Pretty Killers: Diamonds
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2012 by Jordan McKinney
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reproduction in whole or in part in any form
All intentional or otherwise coincidental references or allusions to any persons, organizations, corporations, or any copyrighted or trademarked works in media, etc. are used strictly in parody and/or comical format and are not meant to insinuate any injurious ideations towards such outside of this work of fiction.
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Prologue
The Hallelujah
"I did not always take solace in the dark of night as I do, now. Like any child's mind, the mysteries a shadow could carry would ravage my thoughts and leave me frightened of ever taking a step onto any path I could not clearly see. But a curious little girl was I, always craving the answers lying in the unknown. And though that girl grew into a woman of the very same nature, it seems as though I cannot recognize her anymore. I have the same brown skin as her, the same long, black hair, the same purple eyes. But she is a stranger to me.
Through the sight of my elders, it should not feel as I have lived so long that the memories of my young and carefree self should seem so distant. But the one who would awake with a smile to the sunshine, praising it daily for giving life to every living thing she knew and loved; I lost her in a fog of a clockwork life spent understanding the ways of that which is royal. For I had been born exalted. But as I longed to be like the other children who would run and play under the bluest skies and traipse though the greenest grasses, fate had sealed in my sight that I would not live to merely adore and delight in these natural beauties, but command over them. Control them.
I pray of history, in the scope of where my kingdom stands today, should you remember the counts of collapse, do not let them impede the magnitude of its past aptitude. These people tried and failed, they rose and fell, but of it all, they learned. Distilled through trial and error, they took what they learned and passed it to me with the hopes that it would help this girl know what she needed to know to rule over them. But gods cannot make mistakes, and I found their findings riddled with them. And how could they have the audacity to tell a god what to do? But then, how could I have the audacity to say they may be wrong when, of the world, I understood nothing? Ironic that a god-like hubris would lead me to believe that I was not yet one. I knew my role, but I needed answers to understand it. Had I known to what my search would lead, I would not have asked at all."
Held high in the sky was the moon as Jules searched for the next notes to play as if she were trying to speak, but could not find the words to correctly explain what she so dearly desired to communicate. Her fingers rested on the translucent keys of this extraordinary piano fabricated from the mere air of the humid night, and its sound echoed a cry of distress into the twisted labyrinth of branches and leaves of the forest behind her. She sat on a bench of the same material.
Jules lifted her fingers from the piano to let the intonation subside, and all that was audible in the dirt clearing in which she chose to lament was the distant crashing of waves on weathered rocks, the crackle of the fire within arm’s reach from her and the gentle shushing of wind blowing through the forest. Jules looked down at her mystifying instrument with its glass appearance and sparkling luminance comparable to starlight. It was the one thing Jules could do with her abilities that brought her no pain, shame, or regret.
Finally, her fingers found their correct resting place and another somber chord resonated out over the few yards between her and the cliff she faced overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. She paused again, this time to read the handwritten notation that rested on the piano before her. The ink resembled mascara ruined by tears as they were smeared on a page of paper obviously exposed to the elements, but the leather-bound compendium of her innermost memories, and musings showed no sign of imminent destruction. Comfortable with her ability to replay the script on the page, she took a breath and commenced her soft and elaborate ballad to the surrounding darkness. The sound as harmonic as the wind that blew through her hair, as wrenching as the fire that reflected out of her lucid, purple eyes, as mellow and smooth as her skin.
Each note spilled from the recesses of her psyche and splashed over the keys in a flood of emotion and cascaded out over the vanward cliff to the ocean that returned her cries with the crashing of the tide. Almost wanting to say "I'm listening".
"My parents had made it known to all that there would have never been another day when they were filled with more pride than the day they saw that I was born with a certain eye pigmentation indicating that I would be unlike any other infant born at the time. According to our ancient sacred text, known as the Articles of Kurai-Shi, a child born with eyes other than the normal brown, blue, or green are said to have been chosen by our Queen, our Mother, our Goddess—the earth—to be direct emissaries between Her and the mere mortals of the village. The fascination with my eyes was only surpassed by the fact that I was the first female in the vast history of my village to have been born this way, and after much conditioning of the mind, body, spirit, to bring about the hidden potential deep inside my being, I would join the revered elders—mortals, they were—atop the hills overlooking the village. And at times where I felt it was warranted, it would have been in my obligation to aid our Queen in the actions of nature.
As the first princess, it would be my duty to ensure that my people never see drought, famine, or natural destruction and so, with my future set, I embarked on a life of constant meditation and physical discipline. As a part of my daily regimen, I had to learn the words of the Articles because I would become a representation of them, but the farther I delved into them the more questions arose in my infantile mind. I questioned the Articles' explanation of our and our earth's creation. I questioned their explanation of natural phenomena such as the sunrise and sunset. I questioned its decrees as to how the villagers should act because they seemed completely against human nature. The entire text, to me, seemed unfinished. It could not provide the concrete answers for which I sought and when I expressed my feelings to the elders I was fed nothing more than a 'do as it says because it is correct' response. But that was less than satisfactory. I knew that there was more to our earth than the unconsummated explanations of the Articles. Leaving me with more questions than answers I rejected the Articles as a lifestyle directive and to this day, I still have not decided if the moment should be my crown or my cross.
To find that for which I was searching, I stole away to the society far outside the confines of my kingdom. Actually having unlocked my potential I decided it was best to keep that aspect of my life secret as I knew that of which I was capable would not appear normal.
My time in town had not been long before I caught the eye of a kind man named John-Pierre Lenoira. I think I was something he had not seen before, something exotic and to me, he was the same. After daily glances and pleasantries, we ventured into courtship, then marriage. Through our household's library and these new life experiences, I was discovering the world that had been hidden from me by the blinders of my one-track studies as a princess. And as a wife, I happily acquiesced to the life I was presented, as I had no qualms about attempting to abandon my ways of the village of my birth. I wanted to learn all I could about the world. But in the duty of joining him in church every Sunday, it wasn't long after reading the teachings of the Bible that I found that it was the same faulty text as the Articles I challenged not too long ago. Both religions seemed trivial to me after my recent gain of knowledge, but I feigned praise to the word to appease my husband.
During the week while he worked I spent my days reading and learning. It was almost like I was trying to find validation for the events of my life that had previously transpired and moreover, I did. The more I read, the more the thoughts I held that led to my leaving my kingdom were proven true. There were others that searched for and found answers to questions that the Articles and Bible simply could not produce. Then, I came across the ancient teachings of yin and yang and I ruminated over the concept of balance.
I could resonate with the idea that the world is ruled by balance: good and evil, day and night, life and death. I deeply delved into the histories of Asian dynasties as I had found them a very interesting subject. I even fashioned a sword similar to that of the great samurai and familiarized myself with the art of Kinomichi as a way to keep busy while my husband was working. Strange, of all my reading with aversion to religion, I postulated that one could not completely dismiss all text of faith as incorrect information because we are not almighty enough to determine if said facts did not occur, but we are rational enough to decide if we should subscribe to believing such events. It is only my decision as to whether science or religion can produce the answers for which I seek, and in the end, I finally concluded that a balance of both was could be best because humans can only answer so many questions in their lifetime. Science had only proved so much, so far. It could explain my birth and development, but it could not explain my ability to control water from the river. And until we the inquisitorial find the answers to the seemingly most impossible of questions I will accept that some things are simply miracles. Subconsciously, it may be that I don't want to know the answers for the simple reason that one who knows all will have a meaningless life as such is about learning from experiences, taxing experiences as they are at times. Though we have evolved into higher-reasoning animals we are just as fragile as any small creature of the forest, sky, or sea. When we are at our mental and emotional lowest we search for solace in the fact that there may be an intangible force that can exact a sharp change in instances. Whether it truly exists is of no consequence because simple belief is all some need to persevere. It could be seen as cowardice or the courage to go on but it all depends on the person. And these revelations! It was at this exact moment of clarity that I decided to accept that no matter how I feel and what I believe, everyone deserves to believe what they want, but at no point should one use beliefs to tyrannize one to believe as he or she does because he or she is not high enough to judge whether someone else is correct in their thinking. But, oh, this is ingrained in our nature. And how much of the time matters distort from that of whether someone is correct to a blatant declaration of power. Our judgments of each other are no more than displays of our want for that over each other and that makes us no higher than the animals we place below us. What was different for me was that my people placed me over themselves. I could understand as history had shown them that a being like myself was capable of performing the miracles they sought, but, even with the understanding I needed, something still kept me from returning to my throne. I guess it was love. I want to say it was.
These thoughts. I explained them to my husband, and he said his biggest regret was ever letting me read. For if he had not, he would not have heard the blasphemy that spilled from my lips. I believed that simply because he was my husband he would understand and respect my views, but women were nowhere near equal to men and according to my husband, we were married under God and He says I should submit to him. I tried to explain that it was not that I didn't say that his God was wrong because His existence had not been proven or disproved yet. It was that I simply did not believe in Him or any deity for that matter. I barely believed in myself. But I did know that for reasons unknown, miracles do happen. I just could not attribute them to a his higher power until He is absolutely proven to me which may never happen. His rebuttal was that the proof of God is in the growth of the trees, the blowing of wind and the crashing of waves. I said that there are books that more concretely explain the actions of said phenomena. He advised that I pick up no other book, but the Bible again. To that I countered with a question if his book could explain why I could do what no other human could. And then, I showed him what I could do.
He begged me to go; implored me to go, as I was a demon in his eyes. I wanted to at least kiss him goodbye, but he warned me to never step in his direction again. Try as I might, I couldn't escape my past and this was the answer I needed before accepting my throne. But, soon, I found that no longer was there a kingdom to come back to.
After arriving in what I learned was a land called Florida, I thought about the past 26 years and the reasoning behind my ending up in an entirely different country from where I had been born. I have heard it stated that everything happens for reason, but I could not determine a reasonable outcome from the recently transpired events. The more I questioned my purpose, or lack thereof, the more I wondered if my questioning would be my undoing because it wasn't as if I was not born with a purpose. According to the first religion I shunned, I was born to ensure that my people would live content and comfortable lives, but, so far, because of my inquisitive mind, my people died, and the man I loved will probably never be mentally stable after realizing he laid down with he felt was a demon. I verily felt like one.
I cursed myself for constantly wondering and thirsting for answers to the greatest of questions. I cursed myself for daring to separate myself from the townspeople for if I had accepted the word of the Bible, or even the Articles for that matter, as absolute truth I would not presently feel I live a meaningless life because my purpose could not simply be to question. There had to be more, or maybe not. How could I know? And then I hated myself for not being able to come up with the answers I needed. I hated myself for needing the answers. I hated myself for challenging the normal. Most of all, I simply hated myself for simply being myself because my self was so unlike any other self I've met in this world.
Those first nights in Florida were the most difficult of nights to weather. Even though it seemed that joining the herd would be the quick fix, I knew that I would have despised myself even more than that present time if I gave up nearly 15 years of searching for a directive that suited my palate. I would never abandon my beliefs because, for me, doing so would be comparable to suicide. In my eyes, balance will always be almighty ruler of the universe. In my eyes every question has an answer whether or not we know the answer. And I will always believe that there's an exception to every rule we instate. This is the gospel according to Jules Lenoira. And as I learned before, some things happen without concrete explanation and for now, I have to accept that there is an indiscernible reason as to why everything ended up the way it did. There is a chance that may never know it, but that does not mean I cannot spend my life searching my life for it. Maybe I ran from my purpose. Maybe my purpose has not yet made itself apparent. Maybe my purpose is to question unabatedly. Maybe I'll never know what I need to know. But one thing of certainty to me is that my life is relative to this melody I give to the night from this piano. There are times when I could have played a different note or a different bar entirely. The song could have been of different architecture entirely. What could be heard as a sour note may be the imperfections needed to write the perfect composition. But as of now, my song as well as my life, is incomplete and I have my whole life to find the immaculate melody to complete it. And if I never, what I have played so far has been the sweetest song my ears have beheld simply because it is a song solely of my own writing. It is my anthem and it will be my swan song. It is all I know and choose to believe. It is everything I am, everything I was, everything I could have been, and everything I can be. All other accounts are trivial and unrivaled to this song, for it is the only thing in which I need to believe and as long as I alone am the melodist of this rhythm, it is all I'll ever need. I know that time may never hear another aria equaled to mine because this song is unlike any others'. But who knows what may come."
Jules sat serene as she twinkled out the last few notes of her song. "Tonight's a beautiful night, isn't it, Sarah?" she asked softly. She did not bother turning to confirm that it was indeed the assumed that had approached her from the dark forest. She just knew that the onlooking presence was that of her younger sister. Jules closed her book and rose from her seat, clutching her written mind as if it was her life support. She walked over to sit by the humble snapping fire as the piano and its accompanying bench spun away as mist into the night.
"What are you thinking about?" Sarah asked. She decided to join Jules for a sit on the lone log residing in the warmth of the fire's vicinity. There was a childlike innocence apparent in her posture as she waited for an answer, but Jules' concentration was devoted to everything she had recently written. Her eyes traced every line in the cracks of the leather cover like they were pathways on a map.
After a mild lull she finally re-directed her focus to her sister's inquiry. She looked up from the book and responded, "Thinking." It wasn't such a simple answer. "Thinking about how my way of thinking got me here. You know, like, maybe if I didn't think so much back in our village, I'd be happier right now. My purpose may have been simply to serve my village and my thinking led me away from that. If I didn't demand so many answers, maybe..." She paused and tried to hold back her tears. "Maybe our parents would still be alive."
Sarah slid closer to Jules and threw her arm around her in embrace, as a couple tears broke free from Jules' eyes. "Jules, it's alright; the attack wasn't your fault. Nobody could've predicted that the witches were going to attack our village. It's not your fault. And besides, a lot of the villagers escaped. I'm here, I'm okay."
Jules shot up off of the log. "But if I stayed I could have used my abilities to help fight back and save everybody. It was foretold that I, Sarah... I was supposed to protect my village. It was why I was born, but no. It was I who thought that there was something more to life. My foolish vanity told me that I had a worth above my appointed position." She threw her book down and pointed to her eyes. "These aren't tears, Sarah. This is mom and dad's blood. You don't understand that it is my fault that half of our village is dead. I was not there to protect them and I have been trying to trick myself into believing that every day from the time I left the village is justifiable. I have looked back on every day, every moment, every second of my life to find some sliver of reason, some sign from our Queen, freeing me from the weight of their bodies and I cannot find a single one. Everything I've thought and done brings me back to the fact that no one would be dead or in mourning if I had not questioned the Articles. You just don't understand how I wish that I had not been born with these eyes, but I wouldn't even wish this responsibility and remorse on anyone else. The penitence alone is an enduring torment."
"Okay, Jules, I know you're a princess, but that's no excuse to be such a drama queen. And secondly, was it not you who told me that everything happens for a reason whether or not we know said reason? I mean, the realizations you've come to are truly inspiring. Every thought you've told me about is just incredible. You just said that you couldn't find justification for the deaths of our villagers. Well, maybe it's right there." She gestured towards the book lying in the dirt. "I don't feel that the villagers died in vain because what you have learned beyond the teachings of the Articles is unbelievable."
"But I was born to protect the village and I didn't do so. As much as I try to make myself feel like I have a purpose other than my intended, I can't escape the thought I may have abandoned my one and only, which leaves my life meaningless and everything I've learned irrelevant!"
"But how do you know that for sure? You told me that in your search for concrete answers you found that we have to accept that some just don't have any."
"You think there's a chance that I am not limited to our village?"
"Yes. You said it yourself."
"Then, what is my purpose, Sarah?! What is it?!"
Almost as if to answer Jules, a faraway rumble echoed out, but it was sharp, eliminating the chance that it was thunder. Both girls turned their heads up in perplexity only to notice that billows of smoke were puffing up from the faraway coastal town. They ran to the edge of the cliff to gain a better view of the cause of the smoke and found that there was a big ship firing directly at the town down the coast. The sight left both girls distraught. The ship had the distinctive characteristics of pirate ships and from the aerial perspective the girls could see the pirates quickly disembarking. Some armed with a sword and gun and some shooting fire directly from their hands. They set fire to buildings, animals, and even children. Whatever was in their way of pillaging was fair game.
Sarah looked down at Jules' hand as she balled it into a fist, then brought her eyes back up to behold Jules' expression. The scowl on her sister's face was easy to read.
"Sarah. That's them. Those are the witches that destroyed our village, aren't they?"
Sarah managed a whispered confirmation accompanied by a nod. There may have been a slip of a second between her attestation and Jules' reaction. She leaped from the cliff.
"Jules!" Sarah cried.
It was a futile cry. She knew Jules' intentions, anyway. Her only remaining action was to watch her sister plummet to the sea below. The dark and sloshing liquid below looked as if it were all to happy to chauffeur Jules to the afterlife, but, with her arms spread out, she stopped herself from receiving an ill-timed bath. Almost as a taunt, Jules hovered over the water then, like a bullet, she shot along the rocky cliff's coast tearing a misty crest in her wake. Her steps on the ocean's surface were so quick that gravity did not have time to pull her down into the deep blue abyss. Sarah watched Jules' spectacular display of her abilities for a couple of seconds, then sprung up into a sprint with her destination set for that assumed of her sister, but her natural clip could not ever compare to the meters Jules covered in a matter of seconds.
Upon arriving ashore Jules rolled out of her hyper-aquatic flight and landed on one knee. In keeping her pace, she bolted into the air, bringing with her a beautiful oceanic mist that twinkled from the moonlight creating the illusion that she had a cult of stars following. With cat-like precision, she hopped from the beach to the cobbled street as howls of grief poured from the town ahead. Flames lit up the sky and the smell of burning hung in the air, but Jules charged forward. Her handcrafted sandals clicked on the rocky path, her black attire whipped in the wind.
Comparable to her rage, the heat of the flames intensified as Jules neared the town. Each step was one closer to the veritable absolution she craved for so long and there before her eyes would be the rod to receive the tempest that was the culmination of the agony, shame, and all-out ferocity that like a thunderstorm had over time had brewed deep within the borders of this natural disaster. Like a bolt of lightning, she delivered a swift kick to the back of the target on which she had set her sights. The sheer force of her strike gave the intended wings to fly on a disorderly path only to have said flight cut short by the unforgiving force of gravity. Followed by a whip of unveiled blonde hair the witch-pirate re-aligned her self before impact and landed on one hand and knee with a skid. Breathing heavily from having every last breath knocked out of her tiny, but curvy frame, the fair-complexioned woman slowly rose to her feet with the evilest of eyes focused squarely on Jules.
"Captain Jesse, are you alright?" cried her crew of beauties as they ran to her aid.
Jesse raised her hand to silently decree that they cease all actions. She adjusted her bodice and let her arm fall limp to her side as she slowly approached Jules. With a moonstruck smile and a canter bleeding confidence, her high-heeled boots clicked on the cobbled streets of the town square aiding the aging soundtrack of crackling flames. Keeping a small distance between Jules and herself Jesse stopped in her tracks. In a thick French accent she spoke. "You're from that little village, aren't you?" she asked "Their little miracle-making princess with purple eyes? Yes, they said you'd be back to save them. I guess you missed the message, no?"
Jules would not bestow a response upon her ego. She raised her right hand to move a lock of hair from her sight and made visible a bracelet with two black charms around her wrist, glowing. Her stone-cold face put Jesse's smirk into a more serious position as she could not postulate Jules' actions. But for preparation she reached for her sword resting in the holster at to her hip, with her concentration only to be broken upon hearing the familiar sound of a roll of thunder. She looked up and saw that clouds had come in. Jesse blinked when a drop of rain skipped off of her forehead. A flash of lightning ushered in a storm that doused the town and snuffed out the flames.
The burg now blanketed in darkness and softened by a rain that had let up to a drizzle, Jules and Jesse remained in their standoff. Without warning, Jules whisked her palm out and just as quickly, Jesse snapped into the air to avoid the barrage of huge rock-like snakes springing and arcing out of the ground. Jesse's crew stood still in shock as they watched their captain, fearing for her life, fervently hop back and forth. Hacking and slashing at the snakes trying to sink into her their onyx incisors, but after shaking the astonishment of the present sight from their minds they mustered up the courage to jump in and help. With the rock-snakes being kept at bay by her crew, Jesse saw her window of opportunity to eliminate the source.
Clutching her sword, she swung her sight around, searching for Jules, but it was almost as if she had vanished until like an eagle, Jules descended upon Jesse wielding the sword that she fashioned long ago. Jesse raised her wide sword above her head and Jules' sword buried into it with a sharp clink. Raindrops pinged as they bounced off of their metals. They jumped back, regrouped, and charged towards each other. With another sharp clink, they found their swords again deadlocked. Jesse could see the anger lying in Jules' eyes and Jules could see an unapologetic twinkle in Jesse's grays. Her smug demeanor sent Jules' ire to the edge of its plateau and there it would wait for a homicidal push.
"You have no idea how gratifying it will be to see your body festering atop the dirt," Jules seethed as she pushed her sword into Jesse's.
"Oh, I know exactly how it feels. It's just like when I watched those little villagers drop like pathetic flies. There's something about the death that just leaves me... satisfied."
"You sordid whore!" The rushing magma of the Earth's core was no match for the heated blood surging through Jules as she pushed through their standoff. Furiously she slashed her sword, but Jesse managed to avoid every assault. Jules directed her snakes to swarm around Jesse until they bound the body to form a tomb of breathlessness. With embarrassing ease, she broke from the bondage.
The onlooking townspeople shielded their heads as bullets of rock rained down on the battlefield, splashing up puddles. Any buildings untouched by fire would have most certainly seen damage from the flying stones, but Jules cut through all debris that by happenstance found itself in her path. She wanted Jesse's body halved on the cold earth and her blood dripping from the tip of her sword. Jesse wanted the same and she did not care who or what was in her way.
As Jules advanced toward Jesse, her crew of pirates joined in releasing waves of fire to ensure that Jules would come no closer. Jules jumped into the air, swung her sword, heaved a gale of wind to cut through the blaze and landed right in the eye of the storm. She snapped her sight to the left and to the right, then jabbed her sword aft and pierced the stomach of an attacking pirate. Clutching her wound, the pirate fell to her knees, but not before Jules ripped through the neck of another. Some fired every bullet they had and some tried to call out incantations, but Jules' speed was too great. She had transformed herself into a tornado of dismemberment and one after another, the pirates collapsed into their muddy crimson soup. The battle was merely a trifle as the real goal stood before Jules with a better read of her opposition. Both women buried their feet into the slop of the earth and held their swords ready. Jules lowered her sword slightly, but made sure to keep her guard.
"There is no doubt that your blood would be the best rinse to wash away my feelings of fault for the near genocide of my people, but it was my very absence that made me a woman of reason. So, before I raise my blade to you again, tell me... what have you with me?"
Jesse raised her eyebrow in disbelief and scoffed. "Your callowness amuses me. Standing amongst these commoners, you should not have to ask of my causes."
"What do you mean?"
"You naïve little princess," Jesse sneered. "If my being has not already spoke of a legacy, then there is your answer. My coven was forced into seclusion after hundreds of years of ill-speak on our names, for our ways did not follow the same terms as theirs. And despite our peaceful doings within our homes tucked away in the thick of the forests, we were written off as degenerates and devil-worshipers, but there was no greater hatred made than when it was decreed and attempted to eradicate us in a plot to build a class they considered more pure than we.
I made short work of the Lord and Lady of Britain, showed them the truest ability of us Divine Witches. We were blessed with a power that, for too long, had been criminalized. Needless to say, I decided to make true on my birthright, and all they said, and make them sorry they said it. We were the ones with the means of conquest, but it was only I who stood up and said it was time to make this world pay for such insolence. I am Jesse Jànée, Divine Witch, of France, born under the sign of death and disorder. And under my command, my people will finally take the greatness that has been ours all along. You are the one person standing in my way. Ending your life will start our rule."
"I cannot find fault in your holding resentment, but I can promise that your misguided passion will be your downfall. As one, too, with the means of conquest, I shall stand and be the one to stop you."
"I've destroyed village after village in the name of my coven, and in the face of your abilities I can promise that you will not be the one to keep me from my glory. This has been too long a wait, and should it take through the path of Hell to reach Heaven, so be it."
Swords held high, they rushed to each other with the glory of their respective people resting on each of their shoulders. The rapid clinks of their swords echoed throughout the night. They nimbly hopped around to avoid each others attacks. Jules used every element to her advantage. Waves of fire, blades of wind, storms of rocks and torrents of water. Jesse threw shocks of lightning and conjured up temporary doubles of her self. She, then, stuck her sword into the ground and whispered, "Morir animatio".
Ghostly lights circled around the bodies of her fallen pirate crew and they began to rise from the dead, but, with a slash of her sword on fire, Jules made sure they would not rejoin the battle. They found themselves locked back in sword-to-sword combat, clinking back and forth until Jules raised her leg and kicked Jesse in her chest. She slid back and rushed sword-first into Jules. Her sword cut straight through Jules' body before the figure dissipated into the air. Jesse looked on ultimately shocked, as she had just fallen victim to a decoy. Her chest heaved up and down as she tried to catch her breath. Her attention snapped to the first sound that broke the dark silence. She saw nothing. She could not even see the townspeople. The next noise caught her, and then another. The sounds held her attention so much that she did not notice that the mud was creeping up around her boots before hardening into shackle-like diamonds. Jesse looked down at the rocks, then struggled to break free. The mud shot up around her wrists, hardened, and pulled her down to her knees. She strained back and forth, but the shackles tightened around her wrists until her skin broke. Jesse screamed in agony as blood gushed down to coat her palms drained of feeling. Her sword landed with a soft thud below.
Jesse's breaths were growing labored as she tried to call out a spell, but as soon as she opened her mouth, diamond thread shot out of the ground pierced her bottom lip, the top lip, and then looped back around and around until her entire mouth was sewn shut.
Jules stepped out of the shadows, unarmed, and walked over to a sedated Jesse. She stooped down to meet her face to face, but Jesse held her head down in shame and anger. Jules gently put her hand on her chin and tilted her head up to make her look at her in her eyes.
"I hate death. I hate evil and I hate hate," Jules whispered. "But they are as natural as the air we breathe and if there's one thing I've learned in my life it is that we need death to live. We need evil to be good and we need hate to love, but there are some who love to hate. And that is you."
Jules dropped Jesse's chin from her hand. Jesse whimpered as her shackles tightened and wrung out little rivers of tears to roll down her cheeks and meet the pools of rain and blood below her.
"Are those tears of fear or regret?" Jules asked, sneering. "It makes no difference now, does it? I could let you bleed out a slow and painful death or I could end it all with a sharp blow straight through your heart. In whatever way I do it, you can rest assured that I will look you in the eyes until you breathe your final breath and fall to join that which makes you. But that will not be now."
Jesse kept her head bowed to hide how gracious the glimmer of hope was in her eyes. Jules spun her finger around and the thread sealing Jesse's mouth unraveled. Tiny beads of blood oozed out around her mouth as she took in a deep breath.
"You and I are pages of the same book," Jules said. "Our songs are almost of the same melody. We know the same pain and have the same black clouds brewing within. We both know that we are the gods among these mortals. These humans use their ability to judge as their greatest leveler, but unlike us, they're scared to accept the responsibility that comes with their power so they attribute many... too many rights in their lives to a higher power. You and I are not afraid to admit it or accept the responsibility that follows. They don't understand us, so they fear us."
Jesse's eyes began to lower and her skin began to pale.
"I thank you for affirming to me that purpose is not given at birth. It is a choice of the individual, and may change with the phases of the moon, if not sooner. By extension, the meaning of life is actions in existence; decisions and mistakes. And I vowed that my life will be spent protecting every person's right to live as they so desire. Those who seek to steal the rights to and of life will meet an equalizing from me. And I bestow this power in the same manner that humans grant to themselves. If a mere human can judge you and I and decide in fact that we are demons, what is there to stop me from affirming that I am a god? If man can claim sacredness and find solace in a text that man himself wrote what is there to stop me from claiming I, myself, am holy. Nothing. Anyone can make a claim, but the only difference is I have the abilities to back mine. Anyone can ask for a miracle, but I can show you one."
The tempo of Jesse's breath began to slow. Jules snapped her fingers and freed Jesse from her braces. Weakened, she held up on her hands and knees as the stress of near-death left her psyche. She licked away the mess of blood on her lips and spat it into the mud. She snickered over the ache of a still-drained heart straining to beat over the shimmering silver trinket dangling heavy around her neck, carved into a grand key with a pair of long and bony fish-fin-like spines under two sickles bound by a crossed ring. All elaborately carved from that, down a winding jewel-studded strip, to the teeth burned black.
"I know you are not sparing me," Jesse said. "But know that my people walk all corners of this earth. One thousand witches and one little failure of a princess. Si ce n'est pas moi, ils seront."
"You'll have company in the afterlife, then." She snatched the pendant from Jesse's neck. "And I'll let this be the warning of what awaits them." Jules stepped back and formed a tiny flame on her right index and middle fingers. She brought it up to her mouth almost as if she were ready to kiss it. Her expression cold and unapologetic. Her eyes as dark as the night sky watching through stars from above.
"I cannot promise you Heaven, but Hell starts here."
Jules pushed the flame from her fingers with the most gentle whisper of a breathe and right before the townspeople eyes, the center of their square lit up in a blaze of red, white, orange and yellow. The final cry rang out into the blackest reaches of the coastline.
Again, dark and silence. But still, the townspeople did not feel safe enough to leave their guarded areas, but they knew the worst was over as the clouds began to part, revealing the moonlight. Jules whipped her black hair over her shoulder and turned to make her way down the street exiting the town, ready to begin making good on her new vow. The smoky smell of snuffed wood and metal remained like a souvenir to the people as if the broken storefronts and leveled houses were not reminding enough of the night's events. The townspeople started to ease away from their hiding spots to get a better view of the strange being that happened upon them this one night and Jules knew they were watching her, but she could not hold a care. Being a transient savior was more satiating than accepting their gratification.
* * *
As soon as Jules made it back to the beach she heard a familiar voice calling her name.It was Sarah who had just finished running miles to be a firsthand witness to the epic clash she was sure would ensue between Jules and the pirates. Her feet shuffled in the sand as she began to lose steam at the conclusion of her marathon.
"My goodness! Sarah, are you alright? You're sweating so much."
Sarah stood, arched over with her hands on her knees. Her back violently rose up and down as she struggled to fill her chest with clean atmosphere. She raised her finger as a gesture to give her a moment to collect herself, then took in sharp breaths and came out of her hunch with a pained look splashed on her face. Jules stared in bewilderment as Sarah put two fingers to her neck to check her pulse. "I'm o... okay," she wheezed. "It didn't seem so far from on top of the cliff."
Jules motioned with her finger for a stream of water to arise from the ocean, then used her other hand to separate the salt from it and guided the stream over to Sarah who crouched over to take quick gulps from the mid-air fountain. She gasped and wiped her mouth.
"Are you okay, now?" Jules asked.
"Yeah, I'm good. Here's your book."
"Thank you, Sarah." She accepted the delivery and held it at her side as Sarah's eyes lit up with wonder.
"So, did you have those pirates going in circles?"
"There's nothing worth mentioning, Sarah."
"Aw, come on, tell me what happened. I could see the flashing and the clouds and the fire and everything. I know somebody got their ass kicked." She paused and came to a realization. "It was you, wasn't it? You got your ass kicked, didn't you? They're over there resting their feet on the tables at the tavern, aren't they?"
"The pirates are gone, Sarah. Don't worry. Now, come on, we're heading up north." She motioned for Sarah to follow her as she began to walk down the coastline.
"North? For what?"
"There are many injustices and wrongdoings along the way and as I have the ability to correct them, I shall."
"Alright! Road trip! But along the way can you make me some shoes like yours?"
"I may."
"Can you make 'em red with white straps? No, blue. No! Black."
"I shall see what I can do."
"Hey, Jules, can we go to Louisiana?"
"We shall make a stop there."
"Hey, Jules, you know what we should do? We should totally play a game along the way. Like spot the flowers or something."
"No."
"Well, can we get a horse so we don't have to walk so much?"
Jules sighed and drummed up a little chuckle in response to her sister's inquisitions. "Sure, Sarah," she acceded as she threw her arm around the girl's neck. The stroll along the soft sand was a fitting calm with the deaths she handed in the back of her mind. Still, her thoughts rolled and crashed like the waves kicking up a cool breeze aside herself and Sarah. They played over Sarah's ramblings until they shushed her completely.
"I still ask questions. More of myself than the world, now. It seems to be the only thing I have been doing these past few weeks, but I feel these self-inquisitions are imperative to improving one's self, as it is how one can recognize imperfections and search for ways to make them better. This is true for something as grand as a nation, or something as diminutive as a flower. Yes. Though flowers have no voice, they do ask questions. They wonder about their surroundings, understand them, and adapt as an answer if need be. I've tried to let my knowledge of this ease my mind on occasions. That, and what my mother would tell me when I began my learning as a young woman: 'you'll never have to chase a rabbit in a dark forest. Just learn to believe, and you will know all you need to know.'
I loved her, and trusted her. Sarah and my father, too. But they would never sit where I sit, see what I have seen, feel what I am feeling, or do what I can do. And any pain my parents held, they are now parted from, whereas I rest in mine like an acidic bath burning each scar. And these scars have names, but what would come of sitting and counting each one? I know now. I need my past if only to know how much more stronger to be in the future and this is why I do not fear the dark so much. The surprises it hides in its quiet can be quite unnerving but the worst of the world shall triumph if I, as a purveyor of justice, let myself be my first enemy. I know now, I am ready to embark on this journey as my same old eyes have renewed their sight.
And the princess who left her kingdom afraid and unprepared, she will eagerly take on the world. She will chase out the scourge of evil. She will make this world her kingdom.
This princess... this is her song, her story."
Chapter One
The Anarchist
"Tomika!" Reilene cried from the cash register, but the beckoning went fruitless as the girl seemed more enthralled in whatever action the suds of the sink provided as she kept her sight down in the dishes smeared with fresh food stains. Her iPod's earbuds were piping constant crashes of a rock song straight into her head, but they were not the source of her distance from the world. That was of her own design. Sometimes she wondered why she even bothered to listen to her own voice in her head for it was hardly a therapy or a sorting of such. And moreover, circling her feelings only worsened them, swelling them to tight grips and gritted teeth. Therapy was music, but music made her think and thinking made thoughts worse. It was an inevitable cycle, and one she was used to lately. And some days, she could barely stand running over another word rushing out of that intangible void that thoughts sneak up out of. But if she did not listen, who would?
Armed with a fraying brush, and her palms guarded by long yellow rubber gloves, she picked up a dish and commenced to a new furious scrubbing over the grime staining the ceramic. Again, minding the insistent mediation she was all too tired of fording.
"So, here I am. Only a few hours until I reach the Wednesday of my teenage years. I don't know why I'm counting the seconds like there's something to anticipate. Like my bitch half-sister, and her freakishly tall mom really care enough about me to plan a party for my birthday. I don't care. There's nothing 'sweet' about 16, anyway. At least not for me and my broke ass, which is one thing that that little skunk loves to repeat: 'I'm the one with the money and you're not. Remember that. You should be used to being poor, anyway. You know— being from South River and all'. Whatevs. Racist-ass bitch. She's lucky I'm not like most people from South River 'cause I so would have killed her by now. But not her mom. I mean, she does give me a bed and something to eat every now and then. Probably just to feel better about her self, though. She's like Madonna and I'm her little Bahamian adoption without the whole love-me-like-her-own-daughter thing. But at least Auntie Rei cares enough to treat me like human each day. I'd rather be here washing dishes anyway. Anything to get away from that stuck up little anorexic-light-skinned-know-it-all-spit-swapper-slut-bitch..."
"Tomika!" Reilene called again.
Complete with couches, coffee tables, dinette sets, two televisions, lamps and sconces, and other living room décor, the spacious Latino home-themed restaurant had always been the North River's residents' first choice for a good meal or an air-conditioned escape from the breath-taking heat that, for the final couple of weeks of Spring, seemed to ebb and flow over the southeastern region of Michigan. Reilene Cordova, the proprietor, did not care if people came in just to relax because the point of the restaurant was to create an atmosphere comparable to that of your own home, hence its name La Casa. As long as a purchase was made, even one as small as a 25-cent cup of water (no free refills), you were welcome to relax for an hour or two. But lately, Reilene had been tempted to change the rules concerning the duration of the patrons' stay since the release of a comedic commercial, written and shot by her niece, Tomika. The restaurant had been overly abuzz with a bevy of chattering and chomping patrons, all enjoying the food, atmosphere and the star of the commercial as she, by request, recited lines from the now viral advertisement. The popularity also surged from word-of-mouth that the food was actually quite good. It was no secret that Reilene was a natural cook, but her food may have been too good, as she and her minimal staff were having trouble keeping up with the demand of hungry customers looking for heavenly food at low prices.
"Tomika!" Reilene frustratedly bellowed, but she still received no response. She frantically rushed to and fro behind the counter taking orders, handling transactions, and answering phones as, for reasons unknown, much of her staff had called in sick that day. It was not long before she had to help the one cook (her daughter) with preparing the orders, which meant that she would now have to wash her hands in between each task.
Reilene turned around and called out to Tomika again, but it was apparent her message was not being received based on the fact that Tomika continued furiously scrubbing the dishes, eyes focused ahead and teeth clenched. Reilene balled up her towel and threw it at the girl. It was only on the towel's impact and the half-shrouding of her face that she turned around to face her aunt who then quickly motioned for her to come forth from the back of the restaurant. Tomika pulled the rag off of her head and wiped her hands on it as she came to the front and met with her aunt whose tan face was sweaty from the inadvertent calisthenics made only more taxing from the heat of the grills and ovens.
"I'm sorry about that, auntie. I must've zoned out for a second," Tomika said as she pushed up her black, plastic, thick-rimmed glasses.
"Yeah, whatever, coneja. We're shorthanded on one of our biggest dinner rushes ever and I need you to deliver a couple dinners to this address, but I need you to hurry back. I mean, tu necesitas mover muy rapidamente, okay?" While writing down the address, it was apparent that speed was on Reilene's mind as her words ran together to the point of sounding like one complete word, but quickly spoken Spanglish was nothing new to Tomika. After all, she had had three years of living with it to get used to it. Reilene handed the note to Tomika, and after a quick glance a smile blossomed on her face. The address was to a salon she and her mother used to frequent in her old neighborhood in South River. "I kinda figured you might have wanted to take this delivery," Reilene said.
With a quick nod Tomika affirmed that she was capable of performing the job. She snatched her hairnet off of her long, black and bushy hair and shook it out until it out until it returned to its usual state of resting slick just below her shoulders. She pulled her hair back into a billowy ponytail. "Don't worry, Auntie Rei. I got this," she affirmed as she wrapped the hairnet around her ponytail to hold it in place before springing over the counter. Reilene handed two white plastic bags full of Styrofoam containers, individually packaged napkin, knife and fork sets and various sauce packets, and like a bolt of lightning Tomika headed for the door.
"Oye, coneja!" Reilene called out.
Tomika stopped abruptly in her tracks and turned to see her aunt holding the keys to her car. "You planning on hotwiring my car or something?" Reilene asked with a smile. She tossed the keys to Tomika.
"Okay, now, I've got this. I'll be right back."
"Drive carefully." Reilene redirected her focus to the line of patrons waiting to order, all the while keeping one eye on Tomika through the big windows facing the streets of the busy suburban streets as she ran to the parking lot.
Though the sun was well on its way to setting, humidity still hung in the air leaving the city full of a warm and moist invisible thickness. Tomika slid into her aunt's old red Ford Taurus and adjusted the seat forward because her legs were nowhere near as long as the legs on her aunt's five-foot-ten frame. She moved some of her aunt's leftover napkins, bags, and shoes to the backseat and placed the food on the floor of the passenger side of the car. She stuck the now flavorless gum she on which she had been chewing on the lip of the topless quarter-filled cup of coffee sitting in the cup holder which was most likely from the morning earlier and then twisted the key in the ignition. Before she knew it, she was out of the parking lot and at the first red light on her way back to her hometown of South River, Michigan. Waiting at what seemed like the longest red light in the city, Tomika scanned through the radio presets, searching for a song with which she could dance along, but it did not take long as Tomika was not choosy when it came to music. Upon finding a driving alternative-rock song, she turned up the volume and tapped along, mouthing the lyrics, but her enjoyment was cut short when a white Mercedes-Benz full of blonde sirens pulled up alongside her with spite ready and waiting in their demeanor. Tomika rolled her eyes and huffed a long sigh when she noticed the foursome.
"Well, if it isn't the little purple-eyed river girl. Off to make a little change at the strip club? Or the circus?"
"Screw you, Brandi," Tomika retorted with a gut full of indignation towards the first person in history who besmirched the English language by inventing the demeaning appellation "river girl".
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