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Scylla hovered near the tree, that damn tree she could never seem to get away from. Her body unconsciously drifted to it, seeking it’s comfort, it’s familiarity, it’s memories and knowing embrace. If she put a hand against the bark and closed her eyes, she could almost pretend it was a different time, a different moment. She could feel a warm inviting body pressed against her own. Hear a warm chuckle in her ear as she pushed the other woman back against the trunk. Taste hints of mint, apples, and love as she kissed soft lips and let herself be drawn in to an emotion she never allowed herself to feel before. Let herself forget who she was and why she was there. Let herself float away like a first year cadet on salva, uncontrolled and at the whim of another. Phantom arms cradled her close, fingers curling around her hips. Under the cover of branches and springtime, hips slotted together and a buzz of need and desire rippled through her.
A wave of love, unmuted and undeniable, crashed through her and never stopped. Unrelenting. Controlled by unseen forces far more powerful and knowing than she could ever be.
Hearing a crack of thunder and the rumble of boots marching in unison, Scylla blinked open her eyes.
She was alone.
There was no witch nestled in her arms.
No blonde haired woman staring at her like she was the best thing in the world. The only thing in the world. Something to be cherished. To be wanted.
Raelle wasn’t there.
She was gone.
Left alone in the desert to die because Alder and her sycophant army of brainwashed soldiers didn’t give enough of a damn to stay and fight for her, protect her, save her.
No one except a Bellweather, and wasn’t that something.
The same way the Army didn’t care about the civilian driving back to an empty home. A man who had to deal with the fact that the military, as far as he knew, took both his wife and daughter, and all he had left in return were two folded flags.
A civilian who actually cared about witches being conscripted, and he was forced to live with the pain and loss only a few truly understood.
That she understood.
From when she was younger and the Army took her parents. Murdered peaceful kind loving people whose only sin in life was not wanting to die without a reason. Not wanting their daughter to die.
From not knowing the one person she finally let in, finally let herself care about, was being sent to her death, until it was too late.
“Raelle is dead.”
Now, with the echoes of the funeral still lilting in the wind, the image of the empty casket was forever burned into Scylla’s brain.
A teenager so full of life and fire and fury, snuffed out like it was nothing. Like she meant nothing.
Scylla smacked her palm against the bark, not wincing as the rough wood bit into her flesh.
Her chin quivered as tears once again returned to her eyes.
She needed to leave. Run away and never look back. Leave this hellhole of a place and forget she was ever there.
Forget she fell in love there.
Forget about the kisses shared under this oak tree.
About the walks along the well manicured grounds, hands linked and smiles shared.
About the late nights curled into strong arms, breathless as reverent hands trailed down her belly and supplicant lips marked every inch of her body.
About the way her heart skipped when she saw blue eyes glance at her across the lawn, the cadet weaving away from her friends to greet her with a roguish grin and gentle embrace.
Forget the moment she was held with such love as Raelle told her she was in this with her, cared about her, was hers , and Scylla knew she could never let this girl go.
No, she couldn't. She couldn’t forget. Would never forget.
How could she?
Those moments, those memories, were all she had left.
Taking a shuddering breath, Scylla clenched her jaw. She steeled herself and peered around. The path to the bus stop had been filled with guests coming and going, making it difficult for her to make a clean exit. After leaving Mr. Collar, she’d slipped away to wait until the crowd dispersed and she could sneak off.
The crowds had dwindled.
Now would be her chance.
Without even thinking, she plucked the combat charm from her pocket. Her fingers and thumb ran over the old bird’s foot. A sense of peace, of courage, filled her. Something so small, so inconsequential, something that didn’t even protect when it was supposed to, still held such strength. Scylla swallowed thickly. She wanted to throw the charm. Launch it as far away as possible. It failed. It hadn’t protected her lover.
It didn’t bring Raelle home.
Yet, there it was, in her hand. The last physical link she had to her girlfriend.
She sniffed.
It was stupid, but it felt like Raelle was with her in that moment. Showing her the old charm and telling her about what it meant. How it was passed down from Collar to Collar. How her dad gave it to her before she left.
Scylla leaned into Raelle, hand trickling down to the one holding the charm. She traced the outline of the blonde’s palm and rested her chin on the other girl’s shoulder, “Guess you better wear it, then.”
Raelle scoffed, “Didn’t do much good for my momma.”
Scylla felt the weight of the sorrow buried inside her and kissed her cheek.
Shifting slightly, Raelle flipped her hand, both holding Scylla’s and lightly pressing the charm into her grasp, “What about you? Do you have a charm?”
Scylla’s mind flashed back to long car rides and worried faces, moving from place to place, safehouse to safehouse, “No. My family didn’t do that.”
Raelle nodded, worrying her bottom lip before bringing Scylla’s hand up to her mouth and brushing a kiss to the back of her knuckles.
The crunch of a boot on a stick ripped her from the memory, and Scylla’s head whipped up from where she had been studying the blue gem in the bird’s hold.
A little boy, no older than eight, ambled over to her. His eyes were bright and a knit cap covered his dark hair. He was dressed warmly, wrapped in a comfy sweater with a tiny scarf looped around his neck. Big brown eyes, the color of sand after the tide rolled in, shined up at her.
For some reason, she found herself disarmed by his pleasant grin and childish aura.
Where normally she would be nervous at being spotted, wary of a kid walking towards her, she found herself watching him silently, unafraid.
The boy puttered up to her. His little hand raised, finger pointed at the charm, “Raelle.”
Scylla almost dropped to her knees.
What had he said?
The boy ambled up, eyes on the charm. He reached out and poked at the edge of the foot. His eyes drifted up to Scylla’s.
She couldn’t hold in the gasp, “W-What did you say?”
“Raelle.” he repeated.
Her mouth worked to hold back the flood of emotions hearing that name sent slamming through her, “You know Raelle?”
Just saying her name out loud sent a streak of pain through her heart.
He nodded.
How did this little boy know Raelle?
Her mind raced. Was he at the funeral? Was he from the Cession? Some distant relative or neighbor? Had he grown up with Raelle? Knew her when she was younger? Did she help care for him?
He poked at the charm, again, and looked at her with expectant eyes.
Hesitantly, she unfurled her fist, presenting the charm to him.
He happily took it, immediately fiddling with it. His fingers were curious yet gentle. He studied it, flipping it around before picking at the clip.
The thought struck Scylla.
He wanted to wear it.
Hands shaking, she covered his hands with her own. With a friendly smile, she unhooked the clip and carefully pinned it to his sweater.
The realization hit her like a freight train.
“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.”
Raelle had died protecting a little boy.
She didn’t know how she knew for certain, but she did.
She’d given this boy her charm.
She died for this boy.
She stumbled back a step, the world tilting and spinning around her like a wild roller coaster. Like a hurricane.
Raelle thought this boy’s life was worth her own.
Oh goddess.
She couldn’t breathe.
The boy looked at her, a worried crease marking his small face.
Scylla tried not to show her pain. Her agony.
Her face flickered as she fought to regain control.
She was looking at the last person who was with Raelle when she was alive.
He was so young.
Her mind threatened to flash back to a dark garage, a dingy room full of shadows and heartbreak.
He saw Raelle die.
For him.
A tiny hand touched her’s.
Scylla peered down.
He wrapped his hand around her fingers, offering her a sense of comfort in the sea of chaos.
Just like Raelle used to.
She choked on a sob, gulping down tears.
“Scylla Ramshorn.”
Scylla flinched as an unseen voice called out her name. Acting on an instinct she never had before, she pivoted to shield the boy from whoever was there.
A young girl, barely older than the boy, quietly appeared to the side of her. She looked serene, feet gliding across the grass like a boat across water.
Scylla couldn’t speak, too caught up in suppressing the sadness fighting to overpower her to snark back about how this girl knew her name.
The girl eyed her, head slightly tilted in thought.
A sense of dread tickled the edges of her mind, and Scylla took a half step away, instincts kicking in, “Who are you? How do you know my name?”
The girl didn’t react to the spooked witch’s ire, “You have no need to fear us.”
Scylla nearly laughed. Was she going crazy? Had she finally lost her mind?
What was happening?
The girl continued, “My name is Khalida. My people are peaceful. We mean you no harm.”
Her people? She peeked at the little boy before settling her attention on Khalida, “Raelle was sent for you.”
“My people were in danger. I asked for your Raelle to accompany the United States Army. My people are not warriors. We do not seek conflict, unlike your military.” Her head bowed slightly, “Raelle Collar is a healer. She would help my people.”
“You sent her?”
“I trusted her.”
Scylla tried to process this, her mind whirling.
“War is coming. Innocent people will be caught in it.” Kahlida warned.
“War is already here.” Scylla snapped back.
Khalida silently acquiesced to her statement. “You are powerful, Scylla. More powerful than you know.”
The words struck her.
You have no idea how powerful you are.
“Your Raelle is powerful, too. Different. Equal. Balanced.” Khailda seemed pleased with this. Then, her mouth twisted into a frown, “Sides will be chosen.”
A thought struck Scylla, “Why...why are you talking like Raelle is alive?”
Khalida stared at her.
“The caskets are empty.” Anacostia spoke up.
“What?”
“The caskets. Are empty.”
Scylla finally peeked over at her.
Anacostia had her hands clasped behind her back, “They never found the bodies. There was an explosion, it’s likely the bodies were incinerated. But, they never found the bodies or,” she took a breath, “or any remains linked to Collar or Bellweather.”
Scylla’s breath caught in the back of her throat, “What are you saying?”
Anacostia tilted her head, eyes coolly looking down on her, “There were bodies of the Camarilla and the soldiers they killed. Except for Bellweather and Collar. No bodies. No remnants. Not even their medals.”
Scylla inhaled deeply, “You believe she’s alive.”
“You don’t?”
“Why should I believe you?”
A hint of a smirk, “The world requires balance. Light and dark. Life and death. Your army has forgotten this. Ignored it. Is too arrogant to see the destruction they have caused.” Her dark eyes peered deeply into Scylla, “Do you feel an imbalance?”
Scylla frowned.
Khalida nodded at her hand, “Did you feel the link break?”
Scylla stiffened.
The link.
Her palm.
“Now, what are you going to do?” Khalida asked.
The little boy tugged at Scylla’s fingers, an expectant look on his face as the gem cradled in the browerbird’s claw reflected the meager sunlight drifting in through the clouds.
She goes where I go.
Uncertainty and confusion washed away, leaving startling clear blue eyes.
Whoever you are, whoever you were, no matter what happens, no matter what anybody else thinks, I'm with you.
She had to go. Now.
"What do you know?"