Whispers at Witching Hour

Chapter 99

Musical inspiration: Crawling – LINKIN PARK

Lilith heard Zelda leave, the clicking of her heels fading as distance grew, her gaze tied to her blood-stained hands playing with the large knife, occasionally grazing the floor with its tip. Her eyes were burning from the way too many tears she had shed and was still shedding, the sniffles shaking her frequently. It would have annoyed her, but she found comfort knowing it was over.

She got up to set the table, arms hanging loosely as she trailed her way over, her hair a mess she did not care about. Lighting the candles, she went through her mental list of things she had wanted to get done before Lucifer would come and get her. She had held her baby for the last time, she had listened to Zelda's voice for a last time. Now the only thing left was serving Lucifer her revenge and claiming her reward for it – death. Not by Zelda's hand, perhaps for the better so, so she would not have to live with the fact she had killed the love of her life.

And there he was, walking in in no mood for discussion or delay, but she would take her time.

"The child. Hand him over", she calmly blew out the match, "The time has come, Lilith. Give me my son."

She rose from her seat, circling the table, consciously driving him mad with her behaviour. The least she could do was enjoy the moment he would realise that for once she had won; though the price had been high, too high.

"Why don't you sit for a while, like you used to? Have a bite to eat."

He was growing impatient; she could feel it in her bones. Just a little longer and he would know.

"I've already lost one child today. I will take the other with me presently."

Finally. His gaze landed on the bloody table with pieces of meat, then the blood sprinkles on the wall, the set table.

"Lilith?"

She drank up every moment of his insecurity, anxiety even, dread flashing over his features. For once it was not her, not her who did not know what to expect, what cruelty.

"You once cooked me a special meal. My lover, Adam. I named our son after him."

He exhaled his shock realisation and she felt him internally begging this was not true, she was not that messed up. But she was and she did not give a fuck about it anymore.

"What have you done, Lilith?"

Her tone was sweet, a sadistic way of helping swallow the bitter truth.

"Medea was a witch. Did you know that? I freed our son, and I freed myself. Rather he die than be raised by you. And as for me", she approached him, more than ready to submit to her fate, "Well, kill me, as promised, please", her brows connected into a desperate frown, "Do it, I beg you", she could not wait a second longer, "Do it, please. I beg you."

And before she could finish, Lucifer grabbed her by her throat and a smile of relief flitted across her face, anticipating her sweet release from this insufferable pain. But the final squeeze would not come; instead, words followed.

"You will not die for this outrage, Lilith, but you will suffer."

Lilith could not process the content of his words as she was pushed back on the bed, his fingers tangled in her hair, pulling painfully.

"I curse you, witch, with humanity."

She had already been giving herself fully to the expectation of being killed but now her eyes shot open in dread.

"What?"

His raging face had no mercy for her left, spitting at her with every cursing word while she was like a ragdoll, no urge to fight left.

"You are stripped of your powers and banished from Hell to walk on Earth the rest of your days. You will age. You will grow weak as all mortals do. You will know strife. You will know sickness, disease, pain, but you will not die."

She screamed, not for her life but for it to end. She did not want it anymore. Lucifer was shaking her body violently, but her mind remained in the stillness of giving herself up, hoping he would slip up and kill her accidentally.

"You will writhe in grievous guilt for the choice you have made today, and you will wish desperately for death, for release, but it will never come."

He let go of her and that hurt the most. He had let her live. It all caught up on her and she died inside screaming, "No! Wait. Wait! Wait! Wait!", with all the volume her lungs could provide. But he would not stop.

As she sat back down on the bed, her eyes falling on the blood-soaked cloth on the table, it all came back to her. How was she supposed to go on living? Her hands covered her face, letting out bloodcurdling wails, tearing her insides with every single scream, wondering why her lungs were not bursting from the sheer violence of her cries.