Blood Vengeance [COMPLETED]

Chapter Thirty-Eight - Ripe

It was after dark when Hector came back into her room, and as she opened her eyes he was pulling at the shutters, making them clatter as he forced them open to allow the starlight into the room.

"Get up. They're here."

He was silhouetted against the window, staring out of it as he spoke, his words creating a pool of condensation on the glass. And never had Selene felt more distant from him than she did now, seeing him standing at the window of the room in which she slept.

"Who is?" she asked.

"The witches' maids. They've come to take us to her. I can see them," he said, pressing his index finger to the glass.

Selene pushed the covers back, feeling the chill of the air in the room as she did so. She shivered and hopped onto the floor and padded across to stand by his side, where she could peer out of the window.

And there, between the trees, were three women, robed in black, their backs hunched as though they were a thousand years old.

"They look ancient," she said, watching them more with an agility that seemed totally impossible for women that decrepit.

"They are. Older than anything else on earth. The mothers of all creation."

"Mothers of creation?" she queried, watching them move towards the house, their appearance sinister and unwelcome.

"The parents of humanity and Vampires alike. They gave life, and they can take it away again."

"And the witch they serve, she offered you a human soul in exchange for what?"

"What do you mean?" His movement as he turned his body to face her was quick and unexpected, making Selene jump.

"Why did she do it for you? What did you give her in exchange?"

"I hadn't paid. I had to renegotiate the terms of the agreement, in order to keep the soul and save you."

Selene felt reassured by what he said. Perhaps he still wanted to preserve her after all; to keep her as his companion.

"What are the new terms?" she asked.

But by then the witches were at the house, their long and hardened fingernails tapping on the glass. Selene pulled back, horrified by the faces that stared at her; all warped with features barely distinguishable from one another. The eyes were small and pale, and had they not stared at her so intently Selene would have been sure they were blind.

Hector moved. "We have to let them in," he said, walking to the front door, where already the tapping had started up on the wood.

"Are you sure?" asked Selene, running to his side and pulling on his arm. "I have a bad feeling about this. Must we? Is it the only way?"

Hector pushed her aside. "Are you so determined to die that you will deny them entry? They are your only hope now, Selene. Look at you," he said, staring down on her. "There is sweat on your forehead, in your hair. Your clothes are drenched in it. You're running out of time."

Selene looked on the body beneath her, shocked to see that he was right. From her neck right between her breasts her tshirt was soaked through, a dark V-shaped trail of sweat. The neck was damp all round, and her lower back too, and under her arms.

As she appraised each patch of sweat she became very aware of her temperature, feeling as though she boiled inside.

"Open the door," she shouted, over the noise of a gailing wind that had started up and wound itself about the four corners of the little hut. Into it the witches began a wailing that screeched and ripped at the eardrums, their nails still tapping on the door.