Chapter XII: 'Welcome into my lair!'

Beloved of the Goddess
Copyright © Stephanie Pui-Mun Law 1999.
Used with permission.

All of them knew that Sergeļ was most certainly expecting their visit. That is, he expected Venetia's visit, but he probably not suspected which allies she had chosen. Venetia went straight to the place where she had found Lucy and Azrael dared not ask her how she had found that it was Sergeļ's lair; he probably knew how she had proceeded to discover Damian's. A welcoming committee was waiting for them: ten or more strigoļs against them. Venetia smiled: Sergeļ wasn't underestimating her! The three brothers were fighting side to side, so Venetia and Azrael chose each other as brothers in arms.
Both sides received a bad surprise: Sergeļ's strigoļs, because they expected only one prey and they were four; Venetia's allies, because the adversary wasn't of a low level. Obviously Sergeļ had chosen his best fighters to oppose to Venetia. The girl was using Herrikhan's glove most of the time and she could almost hear the gleeful shout of the glove as it was exterminating strigoļs. A sixth sense forced her to turn on her heels and she saw other strigoļs hidden by the darkness of a corridor.
"Azzy!" she yelled, running toward them.
Azrael shouted an order to his men - strigoļs - and followed her without any hesitation. In the indescribable mess that ensued, some of Sergeļ's strigoļs managed to escape from Azrael's and Venetia's fury. The girl realised quickly they weren't mere strigoļs: they had magic in themselves, powerful magic that wasn't usually the privilege of strigoļs.
"Azzy! They are like nazdravans!" she shouted.
As they progressed further, a strigoļ proved Venetia to be right: he transformed into a gigantic living flame. Venetia remained open-mouthed: the living flame was the most difficult transformation, used only by the great magical warriors during their duels, the duel ending with the extinction of one of the fighting flames.
"I wish Draz was here!" she whispered fervently under her breath. "He would know what to do!"
"Life stealer!" Azrael called her. "Continue without me! This one is for me!"
Venetia obeyed at once. She looked back only once and she saw two living flames engaged in a terrible duel which would end only with the death of one of them. As she was running in dark corridors, stake in hand, a strigoļ pounced on her and tried to bite her. A firm blow sent him to the ground and Cain appeared, dark and taciturn, to finish him off.
"Thanks, Cain," breathed Venetia who hadn't had the time to react. "Where are the others?"
"Azzy is still fighting. Seth follows me..."
"And Abel?"
"I had to kill him. One of the shaman strigoļs changed his mind and he was fighting against us."
Venetia said nothing; she had predicted to Cain he would kill his brother and he just did it.
"Let's go!" she said. "Sergeļ is waiting for us."
And they resumed their running in the dark corridors. They were entirely lost, for it was like a labyrinth.
"At the end, the Minotaur!" said Seth, smiling.
"And three Theseus?" retorted Cain, not in the mood for jokes.
"No, only one. Look ahead," intervened Venetia. "Will you be able to manage them alone?"
"Sure, life stealer. We can do everything we set our mind to," replied Cain.
"Great. Sergeļ is mine."
Using both her stake and Herrikhan's glove, Venetia ran straight ahead, avoiding the hands and fangs trying to catch her. Some strigoļs whose gaze followed the slim girl received a huge surprise as they turned their head back, seeing the grinning face of an unknown strigoļ, obviously not friendly.
Venetia slowed down a bit her wild peace. Her heart was beating loudly and wildly. She touched the wall with her right hand, the one that wasn't covered with a leather glove; they were cold and damp. She shivered; suddenly all her hate was gone and she felt like a lost little girl utterly frightened. She knelt in the corridor, trying to remember a prayer, but none came to her mind.
"Draz, Draz!" she thought desperately. "I wish you were here with me now! How foolish and proud I have been, refusing your help!"
A soft pace behind her startled her. The slim shape of a wolf appeared near her; she remembered Rusalkan's sentence:
"I could follow you under a wolf shape if I wanted so."
"Draz? Is that you?" she asked softly, feeling stupid.
The wolf replied by licking her left cheek. She laughed lightly, circled its neck with her arms and buried her face in its thick and rough fur. The wolf stood it patiently. Then Venetia raised up the head and touched her lips, which were still glowing Rusalkan's glow.
"Yes, I would really leave him for you..." she whispered.
Then, the wolf on her heels, she set off at speed again. She had the impression of someone either following her - but when she turned the head, she only saw the wolf running lithely near her - or preceding her, but her eyes were used to the darkness and she couldn't see anything in front of her. Nevertheless she was sure Sergeļ was playing hide-and-seek with her. It reminded her of her hunt for Damian: he had played with her the same way.

As she entered a room as dark as the corridors, still at her quick pace, light exploded from everywhere, blinding her suddenly. She blinked and turned on her heels, only to see that there was no door anymore behind her. The wolf looked at her with a sorry air, as if it was apologising for having been so careless.
"Welcome into my lair!" said a distinguished voice she knew only too well.
She faced him slowly and caught a movement in the corner of her eye, but there was nothing when she looked. Sergeļ was facing her, as handsome as before, smiling in a way that hid his fangs. His handsome features weren't twisted by the strigoļ's. For a brief moment, Venetia wondered how he did.
"How will I call you, dear guest?"
"Strange how people don't like my name," noticed Venetia, pacing quietly in the room, faithfully followed by her wolf. "Can I know why?"
"Your name is quite a romantic one, not at all in relation with what you are. So which name can I use for you?"
"I think Veronal may be right for you; you won't use it quite often, so it doesn't really matter."
"Veronal? And do you expect to give me eternal rest?"
Venetia pretended to ponder.
"To give you, certainly not. But to throw you in the depths of death's kingdom, for sure."
"What a nice little girl you are!" said Sergeļ appreciatively. "Oh! And what an interesting wolf you have! Why are its eyes glowing red?"
Surprised Venetia turned the head to look at her wolf - and knew immediately she had made a mistake: Sergeļ pounced on her and approached his mouth of her throat. He was whispering strange words to her and she felt her strength fleeing far away. She started as jaws closed on her leg: her wolf had bitten her. Her mind cleared a bit and she thought:
"Draz! Help me!"
As to answer her prayer, a wave of hate, pure and intense, swept through her as the jaws closed more lightly on her leg. Sergeļ bit her gently and the wolf growled.
"Go away!" ordered the strigoļ, kicking the wolf in the ribs with his foot.
Venetia winced at the same moment, feeling a sharp pain in her own ribs.
"Quite interesting," murmured Sergeļ, releasing his grip on Venetia.
She breathed heavily, touching the bite at her throat, and bit her lower lip as the strigoļ kicked again the wolf. The pain was almost unbearable. The wolf looked at her reproachfully, still refusing to howl his pain.
"Are you ready?" thought Venetia.
The yellow eyes - so much like Rusalkan's golden eyes - blinked and both the girl and the wolf pounced on Sergeļ. The strigoļ smiled, avoided them without any problem and in a negligent movement, used his magic to harm the wolf again. The cry of pain was the same for both Venetia and the wolf, and the way Venetia's lips curled to shout was strangely similar to the way the wolf bared his teeth in pain. A moment stopped in her momentum, Venetia looked at Sergeļ with eyes full of hate. Then, she squatted and stroke gently the wolf's head.
"Be ready," she whispered.
Once again the wolf blinked. As the girl stood up, she wasn't Venetia anymore, she was Victorina. Sergeļ remained frozen on the spot when he saw her walking toward him with the swaying walk she adopted then.
"Oh, Sergeļ darling, you are really not nice to me," she said, smiling. "I thought you liked me!"
Her voice was the seductive voice of Victorina, with her low accents, a throaty voice that mesmerised Sergeļ in the same way his words were able to mesmerise his victims. He shook the head, trying to regain his composure.
"Oh, I like you, Veronal, dearie. Didn't I promise you I would drink your blood? Which union is more perfect than the one of a strigoļ and the person he had chosen, which love can be more passionate?"
"Do you want to taste it now?" offered Venetia.
She had read in Gerkelan's eyes, so long ago, and in other strigoļs' eyes, what it felt to drink her blood and she was ready to use that weapon against Sergeļ. The strigoļ, so bewitched by her, was more than certain she was again in his power, so he approached her with an assured pace, forgetting the wolf whose golden eyes never left him. He bent down the head toward Venetia and pierced again her throat with his sharp fangs. Venetia tilted the head on the side, standing still and gave mental orders to her glove. She felt dizzy as Herrikhan's glove obeyed and she fixed desperately the wolf's yellow eyes over Sergeļ's shoulder.
Suddenly the strigoļ cried out of pain and stepped back. Venetia stumbled as he let go of her.
"What did you do to me, you witch?" he shouted, his handsome features hideously twisted.
"Oh, poor, poor Sergeļ! Don't you know me for what I am? I'm not only Gethsen official dhampyr, not only Lucy's sister, I am too the life stealer, I am Herrikhan's glove's bearer and I am the one who will kill you!"
"Herrikhan's glove..." said Sergeļ, froth appearing at the corner of his mouth. "He told me about it..."
Venetia, implacable, curled her fingers around Sergeļ's throat and her glove glowed with joy.
"You're not really handsome now, Sergeļ dear, you know," she said casually. "I would even say that you're rather ugly."
Sergeļ muttered something she didn't hear, for she tightened her grip on his throat a bit more.
"Oh dearie, that's really not nice! You shouldn't try to cast a spell on me like this!" she scolded him.
Then she gave a last order to her glove and Sergeļ's body became limp. She opened her fingers and he fell on the ground as she watched him with a disgusted air.
"Check," said Venetia with a cold voice. "I would even say checkmate."
She turned the head. Her wolf blinked and left her, trotting in its lithe pace. Cain, Azrael and Seth were leaning against the wall, looking quite weary.
"Nice ending," commented Azrael and his voice was nothing more than a mere whisper.
He was burnt almost everywhere. Venetia approached him, loosing her glove.
"Here is it," she said, holding it out to Azrael. "It's yours now, Azzy, but remember: if you're not from Herrikhan's blood, it will attack your mind to drive you mad and kill you."
"You're not supposed to be able to take it away!"
"I'm not supposed to be alive," retorted Venetia.
"You need to treat that wound of yours," said Cain.
She touched the bleeding bite at her throat and shrugged.
"One more or less, I don't care."
"Venetia..." said Azrael hesitantly.
She froze. It was the first time the Angel had ever pronounced her name and it sent shivers down her spine.
"What, Azzy?"
"A strigoļ joined Cain and Seth..."
Venetia closed the eyes.
"Let me guess," she said slowly. "His name was Gerkelan, alias Herrikhan, and he fell..."
"He's dead," agreed Azrael. "I'm sorry, Venetia."
"Thanks for your help. I'm sorry for Abel. Can you leave me alone now, please?" she said mechanically.
"Will you find your way back?" worried Azrael.
"I will. Farewell, Azzy, Cain and Seth."
"Farewell, Venetia."
As soon as they disappeared, she dropped on her knees and buried her face in her hands, brow against the floor. She felt like an empty shell. She had lost everything. Her sweet sister, who had been the centre of her life since her birth, was now dead and nothing mattered now.
"I should be dead!" she cried, her sobs dying in her throat, refusing to go till her eyes.
But despair was not something Venetia was used to be subjected to without reacting and she took a deep breath, raising up the head.
"Hold on, girl..." she murmured to herself. "Lonely wolf you were, lonely wolf you still are!"
Speaking of wolf reminded her of the wolf who had helped her against Sergeļ and she stood up, longing to feel the gaze of golden eyes upon her. Her eye caught a gleam of light on the ground and she picked up a tiny object. She held it in her palm for a long moment, merely gazing at it, and then she put it in her pocket. Her lips curled up as the void in her soul deepened even more.
"I knew it..." she said softly.
Half-limping because of the pain in her ribs and in her leg, she took the way back home.

Rusalkan was looking through the window as Venetia entered. She came by his side and they both gazed at the sunrise. Then Venetia turned to the nazdravan and wiped away with her fingers the blood that stained his neck and that he hadn't cared to clean.
"You hadn't to do that, Draz," she said.
"I do it all the time," he replied, shrugging. "I won't let you..."
He couldn't finish his sentence, for Venetia circled his neck with her arms and kissed him fiercely. Stunned, Rusalkan tried to protest, but she prevented him from doing so by kissing him again.
"Vic! What the Hell are you doing?"
"I won, Draz. I won."
"I'm sorry, Vic, truly sorry, but that's not a reason to act like that!"
"I won and I lost Gerkelan..."
Cautiously he wrapped his arms around her. She pressed her cheek against his heart.
"I feel so empty..." she said and she began to cry.
"What's the use of crying?" whispered Rusalkan.
"It makes me feel alive... A soulless body can't cry..."
"Don't you feel alive?"
"No. I feel dead and cold, as I never felt before, even when Damian killed me."
"Don't you feel the warmth of my arms around you?"
Venetia shook the head, then she kissed him again through her tears that gave a lightly salted taste to her lips. Rusalkan broke free in an angry movement.
"By the gods, Vixen! I may be half-way between man and beast, between strigoļ and fiend, I am a man nonetheless and I have a man's weaknesses! Do you think you can torture me like that with impunity?"
"What do you mean?" asked Venetia, confused, and feeling even colder now.
"Why do you kiss me? Just to feel alive? Just because I'm not a strigoļ, so you don't want to be dead each time I kiss you? Can't you think a bit of my feelings?"
"Don't you remember what I told you when you were a wolf?"
"No, I don't," said Rusalkan, shaking the head.
"I said I'd really leave him for you. And when you bound my soul with yours, didn't you feel it?"
Again Rusalkan shook the head. Venetia came to him and raised the head toward him; she felt his caressing breath on her skin and it made her shiver.
"Draz, help me! Help me to feel alive again!" she pleaded.
"Vic," he said with a strained voice, "the gods know I would give my life to help you, but I can't do it now without losing myself, and it would harm you instead of helping you."
"Don't turn me away!" she begged.
"Vic, please... I'm warning you! I won't be able to control myself any longer. I love you, Vic, and I'm dying with desire to take you in my arms and to keep you here forever, to dry your tears with my kisses and to give you so much love that you would smile again, but I won't! It was hard enough to kiss you last eve without letting you know of my love, when I only wanted to kiss you for real! But I'll protect you from myself, from the beast lurking in my soul."
"But why? Draz, please..."
Rusalkan clenched his fists. Venetia's pleas were hard to fight and he couldn't stand to hear her voice half-broken by the pain caused both by the deaths she had suffered and by his rejection.
"Vic, are you a monster? How many men did you love? Am I only one more in your collection?"
"Only two, Draz. Duncan was the first one. I never loved Meran, except as a brother, as Duncan's brother. I'm ashamed of what I did, because I used him to be free, I used him as a pawn in the deadly game I was involved in. He was happy like that and a merciful God took him before he realised my betrayal, but the truth is that he died twice because of me. I never loved Damian either, and you know it. I drove him mad with love and then I pretended to be in love with him too so he would be harmless. During this time, I was only thinking of you! Yes, perhaps I'm a monster to have manipulated them like that, but I hadn't much choice!"
"I don't believe you. You felt - and perhaps still feel - something for Damian; if not, you wouldn't have said it to Chyraz, if not, you wouldn't have behaved that way when you first met him after he killed you. I was there, Vic, and I saw you almost ready to give up life because he seemed to reject you."
Venetia chose carefully her words:
"At the beginning, yes, I was mesmerised by him, by his love which seemed so true, so strong, even after he knew who I really was. But I was so broken when you finally freed me from his lair, I wasn't anymore myself, I just didn't react and continued to act as Victorina... Then, slowly, as the nightmare was fading away, I realised what the situation was and I held on the only thing that was still the same: you, as I had held on you during my captivity, hoping only in you. But I realised too what I could do if I continued to be with Damian, I realised that I could give the peace to Gethsen, to those I loved and I tacitly accepted to continue this masquerade. But, oh Draz! You don't know the trial I have passed through when I fully understood what I was going to do and why, and the pain it caused me, because my heart was belonging to someone else..."
"Yes: Duncan. You don't love me. You're just trying to forget you're empty now, because you lost everything... except me."
"That's not true! I love you, Draz, truly love you! Try me, if you don't believe me!"
During a short moment, Rusalkan wondered if the choked voice of Venetia wasn't due to the tears she was holding back with all her might, in a quite desperate try to keep the last bits of her hurt pride.
"Alright," he said. "Then take that..."
He bend down the head and kissed her, a soul-seeking kiss, which swept through her, making her shiver from head to toes and leaving her breathless.
"And now, go..." he added with a voice even more strained.
"But why?"
"Because if you don't go, I will. I can't help you today, Vic."
"Draz..."
"Vic, please, try to understand! I know how difficult it must be for you, but I'm in no condition to help you today. My ribs make me suffer and my thoughts are not very clear..."
"When can I come back?" she asked shyly, with the voice of a child begging for forgiveness.
Rusalkan half-closed the eyes and forced himself to answer:
"Whenever you want, from tomorrow."
"See you tomorrow then..."
And she left with a heavy heart, head bent down, with a hangdog look. Rusalkan moaned with pain and took off his shirt; he was covered with blood, for he had fought the strigoļs before going to help Venetia. But his wounds weren't the real cause of his sufferings. He moaned again, wishing with all his heart he dared to run after Venetia, to console her with his love, but he didn't move, for he knew only too well that it would hurt them both.

Venetia wandered all day like a lost soul and her feet led her to Lucy's grave, a discreet tomb, with nothing to distance itself from the other graves. She knelt in front of the tomb and wept bitterly. Nightfall surprised her still kneeling by the grave. She sighed and stood up. She was about to leave when someone came to her, walking on the tomb without seeing it.
"Vicky, I was so worried!" said Damian's voice. "I heard that one of the dhampyrs from Gethsen was dead and I was... I thought it was you! I was so devastated that I came back at once!"
"It was Sane," replied Venetia distantly.
"I heard then that you defeated Sergeļ yesterday. Why didn't you come immediately to me?"
"I was too weary, Damian. This victory cost me dearly."
"You don't care anymore for me!" Damian accused her. "Where's your heart by now? In the seas? In the depths of a dark crypt? With someone else, perhaps?" he insinuated, his theatrical sense giving way to jealousy.
"Under your feet," replied Venetia calmly. "You just walked on it ten seconds ago and didn't even notice it."
He looked down and saw the grave. He moved from it and asked.
"Whose grave is it?"
"Lucy's."
She turned the heels and the night half-swallowed her up before he reacted.
"Vicky!"
"That's too late, dear. You had only one word to say and you didn't say it."
"That's it? One word, one chance?"
"Yes, that's it. One word, one chance. Miss the word, miss the chance."
"Can't I have another chance?" he implored.
"Why? Did you ever give me another chance? Not once! Why should I?"
"Because you're not me," he said desperately.
"True, I'm not you. That's why I know it's too late. Much too late. Sorry, but that's life."
Damian's face twisted in an ugly way and his smile was hideous to see.
"There! At least you reveal your true personality, Venom!" he said.
Venetia sighed.
"Oh please, stop that little game! Call your friend, I don't have all night to spend at this!"
A second silhouette joined Damian's.
"And now, Venom?" asked Damian.
"Poor fools! Do you really think you could surprise me?" said Venetia disdainfully. "I knew from the very beginning you weren't clear and Sergeļ was really a poor lure. He was well-known enough to inspire fear among strigoļs and skilled enough to mesmerise humans and to stand in sunlight without problems, but that's all! He was easier to control than you were, Damian!"
"But we reached our aim," said Damian's comrade. "You're alone, so you're vulnerable."
"Oh stop that, Ileni! You don't even believe what you're saying! I never needed anyone to fight strigoļs. And you left me with the most powerful ally: life! I'm still alive, even if I'm the only one."
She smiled as Ileni gritted her teeth.
"By the way, I think it belongs to you..."
She threw something to the little girl who caught it.
"My earring!" she exclaimed. "Where did you find it?"
"In Sergeļ's lair. I had the impression to be watched out all the time, you see, and when finding this earring, I understood everything. Such a tiny-tiny-tiny little thing!" she said mockingly. "One doesn't fall in love with a little girl just for the fun of it and, frankly, letting Sergeļ ignore almost everything about my glove was truly a big mistake. You were using him, it was so obvious!"
"This glove is mine!" said Ileni enraged.
"Not anymore, dearie, since you're a strigoaļca by now. Too bad, Damian, huh? Now, she will never grow up... But you don't really care, since you are using her as you were using Sergeļ. The only thing that matters for you is to have the glove, my glove. You don't care for the bearer's identity as long as you're near him - her. Ileni or me, such a little difference, isn't it?"
"Venom, give us that glove," said Damian patiently.
"Oh my, oh my! Damian, you have never been the one I thought you were! I'm so terribly deceived! You tried to fool me, Damian, but I fooled you too!"
"How?"
"I guess you did say to Ileni that you never loved Victorina, not only a single second, that all your thoughts were always turned toward her. Yes, you did, as I see... Well, I had at least the honesty to admit that I did love you... Not for very long, but I really did. As you did, by the way. Don't try to deny it, dear, that's of no use. Ileni knows it. You were so caught with me, until the moment Sergeļ came back to Gethsen! I don't know who he was in reality, but you saw in him a way to get free of me and to have the glove. Thanks to Ileni, of course, but she was so much easier to manipulate than I was! But you thought that I really loved you, which wasn't the case. That's how I fooled you, dear. For the first point, that is. The second point is that... I don't have Herrikhan's glove anymore!" she concluded triumphantly, showing her left hand, bare.
"Impossible! You can't take it away!" exclaimed Ileni.
"And, third point, you can never catch me off guard!"

From under her cloak sounded the noise of a crossbow and Ileni received a bolt in the heart.
"I like crossbows. Once you know how to use them, they are very reliable weapons," said Venetia matter-of-factly.
Ileni cried out of pain, calling Damian, but this one was facing Venetia's stake.
"Always knew a stake could be useful," she added smiling. "And now, darling?"
"I can call my friends, you know."
"Which ones? Those I killed under your very eyes? That was such fun, to have you by my side when I was exterminating your followers! I'm not a fool, Damian, even if you think the contrary. I have relations among strigoļs too and they had orders. They killed other strigoļs without a single hesitation, because I am like a cast's leader for them. You're alone, Damian, you and my sister. Just look at her when she's dying! She implores you and you don't even turn the head toward her! Is that your love? Look at her!"
In spite of himself, Damian turned to Ileni. She was on her knees, her little hands closed on her wound and her huge eyes were begging Damian for mercy.
"Will you shorten her sufferings, Damian, or do I have to do it for you? I already killed Lucy, I can kill Ileni as well."
The strigoļ knelt by the little girl and took her in his arms.
"Will you avenge me, Damian?" she asked.
"No, little one. I'm afraid we lost," he said slowly.
He kissed her on the brow and, in the same time, moved a bit the bold in the wound. Ileni died instantly. He stood up and faced Venetia.
"I killed her twice," he remarked.
"Poor Damian!" mocked Venetia. "He who's doomed to kill those he loves! Oh Angels, weep for him!"
"Can't you have any respect for the dead?" shouted Damian.
"Why? Did you have any for my dead? You walked on Lucy's grave without caring and you want me to weep for that traitor of Ileni? You said I wasn't you, Damian, and you're right. I'm not you: I'm much worse than you! Now fight, if you want to die with some dignity left!"
"I won't fight. I know I lost, that's why I surrender. What will you do now?"
"Perhaps you think I won't kill an 'harmless' strigoļ, but you're wrong! Too many souls are waiting for your death to be in peace at least!"
"Where is your honour, dhampyr?"
"In your jails!" spat Venetia. "I lost it with my blood and tears."
One swift move and Damian received Venetia's stake in the heart. He gazed at her, hoping to see at least a sparkle showing he hadn't entirely failed, but the dark eyes remained cold.
"How did you guess?" he asked, clinging to the stake.
"Sergeļ. He obviously didn't believe in the existence of Herrikhan's glove. If he was your Sire, it was impossible, for a Sire always - or almost - knows everything about his infants. But he was only a mere strigoļ, quite skilled, but not enough for my allies and me. Farewell, Damian."
She drew back her stake and Damian collapsed on the ground next to Ileni. Venetia left without looking back.

On her way back home was Chyraz's temple. Near the temple was a little boy, staring at the religious building with huge eyes. Venetia, coming silently out from darkness, put her hand on his shoulder and he started violently, quite obviously terrified.
"What are you doing outside, little one?" she asked while looking around. "You should be home by that hour."
The little boy showed the temple with his finger and said through his tears:
"They... they told me to flee. I had to run till I found the Killer. But I couldn't. Are you the Killer?"
"Yes, I am," retorted Venetia without looking at him, so she wouldn't see the fear his eyes could only show. "I think I know what's going on in this temple... Come with me, little one. I can protect you."
She walked with a decided pace to the temple, a bit surprised to find in herself that her will to fight had not left her. It could be her salvation, since Rusalkan couldn't help her... If she was still ready to fight, no matter what, it meant she was still ready to live, it meant she wasn't as empty as she thought she was!
In the temple, there was blood everywhere and the priests were lying on the ground, dead or dying. Venetia regretted to have brought the boy with her. That was not the kind of things a little boy had to see, but now, it was too late. She knelt near the old priest she already knew. He was still alive and smiled weakly when seeing her.
"Venetia... You were not here and they realised how important you are... but too late, alas!"
"Not too late for everyone, old father," said firmly Venetia. "I can save you!"
"Save the others! People need them more than they need me. I'm far too old..."
"No, you're wrong! People do need you, because you are more kind-hearted than they are... were. Now, let me proceed, old father."
"Which god can you call upon when the god of life himself turned the gaze away?"
Venetia smiled.
"I call upon someone more up to death!"
She lay her hands on the old priest's body and closed the eyes.
"Azzy!" she thought fervently. "Azzy! Can you help me? Can you give me back the life of this man?"
She had the impression the Angel of Death appeared before her closed eyelids, Herrikhan's glove covering his left hand.
"What is this man for you? Why do you want him to live?"
"He was kind to me, he understood who I really was. He's too good to go near Chyraz now."
Azrael smiled.
"You still have a grudge against Chyraz, don't you? Alright, life stealer - even if just right now, life giver would be a more proper term for you - I'll give you his life, because you made a beautiful gift to me."
He lifted his right hand and Venetia saw a ball of light escape from his fingers. The ball floated above the old priest's body and then, disappeared. The old priest's face was suddenly shocked.
"Which magic did you call upon?" he breathed. "Is this blood or black magic? Or demon magic?"
"Old father," she scolded him, "you were the only one to know I wasn't - that I am not - a fiend. Will you deny me now that I gave you your life back? No, it wasn't blood magic, nor black magic, nor even demon magic! It's just the magic of life, for the first time coming from my hands covered with blood... You should know it: life and its everyday miracles."
"Never have been its wonders for me," smiled the old priest, tears in his eyes, "and never would I have expected them coming from you, dear child, no offence meant."
She helped him to stand up, avoiding to answer.
"Now that you've seen life's wonders, can I ask you for something? I met this lad outside, seeming quite lost. Can you care for him?"
"Of course I can. Come, Rogatian. We tried to protect him when the soul stealers came. We succeeded, since he found you."
Venetia smiled sadly.
"Old father, if you ever tell him of the Killer, try to tell him the truth."
"That is?"
"That the Killer was only a girl wanting to be loved for herself, who spent her whole life protecting her little sister and... and who lost everything... Farewell, Rogatian, farewell, old father."
Silently, fleeing as ever, she left in the night and the darkness swallowed her up. The old priest remained a long time on the threshold, his hand on Rogatian's shoulder, staring at the night, wondering if the sparkle in Venetia's gaze was due to tears.

Text © Azrael 2000 - 2001.
Beloved of the Goddess. Copyright © Stephanie Pui-Mun Law 1999. Used with permission.
Set Gothiquesque, from Moyra/Mystic PC 1998.