Year: 1928
Heaviness. It always came back to dark, cold heaviness like a blanket of snow. Ana opened her eyes, adjusting to the candlelight in the dark room. The whole room was made of stone, and had a dungeon sort of feeling to it. Looking around, seeing the shackles on the walls, only set the tone more for a medieval torture chamber. She tried to sit up, but her arms were held down by something. What was that? Looking over, she saw her hands held down by thick leather straps coming out of a silver table.
No.
Immediately she flew into panic. What was this? Had they found her? But ‘he’ told her they’d killed them all!! She jerked and pulled at the straps, expecting them to break with ease--but instead she was met with a terrible burning sensation down the whole back of her body. She cried out in pain, struggling more, but it only seemed to make it burn worse. What the hell was this?
“Damn, you’re awake.” A familiar voice came from somewhere behind her. She tried to look up, but her head couldn’t move far--there was a strap around her neck too. The footsteps came closer.
“I was hoping to do this while you were out. Guess I didn’t use enough. Then again, demons do take a higher dose. I should have taken that into account ... no matter.”
Father Brennan walked up beside her, a cold look in his eyes. “The silver and holy relics will make sure you don’t try anything. Demons like you have no power on hallowed ground.”
Silver? Holy relics? Was this bastard serious? She wanted to crush him, but the angrier she got, the more she fought, the more intensely the table burned her skin. Why? Why was he doing this? She just wanted to be left alone!
“You’re only causing yourself more pain, heathen. Believe it or not, I wanted to inflict the least amount of pain on you.”
"Merge sã te, biblia palpita nenorocit!"
“Cursing me will do no good, she-devil.” He turned on his heel and walked out of her view again. “And cursing the bible will only add to your punishment in hell.”
There was light clanging followed by a dripping sound from behind her. She could smell it--holy water. Ana fought more, but the burning was awful. It hurt. It hurt so much. Tears stung in her eyes as her skin burned like fire. She wanted to leave. She wanted out. God, someone help her get out! Where was ‘he’? Why wasn’t ‘he’ answering her? The one time she actually needed ‘him’, he’s nowhere in her head to be found!
“Ma...Ma-!...Matthi--…Matthia-!!”
Brennan’s footsteps came up to her left again, and with tears streaming down her face, Ana turned to face him. He held a large blade of pure silver, with strange markings on the blade. She could tell it was made to resemble the cross Jesus was crucified on. Was he going to kill her? Torture her? Cut her open?
"Vă rugăm...vă rugăm nu..." She pleaded as more tears ran down her face. "P-Please let me go...I-I am sorry! I n-never wanted this...I-I never wanted, to hurt anyone…!”
It was so quick that Ana felt she imagined it, but for just a fraction of a second, the priest seemed to hesitate. But it was gone so fast it seemed to never be there at all. His free hand came to rest on the side of her face, and his thumb smeared something wet across her forehead.
“You will not trick me, temptress, for I know what you really are. But I will pray for your soul. May the Lord take pity on you ...”
He began to chant a prayer in Latin, and Ana knew--This was it. This is where she was going to die. Roughly 18 years old, her whole life ahead of her …
But in the end, she deserved this, didn’t she? All those people she had hurt, all the lives she ruined. She was a monster--a threat to everything and everyone around her. What sort of life could she have, being this way? Who could ever love something like her? There was no way she could raise a family. There was no future for her either way. This was the only end she had earned. The only fate she deserved. To die alone, tied down, no one coming to save her.
Father Brennan raised the blade, still reciting prayer and ready to end it. Why struggle anymore? Why make her final moments agonizing, crying to a higher power that had turned their back on her? Ana relaxed, closing her eyes, welcoming the end ...
"̨͟N̴͢o͏̛t̷͡͠ ̡to̕d҉̀ay,̷̵ A͏͢na͘ş̷́ţ̀asi̴a͢͜."̡͞
Her eyes shot open, her right hand tore from the restraint and grabbed the wrist of the man hailing her demise. He stared in horror as her eyes went black like he had seen them do once before, but this time--it was different. That gaze didn’t belong to her. He couldn't explain it--It made the blood in his veins go icy cold, and he was paralyzed. Before he knew what was happening, Brennan felt a crushing force around his throat, and his face was mere inches from hers. When had she sat up? When had her other hand broken free…?
That’s when he saw it. A terrible, horned beast standing behind her--towering over them, the same skin pattern as the form the girl had taken on just days ago. Its eyes looked exactly like the ones that glared into his own through the girl--merciless, malicious, blood thirsty. As its lips moved, so did Ana’s--but her voice was nowhere to be heard. There was a new voice now, speaking through her, and it echoed with pure loathing.
"Y̷̧͟o̶͜u̷͜҉ ̸̀hav̸̧̕e̴̢ ̵̕l̛ai̛d ̢̀͡y̡o͢u̡r̴̴͘ ̶̛hą̡nḑs̀ oǹ͝ h̵̀e̴r ͝f͠͡o̶̷͝r̸̀ ͘ţh̡e͏ ̶̧̧lą̀s͟t̷ ͟͢t͟i͘mȩ͘,̶͘ ̡J͞o̵̡͠s̢͡eph̛́͏ ̴҉B̵r҉̛͞en͟n̢àn̴.͜ ́͝ Ąnd́́ ̀̕̕i̴t̶̀ ͏is̕ t͡h̸͡ȩ ̕͘͢ĺ͘͜a͝st̴͝ ́ţ̛h̶i̕ng̀͜͠ ҉͘ý̧o͢͏ų̸͢ ҉̧ẃ͝͏i̢l͘l͟͞ e̵͜͡v̛͞ér͘͟͝ ̢do.̸͘"҉
Brennan could only watch, wide eyed and paralyzed with pure horror, as his world was ripped from him in a flash of fangs and crimson.
̸͡͡"̸̢͢Ţ̡h̷̢͟é̵̴r̴̶̡̀̕e̸̶̛̛͠ ̧͠ i̸͞͝s̴͠͠ ̸̛̛̀́ǹ̨͘͝͝ǫ̴̀ ́͠G̢̀͘͜͜o̕͢d҉́ ̨͜t͟o̵̡͠ ͜҉̨s̵a̡̡͟͜v̸̨͢ȩ̸̡͟͠ ́ỳ̸o͟͜u̶̕͢ ̴̕ń̴͏o̵̶̸͞w̶̛͏.͘҉̵͜͠"̴̧
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“Alistair?”
At the sound of his name he looked up from his studies, to see the nurse from the children’s room.
“Ah, Elizabeth! Come in. How’s Anastasia doing?”
“Well, that’s what I came to ask you.”
“Me?”
“Well, she didn’t show up today. I thought she might have fallen under the weather, what with that bug going around.”
“She didn’t show? That's strange. Jody said he saw her in her room this morning.”
“Do you think she wandered off again?”
“No...I've got a bad feeling about this one.”
“A bad feeling? You don't think--”
“Alistair!”
Suddenly Mary came running in, looking rather frazzled.
“Mary? What is it?” Beth was the first to speak.
“Nicholas saw Father Brennan on the property! He says he saw someone looking like Anastasia with him--”
Alistair was up and next to them in the blink of an eye. It always threw them off when he moved that fast.
“Where was he going? What the hell is he doing with Anastasia?”
“I-I don't know, Nicholas just said he saw Father Brennan carrying someone who looked like her. Alistair, you don’t think--”
“I’m not risking it.” He was already grabbing his coat and rushing past them.
“Alistair wait, I'm--”
“Absolutely not. Stay here in case either of them show up. I’m going to the church.”
“Fine…”
He was beside his car in an instant, throwing the door open and jumping inside. Screw the cold, screw exposure, screw traffic laws and speed limits. He started the car and floored it, flying backwards out of the lot, and onto the street. These tires were not gonna be happy with him afterward. He’d deal with that and the chief of police after Anastasia was safe--thankfully he was in on their “operations.” He just prayed to God he wasn’t too late.
Through many icy streets and past angry pedestrians, Alistair finally arrived at the church with the screech of tires sliding across a sheet of ice. Burning rubber cut through the sharp winter air, as he abandoned his car with the engine running and bolted inside.
“Anastasia!”
His voice echoed through the cathedral, but no response came. He charged down the aisle to the altar, and back behind the chancel to the secret room Brennan had hidden behind red curtain. But when he drew the fabric back, he was affronted by the smell of metal and bile. The door was torn off its hinges, broken and splintered on the spiral steps. Blood. There was blood, and a lot of it. It wafted from the room down below, so strong that Alistair nearly choked on it. No...No, it couldn't be her. Brennan took the least gruesome route that he could when he exercised demons and creatures of the like--hardly any blood was spilt at all. But this...the smell alone suggested a whole person was smeared on those walls. But was she, still down there…?
"S̴o͢ yòu'̨v̴è ͘final͡ly a͏r̀r͜i͟v̡e̸d.͞"
The sound was right in his ear, and Alistair whipped around to fight...but there was no one there.
"͘U̡p̶ ͏he͘re͢. In ̸the bell tower͏. Ỳo͘u̴ ̛a̧n͝d ̵i ha̢v͝e ͝m͟u͜c͜h͢ t̨ó ̨dis͘c̨ús͡s."̷
“Who are you? Where’s Anastasia? What have you done with her?”
"T͏h̡é ̧faste̵r̢ ̀y̵ou ͢m̡ee͏t me̡,҉ ̧th̕e҉ s̶oo͡ner͠ a̵l͟l͟ will͘ ͡b́e͠ ͘èx͜p͏l͟ai͜ned. Ti̸m̶e ̕i͡s o͝f̨ th̨e͟ ęs̕se̵ņc̶e̸, ̛Alista͜i͞r.̷ ̕I̸'d su̡gg̸est̴ yo͞u͟ g͡et͟ mo̕vi͟ng.̀"̸
Alistair had no idea who this was, or what it wanted, but he wasn’t just going to leave Ana alone. He had to get her back. He had to keep her safe. Wasting no more time, he climbed up the steps, two stories above the ground to the bell tower. The tower itself was just big enough for the large bell, and a person or two to operate it. Up the stairs he climbed, until he was once again met with chilling winter air. He looked around, but saw no one. But the presence he felt...it was intense. Unlike any energy he’d encountered. This, whatever it was, was old--and powerful.
“Anastasia?”
"Not,҉ exa͡ct̴l͝y.́"
That’s when he saw her. Anastasia, covered in blood, staring out into the cloudy night sky. She looked like she had bathed in it, with crimson smeared across her face, up and down her arms and legs, soaking her nightgown. And her hair had suddenly grown out, down past her hips and obscuring her eyes. Something didn’t feel right.
“Anastasia? Where is he? The man who spoke to me?”
Her head moved to look at him, but she wasn’t there. The whites of her eyes were now pitch black, her fuchsia irises narrowed at him. Alistair could feel it, stronger now--that powerful presence. It was coming from her. Someone else was with her.
"̴Toơk̴ yoư ̛l͞ong͟ ̢enou̴gh ̵t̡ǫ cat̨ch҉ on̴. ͜A͘lth̀ouǵh͘, i ̴ḑo k̀n͞ow̶ ̸h̸o͘w ̡to̴ ͏c͟o̢n͟ce͘a͞l my͘śelf very w̸e͢ll҉,͏ şo ͝i ҉c͢ann̡ot fąu̢lt ͜yo̷u ҉f̴o̡r tha͟t̕."
“...Who are you? What have you done to her?”
"T̕h̷is wa͟s ̢do͝ne͠ ͟lon̛g̛ ̸b̨efore̵ ͢you͝ ́fo͏un̸d͢ h̨e͝r̕,͡ A͢l͘ista̧i̛r. ̨W̧e h̛av͟e be͢e̴n̕ t̨h̸i͜s̵ ̢w̴ay ͠for ͟almost ͟sįx́ ̢ýe̡ars.͞"̛
Long term possession? No wonder she was--
"Clos͞e, ͏bu͘t̴ ̨ńo̢ţ ͜quite̡.͢"̛
“...You can hear my thoughts?”
"̷I̛ ̢c͢an ̢'h̸e̕ar' ̡m̨an͢y͠ thi̴ngs͡, ̡A̡lís̸t͘aiŕ.͜ ̵B͘u̡t ͢t̴h̷i̢ś ̶is̴ ͏n̶o͢t ̵mer̕e͡ p̛o͡s̷s͠ȩssi͜on.҉ What͟ Ana a͢ǹd ͡i ̵ha̡v͏e, ̛is ͟stro̷nger ͢t̸h͢an̨ ͡that.̴"͠
“A contract?”
"͢Y͡ou͟ coul͝d͠ ̧s̶ay̡ ̵t͠h͏a͏t. O͠ur̷ s̀ouĺs͜ are͠ ͝bou͟n̨d͘ ̢t͝og̷ethe̵r ̶t͜h̛ro͝u̴g̡h ̀a v͏ow҉. We ͟c̸ąnn̢ot ̀be ̀s̡e͟paŗat͘ed, l̵e̛st i͝t k͠ill̛ ͜us both͠.̕"̢
Alistair was in shock. He had only heard of bonds like this, never seen one in person. Such a pact, was unbreakable. The participants weren’t just held by a deal or compromise like most contracts--they were held by their very souls. One could think of it like conjoined twins; the two work together to survive in harmony, but if pulled apart by force, both will perish.
“....How did this happen? Did her father--”
"Th̵i͏s was ̨he͜r ͠c̴hoi̸ce̷.̢ I͝ ơf̢f́er͢e͜d to͘ sa̵v̡e her ͜fr҉om w͏h҉at that̀ ̧pa͡ţh̢eti͏c ̵excus͢e of͝ a fa͞th͞er̨ ͏ẁa͏s͠ ͝do͡ing͠ t͞ơ h̛e̷r.͜ She̶ had҉ ͡the̷ ch̡oic͢ȩ t̡o r̸efu̢se ̀me."͠
“Live with a demon for the rest of her life, or be tortured by her father? That's not much of a choice.”
“͘Y̶o̴u ̶w̢i̛l͏l ҉soon come t͘o͝ un͟de̸rsta͡nḑ tha͢t ̨ev҉en dea̕th̛ ͝w͟as ̨a b͢ette̶r͏ o͘pt̶i͢o̢ń than͢ ͏r͞e̕m̸a̷in̸in̨g in҉ hi̴s͜ ̢ca͢r̵ę.̡”
“Oh? Enlighten me then.”
The demon didn't answer right away. It turned around, looking out into the night again.
“͟..͝.̨she does ͡n̶ot͜ lik̕e ̸tó rem͜em̶be̛r it͠.̧”͏
“I understand...but I have to know. I can't help her if I don't know.”
“Aņd͟ ̴wh̀at ̷do y̴ou͢ ̨h͘o͢p̧e ̡t̷o͜ ̢do? Cu͟r̛e͘ h̡er̨?͞ ͜Th̶i̧s͢ is far͢ ͞b͟i͏g͞g̢er͠ ̡tḩan͝ ̛you̴ ͜c͠ould҉ e̛ver͘ ҉imag͜i͘n̶e.̛”
“I don't seek to cure her!” Alistair was firm, and passionate. God damn he cared about this little girl, as if she were his own flesh and blood. It was amazing to him how quickly he’d grown so attached to her. Even the others had noticed that he had a particular fondness for her. Perhaps it was a paternal need to care for her in place of the man whom he could only assume failed to be there for her. Perhaps he saw a bit of himself, or Catherine, in her. Either way, he just couldn't turn away from her.
“I just don't want her to suffer alone. I need her to know, that there are good people mixed in with the bad. I want to show her that there are people she can trust, people who know what she’s going through, people who want to help. So please...help me understand. Help me to help her--To help the both of you.”
“̷...Y͞ou͟ ͡a̸r̨e ̷a v͢ery imp͘ress̴i̵v͠e ͡c͠rea̷tur̛è. Į h̷àv͘e only̨ m͞et̴ ͘on͡e o͠ther l̸ík̀e͞ ͝yo͏u͜ ̧iǹ the̢ ͘m͘o̷r̵e ͠tha͞n ́t͜wo͘ ͜tho͢usa͝nd͟s ̵ye̸arś i̵'ve͟ ̴b͘e̴en ̕o̡n t̸h̀i̕s ͘Eaŗth̡.͡”̕
It turned back around, Ana’s face once again looking up at him.
