"You're kidding," Dacre deadpanned to Tabitha. Besides the small frown that pulled down on her lips, her face was as serious as he'd ever seen it. Ellias shifted quietly in the background, coughing a little to mask his small laugh. Tabitha shot him a glare that shut him up quickly before turning back to Dacre. "Why go through all of the trouble to drag me here under the impression that I'm going to die soon if that wasn't your plan? You never considered just asking me for my help?"
Tabitha frowned and narrowed her cold blue stare at him. She sighed heavily and then plopped down into the chair next to his with so much force that she could have passed as a mere mortal, as she so often liked to tease him for being.
Dacre couldn't help but notice how uncharacteristically she was acting since she found out about her sister, but he knew that the situation certainly called for it. He had a million questions to ask her, but he bit his tongue and held them all in instead. Now didn't seem like the time to press her further for information. She was quite obviously on edge, ready to snap at either of the men in the room at a moment's notice.
"Answer me truthfully," she began after a few minutes of silence. She never lifted her eyes from her twiddling fingers as they seemed to draw patterns in the air that only she could see. "If a red witch that you'd been hearing horror stories of since you were younger approached you and asked you for your help in capturing her little sister that you'd never heard of from the father that you were running away from, you'd drop everything and help?"
Dacre felt his face flush slightly under both her and Ellias' calculating stares. He knew that she was right, but he was still a little too embarrassed to admit to it. "Why me, though? What can I do to help you with getting your sister?"
"You said it yourself," she said with a bite in her tone, as if she was trying hard to keep from ripping his head off under the duress that she was facing. "You worked your way up high in the King's guard. You know the ins and outs of the castle like the back of your hand. And if it's any indication that it took me months to find you, then I know you'll do good with staying under the radar with Bexley once we get her back."
Dacre blanched at her candor. She tapped the heel of her boot impatiently on the floor, waiting for him to say something. He knew that she would be woefully unhappy once he finally worked up the nerve to voice his opinion, but he had to do it anyway.
"No," he said with as much forced calm as he could. Tabitha flinched, her mask of annoyance turning into a look of pure rage.
"What do you mean 'no'? My sister is just a child--you would leave her there simply to spite me?" she seethed in the chair beside him, gripping the arms of the oak seat with enough strength that it began to splinter under her grasp.
"Hey," Ellias called, jumping out of his own seat and reaching across the desk to pry her hands from the already-ruined chair, "be careful with my things, dear. A life of luxury is also one of expense."
She turned her angry glare on him once his hands wrapped around her wrist, and he immediately withdrew back behind the safety of his side of the desk. He was muttering something to himself about pissy witch when Dacre continued with his explanation, stopping Tabitha dead in her tracks before she launched herself into a full-on assault at the warlock. Ellias frowned deeply but wisely shut up and listened.
"I don't mean I flat-out refuse to help you," Dacre said. Tabitha visibly relaxed at his words, sinking back into the chair so fast that he was sure a physical weight had lifted off of her shoulders. It was truly disconcerting to see her being so emotional. It was so shockingly different from the front of indifference and disinterest that she typically wore. "I simply want to know more about this before I pledge myself fully."
Tabitha chewed on her lip roughly and stared directly at Dacre, but he had a feeling that she wasn't seeing anything in front of her at all. He had a feeling that her mind was far away from her current company, instead in a dungeon in the castle with her little sister. His heart pinched at the idea of the little girl being left in the hands of the tyrant known as the King, despite the fact that he knew nothing about her. She was only a child, Tabitha had said.
"Okay," Tabitha quietly agreed, never releasing her plump bottom lip from between the rough clutches of her teeth. Dacre watched as blood spilled from her lip and her tongue quickly darted out to lap it up, quickly resuming the chewing without any hesitation. He didn't even think that she was aware of what she was doing.
"Start from the beginning," he quietly demanded. He was surprised when she gave a short little laugh, completely void of any humor or joy. It was a hollow sound that made his bones rattle. He straightened his spine in an effort not to cringe.
"I already told you that I was born into a coven, right?" She watched him waiting for confirmation. He nodded slowly, recalling her mentioning it in passing at the tavern on her 20th birthday. She took a deep breath then continued, her hands resuming the imaginary paths that they took on earlier. "You asked me if the story of me killing my family the other day was true and I told you it was fiction. I lied. Well, kind of."
Dacre sucked in a deep breath and waited, his heart thrumming loud enough that he could hear it himself. He knew that both the witch and the warlock could hear it, too, but neither chose to acknowledge it. In fact, Ellias didn't seem to be acknowledging the conversation at all at first glance. He was studiously staring at the paper he'd pulled from the top of his desk, but his head was tilted in the direction of Tabitha's voice. Dacre knew that he was hanging onto every word that the witch said.
"All that I learned about my mother came from stories that I was told by the Matron of my cover, who just so happened to be my mother's aunt. My mom came from a long line of witches, but I'm sure as you already know that it tends to skip many generations. She was unMarked. Just a normal human woman who fell in love with and married a normal human man." Tabtiha's eyes were distant and ever-so-slightly glassy. She was in a completely different part of the world in that moment, speaking more to herself than anyone else as she recalled her story. "If you're born into a line of witches, the Matron of your clan must be there for your birthing. It doesn't matter if the pregnant is Marked or not, it's simply a rule. Whether it's to prevent the mothers from running off with any witchlings or to prevent the mothers from killing them, I don't know.
"Apparently my affinity for death came quite early on. My mom died delivering me. My Matron said that it was one of the more gruesome deliveries that she'd ever witnessed. My mother died before I was even out, and my Matron would joke that she knew that second that I was to be a red witch. She would say that I came into the world with death on my shoulders, and it would be something I lived for my entire life." Her voice was rough with an emotion he couldn't place. She hadn't made eye contact with either men as she pushed through her story. Ellias had since abandoned his ploy of acting disinterested and was now staring at Tabitha, his dark eyes wide and attentive.
"That's so cruel of your Matron to say," Dacre whispered. Tabitha jerked slightly at the sound of his voice, as if she'd forgotten about his existence completely until he voiced himself. She glanced once at him and then averted her gaze quickly once again. Dacre wanted to reach across the small space that separated them and touch her arm or hand or thigh--anything to help ease her through her painful story. He sat on his palm instead to prevent himself from doing this.
"It's true," she chuckled in that grim tone once more. "According to my Matron, my father couldn't wait to be rid of me after that. I was nothing more than the monster that killed his wife. I am nothing more than the thing that murdered his one true love." At this admission, Dacre couldn't help himself. He reached across and placed a firm palm on top of the back of her hand as it lay on the splintered arm of the chair. Her body stiffened slightly at the contact while she seemed to contemplate whether she should chew his limb off or not. She relaxed after a few seconds and Dacre begun to circle slow paths on the back of her hand, hoping to convey as much unspoken support as possible. She continued on without so much as a glance at him.
"I was too curious for my own good about my father. When I was ten years old, I decided to seek him out, to try to know him just a little bit. I guess we're the same in that sense, charmer," she cast him a small but heart-wrenching smile. "I spent that entire morning packing on as much makeup as I could over my Mark, trying to make it as invisible as possible. Of course, nothing worked. The more I powdered it, the more it seemed to stand out against my skin. Eventually I gave up on that and went to find him, Mark freely visible and all.
"I looked for weeks with no real clue as to where he was. I'd only been told of the name of the town that he and my mother had lived in before I was born. Demetria. No one had seen him, and those that did refused to tell me because of my red Mark. None of them knew what god it belonged to, but all of them were wary of it nonetheless.
"Until one day, I got lucky. I heard a stranger in the town mention his name and that he was constantly at a local tavern as they passed by me while I hid myself in the shadows of the street. I tracked down the tavern and there he was, sitting at the end of the bar and plastered out of his mind." Her voice had gone from emotional to cold, anger obviously rising in her as her hand gripped the broken arm of the chair as Dacre's hand lay on top of hers. Splinters from the oak dug deep into her palms and her blood began to splatter lightly on the floor, but she paid it no heed. He held her hand tightly still, refusing to move it.
"I was too nervous to say anything to him there in front of all of those people, so I simply followed him home. I was working up the nerve to knock on his doorstep when I saw her through the window. Bexley." A small smile tugged the corners of her lips upwards at the memory, but it vanished as quickly as it came before a haunted look replaced her countenance. "I remember being so happy that he'd found someone else and had a baby. So excited that I had a little sister. Even from so far away, I could tell that we had the same eyes. Her hair was dark, though, almost solidly black. She was about a year old at the time." Dacre did the math in his head and figured that Bexley was about 11 years old now. His blood ran cold at the idea that any monster would kidnap a 11 year old simply to get back at Tabitha.
"Something was wrong, though. Babies were born into my coven enough that I knew what the healthy ones looked like. She was skinny. Definitely underweight for her age. Her ribs poked and prodded themselves through her clothing, and her cloth looked as though it hadn't been changed in quite some time. Her face was gaunt in all of the wrong places. I thought that maybe she was sick, somehow. That something was wrong with her. I wasn't able to piece together exactly what it was until she began to cry."
Tabitha's entire body was rigid at the memory. She dug her hands deeper into the oak splinters and blood began to channel itself into a stray stream down the leg of the chair, pooling onto the floor below. She drew in a ragged breath, teeming with restrained anger, then continued. "He ran over to her and I thought that he was going to comfort his daughter. To dry her tears. Then he raised his fist and struck her across the jaw. I watched as he physically abused his one-year-old daughter. My little sister."
Dacre sucked in a sharp breath at her words, and Ellias let a pen drop from between his grip. The only sound that filled the room around them was the clatter of the utensil on the floor. He swore under his breath but paid no attention to the forgotten pen, keeping his eyes solely on Tabitha.
"I was in the house immediately. I guess I broke down the door, I'm not really sure. It's all kind of a haze. He was dead before his second punch landed. So I guess that you were right. I did murder my family." The laugh she let out was mirthless, and it sent a chill up Dacre's spine.
His mind churned with this information, but he couldn't find it within himself to be revolted at the actions that she admitted to. Instead, his blood pumped furiously at the thought of any man hitting a child, the thought alone almost enough to send him into a rage-filled frenzy. If Dacre had been there instead of Tabitha, he wasn't so sure that he wouldn't have done the same himself.
"What happened to your mom wasn't your fault," he said lowly to her, leaning in close. She rolled her eyes a little at his remark but seemed to relax ever so slightly at his assurance. "And your father deserved what he got. You're not to blame for this, Tabitha." She jerked his gaze away from whatever distant shore she'd been focused on and made eye contact with Darce. For the first time, he saw a dark and unsettling emotion in her eyes. Pain. Real, mortal pain. It danced in her blue irises, begging to be released in the form of tears that threatened to roll down her cheeks. When she tore her gaze away, he felt as if something broke free in his chest. He didn't know what it was, and he yanked his hand away from hers because of it.
She didn't seem to notice the lack of physical contact between them despite the fact that he felt like his hand was burning without her skin on his. He had half of a mind to place his hand on hers again just to ease the feeling, but he didn't want to interrupt her as she continued her story.
"I picked her up and walked all around town with her that night. It probably looked funny, in hindsight. A ten year old covered in blood, walking around with an emaciated one year old in tow. But no one seemed concerned enough to stop me. Truthfully, I don't even know what her real name was. I rambled off a bunch of different names to the small child and picked the first one she reacted to. Bexley." Tabitha's eye crinkled as she told the story, a smile barely repressed on her full lips. Dacre forced himself to drag his stare away from those lips as she pressed on.
"I found an older couple in a small home on the edge of the town. It was beautiful house on the outside, and I watched them for awhile from the window just to gather more about them before I made an decisive actions. From what I could tell, they had no children. But they were gentle to their pet dog, and also to each other. They seemed happy.
"I knew that there was no way I could raise Bexley up in a home she deserved. I was just a child, for gods sakes, and a witch at that. The red witch. I only knew my baby sister for three hours before I knew that I had to give her up to someone that could properly take care of her. It ripped me in two, but I was able to do it." Her voice dropped so low that Dacre was sure that she was close to crying, but she never did. "I wrapped her up in tightly in the cloak that the coven gave me and stuffed a paper with her name written on it inside before I knocked on the couple's door. I ran to the shadows and watched it all unfold. Bexley had began to cry the second I set her down, so the couple was already on the way to the door before I'd even been able to knock. Her wails echoed off their small homes porch, piercing my heart as I had to sit and watch from the sidelines.
"The couple opened the door and when they saw Bexley lying there, they were confused for a second. Then they were full of joy. Pure, unadulterated joy. The woman began to cry as she picked up my sister, rocking her in her arms and cooing sweet nothings into her ear. I knew that I'd made the right choice, but it didn't make it any easier. I stayed in those shadows all night despite the sub-zero temperatures. I just listened to her with my sensitive hearing through the walls of the home. I committed her heartbeat to memory that night, and I could show you its exact beat even now. Its one of only two that I know by heart." She shot Dacre a quick sideways glance that he didn't know how to interpret, but his mind wasn't able to wander far before she finished the story in a curt voice.
"Every week after that, I visited her. She never knew that I was there, but I was. I got to watch her grow in my own little way. I also began to deliver money to the front steps of the couple, tucked tightly in an envelope that only had her name on the front so that they knew who it was for. The next time I got to see her, she'd be sporting a new sun dress or shoes and I knew that the couple was using the money for its intended purposes. And this is about where Ellias comes in." Tabitha motioned with a shaky hand to the warlock in front of her, and Dacre had the strongest urge to punch the smug look off of the mans face. Caution be damned.
"Tabitha came to me about two years ago with a pretty large fortune. She trusted me to hide it somewhere in the city and keep it safe until Bexley came of age. Then it was all to be diverted to her through an unknown benefactor. The girl would have been set for life." Ellias' amusement was set on his face as he leaned back into the chair, his hands clasped firmly behind his head for support once again.
"Everything was going fine," Tabitha picked back up, "until one day someone reported to your father, the King, that the witch he'd been hunting for so long was seen in the town of Demetria, watching a little child play from the shadows. He was eventually able to put two and two together, and he ordered that the girl be captured to drawl me out and into his clutches." Her body was shaking as she spoke, her teeth gritted hard enough that he could see blood begin to roll down them from the pressure put on her gums. If Dacre had known that all of this would happen back when he was in the King's guard, he would have gladly ended the sad and pathetic life that was the King. Dacre had never had the urge to kill someone before, but now it seemed to almost overwhelm him.
"He killed that couple. Made Bex watch," she said through her clenched jaw. "All so that he would get my attention."
Tabitha turned back to face Dacre and he felt himself wince involuntarily at what he saw in her eyes. A lethal anger, rage in its purest form, and a promise. A promise for vengeance. There would be retribution for the pain his father had caused that couple who had raised her sister and for the fact that he kidnapped Bexley.
The red Mark on her temple and jaw twitched and writhed as she looked at him, and he knew exactly what she planned to do with the King once they made it to the castle. This wasn't only a rescue mission for her sister. This was going to be an assassination of the King. The big plan that the King had thought would gain him the red witch would only result in his imminent demise, and Dacre couldn't help the sickening thrill that ran through him at the idea.
"Well, he's got my full-fledged attention now," her voice was calm and composed, but the danger continued to pulse in her eyes, "and I'm going to see to it that he know exactly what that honor entails."