Author's note: Hey if you read this story please don't be afraid or too lazy to comment...
seriously you can even just say "Hi" and that makes my day so much better. Thanks to Finey_McFine for giving me feedback and for being such a loyal reader :] Special thanks to my amazing beta ExtraFlamey. I hope you enjoy and please comment or there will probably be no next part...
Part 37: "Though I die Magpie this I bequeath, by any other name a Jay is still blue"-Johanna Newsom
Duma wandered down the cold and dank streets until he reached a certain corner. Outside a dark shop with broken, spider web glass stood a mysterious-looking man who appeared to be no older than about 26, but this guise of youth was very misleading. His skin was pale and dirty looking, as if he hadn’t taken a bath in months, and his hair was brown, oily and long, stopping just before his shoulders. He was dressed in a cut up and stained gray shirt with a dirty mustard color jacket that was a few sizes too big for him. His jeans were caked in mud and had a huge gap on each knee, from the material wearing away. Duma walked up to him and smiled as they met each other’s eye, both recognizing an old friend.
His name was Mephistopholes, a lower demon who was loyal to Remiel and Duma. Duma was able to recognize him by his unique golden brown eyes and the black leather wristband with ancient carvings that he always wore. Mephistophiles instantly recognized Duma despite his new form, as he could always tell who a person truly was by the combination of their scent and the presence of their aura.
The shop behind them had two wooden benches next to the gaping entrance where a door had once stood. There was graffiti covering most of the walls, but the original store sign was still just readable underneath the grime and the paint. It read “Magic Box” in faded colors. Yellow Watch-men caution tape boarded off the shop entrance, but anyone could easily slip into the darkness inside and remain undetected.
The lamppost seemed to stand as a looming shadowy guard next to Duma and the lower demon, its pale sickly light flickering constantly, and with every passing minute the light grew more dim. This concealed the two friends well but still gave them enough light to communicate by.
Duma quickly made fast hand gestures in the dim light, silently explaining the ingredients he needed and asking if Mephistopholes knew where to get them. Fortunately for Duma, Mephistopholes’ mother, Maziken, had taught her son long ago how to use sign language, along with other useful dialects.
Mephistopholes nodded in response and smiled, eager to help out his old friend. They ran into each other every few centuries or so. Duma was usually on a mission with Remiel close by and they usually came to him for information or magic materials that they might have need of.
Mephistopholes motioned for Duma to wait for him, then turned towards the Magic Box and quietly ducked inside under the yellow tape. Duma could make out the sound of heavy boots crunching over broken bits of glass and something crunchy like sand being mashed into the ground. Next came the sound of glass clinking and the ruffling of paper. Seconds later Mephistopholes returned as quietly as he entered, his arms full of packaged materials. He carefully handed over the fragile ingredients one by one to Duma, who placed them strategically in separate pockets, so they would not knock together. They then gripped each other’s forearm gently, saying goodbye in the ancient way as they always did when they departed.
“May the mother ride your winds” Mephistopholes whispered in good luck before walking away.
Duma headed in the opposite direction. He walked down several blocks before stopping at a crossroads at the main street. From here he could either, walk by the Bronze and check on Remiel, or he could go back to Willow’s apartment. Duma bit his lip, he knew he would have felt something if Remiel was in trouble, after all, much like the chosen ones they too shared a bond. He wanted to see him though, just to be sure, but he couldn’t make himself move in the direction his heart wanted him to go. Remiel would be furious at him if he disobeyed his orders, as his duty was to the chosen ones and they should be his top priority. Duma frowned he hated being away for Remiel for so long. They had only just been reunited and being separated again so quickly made him anxious. Unhappily he trudged in the opposite direction to the Bronze and walked on a few more blocks until he reached the apartment complex.
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Tara felt emotionally drained. She just wanted to lie there in bed holding Willow close to her. Her body was fighting with her to weaken her defenses and to fall asleep, but her mind was busy keeping her awake by thinking too much. Her restless thoughts were begging the universe to just let her hold Willow a few moments more, to not make her get up and have to face the world again, alone.
It was the feeling she used to get when she was a little younger and had begun the pattern of staying up late on the computer or reading, and before she had known it, it had been almost time to get up and have lessons with her father for the day. She would always fall into an exhausted sleep and wake a few minutes before the time her father would knock on her door and tell her to get up. She dreaded those last few minutes of sleep, because she knew no matter how desperately she clung to her dreams or how tightly she closed her eyes, she would be awoken by the harsh and startling thud of flesh knocking on wood.
“Please, please, please, please, let me just stay here for a little while” she chanted over and over again in her head until it began to give her a headache.
It was then that there was a soft rapping at the door, Tara grimaced. She slowly untangled herself from Willow’s sleeping form and wrapped the blankets once again securely around her lover. The door was illuminated only by the small opening where the hallway light shone through, cutting through the darkness in one thin line. Before heading towards the source of the noise behind the door Tara walked over to Willow’s side of the bed and leaned over her small form. Willow's breathing was soft and rhythmic. Tara closed her eyes and leaned in closer. She pressed her nose into the side of Willow’s head, brushing against her lover’s soft copper hair, and breathed in deeply, savoring Willow’s smell, before planting a loving kiss on the center of her forehead. Her throat tightened and once again threatened to give way to a low and pained whimper, but she swallowed it. It was like swallowing cold rough lumps of grainy dry sand.
She headed for the door and looked back one more time at her sleeping lover wishing she could just remain there with her, before disappearing into the illuminated hallway and closing the door behind her.
No one was on the other side of the door so she ventured into the living room. There on the couch sat Amy, The Fair One and The Wise One. Lady Amalthea had apparently returned to her animal form and now sat curled upon The Fair One’s lap and looked up as Tara entered the room. Duma entered the room shortly after Tara, carrying a small coffee table with him. He set it down in front of the couch everyone was sitting on, then took a throw pillow off the armchair and set it on the floor next to the low table. Tara remained standing while she watched Duma unwrap each parcel as he took them out of his pockets. The first object was what Tara presumed to be the magpie egg, off white with light brown specks covering it randomly. He arranged it so it wouldn’t roll, and then brought out the next parcel, a flask of salt water, which he set beside the egg. Next he brought out a small but deep mirror lined basin, this he set next to the other objects. Finally he fished out a small manila envelope from his pants’ pocket and carefully lifted the tab open. He held out his palm and shook out one small green pod, which he then shucked carefully on the table. Out came pouring tiny brown seeds, which made a miniscule heap next to the rest of the objects. Duma then got up and moved to stand behind the couch, and suddenly Tara felt everyone’s eyes on her.
“Find the smallest seed you can” Amy instructed, she seemed almost curious herself as to how this was going to play out.
Tara hesitated, then nodded before approaching the opposite side of the coffee table to everyone else and sitting down on the throw pillow Duma had provided. Meticulously she sorted through the small pile of oddly shaped seeds, selecting the smallest and then comparing them before deciding upon the tiniest one. It was the tiniest seed she had ever seen, more of a speck of brown dust. She felt unsure if this even qualified as a seed, but Amy made no objection as she held it out in her hand to see if she had chosen correctly.
“Open the flask and pour the salt water into the basin” Amy instructed again.
Tara took the top off and carefully poured the saline liquid into the basin, her murky reflection staring back at her from the bottom.
“Crack the egg over the basin and pour its contents in” Amy commanded next.
Tara took the egg in her hand, it was slightly heavy and cold to the touch, and its shell was coarse against her finger tips. With one hand Tara carefully knocked the egg against the edge of the basin 3 times before it made a thorough enough break. With both hands she took opposite sides of the egg and added pressure to the fissure in the middle until it grew wider and longer. Clear syrupy liquid began to ooze slowly, gravity seemed to suspend itself. Finally the egg became two halves and poured its clear and yellow insides into the basin. Tara could no longer see her reflection as the pale yolk hovered on the surface of the salt water.
“Now what?” Tara asked, guessing Amy was going to tell her to add the morning glory seed or perhaps to mix the contents in the basin.
Amy paused and looked at her seriously, “Do you have an Athame?”
Tara hesitated and nodded, wondering why the ritual would require an Athame. Maybe she was opening a circle again? Tara retrieved Willow’s Athame and set it on the table. Amy leaned forward to pick up it, but Duma pushed her back. He moved from behind the couch and sat down adjacent to Tara on the floor. He picked up the Athame himself, shooting Amy a look that clearly showed his distrust in her.
“W-what do we do with the Athame?” Tara asked, uneasily, the cool metal seeming to glare at her.
“You have to make a small “X” right over a vein in your left arm” Amy replied. Her face suddenly became unreadable, as if she was thinking about something.
Duma glared at her. He pointed the Athame at Amy and they made eye contact and he seemed to be warning her against trickery.
“It’s required” Amy simply stated, there was a tone to her voice that let Duma know she was telling the truth.
Duma continued to frown, but lowered the Athame. Tara presented her left arm to Duma, the palm upturned. Duma’s cold hands peeled back Tara’s sleeve to the inside of her elbow, then he put his right hand underneath Tara’s wrist to support her arm. His eyebrows wrinkled and he looked up at Tara, unsure if this was the right thing to do. Tara stared back at him holding her silence and nodded for him to go ahead. Tara swallowed nervously while Duma traced the cool flat part of the blade from the inside of her elbow and down to her wrist, where her veins were more visibly pronounced. She shuddered as a flash of cold ran through her body and radiated down to her outstretched arm making it tremble. Duma practiced in the air above Tara’s arm with the Athame to assure he was doing this correctly, as they couldn’t risk Tara loosing too much blood. Duma took a deep breath and lightly touched the tip of the Athame to Tara’s wrist and quickly zipped it across Tara’s skin. The pain seemed delayed because of the fast incision and at first Tara breathed steadily. Then she clenched her teeth at the painful tingle of her nerves reacting. Blood began to appear where only seconds ago there had been a thin white line between the two pink edges of the rift that had just been made. Duma steadied Tara’s shaking hand with his own as he directed the Athame again to her wrist. This time he did not pause he knew Tara wanted this over quickly. As quickly as he could he zipped another line completing the red “X”.
“Now take the Morning Glory seed that Tara picked, and press it in the center of the “X” until it goes into her." Tara flinched and yanked her hand away.
“W-w-what?!” she yelled. Being voluntarily cut by a blade was bad enough, but having a foreign object being lodged inside of her?
Holy shit, no thank you!“We’re losing time, we must do this, it’s the most essential part” Amy argued.
Tara fought her raging urge to protest further. Shutting her mouth, she angrily relinquished her arm to Duma.
“Do it” she grumbled. She closed her eyes and looked away, gripping the edge of the coffee table with her free hand, and readying herself for the horrid intrusion.
Duma did not agree at all with this ritual, and thought Amy had better be telling the truth.
Duma took the tiny speck of a seed and carefully placed it in the center of the now black red cross. He took a loose but firm grip on Tara’s hand and began to press the seed in with the pad of his thumb. Tara’s eyes flew open in pain, and she struggled to keep her arm extended, to not yank it away like her instincts were urging her to do. The pressure Duma was putting into her skin was bruising and unrelenting. It brought back the horrible memory of her father twisting her wrist and forcing that ring on. She began to struggle against Duma, not wanting anymore of this. It hurt too much.
“Please… Please, it’s in… you can stop now” she whispered under harsh gasps.
Duma gave one final push to ensure that the seed was inside securely and then gently covered Tara’s wound with his palm to stop the bleeding. The Fair One quickly rushed into the kitchen to find something to wrap the wound in, coming back with a roll of gauze and scissors. She hurriedly unrolled the cloth and cut a good length of it. Duma moved his hand away so that The Fair One could wrap the first layer around Tara’s wrist. Blood had already begun to seep through at an alarming rate, so she continued to wrap over and over until the blood stopped creeping through the gauze. She then tied the gauze in a strong knot and lifted Tara’s chin so that the girl could look at her.
“Shhh… it’s almost over, and then you can rest with Willow again”.
Tara nodded weakly and wiped with her right hand at the tears blurring her eyes.
“Mix the stuff in the basin with the Athame and then Tara must soak her wrist in that for a while” Amy instructed. Her eyes were wide at the sight of the scene that had just unfolded.
Duma picked up the slightly stained Athame and swirled the liquid within the bowl with the blade, drawing a ringing noise from the basin, of metal scraping against glass. When the liquid seemed to have merged, The Fair One gently guided Tara’s arm towards the basin. Tara dropped her hand into the basin and relaxed as soon as the liquids touched the wound. They were cool and almost electric feeling. The inside of her arm buzzed joyously as her wound drank in the healing liquid. She could feel the steady thump of her severed veins pulsing as it strengthened and repaired the feeling of pain.
Tara’s eyelids began to get heavy and she could feel the world around her slipping away. She felt the strong and sure arms of her father gather her in his arms. She was being lifted up like a child and carried, her body bobbing slightly up and down every time he took a step. Tara’s eyes were closed but she heard a door creak open.
“Put her on the bed next to Willow”, Tara heard The Fair One whisper.
Duma gently lowered her down the familiar cologne of her father clinging to him. When she was a child her father would always carry her in his arms to bed after her failed attempts at staying up late with him to watch horror movies like the grown ups did. She would always conk out 30 minutes into the movie and he would lower the volume and watch her drift off until he was sure he could move her without waking her up. Then he would carefully gather her limp seven-year old body in his arms and carry her up to her room. Tara had loved her father back then, he was the world to her he was always so patient and caring. Before Tara met Willow she had always been afraid of losing her father that one day he would never come back home to her and she would be alone in the world. Sometimes she even felt she had already lost him even if he was still right beside her, and that maybe his presence now was only just a ghost of him returning to say hello. He had promised one night that he would always be there for her and when Tara heard this she couldn’t help but cry and think to herself in horror
no you won’t, what happens when you die? you won’t be there for me…Tara now clung to her father’s form as he gently lowered her on to the bed next to Willow. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close, salty tears rolled down in single hot drops. Tara shuddered and gasped for air, she couldn’t help it she missed her father and wanted him back.
“Daddy…” Tara whispered giving Duma one final squeeze.
Duma couldn’t help but understand and he felt awful for pretending to be something he was not even though Tara knew he wasn’t her father. He knew he could never fill the shoes of this man that Tara cared so dearly for but he could protect her and return her father to her when the time was right.
Tara regretfully released him and shrunk back down into the bed, the Fair One drew up the warm blankets and covered Tara’s form in them. Tara moved closer to Willow and draped a tired arm over her waist protectively. She breathed gently into the back of Willow’s hair and let sleep overtake her.
Duma and The Fair One left the room of the two sleeping chosen ones, who at that moment seemed more like exhausted sisters sleeping together peacefully, than lovers.
As Tara slipped further into sleep her left arm began to twitch, but Tara did not notice. The vein that had been severed began to pulse wildly and protrude outwards. Something began to tear through the layers of gauze until it broke the surface a slither of green grew upwards out of the gauze and curled itself lovingly around Tara’s thumb
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<=me praying for an update, though I have more hair!
I think I actually wrote the whole pancake scene because I was really hungry and wanted pancakes... 
I love it. I just have to dig up my old teen Titans and batman comics and watch underworld again to get inspired. Or many some film noir movies hmmm that'd be interesting. Thanks for the feedback! Sorry for the long wait!
AP art history is killing my social life if I ever had one. Malinda Lo is amazing go read her books! 
I am so sorry I made you guys wait so long!! I had college stuff to do and an AP art history quarterly to study for and a 50 page comic to draw (which I'm still not done with). Good news is I built up the nerve to buy lesbian books on Amazon, which is really pathetic sounding but I've never done that before because I was afraid what my mom would say. Because of that my entire life has gotten so much happier :] I got to read "Ash" and "Huntress" by Malinda Lo, "Sleeping beauty indeed" by various writers and the most amazing book I have ever read in my life, "Shadows of Aggar" by Chris Anne Wolfe. I'm in heaven. Oh and I got my Bat Woman elegy comic yesterday in the mail so despite my life being so hectic it's very wonderful right now :] On another good note, I decided I'm going to MICA for college, I got the highest score on my AP art history quarterly which was a 100. I got a small scholarship from the National Art Honor Society and I came out to my Uncle in Florida. So life is pretty good right now :] Big thanks to my amazing beta ExtraFlamey!!! 
No feedback yet? Come on people!! READ THIS!! 
I want to see what happens next.