Zelda was careless and rushed in her movements. Partly because she didn't have much time and partly because she frankly couldn't care less what Faustus Blackwood would think of her appearance.
She no longer wanted his power, status, or anything else an alliance with him could possibly provide her. She was no longer interested in his attention and couldn't stop thinking about Mary's disappointed face when she had left the kitchen to follow his commands without her.
She had blocked her out the minute she had stepped through the door. She had been trying to get to her, but Zelda knew she'd falter and eventually break if Mary would be invading her mind, be with her during what was sure to follow.
She did her best to not think about the man downstairs and act as if it was just another thing she did for her family; for power... for Mary. She had done this many times before. What harm could one more time do?
Just a few weeks, months - it seemed like decades to her now - ago had she not had any problems with sharing a room with him, sometimes even a bed, but now, where the stakes were much higher and her priorities had changed, it made her blood coil at the thought of his hand on her skin or his lips anywhere near her face.
She quickly, yet smoothly applied her red lipstick and stepped back to look at herself in the mirror. She strongly disliked what she saw. It was like looking back at a version of herself, she no longer knew.
She had chosen a dress that suited her feminine figure, though now that she really looked at herself it looked about a size too big on her. She had lost so much weight during the stress and injuries of the recent events that nothing seemed to fit her anymore. The dress - Faustus's favorite as she recalled - that used to hug her curves tightly now hung loosely around her stiff body.
She barely stood upright in the heels she had so often worn during their meetings, that had carried her through so many of their forbidden sessions and safely back home when she wasn't sure she'd make it home in time to collapse onto her bed from all the bodily exercise and pleasure.
Looking back now, she wasn't experiencing the right kind of pleasure. Not as she did with Mary. Faustus had merely known where to entice her nerves at the right time. He didn't know how to love her, he didn't even know how to treat her right.
Her legs were trembling, signaling her that she was not strong enough for what she was doing and that rest was desperately needed. As usual, she did not heed the warnings of her body and refused to change into any other shoe out of sheer stubbornness and pride.
She took a deep breath, brushed her hair out of her face, and exhaled audibly, her eyes all the while tightly shut.
When she finally opened them again and looked at herself in the mirror, the dress that was hanging lifelessly off her body just a second ago, seemed all of a sudden too tight, suffocating her almost.
She felt it hard to breathe and began clutching the stern fabric, in a pathetic attempt to widen it. She groaned and tried her best to get some air between herself and the dress, her movements becoming hastier and desperate with every difficult breath she took until she whined in despair and felt tears starting to well up.
„Oh, get a grip on yourself, Zelda," she said to herself, stepping away from the mirror. She knew she was going to hyperventilate if she kept staring at the mirror for much longer, so she tried to regain control over her body.
Changing her dress was pointless, any other dress would make her feel the same way, as it could not make Faustus disappear. It was all in her head and she knew it. It took a lot out of her to not break down then and there.
"You are Zelda Spellman. You do not cry," she said as she took one more deep breath before she strode out of her room, looking like her usual self, well almost. The bruising on the upper right side of her face was the only thing giving away that she'd been through heaven and back. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her weak and on the verge of breaking, shattering like fragile porcelain.
She made her way down the stairs, gripping the railing for support as she felt her knees wobble slightly. It was another outcry of her body for the deeply needed rest and she cursed her body for being so weak and pathetic. She had never known this feeling of utter helplessness and she certainly didn't like it.
She couldn't bring herself to look at the kitchen door. She knew she'd not enter the living room if she did, but she needed to do what had to be done. There was no point in postponing it. It would only get them killed. She needed to act as if nothing special had happened in order to get rid of Faustus as quickly as possible.
He posed a threat to her family and she would never let anything or anyone hurt get in between them.
She was just about to enter the living room when she heard Mary speak.
"Don't"
"I have no other choice," she said, not looking back at the brunette.
"You always have another choice. It's just about how hard you're trying to find one," Mary said and Zelda spun around, fire gleaming in her eyes.
"Do you honestly think I'd like to do this? I hate him as much as you do, for Lord's sake!" Zelda whisper-yelled. She couldn't believe that Mary seemed to actually believe that she didn't hate having to do this.
She hated that the brunette couldn't see her despair in this situation, feeling completely alone in this.
"Come with me and we'll figure this out... together. I promise," Mary said and Zelda's anger dimmed down until there was nothing more than ashes left. She wanted to take her lover's outstretched hand as much as she needed air to breathe, but she couldn't risk what he'd do if she disobeyed his orders. He was still her High Priest and she had to do his bidding, at least until they had found a way to kill their Dark Lord and overthrow their church as they knew it.
She looked at the slightly shaking hand and the bruising along her lower arm for a second, being reminded of what exactly was at stake. They'd barely survived the last encounter with an old lover, they'd not survive this one.
The small part of her that had wanted to believe Mary's idea of finding another way had died at the reminder of the brutal and ruthless reality.
No, she needed to be safe. She could not risk it.
"I am sorry," she said, a tear rolling down her eyes as she looked up and met Mary's desperate eyes.
Mary wanted to take a step forward, but Zelda froze her on the spot. The desperation and fear in Mary's face tore at Zelda's heart as she placed one last kiss on Mary's cheek before he entered the living room, head held high.
YOU ARE READING
Black Magic Women
RomantizmWhat happens when Zelda pulls Ms. Wardwell aside to have a little talk after the exorcism, she never wanted to do in the first place? What happens when both of them catch themselves thinking about the other one, despite their serious effort to hate...