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***
Nicte flicked her lighter open, closed, open, closed. Sat by the front steps of Fort Salem, her mind was entirely elsewhere; definitely not on the peculiar sight of army and Spree scattered throughout the grounds before her. The two unlikely allies worked in tandem to formulate the leading defences for witchkind’s last stand as dusk settled in.
No, Nicte Batan’s focus was not on the end of the Spree rebellion; her life’s work. Instead, it was fixated on two, seemingly unrelated, things:
- Sarah Alder was alive, and here at Fort Salam;
- Tally Craven could die tonight.
The first was news to Nicte as of five minutes ago; the only reason it fleetingly made the top spot of her thought list. Having spent months on the run with Tally, she had become Nicte's priority, her purpose, even. She couldn’t remember being this endeared by another human since, well, Sarah. And so the two thoughts swirled in her mind and clouded her senses.
“Nicte?” Scylla called gently, giving fair warning of her approach.
Smiling genuinely at Scylla, Nicte patted the ledge next to her, which Scylla eagerly accepted. Their legs swung in silence for a time, Scylla undoubtedly processing her own battle-related priorities.
“Do you think we stand a chance?” Scylla asked quietly.
From the corner of her eye, Nicte could see Scylla scrutinising her expressions for any tell that would contradict her upcoming words. Nicte smirked, glancing sideways at her with soft eyes. She extended an arm and Scylla moved closer, resting her head on the inside of the older woman’s arm. Nicte wrapped her fingers around Scylla’s opposite shoulder. Another relationship that had blossomed in the unlocking of Nicte’s emotional intelligence as of late.
“The way out is in,” Nicte whispered as she rested her head atop the other girl’s.
“The way over is under,” Scylla breathed in response, sighing and relaxing into those familiar words.
“One thing is for sure, Scyl,” Nicte squeezed her shoulder, “they won’t know what hit ‘em.”
*
Tally considered the grounds with a blank expression, her eyes stretching outwards from their sockets. The overall effect made her look mildly unhinged, her unit and Nicte often said as much, but Tally had never been so in step with her Knower gifts as she is at this moment.
She tilted her head first, admiring the sea of dancing colour that took varying shapes and forms, dependent on the creator. Next, she rolled back her neck, viewing the sky alone and letting her eyes drift closed. Her ears were immediately abuzz with the sounds of the work, little echoes of the seeds that reverberated faintly in the air, whispering to her what threats lurked. Tucking her chin to her chest she parted her lips and inhaled around her raised tongue, taste buds sparking in response to the intensity and power of it all.
She switched to what she nowadays calls ‘plain view’, i.e. what normal people see, to advise the waiting army personnel and Spree agents of the gaps in their coverage. They scattered on her instruction. Tally’s abilities at knowing had developed substantially in the few months leading up to this moment, somewhat through survival necessity, but mostly under Nicte’s careful tutelage.
That very gift Nicte had honed alongside Tally tugged her now. She turned towards the forest, where the source taunted her.
The Necro underground labs? Something powerful. No, someone. It feels so familiar.
“You alright, Tal?” Abigail’s interruption broke Tally’s focus.
“Yes,” Tally smiled at her, letting the inconvenience slide away effortlessly at the sight of her worried sister. Abigail’s usual Camarilla-shredding vibe had yet to kick-in. Tally didn’t doubt it would arrive when required, this woman had been an absolute weapon in past encounters.
“I’m to report to Major Verger now for my deafening,” Abigail offered, wincing at the concept, “Raelle too.”
Tally rubbed Abigail’s upper arm supportively. “You’ll both be fine.”
“It’s not us I’m worried about,” Abigail frowned.
“I’ll be fine,” Tally waved a relaxed hand at her.
Abigail pulled her into a hug with a disconcerting intensity. A tightness that said ‘I might not see you again’. They parted, and Tally forced a final smile before Abigail pecked her cheek and took off before she lost the run of her emotions; forever a Bellweather.
Tally sighed. If she was honest with herself, she was downright petrified. Today, the joke concept of war meat was inescapable. Tally’s place was on the frontline of this conflict, right in the thick of it, where she could see, hear and taste everything as it unfolded.
Tally turned towards the front of Fort Salem in search of comfort; she found Nicte’s signature glowing there. Since she was downwind, she could even taste her power, it was intoxicating. Nicte would be right there with her, at her shoulder the whole time, taking Tally’s live knower assessment and executing a devastatingly accurate response. Tally’s worries eased a little at the thought. After all they had been through, Tally trusted Nicte with her life, which was just as well given the night in store.
Once again, Tally’s attention was pulled to the Necro lab.
Who is that?
*
Sarah adjusted her position, sitting cross-legged was always a challenge for her long limbs. She measured her inhales and exhales, feeling the rise in her chest and stretch of her diaphragm. She acknowledged the weight of her body, how it pressed into the cold, hard floor of the Necro lab. She focussed on centering herself in the present moment but the idea that soon she would face those who think she is deceased; Tally, Nicte… kept disrupting her like an annoying little kid banging on the aquarium glass.
“What the fucking fuck?” Raelle yelled, frozen in the doorway to the Mycelium room, taking in Sarah in all her cross-legged glory.
She sighed, unfolding herself awkwardly and pushing up into a standing position. Her body still felt a little clunky, unfamiliar. She’d been a right bambi when she had first emerged from the Mycelium three weeks prior. If Izadora hadn’t been so overwhelmed with joy she would have definitely laughed. She had, in fact, laughed multiple times since when relaying the moment to the select few who knew Sarah to be back among the living.
“Collar,” Sarah kept her voice calm, not wanting to startle the braided brat that had just interrupted her meditation.
Raelle just stood there, gaping like an idiot until Izadora appeared at her shoulder, glancing nervously at Sarah. “Cadet, Major Verger is expecting you now, you must be on your way.”
“But, how?” Raelle was still gobsmacked. “Does Nicte know?” she rounded on Izadora as if Sarah wasn't even in the room.
“Yes, Cadet Collar,” Sarah growled, “Nicte Batan has been made aware.”
It grated on Sarah that Nicte has apparently reformed herself and landed on the right side of all of this. Nicte had always been the charming one, Sarah had fallen so easily for it in Liberia. But even back then, Sarah knew there was more to Nicte than smirks and great sex. She wondered if the hidden parts of Nicte were what won her such allies as Tally. For some reason, she really hoped it wasn’t the smirks and great sex. She didn’t want to put her finger on what that reason was right now.
Raelle stared at Sarah for an extended period before retreating down the hall past Izadora.
“I’ll leave you to your preparations, General,” Izadora advised, turning to leave.
Sarah flinched at the title that technically no longer belonged to her; technical details were everything to her. She couldn’t remember ever feeling as out of place as she did now. She turned to the Mycelium, approaching the plane between living and dead. As she extended a palm towards it, it retreated.
Even The Mother had no place for her. Her time there had been a purgatory of sorts, every decision she made and its negative implications for others on a constant playback loop. Details of horrible consequences she never even realised were attributed to her choices were added to the fray by the other dead witch residents. The grief of it all buried her until she cracked under the pressure, shattering into a million pieces. The pain of it had been blinding. Only then, did The Mother restore her and unceremoniously cast Sarah from her realm without an ounce of wisdom to guide her.
Sighing, Sarah switched her focus to the task ahead. In a matter of hours, the Camarilla’s forces would bear down upon them. Sarah would be their ace in the hole; the secret weapon they weren’t expecting. She would bait as many of them into the hot zone as possible.
Sarah’s groan echoing back to her was the only reason she became aware of it. Tally hadn’t been on the list to be informed of her presence; Sarah had wanted to do it herself. What it would constitute was still a mystery. Whatever she was going to say to the woman, it couldn’t wait any longer. It would not do for Tally to be distracted on the battlefield by her sudden appearance. Shuddering at the thought of Tally faltering, getting hurt or worse, Sarah paced from the room topside.
*
“Tally, I need to tell you something,” Nicte approached the redhead as she finished another impromptu instruction session with a number of senior, experienced witches. Nicte couldn’t help but admire Tally’s leadership today, people gravitated towards her, it gave her a weird feeling which, if she had to guess, she might call pride.
Tally smiled at her with such sincerity nowadays that Nicte’s steel casing was no match and simply melted away on request.
Nicte scooped up a glass jar as she approached Tally, not wanting any vessel to go to waste and also desperate for something to keep her hands busy. “Tally, it’s about Sarah…”
Tally’s face fell, her expression confused. Nicte passed the jar between her hands. It was the sadness in Tally’s features that scared her the most. Tally had adored Sarah Alder, in a way with which Nicte could never compete. The idea that she might race to the General’s resurrected shadow and distance herself from Nicte was… like trying to swallow an apple whole.
“You see…” Nicte stammered, entirely focussed on the jar catching air between her palms.
“Tally?” Sarah called gently, approaching the pair.
Tally jumped, spinning rapidly towards Sarah, who stalled. The jar sailed past Nicte’s left hand and smashed on the ground, causing the redhead to jump again. Tally, completely overcome, fell to her knees and clutched her head in her hands.
She’s finally lost it.
Sarah moved towards her but Nicte was faster. She crouched at Tally’s side, half over her in a defensive gesture, teeth bared. Sarah retreated a half-step, retracting her outstretched arm. She hugged herself in an unexpected display of vulnerability.
“How?” Tally asked quietly, her tone flat and face hidden.
“I’m afraid only The Mother herself can answer you that,” Sarah responded, a trace of bitterness in her tone.
Sarah’s distaste was emphasised by the clenching of her jaw, a tell that was much more in character for the General. Nicte had been the recipient of that look on numerous occasions, none however more charged than their clash following the massacre of Esterbrook’s rebels. Nicte had never felt so deceived, mistreated and, in all honesty, broken-hearted. She had adored the earth Sarah walked upon. Even now, a faint glimmer of relief that she lived banged loudly in a deep, dark cell of her heart. Nicte squashed those feelings back down.
The sharp features faded as quick as they came and Sarah’s eyes glistened. “I’m sorry,” she choked, breaking down into quiet sobs and raising her hands to mask her face.
Tally glanced up for the first time. “You don’t owe me any apology,” she pleaded, rising to her feet. Nicte backed away to give Tally just enough space to do so.
Sarah shook her head, sniffing back her remorse. “That’s not true, Tally,” she laughed weakly, “but this first apology wasn’t for you.” Sarah’s watery stare locked onto Nicte.
She’s apologising to… me?
Nicte faltered, initially turning out a smirk of disbelief and waving her hands in refusal of this development. Yet it felt impossible to break eye contact with Sarah at this moment. For the first time, Sarah was truly seeing her, acknowledging the pain she had caused and taking ownership of it. Sarah didn’t need to vocalise it right now, perhaps ever, it poured generously and loudly from her soul for all to see. Nicte softened her defensive stance, letting her focus drift to kicking aside some of the larger fragments of the jar she’d dropped.
Sarah Mark II was beginning to draw attention from Spree and Army alike, and the responses were mixed. Sarah stiffened as Spree unclasped scourges while the army wandered in for a closer look, all muttering amongst one another in distrust at what they believed to be a setup.
“Is that Sarah Alder?”
“How is she alive?”
“She’ll end this alliance and see us all collared and chained.”
“It’s got to be a ploy by the Camarilla.”
“We need to end her while we have the chance.”
“ENOUGH!” Nicte bellowed, stepping between Sarah and the gathering mob of mixed intentions and holding up both hands. “Yes, this is the Sarah Alder, and yes, she is evidently alive. But she is no threat to Spree,” Nicte glanced back for confirmation and Sarah offered a short nod. “We are all on the same side.”
The tension lessened a touch and Nicte felt Sarah place a firm hand on the small of her back. Her eyes fluttered closed at the bliss it induced on contact. Nicte coughed, regaining herself and stepping away from Sarah and back towards Tally.
“Continue with the preparations, we don’t have long left,” Nicte shouted across the grounds. “GO!” she bellowed at the stragglers, who scarpered.
“We don’t have any time left, they’re here,” Tally’s eyes glazed over and an explosion at the ground's perimeter to the east signalled the beginning of their last battle.
*
The smell of blood, sweat and smoke burned Tally’s nostrils, interfering with her perception. She shook her head, willing the colours to come back into focus instead of the crazed haze that bored through her mind like the most violent of migraines. She winced, yelling her frustration as she covered and pressed her eyes back into their sockets, stars appearing.
“TALLY?!” Nicte collided with her side, knocking the Knower flying to the floor.
A sickening slash through human meat and bone tore into Tally’s ears. Realising her eyes were still clenched shut, she peeled them back and released a shrill scream. Inches from her face was the blank expression of a severed Camarilla head.
“Come on, Tally,” Nicte hooked a strong arm around her middle from behind and began dragging her away, her voice urgent. “You need to get it together, soldier.”
But Tally couldn’t simply ‘get it together’. Blind panic overtook her like a rogue wave washing out a harbour wall. She couldn’t see straight, the pressure in her ears felt wrong, her mouth dry and her breathing entirely irregular to her heartbeat. She clutched at Nicte’s forearm, whimpering as glass jars erupted and Camarilla screams joined her own. The Spree tactics were the perfect workaround to the Camarilla’s disruptor technology, the work already being set so unimpeded. But if the jars were being triggered…
They’re breaching the first line of defence.
“Tally?” Nicte cradled her face, searching in her eyes for a semblance of control.
Tally realised her back was now being supported by another, keeping her upright as Nicte tried to draw her back to her basic senses.
“She’s not able to do this, she shouldn’t be here,” Nicte shook her head, looking above and behind Tally with disgust.
Strong arms wrapped Tally from behind and squeezed tightly, the end of a scourge poking painfully into her ribs. “Tally,” Sarah breathed in her ear, “Tally I need you to breathe.” The response of Tally’s body was instantaneous. She eased back into Sarah’s chest, the older woman’s heartbeat steadying her own. Many years later, Tally would reflect on this moment with Sarah, who would swear there was no Work involved.
“That’s it,” Sarah praised, loosening her grip and nodding to Nicte to continue.
“Tally,” Nicte evened out her voice a little, “now that they’re through the first line,” she glanced over her shoulder, “I need you to focus really carefully on where the holes open up so we can redirect our forces.” Tally nodded without making eye contact, ashamed for her momentary lapse of stability mid-battle. Nicte tipped up her chin, “do you think you can do that for me?”
Nicte’s warm smile awarded Tally a newfound resolve. She sprung to her feet, cracking her neck unnaturally from side to side as she launched back into her high resolution work-vision. She felt possessed by her abilities, leaning into the power more recklessly than she had ever before.
“Two o’clock!” she roared, signalling with her hand at the weakest section of their defences.
Sarah and Nicte wasted no time in relaying the information to Army and Spree respectively. Formations adjusted and the Camarilla that gushed into the void never stood a chance.
In this state, looking beyond herself, Tally was extremely prone to harm. Nicte and Sarah both kept a hand clasped around the rear shoulder straps of her tactical vest. They moved well together, even as they ushered Tally around the battlefield, tearing down any Camarilla that dared to come within scourge swinging distance. Tally continued to highlight the crumbling elements of their defences, it would soon be easier to call out where there weren’t holes. That’s when she saw him.
“Hearst,” Tally breathed, causing Sarah and Nicte’s heads to swivel.
He was just beyond the frontline, a glimmer of rage slipping through his usual smugness. His generals urged him to see reason and retreat.
“She is here, Sir, Alder is here.”
“The Spree have joined forces with them, it’s unprecedented - their work bypasses our disruptors.”
“They seem to know every move before we make it.”
He wasted no more time, bringing a blade and spilling the throat of the nearest protestor, thus silencing the others.
“Release the plague,” he ordered, “NOW!”
Black tendrils spurt forth from the backs of trucks and slithered along the ground, coating Hearst and moving him towards the commotion. It was easily five times as much plague as the first attack. His sick grin returned, resolute.
“It’s time,” Tally shuddered, “he’s coming with the witchplague.”
Sarah and Nicte gave the order for mass retreat, the pair holding the line to give the rest cover. Tally blinked back to plain view, shaking her dazed head and willing herself to focus on the realities for her surroundings. Her vision remained blurred, certain colours accentuated. The resulting effect as Tally watched Sarah and Nicte working side by side on felling the stragglers was intense, awesome and mildly sickening. In fact, Tally turned over abruptly and de-inventoried her guts onto the muddied grass.
“Time to go,” Nicte grunted, hooking under one of Tally’s arms while Sarah caught the other.
Before they could turn to make progress back to Fort Salem proper, the white of Heart’s teeth and eyes emerged from a tsunami of black witchplague that was bearing down on them at a concerning rate.
“RUN!” Sarah yelled, ensuring Tally was stable and making good progress before separating from her and following a fraction behind while Nicte led the way, her expression growing more concerned each and every time she looked back.
All of the witches were still flooding up the front steps of Fort Salem and inside the safety of its walls, all but two. Abigail and Raelle stood, shoulders touching, at the bottom of the split staircases. They were a sight for very sore eyes, literally in Tally’s case. Knowing the time was right, they stood apart, letting their joined hands fall. Abigail wasted no time in levitating into position, gusts emanating from her outstretched arms. Gusts promptly developed into gales then hurricane level wind speeds, hampering Tally’s progress. She ducked her head and powered through, encouraged by Sarah’s hand on the small of her back.
Raelle’s eyes ghosted over, a spore-like glow surrounding her, preparing herself. Abigail landed twisters which spread and merged into an all-encasing wall of them, Fort Salem’s immediate grounds and, most importantly, Hearst and the witchplague. Tally was so close to her sisters now, not 20 metres away from their protection.
That’s when the plague curled around her left ankle and pulled her down instantly.
Time slowed as the plague snaked up her leg, torso and penetrated her ears, nose and mouth. Sarah had come to a stop not five metres ahead, realising in horror that she had lost Tally. She screamed, her muscles flexing as she restrained herself from going to Tally. Instead she roared instruction at Raelle, hurrying her along. Sarah fell to her knees, hugging herself and calling to Tally, trying to comfort her; she assumed.
Tally could hear nothing, then see nothing. She choked on the invasive probing, rolling around on her back, writhing in pain. She attempted to scratch the invasion away but her fingernails only dragged through layers of viscous death. Suddenly she felt the weight of a warm body collapsing onto her, wrapping her up tighter than the plague itself. She could feel the plague stall, retract, confused and wanting to consume both parties at once.
A sonic boom reverberated through Tally’s very bones as she drifted into the abyss.
*
Sarah gripped her ears in an attempt to stop them ringing. The plane of the ground swivelled beneath her, though Sarah knew it to be entirely steady. She pressed herself up onto all fours regardless, desperate to see… to know…
The witchplague and Hearst were gone, obliterated by Raelle’s mycelium detonation. Raelle herself was in a heap but conscious, Abigail tending to her. But as the spore-like dust settled, two very limp figures came into view. Sarah, unable to stand, crawled toward them. When she got there, sweating and shaking, she bundled her fists in the back of Nicte’s vest and rolled her off of Tally and onto her back. She came away without protest, without life.
“No…” Sarah mumbled, “no, no, no…”
Tally’s face was pale, the entrances to her mouth and nose red raw from the forceful intrusion of the witchplague now obliterated. Sarah traced Tally’s cheek with her finger tips, trembling as she pushed her hair behind her ear. She turned her attention to Nicte, thumping the top of her chest in anger. Sarah sank her forehead to Nicte’s abdomen, keeping a hand reaching across to Tally’s arm. She sobbed, shamelessly.
I can’t lose them… I can’t.
Raelle skidded to a halt next to her sister, stringing together verses so fast they were unintelligible. Scylla landed next at Nicte’s head, pulling it into her lap and opening a current to tether her to the living. Sarah, resigned to their fate, rose to her feet and made room for Abigail. She paced away, gazing across the fungi-blooming battlefield, dark thoughts about her purpose circling her mind, preying on her grief. She felt worse than empty, like her heart had entered a vacuum. She couldn’t begin to process the whys, she was too far gone for reason.
The flashback of Nicte throwing herself at Tally was burnt into the backs of her eyelids. Everytime she blinked they were squirming on the floor, fighting a losing battle against death.
Sarah’s spiral was interrupted by a cry of relief from Abigail.
Sarah spun round to the sounds of Tally coughing and clearing her airway of shrivelled plague that had ground to dust. Her eyes streamed with tears at the pain of it, but she was otherwise alive. Raelle shifted to Scylla’s side wordlessly, joining hands to work and fixing her efforts to save Batan. Sarah staggered back to them, unable to meet Tally’s eyes for the shame of not acting as Nicte did, not going to her, not sacrificing herself. She half-lifted Nicte from the ground, roughly shaking her.
“You do not have permission to die, Batan,” Sarah whispered, “not tonight.”
Tally placed a hand on Sarah’s arm, guiding her to set Nicte back down for the benefit of Raelle and Scylla to do what they had to do. In what felt like days, but was less than a minute, Nicte’s bloodshot eyes snapped open and she coughed and sneezed to expel the same debris that had clogged Tally.
Following a quick glance to confirm Tally was alive, Nicte only had eyes for Sarah, who still had her hands knotted in Nicte’s shirt. Her gaze burrowed into Sarah’s soul, searching for something, anything. She covered Sarah’s clenched fists and eased them open, giving them a comforting squeeze before raising a hand to both Raelle and Scylla in thanks.
Sarah’s gut wrenched at the loss of Nicte’s touch, but she schooled her features to hide that fact. Nicte Batan had, indeed, changed. Sarah’s absence had given her the space to grow and thrive, leaning into the brighter elements of her true self; no doubt guided by one Tally Craven. Sarah physically extracted herself from the moment, feeling she was the imposter. She leaned on a pillar at the base of the steps, trying to think straight as to next moves.
“Sarah?” Tally’s voice was low and hoarse but it still made Sarah jump.
Dropping an elbow back to her side, she half-turned to consider Tally. Tally sighed, moving in towards Sarah and planting her own elbows and forearms on the cold stone surface. Their shoulders rubbed in this proximity. Sarah could make out every battleground blemish that tarnished Tally’s visage. Sarah was reminded of how the plague had covered that same face, consuming its beauty, stealing it from Sarah and the world.
“Sarah,” Tally looked dolefully into her eyes, “I’m okay,” she touched Sarah’s hand, “we’re both okay.”
Sarah glanced over Tally’s shoulder to see Nicte was sitting up now, watching them carefully. A smirk played around her mouth but there was no malice, just cheeky amusement, a hint of flirting even.
“Thank you, Tally,” Sarah smiled, “go to your sisters, I must attend matters in the war room.”
As Sarah climbed the stairs to reassume her role as General proper, she couldn’t help but feel a tug back towards the ground. She rubbed her forehead, willing her mind to focus on the task at hand and not the crazy notions of Tally and Nicte bouncing around her heart like energised rubber balls.
***