Blood Slave

Part Two. Chapter Twenty-Eight: Bad Blood

ZURIEL

There was a lot of explosive sounds after everyone left. I waited for the pain of stone or something to fall and crush my body, but nothing touched me. Walls caved in with each other, but they never touched me. Actually, it seemed like the cathedral was falling into itself to protect me. 

Is there a witch nearby that's doing this? If so, then fuck. I'm screwed. 

I wish I could move, but my head isn't attached to my body. I have absolutely no idea how the hell I'm alive. Am I a freaking zombie or something? Well, not really. I don't zombies are functional when they're decapitated. 

Then I hear a feminine voice: “Don't be alarmed, Zuriel. I'm just going to help you.” 

It's a voice that I've never heard before. It's a woman's voice which immediately leaves me paranoid. I'm done with women. After Margo, Jacqueline, Calico, and even Tegan (even though we were just friends) I'm done with women. I have absolutely bad luck with them even if they're just friends. 

They either end up screwing me over or end up being related to me like Jacqueline is my goddamn aunt. 

I feel soft hands on my face, but I can't see. I'm being carried, I believe because I don't feel anything hard underneath me. 

“It's okay, Zuriel,” the woman coos gently as she caresses my cheek with her warm, soft hand. 

Who the fuck is this? Who is holding my head? 

Then I feel pain. My head is sitting on something warm, wet, and fleshy. My neck? Most likely it is because I feel skin, tendons, and bones fusing and merging together rapidly. 

When my sight returns to my eyes, my lids flutter and open slowly to see probably one of the most delicate women I've ever seen in my entire life. 

She looks like a ghost with her corpse-pale skin and hollow cheeks. Her cheekbone structure makes her look so delicate and dainty. Her wavy, feathery, light brunet hair shapes her face perfectly and parts in the middle. Her eyes are doe-like and a clear crystal blue color; they seem to sparkle somehow. Her nose is small and matches her face; her lips also match by being a pale pink in color and medium in size. Overall, she's complete opposite of everything I stand for and everything I look like. She's clean, pure, and absolutely small compared to me. I'm large, filthy, grotesque in nature, and a complete neanderthal. 

I can tell she's wearing a dress. With a face as beautiful as hers, she wouldn't look right in anything else. 

“Who are you?” I whisper quietly as she strokes my cheek gently with her long, pale fingers. 

Her gentle expression doesn't change. “I don't know how to answer that question.” 

Confusion hits me. “By telling me your name.” 

This time, she's hit with confusion. “My name is who I am?” she asks me. 

I blink several times as I look up at her. “Then tell me what you are...” I pause. “Please...” 

Her confusion is wiped away as she continues to stroke my face. “I am the Mother of Monsters.” 

TEGAN 

"Sebastian," I whisper to the transparent being at the doorway of the room I'm raiding. 

The ghost that appears to be seventeen looks over at me with his dead blue eyes. "There's no one coming. Hurry up and get what you came to get," he says quietly.