The Creators Ch. 08

"Astrid gives you devotion, but that is not the love I offer," I said, examining the valkyrie, her skin silver in the monochromatic light. I looked up at Night Eyes, her caramel skin a shining black, like oil. "My love is of a concerned older sister, giving her foolish sibling one last chance."

"Your love is power," Night Eyes hissed as she began wrapping Astrid's hair in her hand. "The power to control," Night eyes ripped Astrid's head back, "the power to dominate," Night Eyes pulled out a knife, "the power to kill!" Night Eyes plunged the blade into Astrid's throat. The valkyrie's eyes bulged, a shriek gurgling in her gagged mouth as black liquid poured from the wound. But it was a shallow wound, and the black liquid that ran from it was not blood, but molten iron. It scalded her neck, hissed against her chest, left a horrid smell in the air, but it did not kill her.

"The power to save," Night Eyes whispered, dropping the bladeless hilt as Astrid collapsed, the pain mercifully draining her of consciousness. The wounds that steamed from her were hideous, but it was better than death, and Brandon could fix them. "Your love means very little to me, Sister Julia, but your power means a great deal."

Night Eyes walked toward me, stepping over the quivering form of her guardian. She stretched her neck to one side, then the other, rolling her shoulders, letting her bathrobe fall. She was entirely female for me now, black flesh contrasting white hair, black eyes twinkling in the white fire. She raised a slender thigh, stepped over me, and eased herself into my lap, the softness of her flesh opposing the jaggedness of her soul.

"I want that power," Night Eyes whispered, running a covetous finger along my jaw. "I want it to control me, I want it to dominate me, I want it inside me. I want to be yours, Sister Julia. You can burn me, you can beat me, you can torture me. I want you to. I want to feel your darkness." Her words hissed from her, breathing on my lips, letting me taste her breath. This was hell; a place void of color, a place that stank of burning flesh, a place that whispered covetously of darkness, a place where temptation pressed her dripping heat against my stiffening desire. Good Mother, did I belong here? Because it felt like I did. It felt like home. It felt like blackening faces screaming in a burning house, but I wasn't crying, was I? No... I was smiling. I was grinning from ear to ear as I splayed my palm against Night Eyes' chest, as I felt the heat surge into my hand, as I watched the terror mingle with the arousal in her eyes. This was power. This was righteous, godly power. I was the Destroyer, the flame of God, and there was evil before me, evil whispering sweet temptation, evil begging me to do it. And those obsidian pits that stared back at me, brimming from that leering face of evil... they reflected my face, and I could barely tell the difference between us. This was my power. This was my darkness. This was my evil. This was me.

"You see my darkness," I whispered. "What do you see in my 'truth?'"

"It's my truth, Sister Julia," Night Eyes' hushed voice quivered as she took me inside her, burrowing me through her squeezing heat, "and it's like looking into a mirror."

"No," I hissed, "we're nothing alike!"

"We're kindred spirits, Sister Julia, you said it yourself," Night Eyes' lips brushed mine, her breath turning to pants as she grinded on me, "but not you and Willowbud; you and me. There never was so sweet a kiss as the one you shared with Passion before you killed her, was there?"

"How do you..."

"I know you, Sister," Night Eyes growled on my lips. "I see your darkness! I can't see your memories, but I see the scars they've left behind, and I recognize so many of them. I have that scar, that kiss of death. I gave it to my father because he loved me, because I loved him, because I realized what I'd become, and because I hated him for what I'd done to myself. Sound familiar?"

"Yes," I barely breathed it. It sounded so familiar.

"And the deepest scars, the ones we get when we're children, I see those in you, and they look just like mine," Night Eye's brushed tender fingertips along my cheek, down my neck, "I was alone and scared, neglected by those that loved me, unable to grapple with emotions I didn't understand. So, I killed, and killed until I found peace in the silence. I was barely past five when I did it, but you were younger. Tell me, Sister Julia; when the screaming finally stopped, and you stood in the ashes of your home, did you find peace in the silence?"

"Yes!" I gasped, grabbing her ass, spreading her wide, pushing my fingers together between the crease of her, and burying them deep within her tight filth. She formed against me like water, our curves melding together, breast to breast, belly to belly, thigh to thigh. Our lips locked, and the message we spoke was of hatred, of loathing, of disgust, but not in each other; in ourselves. Good Mother, it was... but the Good Mother wasn't here, was she? No, I tasted hell in Night Eyes' mouth, and it was acrid, and foul, and the sweetest thing my tongue had ever caressed. I tasted Corruption, and I liked the flavor.

I can take away your pain, drawled a seductive voice, a loving voice, I can take the weight from your shoulders. It wasn't your fault, Julia; none of it was your fault. You are the flame of God, and fire cannot be blamed for what it burns. You are death, and no one faults death for the dead.

Stay away from me.

You do not have to listen to my offer; you can walk away, Corruption replied. Withdraw yourself from Willowbud, spill your seed upon the stones, and leave us. You are not welcome here, you are not wanted here, you are an interloper. I see the threat that you are, but my host desires you, so I will extend you my hand. Let me take your pain away, Sister. It fills you to the point of bursting; let me make you hollow, so that peace may settle in the void.

I don't want you.

I am not offering myself to you, Corruption chuckled, I am already melded to the one I love. I am offering you my friendship, and the gifts that come with it. I can fetishize your agony, I can pervert your self-loathing, I can mutate your guilt. I can bring forth your truth, and turn it into armor. I can make you, you, Sister Julia. It took Night Eyes weeks to turn Astrid, but it will only take me a single breath. Breath me into you. No more blackened faces, no more shrieks in your dreams. Peace...

"Become like me," Night Eyes whispered as our kiss parted, "there's no need to suffer, there's no need to fight me. We're sisters, Julia, sisters of circumstance and fate, but closer than blood. I need someone by my side. I need an equal. I need a..." Night Eyes almost looked ashamed through her pleasure, "...I need a friend. Will you be my friend?"

"You're a deceiver," I moaned, "a liar!"

"I'm the most honest person you've ever met," Night Eyes snarled, clenching her thighs around my waist. "Lies are for those who wear masks. Where is your princess, Julia? Why has she gone without you? It's because deception is unnatural for you, and the lies they'll tell me when they come back will sound sweeter from their practiced tongues. You are no liar; you are like me, now let me help you become you. Breathe her into you, and join me, sister."

"Fuck you, Night Eyes," I growled, and drove my lips to hers, opened our mouths, and breathed in Corruption. I felt her surge into me, into my lungs, into my heart; terrible, exhilarating euphoria burning through my veins, scorching my extremities. Oh, great devil, oh, sweet hell. The pain washed from me, detoxifying me with poison, numbing me with opium for the soul. I am a sinner, I am a murderer, I am a heathen blasphemer. I am a daughter-fucking, immortal-killing force of chaos. I am death. And then I exhaled, and breathed Corruption's gift back into Night Eyes, feeling the pain come back into my soul, feeling the guilt, the hatred, the sorrow. I am all those things, but I walk in the light, Corruption. Your darkness is but a shadow of truth. Guilt, pain and sorrow are as much a part of us as the despicable things we hide. There is no joy without hurt, and I will not give you my hurt. I don't need your friendship; I have love. I have Lucilla and Diamond, and soon, I will have Willowbud.

You will have none of those, Corruption hissed in the back of my mind. I will strip them from you. I will break the bonds that hold you fast, and set you adrift in my ocean. You will beg for my gift, oh pious sister, and I will only take more from you.

I can taste your fear, most ancient one, I smiled around Night Eyes' kiss, and it's decadent. Run to the astral plane, and cower for another epoch. Only death awaits you here.

I stared into those black orbs, narrowed to blissful slits as she kissed me, and I saw them lighten. I saw the blackness recede to the edges as Corruption took the chance I gave her, leaking away in wisps of darkness. I saw the confusion in Willowbud's eyes, the pupils constricting, the lids peeling back, and I saw the pain begin to film over her lenses, the fear coming back, the realization of what she'd—

NO! I faintly heard the voice as if it was spoken on the wind. No, you will not take her from me! She is MINE! And the blackness came back, and Night Eyes returned.

"You almost had me there," she grinned against my mouth, biting my lower lip as she grinded fervently onto my lap. "God, you're good, Sister; we're going to have so much fun together."

"Yes," I smiled back, breathing her breath, tasting her temptation, "we are." And I pulled my penetrating fingers apart, slowly gaping Night Eyes as I drove into her heat, feeling her pain, her gratitude, her hedonistic clenches. She dug her nails into my shoulders and cut lines into my back, and our kiss only deepened as we violated each other in the monochromatic splendor we'd made, in the hell of our own darkness. The truth was, she almost had me there as well, and she knew it. Corruption's gift lingered in my nerves, the echoes of her euphoria whispering beneath my flesh. Night Eyes was right; I was like her. I was more like her than Willowbud was, and I wasn't even corrupted. Not by Corruption, anyway.

Not yet.

LUCILLA

I examined Brandon as we rode the cable-towed lift up Willowbud's tower, the squeaking, steel cable echoing against the stone walls. His face was lit on only one side as we past the slotted windows that provided illumination for the confines, their rectangles narrowing into the void below.

"What are we going to do?" I asked him.

"Wait and see what happens. What else can we do?" he frowned as we neared the square of light above us. A shadow crossed the light, a shadow with two ram-like horns, and a hand placed lazily on the steel cable. The lift stuttered to a halt, the cable screeching anomalously above, the stone floor below suddenly seeming very temporary. Icy fear crawled along my spine, up my neck, and came from my mouth in a whimper. Tera let out a resigned breath, but Brandon just chuckled.

"Howdy!" Willowbud called down to us, affecting an accent. "Did yawl folks enjoy the waterslide?"

"The drop at the end seems kind of excessive," Brandon called to her, putting a calming on hand on my trembling shoulder.

"Oh, I don't know about that," I could practically hear Willowbud's sardonic grin. "I'm thinking about making the drop a bit higher, actually. Where'd you three run off to?"

"Tera took us to this new vegan place," Brandon called back. "They have this really great tea, and I was thinking maybe you and I should—"

"Oh, fuck you, hippy," Willowbud grumbled, walking away. The lift began rising again, the counterweight sandbags passing us on their descent into the darkness below.

"How do you live like this?" I hissed at them, my breath coming from me in terrified rattles.

"I thought about leaving, but the sex is just too good," Brandon chuckled, and Tera gave a concurring snort.

The Maternal Bible: Chapter Two, Page Two:

On the second day, the Holy Mother created water for her children to drink, for her plants to grow, and for the sky to color with. The Holy Mother found great joy in the creation that made her world so vivid, and celebrated in the rain and lakes with her children. She deigned that all newborns should be baptized with water, for it was the essence of life and new growth, and the holiest and most precious element that she created. For water could quench the fires of hatred, and water could make passable the divisions of canyons that separated her people. Water could permeate the sterile stone, and create life and love from the most improbable of places. Between life and rock, water was the unifier.