Crimson (14 page)

The door to my cell slides open. Light floods in through the doorway. The soldier from yesterday stands in the doorway.

“Can I come in?” he asks, waiting patiently.

“Sure,” I say, giving up avoiding speaking with him.

He steps inside the doorway, but enters no further.

“Wow, your face looks terrible… err, I mean, you’re pretty bruised up. Um, shit, well… I brought you your breakfast and lunch for later, as well as a change of clothes. I also brought you this book I thought you might enjoy.”

He waits for a response, uncertain. Finally, maybe realising he won’t get one, he says, “Well, I’ll just put them on your bed then and leave you too it.”

He turns his back to me and walks out. The moment the door slides shut I jump at the food, starving. It’s warm and palatable. Better than expected, actually enjoyable. 

On the other hand, the shower is unbearable. Every position of the taps give the same temperature – Icy cold. I spend as little time as necessary under it. By the end I’m shivering and stiff. Not an experience I will get used to.

 I quickly get dressed and wrap myself up in my bed’s sole woollen blanket, to warm up. The blanket is rough and scratchy, but at least it’s warm.

Picking up the book he left, I prop up the pillow against the wall and lean back. Something to distract myself from the tedium. The book,
Friday
, is ancient; its spine long since broken, pages deep brown with age. And made from real, actual paper. Not the plastic substitute they use these days. I quickly get lost in the story.

It works for a while; in spite of my thoughts the book is enjoyable and I read a few chapters in. But, despite my attempts to stay focused, my thoughts wander; getting further and further distracted with thoughts of Cara. Right now I can’t seem to focus on the story. Another time, perhaps?

The words of the girl in the courtyard weigh on me. Does Cara really feel that way about me? Maybe the girl is right. I want to hold Cara so badly. Stand behind her and wrap my arms around her. Kiss her. Slide my hands down her body. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.

I shift myself in bed a little; heart beating a little quicker. A bottom lip bitten in pleasure. What’s gotten into me?

What does it matter, I want this. I want her. Breathe. Exhale.  I close my eyes and curl up.

The door to my cell slides open. I don’t know how long I slept. A silhouette in the doorway blocks the fading light. I bolt upright, instantly awake.

“Oh, don’t panic now, little girl,” the familiar voice of Levia says. She steps inside so I can see her.  “I’ve just come for a little chat. Here, I brought you breakfast.” She places a tray of food on the table and sits down on the bed.

“Come, sit here.” She pats the bed beside here. Her tone is polite, but her eyes suggest I have little choice.

“If you give me what I want, I’m sure I could do a lot for you,” she says, leaning closer.

She wraps her arm around me and strokes my arm. This is awkward. What could she possible want?

“I can make your time here a lot more comfortable. More free time, hot food all the time.” She whispers into my ear, “I’ll even promise to release your friends, if you do what I ask.”

Then she slides her hand between my legs, groping me forcefully. “Do you get my drift?”

“What the fuck?” I yell at her, shoving her away from me, hard.

Her wicked laugh rolls through the room. She rushes towards me, grabbing me by the throat and shoving me against the wall. She crushes my neck into the wall, fire sweeps through my lungs, burning for air. 

“You’ll help me, one way or the other.”

The world dims as I feel myself starting to pass out. The two black forms of Nem and Macha appear behind her. They step towards her, eyes glowing brightly.

“Too easy,” Levia whispers into my ear.

Nem and Macha make it no closer. Levia throws me to the ground. In my blurry vision I see them twitching, flickering unstably between crow and human forms. Wicked laughter joins with Levia’s.

“A fine catch,” Levia says, fiendishly.

“Guards! Get in here! Take her and the others down to the basement level. It’s time this little one learns the consequences of her choices.”

A guard pulls his pistol out and pushes the barrel forcefully to my temple.

“If you move, if you struggle, if you cry out, I’ll kill you.”

The world goes black as a heavy sack is shoved over my head. With my arms pinned behind my back, they lift me out of my cell. Why can’t they just let me walk? It’s raining in the courtyard, a heavy, steady rain. Cold drops splash on me as they drag me away. I used to enjoy listening to the rain, once.

Then I’m inside again. Thankfully they let me walk myself down the stairs though it’s a difficult prospect with this damn bag over my head.

A few stumbles later I’m at the bottom of stairs. After what seems like a long maze of turns impossible to keep up with, a guard grabs my shoulder, stopping me. I feel him tense, misunderstanding his intention, until a blow hits me behind knee, crumpling me to the floor. I’m lifted back to my feet and left standing, confused and uncertain, for a torturous few minutes; the noise of activity around me muffled heavily by the bag over my head. The pain subsides, eventually.

The sack is finally pulled off my head. It was starting to get unbearable. Sweat drips down my neck. I stand alone, but for the soldiers guarding me. The room is large and unfamiliar; lit by hundreds of candles that fill iron chandeliers hanging over a plush blood-red carpet running through the centre of the worn-smooth stone floor. Red crosses on white banners decorate each wall. The aisle leads to a platform that rises in steps in front of me. Arranged around a simple wooden podium centred on the platform are three overly ornate thrones, each covered with gold icons and emblems while further red-crossed white banners drape each arm. The decorations adorning the room and the gaudy thrones stand out, in excess, against the temple’s soft stone.

Cold steel is pressed against my throat. “Don’t fucking move. Keep your mouth shut. Don’t say a word unless somebody asks you a question. No second chances,” a guard spits.

Three old men shuffle in from the darkness beyond the platform, their ash grey uniforms as ornate and pretentious as the thrones. The white band around each arm reflects their loyalties. They seat themselves but avoid looking at me, scanning the room but refusing to look in my direction.

One by one, soldiers bring the others in, through the halls massive steel doors, and stand them next to me. Erik is first, standing resolutely behind me, pain clear through gritted teeth. Allison, stood beside him, pushes her luck as they take the bag off her head. She takes a swing at her captor as soon as it’s off. The guard responds by punching her in the stomach with a sickening thud and she doubles over in pain. Erik reaches down to help her. Steel flashes in the candle light, pressed threateningly against their necks to end any further resistance. Cara stands beside me, breathing heavily. Scared. Caitlin leans against Cara. Both stare off into the darkness.

Once we’re all inside, many more soldiers file in, filling lines of wooden pews ranked behind us. We stand silent, waiting anxiously for something to happen. The doors open again. A girl screams. “No! Not her. You promised me you would leave her out of this.”

It’s hard to see what’s going on with this lighting. Another group, wearing the same drab uniforms as we do are marched stiffly past us to stand to the side of the platform. They stare blankly at the ground.

There is a commotion at the back of the room, as guards try to restrain someone, kicking and screaming. Though with all the movement and dim lighting it is impossible to see what’s going on.

“You promised me you’d keep her out of this!”

“Enough!” a man shouts, reverberating throughout the hall.

“A suggestion, if I may, Marshal,” Levia says as she takes the podium. “If she wishes to join the others so much, why not let her? We have both of them now. She is… no longer required.”

The Marshal just waves his hand dismissively. “As you wish.”

The girl, beaten, her head hanging dejectedly with hair covering her face is dragged down the aisle of the church. They stand her up beside me. The girl, her familiar face, looks at me, crestfallen.  

 “My sweet little sister; I tried so hard to keep you out. I didn’t want you to get caught up in this. I’m sorry,” she whispers.

Her words pierce straight through me. I’m torn three ways – between the joy of finally finding her, fear of the situation we’re in and my own stupidity that all this time, I didn’t recognise her. Why not? It was so obvious.

 “I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner,” I whisper back.

I smile at her, happy to have finally found her, no matter our circumstance. She smiles back; a divine smile to show me that everything will be alright. She doesn’t believe it. But today, big sister, today everything will turn out ok. I promise.

“Revered Knights of the Order of the Temple, before you today stand this city’s most vile heretics. Five psychics who have hidden themselves away from our government, who have refused to submit to our government and its people. Worse still, they all actively conspire against it.

“Bear witness to their crimes and as this city’s exalted representatives pass judgement upon them. Remember today well, as it will be the beginning of a new dawn for this city.

“Not since the end of the war itself has such a large cell of these psychic heretics been caught together. May the responsibility for their judgement rest comfortably on your shoulders.”

Levia pulls out a folded piece of paper, her act undoing her military jacket and taking it out exaggerated and dramatic.

“I have here written confessions, signed by the weak minded terrorists before. Not one of them had the strength of conviction to stand by their heresy when faced with the might of the Templars. Weak. Bring them onto the stage!”

Led up the single step onto the platform, we’re filed into a line beside the podium. A guard shoves Cara in the back. She stumbles forward. Levia hands her the sheet of paper.

“Speak loudly so everyone can hear you. If you hesitate, your friends behind you will suffer for it.”

Cara looks around, scared, panicking, unsure what to do. Allison gives her a stoic nod.

She takes a deep breath, her voice shaking.

“We five…”

“Six now,” Levia interrupts. “Continue.”

“Freely and willingly admit to the following crimes and place ourselves at the people’s mercy for judgement.

“We acknowledge that it was our willing choice to take this path; ignoring the government controls for talented individuals that are designed to protect the community. As a group we used our abilities to conspire and commit to breaking and entering into government facilities and the homes of private individuals. We have used our abilities to steal, purely for our own profits. On multiple occasions we have resisted arrest from lawful individuals. We have shot at and killed people to prevent our capture. On multiple occasions we have wilfully planned the murder of law enforcement and other government officials without any due cause.

“This is just a small fraction of the crimes we have committed over the years. Perhaps, worst of all, we have used our abilities to manipulate the very humanity of those we have come into contact with. All this for our own selfish benefit. We have gotten these benefits at the cost of our souls.”

When I think about what Cara is saying, it’s all true. That really does sum up what we’ve done. We are murderers, really. I recoil at the thought.

“I don’t think we really need you to finish the rest of that,” Levia says. “I think we’ve heard more than enough of your confession to get the point. Still, I think it’s important that everyone here see’s the reality of just who you are and just what it is that the government must face. While all they have admitted to are certainly heinous crimes, it is this one in particular which is the most heinous of sins.”

“And for that, we are still missing two more guests,” a new voice slinks out of the shadows.

Levia flashes Claire and me a wicked smile as the man steps forward. “Meet Lucian. He has been hunting pests. And how has the hunt gone, Lucian?”

He steps forward from the shadows of the platform. A murmur spreads across the room. In each hand he carries a pair sadistically twisted copper cages; two almost dead crows lie twitching at the bottom of the cages. It’s only the impossible blackness and the faint glow of red eyes that gives away their supernatural identities. He places them down carefully at the front of the platform for all to see.

“Did you really think your little fairies could outsmart us?”

Levia addresses the crowd. “While all that they have admitted to are certainly heinous crimes, it is this one in particular which is the most heinous of sins.” She points aggressively at my sister and me. “These ones, these vile witches, these heretics, who willingly consort with the demons we have captured and locked within these holy cages.”

The murmur that had running through the soldiers has now changed to a fever pitch.

“Thank you Seneschal Lucian, Seneschal Levia,” the Marshal says. “Without the help you have given to the Templars, without your constant vigilance and tireless dedication to our most holy work, this city and its people might now have been in much worse circumstances.”

Levia and Lucian bow reverently to him.

“If we hadn’t caught them when we did, soon your very minds and souls would be owned by these wicked fiends.” Lucian says, with vigour.  “This is why you fought the war more than two decades ago, Marshal. This is the nature of those who are talented and why we must be ever vigilant against them. This is why we must never suffer a heretic to live.”

“And so I ask you all,” Levia continues, “what judgement is fit for these heretics?”

She takes one step towards Cara. Steel flashes under her jaw. Cara clutches her throat. Crimson blooms through fingertips.

“Only death.” She smiles.

Today, time abandons me, running away all too quickly. Cara dies in front of me.