Darkness Falls, Part Four: Rise(B) - Sneak, as promised
“Who is all-powerful should fear everything.” Pierre Corneille ‘Cinna’(1640), Act IV, Scene II
“What. . . .”
Tara couldn’t move. The sight of Faith standing right there in front of her, as unbelievable as it may have sounded, was almost more terrifying than anything else she had been through.
“. . . the. . .”
Almost.
F-Faith. . . .
The dark-haired Slayer dropped her arms to her sides, her eyes shifting to the naked, bloody body laying beside Tara. Her brow drew together as she took a step towards them.
“Spost indietro!” Tara’s raised hand and spoken words silenced Faith mid-step and sent her flying backwards almost twenty feet.
Faith landed hard on the ground, tumbling end-over-end until her back hit a tree and stopped her. Stunned for a moment, she shook her head and raised her eyes to look at Tara. “. . .FUCK!”
Tara’s hand shook as she held it out in front of her; her other hand stayed pressed against Willow’s skin, gentle, protective.
Faith pushed herself to her feet and rubbed a hand over her lower back. She started towards Tara, a little wary in her step. “Look, Elphaba—”
Tara swallowed hard and shifted on the ground. “St-Stay away. . . .”
Faith stopped. “Chill.” She raised her hands in an ‘I surrender’ gesture. She shifted her eyes from Tara’s and looked around carefully. Then she lowered her hands and stared at Tara. Then at Willow. Then Tara. An expression came over The Slayer’s face, one of anger and sadness and determination, all in a fleeting instant, in a single look. Then, slowly, Faith looked at the house.
Dimly, as if far away in the distance, screams rose up in the night.
The house was screaming. Horrific, blood-curdling, monstrous, they soared in an ungodly chorus towards the night skies.
Tara looked over her shoulder, up to the window and felt her body begin to shake. No. . . no more. . . .
Faith’s eyes dropped to Willow again. They traveled over the length of her beaten and bloody and lifeless form. . . and her expression turned to seething, burning hatred. She shook her head softly and her lips curled in a deathly snarl. “Mother fuckers. . . ,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. She stepped backwards, away from Tara, shaking her head as rage filled her eyes. “God Damn mother fuckers!” Suddenly she ripped her jacket from her body and tossed it onto the ground in front of Tara.
Tara watched silently, not completely understanding what was happening. Faith was terrifying in her own right. A Slayer gone out of control, she was dangerous. . . deadly. A killer in the literal sense. They had all experienced what Faith’s rage and hatred could do. They had all suffered because of it. But this— this person before her— this was something entirely different. Someone entirely different. Tara could see it. She could feel it. This Faith, she was entirely different. Her rage was still alive, yes, but it wasn’t fueled by her cruelty, by her jealousy, by her desire.
It was fueled by. . . pain.
Pain.
Willow’s. . . pain.
Faith hurt.
Because Willow did.
This realization was as surprising to Tara as it must have been to Faith. Tara lowered her eyes to Willow. With a gentle hand, she pushed her lover’s matted hair from her face. . . . Willow. . . .
“Light it.”
Tara looked up. Faith stood before her again. In each hand she held what amounted to a “low-rent Molotov Cocktail” made from softball sized rocks wrapped in brightly-colored bandanas. Tara blinked, but made no move.
Faith stepped back and cocked her right arm. “Light it!” And with that, Faith looked up towards the house and launched.
Tara’s left hand rose without a thought, following the arc of the rock as it soared towards the roof. “Incendio,” she muttered under her breath. The bandana burst into flames as it sailed over the ledge of the roof and disappeared.
Faith didn’t hesitate for an instant. Again, she cocked and fired. And again, Tara spoke in whispered words, watching as the flaming stone crashed through the second story window and immediately ignited the curtains. Faith bent down and retrieved two more stones, hurling each into different areas of the house. Tara lit each without hesitation, and watched as they caught fire and spread over the house.
“Fuckin’ mother fuckers.”
Tara lowered her hand to Willow once more and raised her eyes to Faith. The Slayer stared, unblinking, as the house rapidly became engulfed in flames. Her jaw tightened, her lips pulled back into a sneer. Everything about Faith screamed fight.
Fight.
Or die.
But The Slayer stood and watched. Unmoving. Then, she blinked several times and lowered her eyes to Tara’s. She glanced at Willow, d bent down and grabbed her jacket. She stepped to Willow’s side and squatted down; with hesitant hands, she covered Willow’s body. Inches away from each other, Faith looked into Tara’s eyes. “I got ‘er.”
Tara’s hand trembled where it touched Willow. . . . Willow. . . .
Faith leaned forward and slid one arm under Willow’s shoulders and back, one arm under her knees. She nodded softly. “I got ‘er.” And then she stood, and lifted Willow into her arms as if she weighed nothing. Limp, and lifeless, Willow’s head fell against Faith’s shoulder.
Tara followed, her legs wobbling beneath her as she got to her feet. She watched as Faith pulled Willow tighter against her body. And still Willow made no sound. Made no movement.
From inside the house, hundreds of inhuman screams continued on, becoming louder, shriller.
Faith backed away from the house as the fire continued to consume it all, Willow held in her arms, her eyes moving up and down, side to side, scanning for any unwanted company.
Tara stood on shaky legs, trembling from head to foot, staring as Faith and Willow moved away from her. Screams crescendoed behind her, sending wave after wave of shivers up her spine. Willow. . . .
“Blondie!” Faith’s voice cut through her thoughts, sharp and hard.
Several windows suddenly exploded, raining glass down on the ground around them. Then, the crackling sounds of the house starting to collapse, began to drown out the shrieks and screams coming from within.
“Move!” Faith pulled Willow closer to her own body, protecting her as best she could. She took a deep breath and stared Tara in the eyes. “I said, move your ass, God damn it!”
Tara blinked, as if she had been slapped. And then, with no conscious effort, her legs moved. Right, left, right, left. Tara found herself following Faith, away from the burning structure behind her.
Away from the horror.
Away from the pain.
Away.
Away.
Away.
***
TBC ... well TBF (to be finished?)
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