Fairydale a dark gothic.., p.53
Fairydale: A Dark Gothic Fantasy Romance, page 53
"We should tell good ol' Abraham, too," he offers, a malicious smile pulling at his lips.
"Maybe we should talk. Just the two of us. Will you let us for a moment, Abraham?" I ask softly of my eldest son.
He looks in confusion between the two of us, nodding reluctantly.
I breathe out in relief that he doesn't question my decision, yet I'm still wary about discussing this with Abel.
"No," Abel declares. "He needs to hear this too."
"What's happening?" Abraham's brows are pinched together as he addresses me.
"I..." I stammer, suddenly at a loss of words. "You should go," I urge softly—anything to have him away from this confrontation.
"Our parents' accident wasn't quite an accident, was it?" Abel smirks.
"What? What are you talking about?"
"Your brother and I need to have a conversation. It's better if you go," I repeat, true terror taking shape within my breast.
As Abraham starts to move, Abel jumps in front of him, his eyes crazed.
"Tell him, Elizabeth! Tell him who killed them."
I shake my head at him.
"Please don't..."
He throws back his head and laughs at my fearful expression.
"What are you saying, Abel? You know it was an accident," Abraham argues.
"It wasn't!" he spits out. "It was all her husband, who isn't even a bloody human," he accuses, his eyes flaring with disgust as he looks at me.
"Abel..."
"What is he talking about, mama?"
"Jeremiah Creed doesn't exist, brother. He never did," he continues, seemingly taking great pleasure in revealing everything to Abraham.
I freeze at his words.
How... How would he know?
"Her husband's real name is Amon and he is a demon. A fucking demon who killed our parents and disguised it as an accident. A demon who's been killing people for centuries!"
"Abel, please..." I mumble in an attempt to stop him.
"Tell us. Tell us it isn't true," he adds smugly as he places a hand on Abraham's shoulder.
Abraham looks at me for confirmation and I cannot find myself to say anything. Yet it's exactly that which serves for confirmation.
"Did my mother tell you?" I ask softly.
"Grandmother? No," he laughs. "Although she should know by now, too. The entire coven should know where that bloody demon is."
No... Amon... Is he safe? Is he...
"You have it all wrong, Abel. Please let us explain it. Amon isn't..."
"Isn't what? A murderer? A demon? A fucking evil entity that killed our parents just because he could? You're insane if you think I'll listen to anything you say, Elizabeth," he tells me pointedly.
"Mama, what the hell is happening?" Abraham's gaze flies between the two of us in confusion.
"Yes, mama. Tell your precious son everything. Tell him you've been protecting a demon; that you forced them to call their true parents' murderer father!"
"Where in God's name did you hear that from? Who told you, because everything you think you know is wrong," I burst out, sick of hearing Amon be called a demon when he is anything but.
"Kress and Finn told me," he replies smugly. "They told me everything."
What?
"They also told me the secret to your ageless appearance," he continues.
"What are you talking about?" I frown.
He nods to my neck—to the necklace I'm wearing.
"You have it all wrong, Abel. If you'll just let me explain," I take a deep breath as I try to keep my head straight.
But after everything that has happened, I find myself slipping one second at a time.
"I don't want any explanation," he yells. "I don't want anything! You already killed my parents. Do you think anything can bring them back? That you can just give me back the years I lost with them? No! It doesn't work like that."
I shrink back from his tone, a sliver of fear going down my back.
Abraham comes to my side, and despite the obvious confusion on his face, he grabs my hand, squeezing tightly.
"You're mad, Abel," his brother tells him. "I can't believe I didn't see this earlier. All this time you've drifted further and further and I didn't even notice..."
"I'm mad?" he laughs. "Oh, how wrong you are brother," he shakes his head.
Removing a knife from his coat, he waves it around, a sick smile on his face.
"If I'm so mad, then your mama should bleed if I do this, no?" he says and before I can realize what he means to do, the knife is embedded in my shoulder.
I bunch over in pain, but gritting my teeth, I grasp the handle, pulling it out of my flesh.
As it drops to the floor with a thud, my skin starts mending together.
Abraham looks at me with shock in his eyes.
"But... But..." he stammers.
Abel has a smug expression as he comes closer.
"She should have no abilities, no? That is what grandma said. Yet she does."
"But how?" Abraham asks dazedly.
"From the demon, of course," he chuckles. "Because she's a demon's whore, that's what she is. A fucking Satan worshipper."
"What do you want, Abel?" I ask through gritted teeth. Though the wound is closing up, the physical pain is still there—just like the one in my heart where it feels like I've been stabbed over and over again.
"Simple. An eye for an eye," he smiles. "And a little extra something."
Before I know what's happening, Abel has Abraham in a chokehold, dragging him backwards and restraining him in his arms. Silver gleams in the light as he places a blade at his brother's throat.
My eyes widen in alarm.
"What are you doing..." I whisper in shock. "He's your brother."
"He's a waste of space. Like you," he scoffs.
"Please don't do that. Please! Let Abraham go. Your grievance is with me not with him," I beg.
"Let me go," Abraham struggles in his arms, yet somehow he's no match for Abel.
How?
When had Abel become so strong? How had he even found out all of these things? How, when some of them were only known to me and Amon?
God, but I shouldn't have sent Amon away.
He would have been able to deal with this. And in a last attempt to salvage what's left of our family, I whisper his name, knowing he will come to me.
"Amon. Come."
With the call in the wild, I know it's a matter of seconds before he will appear. Until then, I need to deal with Abel myself.
"Let Abraham go," I speak slowly as I take a step forward, keeping my eyes on him.
"I might. For a price," he suddenly says.
"A price? Anything," I readily agree.
My eyes meet Abraham's and I witness the pain and confusion that resides in there. My Abraham has always been a gentle spirit, and to be put in this position by his own brother must be utterly heartbreaking.
As long as I can hold him off until Amon comes, I'll do anything.
"Your necklace. I want your necklace," he demands with a sneer. "I know it has to be given of your own free will, so don't try to trick me. Gift the necklace to me and I will let him live."
My eyes widen at his outrageous request. How could he have known about the necklace?
"He's your brother, Abel," I exclaim, unable to believe he would kill his own blood.
"I have no family, Elizabeth. You took it from me. Now I have nothing!"
His blade touches Abraham's neck, a drop of blood spilling. Already it's a drop too much as I feel myself panic.
Amon, Amon, where are you? Please come!
The seconds trickle by and my husband is nowhere to be seen while Abraham is still in danger. And I know Abel means it. There's a deranged look in his eyes, a self-righteous conviction that he's using to justify his actions.
Somehow, I am sure he would harm his brother to get what he wants.
"Fine. I'll give it to you. But you promise to let him go?"
"A fair exchange, as I said."
I don't have time to think what the implications are for giving away my necklace—the source of all my powers. Yet at this moment, Abraham is more important than that. He's the only one that matters.
Bringing my hands to my neck, I unclasp the necklace, taking it off.
Immediately, dizziness assails me at being separated from such an integral part of myself, and my soul weeps at being fragmented again.
"Here," I extend my hand. "It is freely given. Now please let Abraham go."
"A deal is a deal," he nods to himself, giving Abraham a strong push just as he wrenches the necklace from my hand.
I quickly make to go to Abraham's side, but just as I take one step, a strangled cry echoes in the church.
"No," I shake my head as blood spills onto the ground.
On his knees, Abraham is still looking at me as blood gushes from the cut at his neck. The blade is stained with his blood as Abel waves it back and forth, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
"No, no, no!" I scream, fear unlike any other erupting inside of me.
Panicking, I throw myself over to him, my hands over his wound in an attempt to stop the blood.
Where are you, Amon? Our son is dying! He's...
"Ma..." Abraham tries to speak, the word obvious, yet one that never reaches my ears before he slumps against me.
His breath is gone. His pulse is gone.
He is...dead.
A savage wail escapes my lips as I hold on to him, wishing with all my might I could save him—that I could return his breath and life essence.
But I can't.
My powers are gone.
My abilities are bound.
I am absolutely useless as I stare into my son's lifeless face, his eyes still open, his lips parted on a word that will never come out—one I will never hear again.
In all my life I've never felt as helpless as in that moment. What good does it do to have all the power in the world but be powerless still?
"Abraham, please don't," I whisper, my voice becoming erratic as I will him back to life. "Please, my baby. Don't die on me. Please," I plead continuously, yet there is no one to hear my prayer.
No God. No Gods. No deities. There is nothing but this aching emptiness that forms inside my heart.
Even if Amon came now, he wouldn't be able to do anything. Even he doesn't have that much power.
Abraham is dead. He is...dead.
"What have you done, Abel?" I ask in an anguished whisper. "What... How..."
I'd never thought my heart could take this much hurt, but as I cradle my dead child to my chest, I feel like howling in pain.
"How could you..."
Tears cloud my vision as I hug him closer.
He can't be dead.
No, my son can't be dead.
I chant it in my head, thinking that maybe I will be able to will it into reality.
"I'm merely righting your wrongs, mama," he laughs as he looks at his brother on the ground. Placing the necklace to his own neck, he takes a deep breath before setting his eyes on me once more.
"I'm paving the way for a new future. One where the coven recognizes me and my new powers. One where they bow to me," he continues, and I get a glimpse into his plan.
I shake my head in dismay, not recognizing who he is anymore.
"Who the hell are you, Abel?" I whisper.
"Oh, I'm glad you asked, Elizabeth," he gives me a wide smile. Coming closer, he leans into me until his words are dead whispers in my ears.
"I'm the last thing you'll ever see."
Just as he draws back, I take a labored breath into my lungs.
My gaze goes lower to where a knife is protruding from my chest. Compared to the last hit, this is a ghost of a pain—ironically.
Yet unlike the other wound, this one doesn't heal.
This one doesn't close up as it keeps bleeding and bleeding, slowly taking with it my life's essence. I don't even know if I realize it at that moment, or if I can coherently categorize my thoughts.
I only know that I'm falling to the ground with Abraham by my side. My limbs are languid and unable to move just as my consciousness slowly slips for me.
The last thing I see is Abel, proudly cradling the necklace in his palm, his evil smile burned on my retina forever.
But the last thing I hear...
It's a roar that soars through the sky, echoing through every building, every space.
A battle cry unlike any other and one that tells me he knows. And he is coming for me.
He's coming for me.
He's coming for us.
If only I can hold on until then...
Part Three
Chapter Twenty-Three
Groaning, I shift to my side as pain radiates from my breastbone. Bringing my hand to my chest, I expect to see it covered in blood. Instead, it comes back empty.
I frown, then blink before my eyes widen in surprise.
Bringing myself to a sitting position, I take in my surroundings. The sun is barely up in the sky, which suggests it's fairly early in the morning.
I'm in...a field.
I quickly get to my feet just as panic threatens to overtake me, but as I turn around, I note a familiar building.
The Old Church.
I slept in a field behind the Old Church.
Plucking some twigs from my hair and dusting my clothes, I scrunch my brows in concentration as I try to remember what had happened.
I followed the sound of music that led me to the Old Church, and then...
Slowly, all the events from before come to me.
I'd seen my death.
I'd witnessed my death as Elizabeth.
A pang erupts in my heart as I recall everything that had happened—and how it had happened. And by God, it couldn't have been more different than what Rhiannon showed me.
Amon did not kill me. He would have never killed me.
Instead, I was killed by Abel. My own child.
I died together with Abraham.
Tears fall unbidden down my cheeks as I go over every little moment, reliving every bit of pain, of disappointment and of heartbreak.
For moments on end I can't seem to get a hang of my feelings, and no matter how much I try to rein in my emotions, they are too powerful—too out of control.
It feels like an eternity before I can breathe properly without sobbing my heart out. And as I slowly calm myself, my mind becomes sharper, the realizations trickling in.
The necklace.
Amon had given me the necklace to confer me an equal lifespan to his that would make me stronger. Previously, when he'd told me he was searching for an object that could help me, he'd been speaking about the necklace.
Though some details are still fuzzy, the origin of the necklace still unclear, I know it's something extremely important to me.
And I know exactly where it is now.
Mr. Nicholson.
If I hadn't seen those pictures of Mr. Nicholson in his twenties, maybe I wouldn't have believed it. But now I am absolutely certain.
Mr. Nicholson is Abel. And the gemstone on his cane is my necklace.
His powers and his healing were dependent on the cane when he'd fought Rhiannon, and now I know why.
Because they are not his. They were never his.
Oh my God....
My hand flies to my mouth as realization sinks in.
Mr. Nicholson—Abel—had killed me almost two hundred years ago in order to steal my power. And if I remember correctly, he admitted to alerting the coven to Amon's presence, which had undoubtedly led to his imprisonment.
The only question is...how had he known about it?
The why, I can wager a guess for. He'd been angry at us since a young age for the death of his family, and that had only festered as he'd grown older until he'd decided to take the revenge into his own hands. Yet it's more than that, isn't it? He'd wanted recognition from the coven and abilities that he could only get through stealing.
What might have started as revenge turned into a foolish quest for power. One he is still pursuing to this day.
I cannot recall too much about the necklace, but given Abel's rapid decay, I think he's used up all the power inside of it and now he needs more. And the only way to get more is through Amon.
Even as I understand his thirst for power, I still cannot comprehend how he could hurt his own brother. How could he kill him in cold blood?
Maybe in a twisted way I can understand why he would go for me, or Amon, because we were guilty in his mind. But Abraham? He'd never done anything wrong in his life.
My heart hurts every time I think of my fallen son and the way he'd died—with his throat slit from behind.
Damn you Abel! Damn you and your cowardice!
Despite my renewed sorrow at Abraham's death, there is a modicum of peace at knowing my Lydia had fully lived her life. She'd somehow escaped unscathed and she'd lived a happy life.
Don't give it to him.
Lydia had known.
She'd had a vision about it, and I'm quite certain she'd seen Abraham's death, too.
Why hadn't she warned us? Why hadn't she said anything?
More theories are going through my mind the more I think of the past, yet one thing question will not leave me be.
How could Abel have known about the necklace, or about Amon's identity? For him to accuse Amon of being a demon means he must have had a source from the coven.
But who?
As I stop in front of the church, I try once more to open the door, cursing out loud when it doesn't budge. It seems the only way I can access the church would be...through the catacombs.
Yet I'll have time to think about that later. With the hour growing late, I trudge my way back to the Hale manor, all the while ruminating over the new information I'd received.
Kress and Fin. Abel had mentioned those names. Could it be...
A gasp escapes me as I think back to the two men who'd advised Fiona in the past, and who had now made a sudden appearance in Fairydale.
Could it be that they are the Kress and Finn Abel was talking about?
Certainly, they seem to be present everywhere and have a vested interest in Amon.
I increase my pace as I remember it's still dangerous for me to be outside. At least now I know who is sending these creatures after me.
