The Crystal Rainbow Ch. 33

Story Info
Xavier's children awake and the storm approaches.
2.8k words
4.7
7.2k
0

Part 9 of the 12 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 12/07/2007
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here
Nyasia
Nyasia
20 Followers

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Thirty-Three – Hunger

Hunger is a desire born of need: whether it is of the body or the spirit
depends on the want it feeds.

A Fool's Book of Wisdom

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From the depths of a Montmartre alley, hungry yellow eyes reflected the weak lamplight that timidly made its way from the well-ordered streets to the gloomy passage. The owner of the eyes, a beast, one of the four-legged varieties, watched a pair of human forms locked in a desperate embrace before it. An embrace, which the animal in its own bestial way understood would find its end in death and thus provide it with an easy and long overdue meal.

Patiently, the beast awaited the outcome. It listened to the prey's desperate pleas and whimpers and then the predator's savage, triumphant howl. The animal, a predatory beast itself, instinctively responded to the cry of the victor. Its body twitched and its muscles tensed in readiness as the animal sensed the end. A last, whistling exhalation of breath gave evidence of the prey's defeat to the animal.

The canine lifted its muzzle into the air, sniffed and reveled in the glorious scent of a fresh kill. The unmistakable tang of copper mixed with salt wafted through the air and swept the unpleasant odor of raw sewage in an open gutter next to the beast to the back of its mind. The heady aroma worked its magic on the animal and triggered an involuntary flood of saliva. The excess juices overflowed its snout, drooled out the corners of its muzzle, trailed through its filthy pelt and hung in dirty rivulets from its jowls. Unable to restrain its hunger a moment longer, the predator-turned-scavenger rose to all four feet and lifted a hesitant paw to take a step forward. It paused when a deep growl sounded from the surviving member of the danse macabre. The hair on the nape of the beast's neck bristled and rose as it completed its step toward the newly made corpse. A sibilant hiss caused the canine to freeze. It turned tail and ran as a pair of glowing red eyes began to swoop down upon the animal. Its pitiful yips and yelps echoed off the filthy walls of the alleyway and gradually faded in the distance as the animal continued to run for its life.

Soon, silence reigned again, except for an occasional slurping or smacking of lips. The sharp crack of a skull against a rough cobble provided the only evidence of the meal's end as the discarded corpse tumbled to the ground. The distinctive clink of iron-heeled pattens tapping along the cobblestones broke the brief silence, their familiar sound made strange by the rapid pace of the wearer. A dark shape exited the alley and turned into the rue.

"Ah! An excellent meal, if I do say so myself," a voice intoned to no one in particular and then giggled. "I wonder if my pale-haired fledgling enjoyed her first meal as much as I enjoyed mine tonight. Well, that is of no consequence other than to act as a distraction. Without guidance from me, her maker, she most likely will not survive her first sunrise.

"The thing that truly piques my curiosity is how many I caught in my net tonight. I feel my ploy probably ensnared both the Persian and that misshapen excuse of an apprentice. I doubt that I fooled Sabratha or Cadmus into running willy-nilly into my lair. And if I did, I believe I would find that most disappointing. I should so adore making them suffer more.

"Hmmm ... here is a thought of interest that just occurred to me, perhaps my child fed well and followed my suit. It certainly would be an interesting turn of events to find that my pale blonde offspring turned Madame Helen. Oooh! The thought alone brings a smile to my face, and I shudder with delight at the thought of all the possibilities that could bring."

The musing ceased and an insane cackle filled the chilly autumn night. The sound of a slamming shutter brought a halt to the manic mirth. The hooded figure halted and gave an irritated hiss at the interruption of its glee. It seemed to consider the offending window for a moment before it continued its stroll along the rue.

"Ah well, whatever the result, I am confident that I lessened their numbers by one at the very least, but more importantly, I am certain that the loss of Helen caused a great division amongst them ... just as I had planned. My only regret is that I had to take Helen instead of Sabratha. My joy would have known no bounds if that bitch had been the one to awaken in my chamber. But, no matter. Either cunt would do to serve my purpose and do she did. Now all is ready for me to proceed with the next step. I must make haste to Avenue Rachel and collect my babies, for the night grows old. Yes! Now, I am off to Avenue Rachel and le Cimetière de Montmartre where my babies await me!"

The shadowy figure extended its arms before it and with a thunderous clap of its dark hands, disappeared leaving only a swirl of black mist in its wake.

◊ ○ ◊ ○ ◊

An inky bubble of tar oozed from between two loosely fit cobbles. The foul sphere pulsed and grew larger, then popped. The tar collapsed to the ground, forming a small, shadowy pool. More bubbles formed and popped, each time leaving a larger and larger mass. Without warning, the dark puddle shot from the paving stones to form a rough ball hovering above the ground, and then, with a massive pop, transformed into the shape of a human being. The dark form stretched its muscles, rolled its head from side to side and sighed with satisfaction.

Without the slightest hesitation, the being turned and with mincing steps clinking metallically against the stone cobbles, Xavier stepped through the entrance of le Cimetière de Montmartre. It paused just long enough to thrust the hood from its head before it continued along the path with a tomb at its end. To the left and right, a trail led along the outermost edge of the cemetery.

Xavier dropped into a crouch. The cloaked figure leapt up, landed on the flat expanse of black marble, slid along its length and jumped again to sit perched atop the grave's headstone. From that vantage point, Xavier surveyed the cemetery. Its expressionless eyes swept across the place of the dead without so much as a flicker of pleasure or admiration.

However, buried deep inside the creature was a faint memory that stirred and awoke. The spirit of a young girl that lived long ago pushed aside the creature she became and stepped to the front of their mind, drawn by the beauty of this place. She peered out through the eyes of the beast and gazed in wonder at the sight spread before her eyes. Except for the obvious shapes of the tombs, she could almost mistake the place for a statuary garden. Everywhere she turned, there were statues or monuments of some kind, each more beautiful than the last. However, as she began to study the individual sculptures, she noticed a preponderance of cherubs in the cemetery. And it was this abundance of cherubs that banished her presence and allowed Xavier to reclaim control. For as the girl paused to admire the marble head of a chubby-faced child, she found not the sweet innocence she expected, but cruel eyes and a twisted, leering smile. Repulsed and frightened, the girl fled from the less-than-angelic expression adorning the finely chiseled face and disappeared into the fog of memory from whence she came.

The creature blinked and eyes that had sparkled with pleasure only moments before now became dull and emotionless. Xavier shook its head as if confused, looked around for a moment and then shrugged.

"Ah well! Home again, home again, jiggety, jig!" The shape sniggered. "Come to me, my children! It is time for me to fulfill my promise and satisfy your hunger. Réveiller¹! The time of feasting is at hand. Réveiller!"

Its eyes rolled up, leaving only the whites exposed, as it tilted its head back. The pale light of the waning crescent moon silhouetted an equally pale profile. The being smirked as it allowed a casual yawn to expose the glistening fangs it had hidden behind its thin lips. Its long, translucent fingers trailed along the top edge of the grave marker and halted to prick each forefinger on a marble thorn. A bubble of blood formed on the pad of each finger, appearing as a dark pearl in the silvery light of the moon. Xavier slid to the ground, its blood splashing the eyes of the cherub carved on the face of the stone. On feet that moved more swiftly than Mercury's winged heels, the creature moved from cherub to cherub, blessing the eyes of each with its blood. On completion of its loop of the cemetery, it returned to its perch atop the marble gravestone.

With a voice as sharp as broken glass, Xavier screamed, "Réveiller! Ressusciter²!"

A sudden blast of wind tore through the cemetery, carrying with it the sound of a hundred hushed voices, a chorus of quiet dissonance. The wind stilled to a gentle breeze, but the voices did not fade with it. Instead, they grew louder and more plaintive, an invisible throng of children screaming, crying and wailing their displeasure to the deaf ears of the entombed corpses. Then the air stilled and with it the voices.

Silence reigned once more.

Suddenly, sharp crackling noises and a deep rumbling broke the peace of the place. A new chorus began, one of shattering stone and shrieking infants. A satisfied sneer curled Xavier's lips, and it leapt down to observe one of the awakening imps. Xavier examined the details of the delicately carved cherub. It admired the fullness of the cherub's chubby cheeks, pouting mouth and the soft curls adorning its head.

The artist had chosen to depict only the cherub's head and a pair of wings that framed its face from below. Xavier's nostrils flared with excitement as it watched the pale, blue-veined marble begin to pulse from within and the blood-streaked eyes of the cherub began to glow crimson. As the stone expanded, fiery eyes blinked and sent shards of marble shooting straight into Xavier's face. Surprised, it drew back, snarled, plucked the bits of stone from its face and waited. The newly hatched imp gradually freed itself from the stone and fell from the face of the tombstone onto the black marble surface of the grave. Being nothing more than a head with wings, it rolled helplessly atop the tomb, a furious, shrieking, mindless thing.

"Ah, my pet, too stupid to understand that you can fly, are you? Well, since you bit the hand of your creator, perhaps, I should return the favor."

Xavier commented with a cold detachment in its voice and a burning rage in its eyes. With a move almost too quick to see, Xavier grabbed the imp, crushed it and stuffed the still writhing creature into its mouth.

"Well, at the very least, you were a tasty morsel for a beastie," Xavier chuckled, its good mood restored as it licked the blood from its pale fingers and lips. Xavier stood, looked around at the freed imps, whistled and then called, "It is time to go, my children! Follow me!"

◊ ○ ◊ ○ ◊

Christine sat back on her haunches, and, aided by the light of numerous torches, surveyed the now muddied yard of Helen's cottage. She smiled with satisfaction that she had been able to bring the rain to only this small area and had not lost control of the storm she created. While she had not allowed herself to dwell upon much prior to her attempt, the fact that she had successfully called a storm at all now brought her a deep sense of accomplishment and hope.

A sudden tickle on her nose distracted her from her thoughts and she rubbed at it with the back of her hand. It was only after she lowered her hand that she realized what she had done. She sat, staring at her muddied hands and bit back a laugh. Turning to look at her companions, she could not help chuckling as she watched Erik, Khalid, Cadmus and Sabratha digging in the mud and wondered if she looked half the spectacle that they did. Her eyes wandered over the now numerous lumps of tightly packed earth that dotted the yard and she could not help but speculate about how many they needed.

She sighed as she remembered the hurried discussion over the sorry excuse of a supper they had thrown together and bit her lip with worry. A spattering of mud splashed across the side of her head, interrupting her thoughts.

"What the bloody hell?" she sputtered.

A raucous bray drew her attention to Edgar, and she realized that he was the cause of her sudden mud bath. The only question in her mind was whether it had been intentional or accidental. She shook her hands to free as much of the mud from them as possible and began digging the mud from her ear while chiding Edgar.

"Blast it all, Edgar! While I appreciate your help with the digging, I do not need any assistance in becoming any filthier than I already am. Do you think you could try to dig with a little less enthusiasm?" She hefted a handful of mud and eyed him with a glance that was both appraising and teasing. "Or would you like me to return the favor?" she mock threatened.

Sabratha's sudden pained cry brought an end to the teasing, and without giving it a second thought; Christine released the earthen missile, letting it drop unnoticed to the ground with a soft plop. She leapt to her feet and ran to Sabratha's side. Taking the redheaded beauty by the arm, Christine gave her a gentle shake.

"What is it? What is wrong?"

A pair of hazel eyes lifted and met the concern radiating from the younger woman's gaze. Christine gasped as she saw the look of pure terror on Sabratha's face.

"We have no more time! Xavier comes and it does not come alone! By all that is sacred, it does not come alone. We need Leshii now. He must breathe the spark of life into the golem before the horde arrives!"

Sabratha spoke in a voice flat and devoid of the emotion Christine read in her eyes, but she could not spare any time to dwell further on the thought as a booming voice rang throughout the yard.

"Well, here I am, Mam'selle, but I fear I am not the one you need. It is not my place, nor is it my magic that will bring a bit of life to these lumps of dirt. Oh no, not me! Not Leshii! I can only … hmmm … what are the words? Hmmm … ah yes! I can only help push the magic in the proper direction. The true magic comes from the two of them."

He pointed a mossy finger first at a stunned Christine and then at an equally shocked Erik.

"You said nothing of this in our earlier conversation. I believe you need to explain yourself," Erik said as he strode to Christine, pulled her up from the ground and wrapped her in a protective embrace.

"Oh, it is quite simple," Leshii replied, "the two of you need to blend your magic and call the golem to life."

"Simple? Perhaps for you, but …." Erik scowled.

Leshii cut off Erik with a shout.

"Yes! Simple it is! You must weave a spell of magic with your voices. You have practiced this for months. I have heard it resounding throughout my forest and now, it is time for practice to end and the true magic to begin. Time is short! Sing!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

¹ Réveiller – Translation: Awaken

² Ressusciter – Translation: Rise from the dead

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I would like to add a note of gratitude to my story editor, Parthenogenesis. Thank you for providing me with the benefit of your grammatical wisdom as well as your precious time. This pebble appreciates the polish!

Now, a brief disclaimer, while Parthenogenesis provided me with grammatical assistance, any errors or omissions you may find are mine and mine alone. I do not always follow where my editor attempts to lead ….

For those of you with inquiring minds, I am the author of the proverbs attributed to "A Fool's Book of Wisdom." I wrote these sayings specifically for this story and "A Fool's Book of Wisdom" is my homage to Dean Koontz's "The Book of Counted Sorrows."

Let me know what you think about this story by dropping me a line or voting. I require input and inspiration!

Fondest wishes,

--ny

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nyasia
Nyasia
20 Followers
Please rate this story
The author would appreciate your feedback.
  • COMMENTS
Anonymous
Our Comments Policy is available in the Lit FAQ
Post as:
Anonymous
1 Comments
strawlerstrawlerover 15 years ago
Excellent stories

Do not despair! I have not done any work as I read through all of the stories! Brilliantly developed but I think one has to think of all the inferences to get the true depth!! (In my humble opinion). Keep writing!!

Share this Story

Similar Stories

Aablar the Neanderthal Ch. 01 Aablar captures Leia, a Cro-Magnon blonde.in Sci-Fi & Fantasy
The Inquisitor A beautiful & naive princess held captive by evil Inquisitor.in Novels and Novellas
A Mithra's Tale Follow one Mithra on a journey.in NonHuman
Caught in Darkness Ch. 01 Captured by the enemy, he must submit to a wilful mistress.in Sci-Fi & Fantasy
Zygurd of the House of Mourne War, loss, romance, and life.in Sci-Fi & Fantasy
More Stories