Adult-FanFiction.org : Anime

Annals of Fear II	By : DeathNoteFangirl Category: Death Note > Yaoi-Male/Male > Mello/Matt Views: 5803 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note and I do not make any money from these writings

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
- 17
All instinct and precedence said to keep well away, but Fenian raced down that slope.    The wind was blowing itself into a near gale, battling against him, with icy tentacles of rain too fine to feel, but saturating him by degrees.    Hal kept pace alongside.   Kiana and Deontic were far behind, following, but without the fitness of the front runners.    Fenian leapt up onto the low wall, disdaining the handful of stone steps for speed.    The light was on in Century's chalet.    The boy was taking a long time over getting changed, as he gave as his excuse for coming down here with Siân.   Fenian cast the chalet the briefest dismissive glance, before hurtling onto the concrete staircase up to the second level.

They stopped at the top.   Fenian and Hal exchanged long looks.   The chalet door was closed.   Soft light leaked from beneath it. They could hear the muffled tones of Mello in fright.   That alone was worrying.    The Beast tended towards anger, smug superiority or, in worse case scenarios, desperation.    Fenian couldn't recall ever seeing actual fear in the blond wanker.   Even down in that cave, rescuing Matt last year, it had been grim determination and recklessness.    He sounded scared now, panting out barely discernible words about not being able to remember his prayers.     Matt was silent.    Fenian was aware that Hal was waiting.    That surprised him. She was the one with all of the experience with dangerous criminals.    Fenian's forte was the environment and the elements.   The sheen of Watari must be placing him as nominal boss here.

Fenian whispered, "I can't hear Matt."

Hal nodded, her hand twitching for the door.    "Shall we?"

She was loud enough for Mello to hear and there was a rush within to open the door.    They were both there.   Mello and Matt.   Mello with tears on his cheeks, coursing in strange rivulets on the left side, where his skin puckered and twisted.   There was a wild look in his eyes, beyond desperation and into horror.   One hand clutched the crucifix of his rosary, while the other was rigid behind him.   There was Matt, pressed in the corner between the wall and Mello's back, barely seen and not even looking.    They would have to get past Mello to even assess Matt.   The terror in the room was palpable, with nothing obvious as the cause.    It was infectious, because there is nothing in life so frightening as witnessing a great man scared to death, and the reason still unknown.    Hal and Fenian both gave the room the once-over in glances, but Mello was already panting out the situation.   "We heard the song! O Boga, it's coming!"

Behind them, on the stairs, Kiana and Deontic were arriving.   Hal stalked further into the room, circling the couple with a wide berth, trying to get a better view of Matt.    Fenian entered too, but he faced Mello. "What's coming, Mello?"   He asked carefully, though his heart was thundering.   Mello was a hair's breadth away from panicking.    He could see the battle with self-control necessary for Mello not to be screaming.   "You heard 'The Banshee'," Fenian pronounced it the English way, because that had been the title of the song in the report, "so what do you think is coming?   Gwrach-y-Rhibyn?"

"Can't you feel it?"   Mello's voice was shrill.   "It's all around us!   It's watching! It's coming!"    He caught sight of Hal moving closer and so jerked around, crushing Matt against the wall behind him.     Mello yelled out, "Don't you harm a hair on his fucking head!"

On the stairs outside, Deontic commented calmly, "He wasn't this scared when it was real.   He kept me brave."

Fenian nodded, "Mello, that's right. Get angry."    Even as he was saying it, Fenian wondered why.   A malicious streak kept prodding at his conscience, telling him that it was alright to let this man hang.    A whole kaleidoscope of memories supplied the justification. He had daydreamed, in an endless succession of different circumstances, about this moment.   Mello terrified and begging in front of him.   The smirk wiped off that evil, Slavonic face.   God would forgive him, if Fenian gave the final push now and just rid the world of the toerag forever.   But instead Fenian was reaching out with useless compassion.   He couldn't put the boot in.   It was an SOS and Fenian felt the weight of his own morality forcing him forward to help.   "It's some kind of hallucination.    Don't let it overwhelm you."

"Matt." Hal spoke gently.    "Are you alright?"

There was no response from the redhead.   Matt just stood, moulded to Mello's back, his head bowed and face buried in the nape of Mello's neck.   He looked utterly frozen into position, not even shaking.   His arms were bent at the elbow, up shielding his face. His gloved hands gripped fistfuls of Mello's coat.    He was like a statue, lost in his own private world.

Not so Mello.   Mello was trembling from head to toe, pleading in desperation now, "It's taking us to Hell! I've got no protection here! O Boga, Liam, tell me the Gospodin Molitve! I can't..." His face twisted in a mask of terror.   He gasped out, "Need a Catholic church. Sanctuary!"   He ignored Deontic walking into the room and crossing to the computers.   Not even Matt looked up, as she took over the monitoring, looking for clues and things that possibly should be switched off.    The first thing that she did was pull the lead out of the speakers.

"Liam."   Kiana stood in the doorway.   "His aura is all over the place.   Grey, broken.   I'm going to try and help."

Fenian considered the wisdom of Mello knowing that witchcraft was about to be involved.   He gestured for Kiana to hold back.   "Mello, what is that in English?   The thing that you want me to tell you."   He watched the tears falling with even more velocity than before.   "Gospodin Mol... whatsit?"

"Lord's Prayer."   Mello spluttered.

Fenian blinked.   "You've forgotten the fucking Lord's Prayer?"

Kiana called out from the doorway, her tone gentle, "Our Father, who art in Heaven."   They watched Mello swing his attention towards her; his stare, his whole body reaching out, like she was a lifeline.   "Hallowed be Thy name."   Fenian joined in and so did Hal.   "Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done..." Suddenly Mello was briefly in unison, sobbing out the words, "on earth as it is in Heaven."

Then Mello broke away from them.   "No!   Budi volja tvoja kako na nebu tako i na zemlji!"   His hand, with the rosary clasped, was up to his mouth.   No kisses, just sobs.   "Kruh naš svagdanji daj nam danas. I otpusti nam duge naše..."   But terror was getting the best of him and he whimpered, looking at them like all was already lost.   "It's too powerful.   We need sanctuary!"   He half pulled, half turned to yank Matt before him.    Matt shuffled into place, but otherwise didn't move.   It occurred to them that Matt was literally petrified.   "We need a Catholic church!"

"Mello."   Deontic called from the desk.   "This is precisely what all of the others did.   You will get to the church and find that it's no sanctuary.   You hypothesised, in the report, that they kill themselves with religious items to try and somehow insert the Holy Spirit into them.    You didn't know if it was over-zealous attempts at self-protection, or the need to kill themselves and gain Heaven before..."

"It's coming!"   Mello screamed.   "Don't you see! It's going to get us and..."   He crooked his arm around Matt's shoulders, his hand spanned against the back of Matt's head.   "We're going to Hell!"   Mello tried to make a break for it, huddling Matt with him, but Hal and Fenian were both on them.

Fenian called out, as he tussled with Mello, "Kiana, go and get Century's heart pills."    He realised a split second later that that would have been better spoken in Gaelic.    Even in such distress, both of these men had amazing intellects.   They would follow those instructions through to the obvious conclusion - that Fenian feared heart attacks.   It had happened with so many.   Heart attacks were as much a feature of this case, as they had been with Kira.   It was like bolting the stable door after the horse had bolted, but Fenian continued on in Gaelic. "Agus is féidir leat an dífhibrileoir."   He ordered, thankful to the core for those heroes of the Gaelic Revival.   Those gallant men and women, who had promoted, taught and resurrected the Irish language from the brink of extinction, then created new words to translate the modern English.   Because Fenian doubted very much that he would have had the Gaelic for 'defibrillator' without them.   "Kiana!"

But the witch hadn't moved.   Her right hand was up in benediction, while her left was lower, palm up.   Her eyes were closed in concentration.     Deontic replied from the computer, "I'm on it."   On the screen was the Old English 'Ce', but she was typing as soon as there was a reply.    No audio to scare their peers.

It felt like Mello had the strength of a hundred men, hindered only by the fact that he had Matt to hide from them.   Matt was stashed against the wall, only now shifting, but only as far as to cling onto Mello again.    Mello's rosary was between his lips, the crucifix fully in his mouth.   His fist lashed out, narrowly missing Hal, though he was aiming for Fenian.    Fenian ducked and parried the punch with a right hook of his own.   It connected with Mello's jaw, sending him crashing into Matt; but Mello was back with a left cross that grazed Fenian's forehead.    Kiana shrieked and leapt between them.   "Miho!"

Mello was wide-eyed, staring at her with spittle on his lips.    He had an open doorway before him now too and he grabbed for Matt, but Hal saw and raced around to guard the way.   Deontic spoke impassively, "Century is on his way."

"Miho." Kiana said again, more cautiously, and Mello's head swung around to face her.   His expression was indescribable. "I know you're scared, but I swear by all the Gods that nothing will touch you or Matt with me here."

Fenian realised what Mello was doing. "He's trying to swallow his fucking rosary!"   He snatched at it, but Mello fought him.   For what felt like a life-time, the two of them were back to swinging punches and neither were above a well-placed boot.    But there's a red mist that ascends in a fight between men.   It came now, time in slow motion and the muscles straining under the feverish pumping of their blood.   No sense now but the heat of battle and that fucking Slav reeling and rising.   Fenian realised something fundamental, that he should have known for years.   He was bigger than Mello.   His reach was longer.    He was just as fast and, by St Bride, Cuchulain and all the saints in Heaven, Fenian could throw a punch just as hard.

But the bane of every man's fight is the women.    There were two of them between them now.   Fenian reaching for another flurry, but Kiana's face danced before him and he was more in danger of hitting her than his opponent.    She was screaming at him in the Gaeilge, hanging off his arm until he lowered it.   There was Mello flat on his front, with his arm twisted back.   He was bucking like a fish out of water, but Hal had him hooked and landed.    Matt was down on the floor too, but upright.   Sitting up against the wall with his knees up and his face buried behind them.    With the descent of calm came the ringing in Fenian's ears. It felt like he had fought two of them, but Matt didn't look like he'd been involved.   Then there was Century too, standing in the doorway with the defibrillator and a look of complete bewilderment.

"Fucking timing, Century!"   Fenian snarled.   "A few seconds sooner and we could have taken the shit down forever."

Kiana was sharp, "Liam!"   She was in his face. "Calm the sweet, bastard, fuck down!"    She reached for his hands and Fenian saw that his own knuckles were split.    She kissed them.   "This is not you.   I have never seen you raise your fists in anger before.   For fuck's sake, Ó Taidhg, what the Hell has gotten into you?!"

"Don't fuss, woman."

Mello's voice cut through, "Mail!"   When there was no immediate response, either through Matt moving to be with him or Hal letting him go, Mello's tone grew shrill.   "Mail!   Let me get to Mail!"

Kiana was pulling Fenian into the kitchenette and he let her do it.   Deontic spoke up from the computer decks, "Century, lock the door please."   She was obeyed.   The Welshman stood with his back against the closed door.   He was the tallest man there, but also the youngest.   Fenian hissed as Kiana dragged his right hand under the cold water tap, but he was gratified to spot that Mello was also spitting out blood onto the carpet.   Fenian wondered at Hal's technique.   She was reasonably tall too, but didn't seem to be musclebound, yet Mello was going nowhere until she let him.   It was satisfying to witness The Beast, with his Mafia swagger and alley cat fighting tactics, brought down to his knees by a female.   Fenian smiled and Kiana gave him a dirty look, tugging his left hand around to inspect the bleeding knuckles there too.   Deontic glanced over her shoulder, "Has Siân been left alone?"

"Yes."   Century replied, as Hal allowed Mello to his feet.   The Slav immediately threw himself over Matt, shielding him with his whole body.   Fenian noted the blood on Mello's lip and cheekbone.   Hal stood over them, not letting Mello out of her sight.   Century grimaced, "What's happening?"

Deontic turned to face them.   "Mello and Matt have heard 'The Banshee'.   I deduce that they were listening to the audio feed from the house and it was played there. I always considered us lucky that that never happened while we were in there.   The sensor readings are all tipping maximum input, in every area of the house.   No visual phenomena in evidence at the moment."

"I see."

"So our priority is to calm Mello and Matt down.   It might be worth restraining them for their own safety and inducing natural diuretics to lessen the pressure on their hearts.   In the meantime, no-one is to listen to sounds coming from the house."   She surveyed the couple coolly.   "Mello, do you still feel like something is coming for you?"

"O moj Bo�e, dopusti mi biti u mogućnosti da ga zaštiti."   Mello wept.   "Ne dajte im ga uzeti previše."

Fenian winced as Kiana dabbed at his face with a damp dishcloth.    "I'd take that as a yes."

Deontic nodded in agreement.   She moved back to the keyboard of the desktop and, a moment later, the camera feeds disappeared from the large screen.    What replaced it was a website, with a flash game taking up a quarter of the screen.   Deontic reconnected the speakers and pressed a button labelled 'Mario'.   An Italian accented voice trilled, 'Let's go!', and the music that filled the room was the tinny, 1980s SuperMario theme.    She used the keys to manipulate the little plumber over two pipes, right into the path of three goombas.   It didn't take long for the 'game over' music to start playing.    She kept on retrying, each time letting Mario fall to the first goombas that she encountered.

They were all watching Matt.   Only Deontic hadn't looked around at all.   It took a minute or so before his head rose and he peeped up over Mello's arm.    The Slav held him more tightly, but Hal touched Mello's shoulder in reassurance.    Deontic saw from Fenian's nod that Matt was interested.   She positioned Mario again at the start, but left him between the two pipes in safety.    The game music went round and round and round, in an endless loop, but Deontic walked well away.    The keyboard was left, invitingly, in Matt's view.   Hal squeezed Mello's shoulder and murmured, "Take him to it, Mello.   Go on. It's alright."

Mello gagged and, for a fear drenched moment, they thought he was having a heart-attack.   But the blond turned his head and vomited over the skirting board.   Hal jumped back to avoid it, then scooped Mello's hair back out of his face.   He had a hand off Matt now, used to regain balance in his uneasy crouching, but Matt didn't leave him. The redhead watched him steadily, then lifted his head slightly to stare at Hal.   Fenian called, "Hal, get away from Mello."

Hal frowned back at him, but did as she was told.   It was that moment which Mello chose to leap to his feet, grasping Matt under the armpit, as he sprang forward towards the door.   Century dropped the defibrillator, his arms wide like a goalkeeper, but Hal was already there. Mello roared, "Move!"   Century held his position, while Fenian tore away from Kiana and charged across.   It was Matt whom Fenian grabbed, both arms around Matt's torso, half-dragging, half-carrying him away from Mello and over to the computer.    Mello screamed, "Mail!"   With Century and Hal both restraining him against the wall.   "Mail!"

Fenian released Matt as soon as they were at the keyboard.   Matt stood stock still with his head bowed.   The Irishman ran across to Kiana, his hands up in pacification.   He commanded, very calmly, "Let Mello go."   The stench of vomit was filling the room.   Hal and Century let Mello go and he shot across the room.   Matt had only been separated from him for a few seconds, but Mello checked him over, like he thought Matt could have come to serious harm in the interim.    Deontic reached across the desk to close the curtains over the window.    Century continued to guard the door, with Hal just in front of him, primed to leap forward should the intervention be necessary.   A tense silence filled the room, punctuated only by Mello's frightened whimpers. Fenian, Century and Deontic exchanged looks, each checking to see if any of the others had a plan.

It was Kiana who spoke, quietly to Fenian, but they could all hear her. "Liam, can I try something?"

"What?"

"My craft."   Kiana peered meaningfully at him.     "At least give it a try?"

Fenian bit his lip.   He was more worried than he let on.   Foremost in his mind was the fact that fear could induce heart attacks, while freedom could well result in a suicide in one of Aberystwyth's Catholic churches.    Complicating this was their unusual behaviour.   Matt had a long history of ignoring people.   He was adept at acting like he was the only person in the room; so successfully, in fact, that any length of time spent near him, was usually followed by his companion seeking out other human company, just to confirm their own visibility.   When cornered, Matt tended to lash out.   They had never seen him just freeze like this. Perfectly and utterly still, as if trying to will himself out of existence.    It was difficult to read him, other than acknowledging that there were some deep psychological problems there.   That information was not new.

Then there was Mello.    He was muttering things, in his native language, under his breath that could only be prayers.   He kept crossing himself or, at least, as close to that as he could with Matt's back against Mello's front.   Mello, whose nickname between Fenian and Kiana had long since been The Beast, though, to be fair, that was more Fenian than Kiana.   Mello, who had so terrorised them at Wammy's House, that he should have emerged as its Top Dog, but for the fucked up system there.   Hell, Mello was the Top Dog!   But the emphasis there on academic prowess allowed them a lone hero, to sail past the menace and arrive triumphantly at the top.    Near had never been easy to know either.   His social skills were non-existent and his demeanour could be as smug as Mello's.   But Near did his own thing and never bothered anyone else.    While Mello exploited every weakness he could find, in anyone; using his great genius to induce a regime of fear.

Mello, as a child, could bring any of them to their knees, with just a well-observed comment spoken aloud; he could destroy a reputation and shatter a fledging alliance with only words and a smile.   There was never a classroom scenario where any of the other children could shine, because Mello would pick apart arguments and theories with a pedantic viciousness.     Any corridor or room or the garden could be booby-trapped; any meeting could result in the physical pain of sudden and brutal violence.     They might have been geniuses, but they had also been orphaned, traumatised children, far from home, in a highly pressured environment.    Who could stand up against The Beast in those circumstances?   But Near had.   Near, no ally of anyone and with a physical and social weakness that should have seen him at the bottom of the pecking order, had consistently put Mello in his place.   And God! That had been glorious to witness.    That alone had been worth the clambering around the kid, lauding Near as a hero of the dispossessed, the silently frightened, the bullied and the homesick; just to see the look on Mello's face.   So worth it, so fucking worth it.

Yet here was that same Mello, always so vigilant against showing a single weakness of his own, now displaying them all.   Broken, cowering, whimpering like a child.    Mello had always known precisely when to show a fragment of his human side, charming the masses onto his side.    Last year, when Matt was abducted, it had felt real, but even then Mello had kept his self-awareness intact. That iron grip of control over himself and his peers.   Just enough tears to melt cold hearts; just enough pleading to persuade reticent minds; just enough growling to imply dire consequences to follow, should he not get his way.   Usually, it seemed more like an act. There was that grand performance in the constitution meeting room, with Mello talking about the great love of his life and then taking up the laurel on behalf of child soldiers.   It was working.   All Fenian had heard from Deontic, since he had arrived in Wales, was that Mello had changed.   Mello was alright.   Mello had grown up.    Even Century was less wary, though he hadn't so much as unlocked the door of the car that they gave him.    Salvo always tried to see the good in people and had quietly spoken up for Mello, even when they were all children in the institution.   It was a little more surprising that Chrissie had stated, in a late night internet chat, that she trusted Mello, in certain situations, and thought there might be a fine man maturing into adulthood.   Just give him a few more years to get there.   Fenian neither knew nor cared what Linda and Luigi thought.

Tears and blood were on Mello's distraught face.   That livid and ugly scar was on the side of his face presented to Fenian. That must have really hurt Mello.   There had been great speculation as to how far down Mello's body it reached.   Century had seen its full extent, just two months ago.   He had reported that the burn took over most of Mello's back and part of his chest.   It must have been agony to survive.   Yet the man went on to become instrumental in defeating Kira.   That alone should be worth forgiveness. Fenian watched Deontic cross the room to whisper, with head bent, with Century.   He watched Mello's head rise in spooked alertness.   It was as if Mello's tremendous brainpower had just been blown away by the force of his terror.   Fenian knew that he should be feeling triumph now, being here to witness it, but he didn't.   He saw Mello pause in his prayers to take Matt's hand and to place that on the keyboard.   The annoying loop of Mario music shifted into beeps and clangs, as Matt directed the pixel plumber over the pipes and onto the floating brick ledge.   Fenian noted, with a sinking heart, that there was still a ray of intellect screaming for sanity beneath Mello's panic.

Fenian met Kiana's anxious gaze.   "See what you can do."   It could be disastrous or it could work.   Short of sedatives and handcuffs, which would only postpone the inevitable, what else did they have?

Kiana pecked a kiss onto Fenian's lips and stepped forward.   As she moved, she straightened. No longer the consort of a Watari genius, but the High Priestess.   Deontic and Hal both flashed concerned, questioning glances at Fenian, but Century just watched, with impassive interest.   Kiana started talking immediately, stopping just a few paces away from the volatile blond and his precious Matt.   "Mello, you and I are both Catholic, but what is out there, after you, is not."    She positioned herself where she could see Fenian, with half an eye on him for gestured feedback.   "You are looking for the sanctuary of God, which means that this isn't of God. If it's not God, then it's Pagan."   At her glance, Fenian nodded faint encouragement.   "It is here, which means that it's Celtic.   I am a Catholic, but I'm also a Celtic witch.   As Saul sought out the Witch of Endor, will you let me take this bitch on?"

Fenian interjected, "Will you let her help you to protect Matt?"

He had expected more argument, but Mello screamed out, "Yes!   Just keep it off us!"

Kiana smiled.   She reached behind her head and pulled the wooden stick from the pewter slide holding back her hair.   It cascaded down, over her shoulders, long, thick and black.    She shook it out, then unhooked the brooch to release her wrap.   It fell to the floor, her hair slide landing on it, and Kiana stood in her electric blue dress facing Mello.   Fenian smiled.   She looked so beautiful, the fierce and commanding Aisling.   Yet Mello just clutched Matt closely, in a grasp that must be uncomfortable for both men.   "We are going to pull up the Tower of Light, devised by the late, great Dion Fortune, and I guarantee you that nothing," Kiana paused for emphasis and repetition, "nothing can reach you through that.   Can you visualise?   Can you call on the Great Spirit that defines us all?   Or shall I do it for you?"

"Ki."   Fenian called across. "Don't move Matt from the game. It's helping him."

Kiana nodded, "Then we'll just have to raise it around Mario too."    She fixed her dark-blue eyes onto Mello.   "Can you do this?"

"0 moj Isuse, oprosti nam naše grijehe, očuvaj nas od paklenoga ognja," Mello mumbled, feverishly, "dovedi u raj sve duše, osobito one kojima je najveća potreba tvojega milosrdja. Amen."   He crossed himself.    "0 moj Isuse..."

"Then I'll do it for him."   Kiana stepped forward, a hand on each of Mello and Matt's shoulders.    Mello's eyes widened, swimming in tears, but he didn't throw her off.    It was difficult to discern whether Matt even knew she had touched him.    "Mór Rígan, rise for them!   Elen of the Ways, confound their enemies!   Blessed Mary, Mother of God, intercede on their behalf!    Agair ar mé, Kiana, leat chun cuidiú linn ár n-uair an chloig de dhíth!"   She shook out her hair again.   Mello stared at her, no vestige of hope in his eyes.

Fenian frowned.   Kiana had used her own name, not the secret name of her initiation.   There were a lot of theatrics here, far removed from the quietly observed rituals and articles that she did back home.   She was doing it mostly in fucking English for a start.   He looked up, as Deontic scurried to his side.   She mouthed, 'what?' at him, but Fenian just put his arm around her.   Deontic looked at his hand on her shoulder, then scowled at him.   Fenian just smiled and nodded towards his girlfriend.

Kiana, her tone brimming with significance, declared, "I will raise the Tower of Light."   Her hands dropped from Mello and Matt's shoulders and rose into the air.   This, at least, felt real.   Her eyes closed and her head tipped back, her face a mask of intense concentration.   Her arms dropped gradually, slowly tracing a wide arc around the three of them, until her palms met before her thighs.   "I have pulled down the Light, now let me charge it."    Her arms up again, falling faster this time.    Fenian was perfectly willing to accept that it was his imagination, but the room suddenly did feel lighter.    The atmosphere less drenched with doom and dread, poised for destruction.   Mello certainly felt it, because his gaze broadened in shock, as he surveyed her.   Not alright, by any stretch, but with a glimmer of hope.    Kiana sank to her knees, her hands together.   "Our Father, who art in Heaven," Kiana's eyes intensified, as Mello released Matt and dropped to his knees too.   After a faltering start, he was saying it with her, his head against the back of Matt's leg, with the Mario music bright through the speakers.   Fenian could see what she was doing. He let go of Deontic and knelt on the kitchenette floor, his own voice loud with the prayer.    Hal stayed standing, but she was speaking it too.   There was even a quietly added Welsh voice in the final 'amen'.

Mello looked much calmer.   Still bitterly afraid, but not in the all encompassing horror of the hour.   His voice shook as he spoke, staring intently into Kiana's eyes, "Is it safe now?"

"You tell me."   Kiana smiled reassurance.   "I have raised the strongest psychic shield known to humanity.   I have requested the help of the greatest Celtic goddesses and the Mother of God.    You have sanctuary, Mello."

His hands covered his mouth and nose, his eyes bright above them.   His words were muffled behind them.   "I need to put the witch bottle back."

"No."   Kiana smirked, every inch the goddess on Earth, "I need to put the witch bottle back."
- 15
- 16
- 17
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Annals of Fear II