Chronicles of The Crescent Court

3 (Part 2)

It seemed mere minutes had passed since I'd shut him out, but the purple skies had shifted into a deep blackness that even the stars refused to interrupt. 

 I'd felt physically ill after he tried to explain my coming fate, I couldn't hear anymore. Since, my body had fallen numb to all but the worse sensation of nerves clawing at my stomach. If he was still restraining any part of me, I could not tell and it would not have been necessary. 

I would be sacrificed. Before I could even fathom the betrayal, confusion, and pain I'd experienced in these past few hours alone...my little life would be over.  

I was lucky before. Sheltered. For better or worse, my contact with humans was limited to the few who crossed paths with my caregivers in markets, looking for small spells or charms. I knew The Court had something to do with how little of them there were. I knew their influence was why Mulligan hid his golden eye, the same as I hid the marks the scattered along my own features. The Court was why witches could no longer live freely in the first place, or anyone for that matter. 

I knew all this and yet, I'd never considered the fear it instilled in all living creatures they saw as beneath them. I never had to imagine the lengths creatures would go to in order to hide from that wrath.

I was too caught up in the small existence I had been taught to accept. 

But now, I was being sold to humans in hopes that the vampires they had no choice but to obey would take me before taking one of their own human children. 

Dark thoughts whispered in the back of mind, asking me to jump from the wagon and meet death by my own means. To find something that would numb the turmoil within. I did nothing to ignore or resist them. I could only stare forward as they suggested their dark desires, feeling like a ghost in my own form. 

The wagon quietly came to a stop.

Outside, there was no noise, no evidence of life. Not even the sounds of a barking dog or snoring horses interrupted the eerie silence that surrounded us. If it weren't for Mulligan saying otherwise, I'd of thought the place was abandoned. 

From the corner of my eye, I could see him pulling his hood on again before stepping down to the ground. It was happening. 

Am I really going to give up this easily?

What was there to do? He would have to let me walk with him but it wasn't possible to run was it? No. I'd already tried that and ended up in his wagon anyway.

I could try to hit him over the head with something but, he was so big. Would it even work? I doubted screaming would do any good either. 

While I searched for an idea that didn't end in swift defeat, the back of the canvas was parted, Mulligan stood, his face totally hidden beneath the fetid cloak and his hand stretching out, waiting for me to take hold.

My instincts told me to sit right there, refuse to move, but the power of this half-breed had forced me to act against myself once again. Unwillingly, he all but vacuumed my hand into his and I was brought down to the ground where he towered over me.

.

.

.

We'd stopped in front of a modest looking home. If one could even call it that. Two stories high and made of some dark stone. No flowers grew though we were surrounded by the scent of dirt and manure. I could see no light from any of the plain square windows that sported mental bars instead of shutters. 

It looked like the prisons I'd seen in my study books, not like any house.

My eyes moved back to Mulligan who was now dipping into his bottomless pockets once again. The last time he did this, he had pulled out something my very person had been traded for. Whatever he pulled for now, I wanted no part in it.

I desperately wanted to run but, like before, he had me glued to my place.

This time, a simple vial was revealed. I could hear the liquid moving around inside but could not make out much else in the darkness. 

Mulligan popped the cork and, to my disgust, held it to my lips.

"Drink." he ordered. 

I nearly gagged at his smell alone but, it was the same rotten scent. The vial didn't seem to add anything to it. Still, I pressed my lips hard together, glaring hard at the shadowed face beneath the hood. 

"Stubborn as a damn troll." he mumbled under his breath. To my surprise, my nose was caught hard between his beefy thumb and forefinger.

I don't know if it was the scent or the fact that his hands had grabbed me at all, but my mouth gasped open in shock. Whatever liquid was inside the jar went pouring down my throat before I could even scream.

The BASTARD! Had he poisoned me now too?!

"Listen to me, Edie, the potion I just gave ya... its small but powerful. I woulda used it myself, but I knew if those witches weren't lying, you'd need it. " He revealed, "It'll hide the marks for a while. A few days at best. It won't fool werewolves or others with a good sense but...at least ya won't get attention from anyone you don't want."

I could only stare in shock. I didn't feel any different but who's to say he wasn't lying to me? I wanted to swing a fist at him for touching me, for putting me through any of this.

"Why the change of heart?" The question came out as a bitter hiss, all my anger only finding escape through my words, "You know they'll kill me just as I do. You're delaying the inevitable." 

I could not see his face, but I felt the shift in him, some way. I felt the sincerity. That he wanted to help but was holding onto something. Something that justified all of this. Whatever his reasons, his genuineness fed into a murky bitterness within my own self. I felt hopeless and disgusted all at once. 

Mulligan wasn't all bad. I could sense it but all I was feeling, all I was facing would not let me excuse his part in my demise.

Shame and vulnerability sparked within him, only for a moment before he steeled himself one again, "Edie, you're a lot stronger than ya think! Don't give up so soon."

I wanted to tell him to repeat that same phrase when his life had been snatched away from him. Before I could open my mouth to respond, I heard the creaking whines of aged wood.

Someone was opening a door.

By his power, Mulligan dragged my feet along behind him as he swiftly marched toward the front door, all feeling I had sensed from him cut off now. 

A very thin man with wiry hair stood at the doorway. Somewhat shielding himself from vision with the door, he opened it just wide enough for Mulligan and myself to slide through.