Serpent in the garden

Guard the citadel

Fruit is rotten, move with caution

Venom on the tongue

Von Grey - Poison In The Water

++The flicker of candles. The heavy perfume of incense. Smoke wafted and layered around the octagonal room. Around the room, books and tomes. Dark, old wooden bookshelves, some containing older books, the spines faded, the pages musty with the scent of old paper and 100-year-old leather. Elizabeth sat at an ornate desk, with hand-carved elements and inlays of pearl, ivory, and other precious stones and metals. The leather high-back chair was worn with years of usage. She sat with an old heavy tome in front of1 her, scouring the pages one by one as she thumbed through, seemingly searching for something in particular. Her brow furrowed as she scanned the lines of text. The heavy and old door opened, and she looked up over the rims of her glasses, an older woman carrying a stack of more books and tomes. With a wave of her hand, she directed to which pile the new books should be sorted. Then returned to her work. She was close to the end of the book when a commanding male voice cut the quiet as he ascended the stairs. She didn’t react; she was just closing the heavy book, dust filtering into the air, the particles dancing in the sunbeams, the colored glass glazing the old study into a jewel-hued literary reliquary. She lofted the book herself and set it aside++

 

“Baroness Élisabeth Margaux Herrgott-Devereaux!!!” The voice huffed, sternly. 

 

++Silence. You could hear a pin drop. The house workers scattered. The big, burly, well-dressed gentleman swung around, closing the heavy door with little effort and spun back around. He surveyed the stacks of books and papers. She had been at it for two weeks. Just showed up on the doorstep of a secret combine in the woods. Hiked from boat pier, just over half a day's journey. Her Father looked around the room at the mess and chastised her again++

 

Lord Herrgott: This has gone on long enough. It is time you start speaking. I’ve entertained this behavior as long as I have given the situation with Annika, but I can’t help you if you don’t let me in. I came offering information as an olive branch. It was delivered a week ago, but you were up here like a hermit. Here..I think you should read it…I had to open it.

 

++He handed over the manila envelope, then moved some books to expose a nearby chair where he could sit. She looked at the envelope; no return address. No distinctive markings. Postage? Interesting. She traced the postage area with her fingertips, then took in a shallow breath and removed the contents. It was intel. She read it slowly at first. Her eyes shifted. Once again she read it, even more slowly this time. The beautiful mixing of brain chemicals and polar realization was taking place. One last time, and she slammed the whole unit down on the desk. She looked to her Father in disbelief++

 

Elizabeth: Is it so? Black Rain is linked to the father of the kid…who died in the ring? The same man Sara is working for? Are you fucking kidding me? I don’t believe in coincidences; I thought he and I had parted ways respectfully the last time in Mexico. I’ve got the fucking papers at home! 

 

Lord Herrgott: His brother actually. The father stepped down a few years back, cancer. The older brother is running the business now, and he’s definitely not his old man. He’s worse. Drug trade. His father would never. He’s got traffickers and mules everywhere. The drug is synthetic. Some lab-created concoction to be used for some very concerning use. In low doses, it’s like opium but absorbed through the skin. In high doses? Well, there’s paranoia, hallucinations, uncontrollable rage; it just depends on the person. Elizabeth, this garbage that’s being cooked up is known amongst my peers and fellow diplomats. Cartels are using it in South America. Black Rain has been suspected in use by small terrorist cells for the purpose of interrogation. This is some nasty business, child. Annika is trying to find her way out of a black haze, and right now, as per the suggestions my friends close with drugs tell me, we have no way to help her. We also don’t know what filth that beast filled her head with. I know you are worried girl but…

 

++He paused as Elizabeth raised a finger to ask for a moment to respond++

 

Elizabeth: I’m not here because of Annika. I came here because I wanted to check in on you. I needed solitude to prepare for Drago. It was always the quietest here. I’ve been in here looking through things, doing ancestry research. I need to get down to my baser instincts, and Nonna always said there was power in the rich, fertile forest floor. I need to discover my roots. All of them. 

 

++There was an uneasy quiet that settled in the room as the sun began to set. The hues of orange and purple gleamed through the stained glass. She sat back down and set the intel to the side as she did, leaning back in the chair and crossing her legs, staring at her father, quietly sizing him up as he looked upon her in almost a sense of bane that she dared to make that thought real by speaking it into existence. He noticed the book she had been searching through previously, set aside nearby. She traced his eyeline and turned to look at the book++

 

Lord Herrgott: I see you got into your grandmother's grimoires. In fact, a lot of these books belonged to your grandmother and great-grandmother. Tell me something, darling Fleur, did you ask where they were or did they seek you out? It is an honest question; the truth is important. 

 

Elizabeth: How do you think I knew where I needed to go? I had searched the manor; I knew they were not there. When Eoin and I spent that week in Germany? On the farm? I searched high and low. Something deep inside came alight when you left your message about going camping. The bunker compound. The closer my journey on the way here, the more that fire burned. They were calling out to me, beckoning to me by name. I could hear their breathing. The blood of their hearts pounded inside my head like drums. I could hear grandmother’s voice, calling to me. Her words wrapped around me and smothered me in a peaceful warmth, but there was an urgency in her words. After Annika cut contact, the dreams became more prevalent, more strange and dark. 

 

Lord Herrgott: Go on, this is very intriguing. I really must know more…

 

Elizabeth: Shades were hiding in a tree line, their white eyes watching, frantic. The roots of the trees were wrapped around a coffin, protecting it? Maybe trapping it? I could smell the earthy scent of wet dirt and mud, the familiar smell of raindrops on leaves and a cold rain in the air. It was damp and cold. In my dreams, I would get close to the coffin only for a banshee's shriek to scare me awake. I could smell the strength of death and decomposition as she screamed at me. It was trying to show me something, something important. I figured my best bet was following my intuition here. Papa, the smells from my dream…I’m in the right place, aren’t I?

 

++More uncomfortable silence. He cleared his throat and looked around at the sheer amount of ancestry, family history, and secrets, and then he glanced over at her. He was studying her face, searching for something. As the light from the candles cast across her face, he finally found it++

 

Lord Herrgott: You’ve got the gift. Nonna was right when she said you would take up the mantle and continue the family’s esoteric and arcane traditions. I couldn’t believe her. I had never seen you exert signs of having the gift or the interest beyond your shared pagan beliefs. I was viewing you with the wrong light. I only saw what was clear and present in front of my face. I was jaded and was treating you too poorly to see you had the seer peerage. Looking back now with perfect sight, I can recognize that you were indeed gifted and keen to the inner workings of magick. I apologize for that. But you indicated that you want the truth about this facet of the family, and I would be doing you a disservice if I continued to conceal it. 

 

++Elizabeths eyes widened a bit, and she shifted in the chair, leaning forward. Alphonse turned on a nearby light and sat forward in his chair, his palms resting against his knees. He was nervous but would never let it show. In the time that the two had spent reconnecting and building a relationship, there were certain topics, themes, or criteria that he would quickly dismiss or outright never acknowledge. A part of him always felt guilty that he would spur her interest as he did. He looked at the soft lines on her 42-year-old face. She was aging gracefully, maintaining a youthful face. He hated that so much time was wasted. He grew melancholy at the idea of there not being enough time to enjoy her company. He looked away towards some photos on the wall and sighed++

 

Lord Herrgott: You were always curious and observant as a child. Your mother made it very difficult for me to spend time with you, but when I did, you were fascinated by my world. I know it was similar, but still different than your mother's. Though, to be fair, she didn’t spend much time with you either. Shipped you off to that boarding school as soon as her mother couldn’t take care of you anymore. You were smart. You caught on that there was more to me than just being a diplomatic father. I’m sure by now you already figured out I belong to a secret society, as you will. I’m also a big compatriot to the idea of Satanism. That isn’t what you are looking for, but I figured it would be a good idea to just get it out there and done with. What you really want to know is about Nonna, her 

 

Elizabeth: I figured that out when I was16. I snuck into your study one night with the help of your old maid, Ingeborg. I read excerpts from some of your books, looked through picture books, and read letters. In a way, I got to learn something secret about you that helped me understand you better. Ingeborg always doted on me. She said I reminded her of her own daughter that she lost. She was always secretly helping me or teaching me. I miss her. She was like the mother I should have gotten. 

 

Lord Herrgott: Ah! So the secret is out. You’ve been dabbling in research and intel for a while before I ever suspected. Interesting. So you know then? About your grandmother's affinity for the occult? That she came from a long line of women who were herbalists, spiritualists, and immersed in paganism?

 

Elizabeth: I am. I’ve been on a journey to find myself, papa. This situation with Drago is putting me to the test. He attacked my daughter, fucking her up with his vicious poison. Now she’s erratic and won’t speak to me or Eoin. He attacked Eoin, using him as a pawn to incite fear. He wanted to make this meeting as personal as possible with few if any repercussions. He’s good. He knows how to read a situation and act accordingly. He knew coming for me was what was desired, so he pivoted and caught me unaware. How bold of him to wave his cursed hand and bring my daughter crashing down. Eoin recovered well but what he did to my daughter brought me misery and woe like I haven’t felt in years, not since Fionn. I had to sit back and just watch. It was driving me to a dark place. I thought maybe the texts would bring me some solace, or an answer. Maybe some divine ancestral ideas on what I need to do to deal with someone so bold. 

 

Lord Herrgott: I understand. Have the texts been good to you? Did you find what you were looking for? If I can be of any assistance, please say so. I have access to the temple's books and texts; they would gladly let you in with an open heart for your open mind. Depository in Paris? You name it. I want you to not stop here. I want to see you carry on the proud tradition. Oh, I know that Nonna is well in Albios as she watches your journey unfold. She smiles proudly today. 

 

Elizabeth: Albios? Wait. I know this. The…gauls believed in immortal souls and reincarnation. There was the upper light of the afterlife, the middle level, Bitu, which was the living, and the underworld, Dubnos. They believed you could reincarnate into the same family for generations. I read her notes on the Gauls and their beliefs. It is said all French are descendants of the Gaulish, as France, as well as a few other areas, were all a part of what was Gaul. That would mean I could be a reincarnation of great Nonna? Or any ancestor truly? Annika too. 

 

Lord Herrgott: It could very well be that way, yes. You are a lot like your Nonna and great Nonna. I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. My dear Elizabeth, these books, spells, texts, and letters now rightfully belong to you. They speak a language only you can understand. I am sorry I burst in with such heat as I did, but I was afraid you were spiraling. I am happy to see you were just prudently studying and researching intel. My apologies, girl. If this is where you feel comfortable and safe, then so be it. I’ll direct the staff that you are occupying this level for the next few days, and they are to be quiet and available at all times in case you need anything. 

 

++He slowly stood, getting to his feet. He looked around at history that was compiled and etched for future generations. Links to the past, answers to the mundane, spells and hexes, herbalism and the study of natural poisons. A book here about voo doo/hoo doo, another detailing magic in South America. All of them collected, bought at auctions or transcribed for the English language. He started making his way to the door, past the stacks and scattered papers. As he opened the door, now with some effort, he turned++

 

Lord Herrgott: I want this cleaned and organized before you head back to the states, am I clear? I will send the cleric up to help you sort through this all. May your thirst for information be quelled, child. 

 

++He pulled the door closed behind him, and she stood, feeling a need to stretch her legs. He had dodged the question again, about the truth, but that was okay. She already knew about what things happened in the woods. Why there was a privately owned WW2 bunker and much, much more, she started moving around the stacks of books, over to light more incense. A small mirror was positioned on the wall along with the altar. She lit a few more candles and sprinkled some dried herbs as an offering. She stood, looking at her reflection as twilight settled outside and the cold night crept in. She saw the laugh lines and the crow's feet. Her eyes were tired and dull. She had been at it for days, but it was too important to stop. She checked her profile in the mirror and sighed, not at the visage but at the suffocating feeling of Drago and his tricks. His smoke and mirrors. She lowered her head and turned, walking back to the desk and sitting on the edge. She reached in her pocket, pulled out a vintage cigarette holder and popped it open, removing a joint and setting it alight. She inhaled deeply as she picked up a scrying ball from the opposite side of the desk, swirling her smoke-holding hand around it++

 

Elizabeth: You know Drago, I had hoped that we could just put everything to the side and build up you versus me. No gimmicks, no frills, no bullshit. Just you and me teaching everyone else on the card how to do it. That is what I wanted out of this. I just wanted the fight and the strap to take precedence. But no. You had to make it personal. Me, as I am, was not good enough for you. You sat at your high table and decided that you wanted to push me and see how far you could before I snapped. I sat on the sidelines, watching her be attacked and the awful consequences that came afterward. Are you proud of yourself, Drago?

 

Was the view from up there befitting a man so high on himself? Do you grin with bloody fangs as you witness the many ways you have affected my life? Lick your chops, you devil. Sniff the blood in the air and take solace in the very idea that because of your orchestrating, I’m in a precarious position. I want to just explode on you, beat you within an inch of your life. I have good lawyers. I just want to piss away the opportunity I worked so hard for and lay into you like you owe me money. I should. The weeks of trying to stay patient and not give in to my more animalistic urges. The awful, wretched feeling of my heart breaking in half as my beautiful babygirl withdrew further and further. You truly are a vile monster. Trying to ruin my life and potentially ruining hers for what? So everyone that looks up from under your heavy banner quivers in fear at the very thought of riling your ire? 

 

++Her voice rose, the sound reverberating around the room and even down the hall. Her eyes darkened, and a look of utter disgust started forming on her face. She inhaled again, more this time, and tilted her head back, taking a moment to compose and medicate. She held the scrying ball in her free hand, tilting it side to side, as if hoping to see into the future. As the calmness returned, she smirked slightly++

 

Elizabeth: Then there’s the strap. I abandoned one child to chase the very thing you possess. Gold. Now I have an opportunity to do the same damn thing one more time. There’s a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Those familiar PTSD voices and reminders are hot on my heels. If only you knew how deeply your meddling would affect me. I won’t give you any credit for planting the seeds of self-doubt and harkening to reminders of my little girl, Fionn. You don’t get that pleasure. The only thing you get is to sit mighty above me and snicker and squeal as your predatory choices add extra layers of misery and suffering. But there is one thing, Drago, a little something that helped me decide which choice was more important. 

 

++She ashes the reefer cig and sets the scrying ball to the side++

 

Elizabeth: Without the belt? You’re just a cult leader. A modern-day Jim Jones. You’re just some guy who uses charisma and smoke and mirrors to bullshit weak-minded, desperate people and the degenerates of society. You take advantage of the lost and the weary. You sing a honeyed tune that is pleasing to the simpletons soul. You can have all the followers and pawn pieces as you please, but at the end of the day you ARE just a man. How does that pinned loss feel, Drago? I’m glad that match ended the way it did. You know why? Because losses ferry doubt, and enough doubt means fewer and fewer people take this Gomez Addams sideshow seriously. To know Kriegson had to hang back and watch you take the pin is just a cherry on top for me. It’s as if you guys forgot we’ve crossed paths before. I think I came out on the winning end a few times, huh? 

 

I don’t see your grand cathedral, and it’s many dregs bowing at your feet for wisdom. I see a problem. I see a mortal man that can bleed. I see a man whose bones can break. I see teeth that can be violently stomped out, and as much as what you did to my daughter upsets me and enrages me, I’m a former addict, so I understand the process. What I CAN do is, while she is trying to get her shit together, refocus all of my despair and anger at you. Because everything I feel these days is BECAUSE of you. I need to because this company deserves a better champion and I’ve had enough experience in the big leagues, wayyyyy up in those box seats, to deliver what CWF needs. You’re dangerous, make no bones about it. You are a huge problem. You will be less of a problem once you lose. And you CAN lose. I already proved that. You can cite some high holy bullshit about it being a fluke because your hell hound couldn’t keep you protected but the truth is at the end of the night you were looking at the light. Savor those feelings because you know now what I always have. 

 

Do you believe in the arcane, Drago? I ask because I do. I believe in things like hexes and spells. I believe in empaths, psychic ability, and familiars. I recently came across a hex that I feel is quite appropriate for the situation. Your Joy Will Turn To Ashes. Quite catchy, no? Your joy is your strap. It empowers you. You draw strength from it to maintain your unfair, unrequested dominance. Being the champion makes you feel infallible. But you aren’t. You never have been. That isn’t me discrediting you; you put the work in, you earned your shot and you won. This isn’t me saying I’m better than you because I’ve been a lot of years in the industry. This is me saying you are just a man. 

 

A twisted emo fuck that’s going to have to pick his teeth up from the cheap seats when I am done.

A day will come
When you think yourself safe and happy,
and suddenly your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth.
And you’ll know the debt is paid.