The sunset was breathtaking, a saturated sky of flaming blood orange, pastel peach, deep coral, and vivid lilac. No artist, alive or deceased, could ever hope to do such majesty justice.
Turning her back to the basement window with a weary sigh, Hel cast her gaze upon Spike, who laid fast asleep under the powder blue sheets of his cot. A smile graced her lips as her eyes traced the angular lines of his handsome face. She took a step towards him, folding her arms across her chest.
"How pathetic."
Hel whirled around, startled by the feminine, lilting intonation of her deceased mother.
The voice was both familiar and alien to her ears. It has been stolen and twisted into a poor imitation of its former self— a chilling emptiness and refined cruelty now resided where there was once warmth and kindness.
The First, under the guise of Angrboda, stood before her. A cold-blooded sneer curled her lips. "Look at you, simpering over the boy." She gestured loosely to Spike. "Although, I can't say I'm surprised. You always were a weak, sentimental fool of a girl. How naïve must you be, to believe he actually cares for you? He's a man." She spat with disgust, as if to merely speak of the opposite sex left a bad a taste in her mouth. "All men are alike— untrustworthy, manipulative, lustful beasts."
Ashen-faced, Hel stood her ground. She found it relatively easy to confront this incorporeal imposter, reassured by the knowledge that her real mother would never have uttered such horrible things. "Could you do me a tremendous favour and fuck off? Because that would be marvellous."
The First smirked menacingly as her snowy white skin changed pigment, transitioning into a frosty, cerulean blue. A simple raised design of curved, angled, and straight lines appeared down her forehead and along her cheekbones. Her eyes flashed scarlet.
"You'd best watch your mouth, little girl." She chided, "Crude language won't save you from the slaughter to come."
"No, but it is very satisfying."
The First cocked her head ever-so slightly to one side, contemplative. "I'm going to enjoy watching you die a very slow, painful death."
"Fantasize all you like."
A disconcerting smile crept onto her mouth. "Sweet dreams, Hela." On that creepy note, the apparition of Angrboda vanished into thin air.
A shiver of foreboding slithered along Hel's vertebral column. Pivoting back around, she crossed the room and lowered herself to the floor beside the cot. She sat on the concrete with her knees tucked up against her chest, too restless to make a second attempt at sleep.
Stirring from slumber, Spike turned his head and squinted at her blearily. "What are you doing down there?"
"I couldn't sleep."
Slowly, he propped himself up onto one elbow. "The same nightmare again?"
"Yeah." She lied, almost whispering, and averted her eyes. Sometimes, it's just easier to lie than to launch into a complicated explanation of the truth.
Glancing up at the ceiling, through which the pitter-patter of feet could be heard, he wetted his dry lips. "A lot of those girls are going to die."
"Yes. I believe they are aware of that." Hel replied simply. "Their willingness to lay down their lives for a cause much larger than themselves is commendable. Their deaths will be most honourable."
YOU ARE READING
Gods And Monsters
Fanfiction"Everyone else I've met here is dull as a table lamp. Not that I blame them, of course. It's in their nature. They're just too... Human." "What am I then?" He inquired, his eyes searching hers intently. She smiled. "You're a riddle. I like riddles...
