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“We need to talk.”
Scylla glanced up from her coffee cup. The hustle and bustle of the local coffee shop buzzed around her. People shuffled to and fro, ordering their drinks, dumping ungodly amounts of cream and sugar into already sweetened concoctions, nibbling on pastries, reading books, and chatting with friends. Most were civilians. All lost in their own little worlds, headless of the tragedies surrounding them. Of the pain. The confusion. The loss. Uncaring about...everything.
Wordlessly, Anacostia dropped into the seat across from her, “Scylla.”
The blue eyed girl ignored her, running the top of her finger around the edge of the half filled mug. She gazed out the window into the brilliant midday sun. It was warm outside. A beautiful day. The type of day people would love to be out and about in.
Raelle would love a day like this. Raelle...whose mom was the leader of the Spree.
The woman who secretly sent her to bring her daughter away from the Army and into the fold.
The woman whose only child she fell in love with.
“Scylla.”
“Do you know that mushrooms grow towards the light? They follow the sun, like most plants.” she hummed, eyes tracking a cute couple as they traipsed across the street, unaware of anything but each other. Their arms were linked, footsteps in sync, faces full of laughter and love.
Raelle’s mom wanted her daughter, and how could Scylla explain who Raelle was? That this gorgeous brash powerful girl was too loyal...too headstrong in her morals in her...everything, to join. That Scylla missed her and loved her and failed in her mission because she only wanted Raelle safe. Wanted one more dance with her. One more moment to feel her, hold her, be with her.
Goddess, if Raelle knew what was happening, who her mother was.
“Raelle is dead.”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
The world stopped turning.
The universe stood still.
Scylla’s hand began to shake against the cup as her throat constricted painfully. Her lips pursed, eyes stinging. She refused to look away from the couple. They were on the other side of the street, now. They were hugging. Kissing. Holding each other close.
“Scylla.”
“No.” her jaw clenched so tightly her teeth ached. “It’s not true.”
A weighted sigh, “Bellweather Unit did not advance to War College.”
“No.” Scylla interrupted the officer abruptly. She shook her head. Wet eyes blinked fiercely, “Stop lying. I don’t know why you’re doing this, but stop. She made it to War College. She...she’s good. Powerful. And Bellweather…”
“They were deployed on graduation day.”
“No!” the slam of her palm against the wood of the table reverberated across the room. Her head whipped around, glistening blue orbs pining Anacostia in place, “No.” She gulped, mouth trembling, “Raelle is at War College. She...she’s there, and safe, and we are going to get her.”
Anacostia looked tired. Her normally perfect posture was gone, replaced by an exhausted slouch. She couldn’t hide the agony in the corner of her gaze. Couldn’t defend the wrinkles in her clothing or the dip of her chin. “She was brave.” A small sad smile, “Like we all knew she was. So god damn brave.”
Scylla didn’t know when her entire body started shaking.
“There was a fight. The Camarilla. They...it was a rescue mission. A boy...was scared. She saved him. Protected him.” Anacostia blinked back the tears, “She saved him.”
“No.” Scylla shook her head. “No. No. No.”
“Scyl,”
“NO!” her shout cut off whatever Anacostia was going to say. She gripped the sides of the table, not caring that other people were starting to look at her, “Raelle is fine. She’s fine. She is alive and at War College and,” she tasted salt on the tip of her tongue and her voice broke, “and I’m going to see her again.” Her voice cracked, “I’m going to see her.”
Anacostia watched her. With gentleness she reserved only for those she cared about most, she reached into her pocket. Slowly, she drew out the combat charm that Scylla remembered. The charm Raelle had shown her one night, told her about. Said it was her mom’s and was now hers. Was one of the last things she had left of the woman she admired and grieved.Was meant to protect her in battle.
The older woman softly placed it in front of the young witch.
Scylla couldn’t stop staring at it. How could something so beautiful be so ugly? Fill her with so much love and hate?
“She would want you to have it.”
“No. No, no, no, nooooooo” as the words left her, Scylla crumpled, body unable and unwilling to withstand the pain filling her heart and soul. She didn’t even know she was screaming until Anacostia scooped her up into her arms and gently rocked her back and forth.
“No.” Scylla repeated over and over, mind gone, lost in the sea of despair consuming her entire being.
Anacostia held her close, silently urging her to let it all out.
I loved you.
I love you.
Actually, can we dance for a minute?
She goes where I go; Scylla’s my girlfriend.
You are so beautiful.
Every single moment they spent together. Every single word spoken. Every kiss shared. Every touch. Every thought. Every feeling. They taunted Scylla. Played across her mind like a movie on repeat. Over and over.
I love you.
I love you.
I believe you.
I love you.
Only after she’d cried herself into exhaustion in Anacostia’s arms. Only after she’d returned to the house, the sergeant snuck away back to Fort Salem. Only after she’d seen the fire burn hotter than the depths of hades in Willa Collar’s eyes. Only then, did she hear the name again.
Hear the name of who killed Raelle.
The Camarilla.
Witch Hunters.
Civilians.