Blossoms of the Dark

CXXVII Selene: Awake

Trigger Warning:

- assault

_________________________________________________________

The lunar eclipse rises high in the night sky, tinging everything a shade of crimson.

I bask in its wicked glow.

Then Madam Ahearn brings me from my radiant reverie into disappointing reality.

We are standing outside her ex-husband's home, an hour drive from her home. This home is not impressive. But what do I care? My job is to get the disgrace of a man to confess and free the three girls held captive. Play savior. I do not have a problem with that. What I do have a problem with is the fact that I'm wearing palazzo trousers with a full-sleeve Disney shirt and sneakers.

"From what angle, does this outfit appear frightening?" I gesture vivaciously at the ensemble. "I look less like a murderess and more like a clown. I hate looking like a clown."

"Most children find clowns terrifying," she says as a matter of fact.

"Well, that doesn't work in our favor if your children find me terrifying."

"But don't you want to terrify my ex? Besides, his childhood fear of clowns persists to this day. Now he will be tortured by a clown killer. How fitting."

I don't have a retort for that, so petulantly I persist. "This outfit is insulting. I want to change."

"Too late for that. Your clothes are in the laundry," she scolds. "We had a deal, and I will not let it be for naught. Now go. I have to return to the task force and play dead, too. Otherwise, my colleagues will be suspicious when they wake up and find my mysteriously gone."

"Making a fool of myself in front of your daughters," I mutter. Then I raise my voice. "When I return, I demand a feast of sweets and milk. No comments about diabetes, weight gain, or anything like that. And the sweets must be nut-free."

"My home is not a buffet, Selene."

"Lucifer Morningstar is suppressing her pride to meet her end of the deal. She is trying to be compassionate while temporarily sacrificing her aesthetic. At the very least, she can get a reward of her choosing," I complain.

"Just like my middle daughter. So argumentative." She stares at me like a mother fed up with her toddler. "You are glory and deprecation - sunlight and shadows - the scuttle of a scorpion and the melody of a nightingale. The breath of the sea and the cannonade of a storm. Happy?"

"Not in the slightest." Although, I remember that line well. It is one of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite books. That tempers my indignated ego a little. "Can I at least have my cane? A little semblance to my bloodthirsty persona?"

"No."

Never mind. My ego flares again. "Who'd deny a poor cripple her cane?"

"If the cripple is you, then any woman with sense."

"I need the cane to walk with ease."

"Let's be honest: you won't use it much for walking. Besides, you have your knives to compensate."

Again, I don't have anything to counter that. So, I simply glare and usher her to give me the earpiece and choker. On the front of the choker is a secret camera, designed to record voice and visuals of her former husband's imminent confession and so that Madam Ahearn can watch everything live, and the earpiece allows me to hear Madam Ahearn's instructions. I trespass into the home. The electricity buzzing from the outdoor cameras, motion sensors, and sound recorders tingle, and I turn myself invisible. All devices are stable, fixed in one position. But one camera is situated above the front door, making it impossible to enter without being caught. I walk in a circle around the house stealthily, searching for other possible entrances. Suddenly, I spot a window partially open. I levitate myself to it. Well, this won't be difficult to break into. Pulling the window farther open and removing the mesh net, I climb inside. And bless my luck, it is the ex-husband's bedroom.