’s Priest.

The guard swings his elbow to my head, hitting me hard. I swim in my body as pain swallows my head. My vision starts to darken while I lose my ability to move. I’m falling through a cave of shadows while he picks me up and hoists me onto his white-armored shoulder. My head is heavy and my body loose as I use all my strength to peer up at the King’s Priest.

“Prepare her for the Veil,” he orders.

And my world goes black.