Little Red Riding Hood

Chapter 14

~
light of my life, fire of my loins, my sin, my soul
~

There was something uniquely beautiful in the way the innocent butterfly fluttered helplessly inside the glass jar. Flames from the candles flickered around the darkened room.

Clarissa sat in the old rocker chair, holding the glass jar in her hands as she watched the creature search fruitlessly for an escape.

"Death comes for us all." She spoke into the silence, watching the last few attempts of the butterfly to escape before it sunk to the bottom. One more flap of a flame coloured wing before it gave up and death consumed it.

"The little wolf has to die." The maddening old woman said. Her fingers traced the mummified body of the infant which rested on her lap. "Because of her, everyone has turned their backs on me. Because of her, my wolves are dying for a cause they are yet to understand."

She cradled the child's body against her. "Scarlet was such a fitting name. You were born covered in blood and screaming bloody murder. So tiny, so innocent." Her dry and cracked lips touched the child's forehead. "Because of her, you couldn't live."

She placed the infant into a crib next to the fireplace and walked to the window. Her own reflection caused bile to rise in her throat.

Claw marks streaked down her cheek, her eye faded and clouded, as puss and blood dripped from the scars. For ten years her wounds would not heal, her body seeming to give up and decaying.

It was because of her, because of Angelica.

The young girl she once cherished had grown to be the object of her demise, the reason the once powerful Luna lost her grip on not only the town, but her followers as well.

Marcella was easily ended, a simple attack in broad daylight, the girl had barely begun to understand the extent of her power, wasting her gift on a mere mortal.

Michonne was promising, older, wiser, more aware of her abilities. But she too was driven by lust for a mortal and she had to die.

Clarissa had hoped Scarlet would be a ideal successor, but her young life ended too soon.

A part of the old woman felt the need to protects Angelica, to not only keep her from harm, but to ensure the survival of her species. But never would she have predicted the extent of her abilities, never could she have known the amount of adoration males would bestow upon her.

The girl had to die, and with her death, new life would be breathed into Scarlet.

And a new Monarch would arise.

It was midnight when Robert gathered Angelica, she had remained home while other town folk gathered for the death of Michonne.

She was sitting in the drawing room amongst the splinters and shredded fabric. Flower petals and broken stems were everywhere. And shards of glass created a obsticle course throughout the room.

Dressed in a cream coloured gown, the girl innocently waited. Her hood draped over her lap. Her fingers picked at a loose piece of thread as her eyes stared into the abyss.

Robert's boots crunched over the shards of glass, but Angelica did not react to the sound. "Angelica." He spoke and she finally looked up. "Where are your things?"

She shrugged and continued to pick on the thread.

"Nevermind, we can always get you new clothes."

She rose and walked towards him.

Robert took her cloak from her hands and swung it around her shoulders, fastening the clip.

He raised her chin, his eyes taking in every detailed feature of her face. Brushing her curls back he took his time caressing her neck and collar bone.

"I have waited so long." He whispered in disbelief.

Angelica merely looked at him, a vacant expression on her face.

"No one will ever take you away from me." He laid a kiss upon her rosy lips, taking in a shaky breathe. He inhaled the scent of skin cream and perfume lingering on her skin and hair.

The girl didn't protest as Robert lead her from her family home to the stallion waiting outside. The night was silent and ominous, only broken by the screams of the witch as she burned.

Robert hoisted himself unto his horse before extending a hand to Angelica, who clumsily climbed onto the horse.

She sat on the back of the saddle, arms wrapped around Robert tightly.

He kicked the horse's side and the animal trotted into motion. In the darkness, only illuminated by the moon, the two escaped from the village and followed the old footpath into the forest.

It had been years since Angelica had traveled the path, perhaps never. Her memory taunted her, glimpsing a past which seemed so foreign to her, yet tugged at her heart in remembrance.

Had Robert not been distracted, had the arms of the girl not fogged his mind and caused a stir in his loins, he might have sensed the shift in the air.

The crickets stopped their nightly singing and the world fell into silence.

The horse stepped uneasily, but his rider urged him to stay on the path.

Somewhere in the dark, the beast watched.

With pale, lifeless eyes it took in the sight of the hunter and the girl.

The girl.

No.

He had to remain loyal to his Mistress. He had to ignore the lure of the false Luna, he had to shield himself from the call of the siren.

Haunches raised and teeth bared, every muscle in his body tightened.

And then he attacked.