As she takes in what I’ve said to her, she leans back in her chair, eyes closed, hands resting delicately on the wooden arms. At this point, I don’t think she even fucking heard me.
“Ichabod… Mr. Meyer said that name to me, but I don’t recall ever having met someone by that title. Is he a Weaver of Light that needs to find his way to us?”
I don’t want to get frustrated with her, however, I can feel my nerves starting to fray.
Taking a deep breath, I decide it’s best to finish breakfast in silence, and we almost do until a few moments later, she gasps so loudly that it startles me and several others nearby.
“Are you okay?” I ask, glancing over at her.
“You’re… you’re not Lakyn.” Her tone is almost accusing, as if I’ve been trying to hide the fact from her and for the first time since ending up on the Holy Grounds, I feel hurt.
“Right,” I mumble, shifting uncomfortably in my chair. I don’t know what I just said to make her realize that, but I wish I had said it sooner.
“But if you’re not him, then who are you?” Her brow furrows in confusion, and her eyes that are normally so bright with wisdom are now clouded in suspicion. I feel like a traitor in a foreign land and that’s usually accompanied by an execution.
How many languages do I have to say this in? Do they have their own?
“I’m the son of Lakyn Meyer. My name is Aftyn.”
It’s slight, but I can see her shoulders shaking a little since I’m sitting right beside her. She’s… laughing? But why?
“Lakyn knocked someone up?” she asks loudly, doubling over with laughter.
The way she howls, clutching her belly… this doesn’t sound like her at all and it’s more than a bit unnerving. So much so, that Luminescence suddenly appears out of nowhere and places a wooden chalice filled with Cactus of Ambrosia to The Daughter’s lips. She stays with her until the drink is gone, swallowed down and resting in her belly.
And just like that, the laughter has waned into that tranquil smile and the world seems to shine through her eyes again.
It makes me wonder now, as Sun Wolf approaches me with a chalice of my very own, if The Daughter is actually in charge here or if she’s nothing more than a false god they’re keeping hostage.
Kind of like Pop’s ‘roommate.’
Four
Old Habits
Daphne
I'm lying in the tent one of these psychos gave me, staring at the faded blue fabric above my head, and even though I know it's not that cool out here in the daytime, I can't stop shivering. This ratty old sleeping bag has probably been around longer than I have, but at least it's something, and it's thick enough to wrap up in when the chills rush over my skin until my teeth chatter.
Fuck, I feel like shit.
My leg is itching again, and I try to rub at it through my pants. Scratching will only tear the makeshift bandage away again, and I need to keep this one on as long as I can. These light weaver people are unstable, but at least they've tried to help me. No one has tried to touch me or hurt me—unless you count offering me that toxic shit from the cacti around here. It's the drug of choice for each of them, but all it does is make them high as fuck and batshit crazy.
Still, drug addicts or not, they've been decent. One of them gave me some expired antibiotics, another used some desert version of moonshine to try and clean my leg, and a few of the women have helped me make some bandages out of old clothes.
It’s honestly the only reason I haven't slit one of their throats yet.
Why did you leave me here, Lakyn?
The memory of him driving away floods me again, making my chest ache as I remember the way the dust pelted my skin. Watching the taillights from the SUV disappear into the distance is the most alone I've ever felt.
I don't know what I did wrong. He told me to get ready to act on his word, and I walked as fast as I could back to the truck to get my backpack. I'd even made sure my largest knife was ready to grab as soon as he gave me a sign, but before I'd even made it back to the center of the commune Lakyn had stormed past me.
I'd called out to him. I'd screamed his name when I saw him going for the truck, but when I'd tried to run after him... my leg gave out. All I'd got in response was a face full of dirt as his tires spun before finally launching him down their excuse for a road. No glance back at me, no wave, no acknowledgement that he'd heard me at all.
The pain in my chest twists again and I can hear the whine slipping through my clenched teeth as I shiver in the sleeping bag. I hate feeling so weak. I shouldn’t even be thinking like this. I’ve never needed anyone but myself. Hell, I’ve never even wanted anyone around me, never cared about anyone's opinion of me before. Never cared if someone stayed in my life.
But I've never met someone like Lakyn Meyer before.
He's… everything I always wanted to be. Completely honest. Free. He never puts on a mask to make society accept him. No, instead he kicks in the doors of civility that society tries to construct in front of him and flashes that grin whenever the world questions him. He owes allegiance to no one, apologizes to no one, and once upon a time he'd wanted me to join him on that journey.
Until we found Beatrix.
It hadn't taken me long to connect the dots, or, rather, the blonde hair on the crazy bitch's head to the painting that Lakyn had mangled in the basement of that Satanic church. I should have realized it sooner, but the way Lakyn had talked about Beatrix when he was telling Aftyn stories had seemed so positive. It wasn't until I saw them standing across from each other that Lakyn's hate for her was clear.
He wanted her dead.
For a moment I think he even wanted me to do it, which I would have done gladly… but then he left.
He left me here with these crazy fucks, and his stupid kid, and the bitch he hates, and I still don’t know why. That question keeps me up at night when the chills or my fucking leg won’t let me sleep. Why leave me behind? Why drive away? Why not wait for me to bring back a knife so we could kill her together?
It just doesn’t make sense.
I've thought about killing her and finishing the job he’d clearly wanted me to do before he left, but Aftyn is always with her and I don't know if Lakyn wants him dead yet.
If Lakyn was here I'd know what to do. I'd know the right steps to take to fix whatever I did wrong that made him leave me here in this miserable, cheery version of Hell. If Lakyn was here maybe my mind wouldn't feel so damn fuzzy and distorted.
"How are you feeling today, Little Star?" one of the idiots asks, leaning into my tent. "I brought you breakfast."
I lift my head to look at her and the sorry excuse for food on the clay plate in her hands. When I see it’s the same shit they eat for every meal, I drop my head back onto my arm. That’s not fucking breakfast. Breakfast includes foods like eggs, or pancakes, but this bitch doesn’t have any of that. She has slimy cactus and beans, which makes my stomach churn just thinking about tasting again.
I hate this place, I hate their excuse for food, and I hate how sugar-coated and happy everyone acts all the time. Wrapping my hate around me like a warm blanket, I shift deeper into the sleeping bag and don't bother talking to her, but even after she sets the plate down… her shadow doesn't move.