Beautiful Deception

He played beautifully with his words, enchanting the hearts of many maidens. He hid behind his pretty mask, winking softly at his minions as they passed him by. Actually he was a dark and empty shell, with tears of acid rolling down his scarred face. For him, I have empathy but no sympathy... darkness has now become his constant companion, and it is for his soul that I weep bitterly. I have yet to understand how I could have fallen so deep and so far... many hands were reaching to stop my fall, but the call from the abyss seemed beautiful. The melody was melancholy, the cry was soft and helpless. I fell freely and willingly... his hands caught me softly and placed me gently on my feet. I looked through the shadows and it all seemed so familiar. Yet deep within, a very tiny voice warned me urgently... strange how warnings in the mist of darkness seem so far. He took my hand and I turned away from the light. I went with him venturing into the further corners of his world. Oh! How beautiful and sad it all seemed. Looking back now, I vaguely remember stepping over dead and dismembered bodies. But while I was following him, they seemed of no consequence. That which was dying and rotting at my feet only served as a stepping stone deeper into the abyss. His world was a world that beckoned with sounds of many haunting voices. It was not cold; if it was I felt it not on my skin or face. I had no awareness of danger or death, only of my heart beating somewhere in the distance.

There were others there… one more beautiful than the other. Each was more intriguing and in their silence their words whispered into my mind, into my soul. They beckoned with soft smiles and dead eyes. Their eyes held shadows filled with secrets I desperately wanted to unravel. I wanted to find the truths hidden behind pale faces and burning eyes. I hid my eyes from them for a moment, not wanting them to see the ignorance wavering behind mine. I wanted to be one of them - beautiful, serene and hidden behind veils of mystery. I wished to be a labyrinth to be conquered. Slowly and quietly something was dying within me. I did not realize it, for in that same moment the other became alive within me and I surrendered to it willingly… not knowing and in essence not caring. Slowly, he turned back to me and smiled softly, his eyes a soft amber glow in the mists around us.

His words flowed from somewhere behind him, Welcome to my world dark angel… look at all my beautiful people. Then he turned back and inhaled deeply as if he were taking his life’s essence from their energy. Slowly he exhaled and promised me wordlessly the adventures of kings and queens. His words danced towards me, sinking into my heart to never let go, The darkness was never this beautiful, the sight of your pale white skin and lips transforms my attentions into a bigger sin. A hopeless romantic might make this moment seem tragic, to prove that you are the greatest gift to all desires. He took my breath and heart in that moment. My reply came in silence, I can but love only one… There were rules, he taught them to me one at a time. He taught me patiently and - as it seemed then lovingly. He instilled them in my spirit, never to be forgotten and never, never to be overstepped. If I could do this - if I could adhere to these rules he promised me other worlds with other creatures. Like Alice I ran after the hare… not knowing where he would lead. But curiosity is a deadly master and it allows no hesitation.

***~~~***

ONE

Carpetta’s Village

The screams of terror and agony came storming towards where Nanna sat hunched over the crackling hearth, tending her fires lovingly almost tenderly mixing her herbs and softly chanting into the night air. The scream pierced through the blackness of the night, and the animals of the forest grew silent in its wake. Nanna tilted her head to one side and listened, a small trickle of excitement ran down her old and twisted spine. They will be here soon, she thought; a crooked, little smile playing slyly on the cracked lips of the time-worn hag.

Moments after the scream ripped through the forest and died in the underbelly of Shemal, followed the sound of hurried feet heading towards her cottage. She did not get up, she only watched as two boys emerged from the forest, both of them dishevelled and out of breath. The fire from the hearth and the scattered wax candles illuminated them in the doorway of her grey, moss covered, stone-walled cottage.

The first boy was young barely twelve. The scars on his trembling hands and ashen white face, told of the spirit of a warrior that had seen one too many a fierce and futile battle. He was given the name Alex and carried the spirit of the ancients. There was something different about the urgency in his eyes that made Nanna consider him longer than she did the other boy.

The other boy might have been just a couple of years older than Alex, but his face was harder and his eyes and voice were void of any human emotion. He stood in a hushed almost respectful silence. For just a moment - his pale green eyes taking in everything around him he remembered all he had seen and stored it in the furthest corner of his mind. Nanna stayed hunched over the fire surrounded by her wealth the bric-a-brac of green, deep red and muddy brown bottles in all shapes and sizes. These were filled with dried white bones of uncertain origin. Herbs and liquids of all smells and tastes the imagination could conjure stood scattered around in clay mugs and silver goblets. They were dented and tarnished and completed this strange, almost surreal picture.

In the corner closest to the fire, on a white rickety rocking chair lay the fattest, blackest cat he had ever seen. Tempest stared up at the intruder to his kingdom with a bored feline look. It yawned and licked its front paw with diligence. This chore finished, the cat purred contently and closed his eyes this was not his fight anyway. He drifted to Oblivion.

The musty smell and the essence of death filling the cottage made the elder boy choke. By the name of El, how could anyone live like this? he thought. Bringing his tired eyes back to the hag, he cleared his throat. You must come now! the green-eyed boy barked the order at Nanna.

Slowly, Nanna stood up from where she sat hunched and reached for her worn, black leather satchel at her feet; it was as if she knew they would be coming for her. She shuffled towards the dilapidated door, satchel in hand, where the wide-eyed, adult children watched her. Nanna could see the shadows of fear hidden behind those eyes, but she paid it no mind. Fear is but a delusion in the mind of the weak, she thought as she shuffled past the boys. Be so kind as to close the door behind you she whispered, and then without further fuss she hobbled along the forest path, heading towards the village.

The village of Carpetta lay nestled at the foot of the Mavet Mountains, right on the edge of the Obsidian Forest. Many a tale had been told in hushed whispers, throughout the generations of the Carpetians. Tales about the forest, of the dark secrets it kept and the old witch that lived in a cottage at its core. It was a small village no more than about fifty thatched mud houses stood on the perimeter of the grounds. They were built in a semi-circle, for protection against the beasts of the night and the witches that walked fearlessly among them by day.

After sunset, when night crawled over the village, you would find not one living soul in the church yard or even the market square. The only sign of life would be the faint yellow light emanating from small windows and glowing from beneath shut and bolted doors. Crucifixes hung skew, as they came loose from the nails that kept them on the doors. Garlic cloves adorned the windows, a rank smell hanging over the village and villagers. Holy water at the ready, only an arm's length away or carried in small vials within their cloaks. Carried by all from the youngest villager through to the old man who lay dying from the curse… the curse of the dead.

None of the tame village animals or livestock dared to be left outside. Sometimes, in the stillness of black, the villagers could hear the balking and screaming of the terrified animals, but they dared not even look through a window. They were terrified and argued that to sacrifice the animals was better than the curse ripping at the life force of the village.

The streets of the village were hard-packed by the trampling feet of the villagers and the oxen drawn carriages, rushing to make sure that they reached the safety of the villages before nightfall came.

A blessed couple of meters from Carpetta’s village laid the barren and overgrown graveyard. You would only enter this place of misery twice: first to dig the grave for the unfortunate soul who had left Carpetta; second to bid them farewell, guards at the gates and holy water in your pocket. Despair clung to this place and hopelessness guarded it. The villagers steered clear of it. Sanctuary was in the churchyard, and the churchyard in the village. As long as they had Sanctuary they did not fear Death (the lady Freaner) and the curse as much.

Tonight was different though, they need not have feared Death, seeing as she had already claimed that which she saw as hers to take. The villagers stood waiting in religious fear for the witch to come and take that which Death had begrudgingly left behind. Surely such a cursed creature had no place amongst them. To them it was as sure as day, that this child left behind by Death untouched held within her something more powerful and darker than that which they feared, and whatever it was, even Death did not dare touch it, and they did not want her in their midst .

As Nanna entered the village, the crowd had already assembled in the village plain. They opened a path for her; some averted their eyes, others made the sign of the cross and kissed their rosaries. The young ones just stared openly innocence asking questions loudly with laughter in its voice. The elder ones dared not speak what was on their minds, in fear of the curse, in fear of this witch and her strange ways. The old hag paid them no mind and determinedly hobbled to where the screaming had died down to a pathetic moan of all hope lost.

Passing by the Village Priest who looked upon her with disdain and arrogance, she cackled. Her black eyes twinkled, and her weathered face pulled into a terrifying smirk. You will be having no need for the holy water tonight Father, best you keep it for another day. The blood drained from his face as he looked into Nanna’s eyes and shakily loosened his grip on the bottle of holy water hidden under his cloak. Winking at him, she tapped her forefinger to her small nose, and laughed, I know all. The Priest spoke not a word, but turned and hurried towards the church his holy ground. His robe flapped around his ankles, almost tripping him in his hurry to leave the witch and her bone-chilling cackle behind him. His flock was now forgotten, and self-preservation was at the forefront of his mind.

Nanna smiled as she watched him go, Superstitions are more dangerous than truth, for that which you fear will not be stopped by what you might assume to be holy. These words were not spoken aloud, but waited patiently for their turn it would come, as it always did.

Still smiling, she made her way towards the young woman bent over two loved ones. The woman swayed from side to side, her hands clutched before her chest, her head down, her dirty hair stuck to her face by sorrow ridden tears. Gently pushing the wailing woman aside, Nanna whispered something to the petrified being. The peasant girl seemed to calm down, and then looking into the face of the old woman, her eyes filled once again with terror. In an instant she gave a yelp, sounding much like a dog being whipped. She looked once more to Nanna and turned, running towards the church, her feet making a slapping sound on the hard packed ground.

Nanna watched the girl running for sanctuary; she watched the other villagers suddenly come to life and blindly follow the girl. Chaos ensued as the villagers pushed and shoved each other out of the way; the only thing on their minds now was holy ground and safety. Nanna laughed under her breath, Sanctuary, what a load of hogwash, and then turned her attention to the art of death displayed for all to see at the foot of the town well.

Two bodies male and female, lay mangled and torn at the foot of the village fountain. It seemed as if they were crushed by the hand of a giant, as if Death was bored when she took them. It was as if unfortunately for these two they were simply in the way of what Freaner was really after. Their limbs, now lifeless, still somehow seemed beautifully captured in their last moments of horror.

The blood of the two innocents ran in accusing red rivulets through the cobbled stone courtyard. Where the courtyard met the hard packed earth, it seemed as if the earth took this offering thirstily, almost greedily, and the smell of hopelessness and despair lay heavily on the foggy, cold night air. The blood of the dead and dying, cried in silence towards heaven.

Strangely, it was not here that Nanna was kneeling she had no interest in the dead, not any more. Reaching her hand out to where the little girl lay motionless, not very far from the bloodless corpses of her parents, Nanna gently brushed the dark curly hair from the babe’s face and smiled. Her eyes lay gently on the innocent's face and her words sounded soothing and calming. Her voice was that of a small child itself as she whispered, So? You are to be the key?

Picking up the child in her arms, she looked at her with a silent knowing. Blood on her hands, blood on her face and blood caked in her hair, the babe was no older than five. Turning to face the petrified and superstitious villagers peering at her from the sanctuary of the churchyard, her eyes roamed over each and every one of them, slowly, patiently. Without a word she moved past them, back towards her cottage, cradling the young one in her arms, chanting softly to the wind as she went.

Alex watched the hag and the child as they disappeared into the safety of the forest. Leaning with his back against the horse stables, his arms folded over his chest, he seemed much older and wiser than his twelve years. She would be safe for now. Turning his head, he looked at the hysterical villagers. He would not remember them after tonight. He would not be a villager here for much longer. The gentle beating of his heart rang out her name in his mind and softness claimed back the blue eyes as he whispered her name into the village one last time, Nina. He noticed Krokkie lurking in the churchyard. Maybe he would stay just a couple of minutes longer this he had to see.

Krokkie watched the villagers from behind the pillars at the entrance of the chapel. His huge brown eyes twinkled as his little mind raced with the possibilities this moment presented. Dina the mischievous one stood just a small ways from him. She giggled, her hands clasped over her mouth to muffle the sound. Poking him in the back, she kept saying, Do it, do it! It will be so much fun. He turned to her, a huge smile painting his face with the colors of an early morning sunrise. Pulling at his long ears, he wiggled his snout and quietly sneaked up on the villagers.

Positioning himself just inside the chapel door, he took a deep breath, grimaced and let out a howl that chilled the night air. The dogs in the village started their howling and joined in on the fun, and then at the top of his lungs he shouted BOOOO! The villagers screamed in horror, the young ones clung to their parents' legs. The older ones tried to run but could not get out from beneath the scuffling of the stronger villagers, and a few of the ladies just fainted dead away! Krokkie doubled over with laughter as Dina grabbed him by the arm and rushed out the back of the chapel towards Oblivion and the safety of the labyrinths, giggling as they went.

Nanna could hear the villagers, they found their voices and now loudly proclaimed that witches were in their midst, that monsters dwelt in the churchyard and that hidden in the forest waited certain death and misery. Their voices faded as the old hag neared her decayed cottage.

Whispers of witch and Satan followed her on the wings of the faerie folk words spoken in ignorance by the people in the village. Nanna just smiled, seeing Krokkie in her mind’s eye as he petrified the villagers, instilling in them the fear of old wives' tales and werewolves. She washed the child clean with lilac water and herbs, and giggled into the silence of her cottage. As the child lay sleeping, she finished her packing and sank into her tattered rocking chair in front of the hearth. With her cat on her lap, she stared at the fire and smiled one last time.

The child lay pale and resting on an old shaky bed in the corner, made from twigs and sticks the mattress was filled with goose down, sewn with colored material of various shapes and sizes. It was decorated with flowers and images of smiling faeries upon toadstools and strange looking symbols. The bed stood close to the fire for warmth and healing. Nanna scratched her cat lazily behind its ears, the creature purring its content. We have found her Tempest, and now we must leave … Acacia awaits. The cat purred, Nanna smiled and the child slept the sleep of an innocent.

She watched the old hag petting the cat, and the babe sleeping in the cot, the scene somehow familiar as if she knew the child. Her eyes played over the cottage and all it contained. Her mind felt numb, yet at her spirit tugged a distant memory of laughter and faerie bubbles. She formed the words Acacia with her mouth, no sound slipping through with the word. No use in grasping at memories she thought, not if those memories were so well hidden in the fantasy of an empty shell of dreams.

***~~~***

TWO

THE INVITE

Silence has a sound you know? If you close your eyes and listen you will hear it; it emits a slow noise, a quiet noise, and it’s comfortable.

Nina … Nnnniinaaaaaaaaaa, the shrillness of Maggie’s voice pierced through the afternoon silence, shattering it into millions of tiny dreamed-filled crystal pieces, exploding into a thousand rainbow colors. I closed my eyes, hoping that if I kept them closed long enough the shrillness of that voice would disappear along with the last rays of the sun, slowly setting behind the now burning orange horizon. Nnninaaaaa! Where are you… Nnninaaaaa!!? The words now came out scowling, irritated with me.

Acacia is a little village, calm and predictable. That is how I prefer things: predictable. That way there are no surprises and life just clicks along the wheels of time seamlessly. I was brought here soon after my parents passed. In the blink of an eye, Death changed my life from a somewhat normal one in an awkward little village just north of Ireland, to inheriting a rundown old mansion just outside the little town of Acacia.

The manor used to belong to Nanna, the old woman that raised me. I am not quite sure if Nanna was blood or not didn’t really matter, she was the only mother I knew.

Nanna, with her pulled-back, pitch black hair and strange clothes that smelled of dark basements and herbs. Nanna and her cat, the cat and Nanna… they seemed to always be together. She was a woman of few words, but her eyes could speak volumes, and the strange thing was that I could understand all they said.

I inherited my mother’s violet eyes so I was told by Nanna. Mother’s eyes were a symphony of emotion and life, laughter, innocence and joy, and Father… well now when I think back I am not sure what colour his eyes were. Doesn’t really matter you cannot miss someone you never knew.

Nanna never smiled, not even once. She taught me about herbs, about Nature and how Nature is our mother. I always found that a strange thing to believe, but I knew that nature nurtured and provided much like a mother. So even though it might have sounded strange, it did not make it any less true. I studied with patience or at least tried to the lessons could get so boring sometimes. But just one look into those black button eyes and I knew: I knew I was different from the other innocents. It would serve me well to learn and cherish these lessons; I would have need of it in the future. I studied everything Nanna spoke and did.

Here you are! I have been looking for you everywhere, do you have any idea what time it is? The Groundkeeper is having a fit, get up and come with me right now. Magdaleen de Villabois’ voice grated against my spine.

Scowling, I pushed myself up from the dead and gnarled tree trunk I had been sitting on, and squinted up to the petite blonde girl. Well Maggie, you found me, good on you! The Groundkeeper would be proud indeed, you follow orders so well… my words came stabbing at Maggie sarcastically. Grabbing my bag, I strode purposefully past Maggie, smiling secretly at the irritated frown she gave me.

Magdaleen de Villabois boasted shoulder length curly blonde hair, the most beautiful crystal-blue eyes and a picture-perfect rose petal mouth. She was almost too perfect, too pretty and too sweet. She had straight white teeth and an easy smile, but hidden beneath this beauty lay the black heart of an serpent. Her walk always seemed calculated and hurried, as if she had a destination to reach, but no clue where it was, and no idea how long it would take her to get there. I giggled, thinking about a joke my dearest, truest friend Sam told me not so long ago. Turning my head, I looked back to where Maggie was hurrying after me, her skirt held in her hands so as not to dirty it and daintily trying to sidestep mole hills and dwarf bushes.

Maggie always as neat as a pin, never a hair out of place, always pristine. It was as if she was expecting important company, but it never came. I was certain that I had detected something lurking behind those crystal-blue eyes.

I inherited this hoity-toity creature along with the mansion; this included some other strange inhabitants and creatures. There was the mysterious and somewhat scary Groundkeeper, the old lady that lived on the Manor Grounds, selling her wares in the village, Alex the garden boy, and then of course the girls: Maggie and Sam.

What you need to understand is that I possess a gift, if I caught you off guard, for even a second, I would be able to capture what was hidden in the shadows behind your eyes. I could see you for what you really were that strange sense, that silent knowing, that there is more to this world than meets the eye. Thinking about it now, Maggie had never looked me straight in the eye. Curious I thought and then put it from my mind.

There is always more… nothing is as it seems, no one is who they appear to