The Wailing Woman

53. Tears of Blood and Stars Pt. 1

I knew I shouldn't go. I had spells to memorize, and I needed to understand the phases of the Blue, Red, and Black Moon. And I had six days left until the next full moon. Six days until I saw my father again. Six days until I found a way to bring Grimm's wings back. Too little time.

But Death whispered, seductively. "Escape the night with me." Too sweet and poisonous.

He needed me there. It only meant I could take something from him. Grimm has his reasons for wanting to go to this gala, and I didn't care much for it. I needed something in return.

I offered. "I'll go on the condition you give me the names of all the witches and warlocks on the council."

Grimm sealed it with a kiss.

I settled.

****

The only good thing about going to this gala was that Dilara was coming along. Grimm knew I couldn't leave Dilara in the house alone, especially one she hated. There was also the precaution that if any witches and warlocks or any other supernatural creatures found this castle and were looking for me they would kill Dilara. I didn't want Dilara's life in my hands but the longer she stood by my side, I was playing with it. She still hadn't decided if she was leaving or not. These remaining days I could keep her safe and unharmed until she makes her decision but if she chooses to stay I could not guarantee her safety.

Maybe a night from all of these killings and attacks could be a good thing. It would be wonderful to just eat with friends, wear a pretty dress, and maybe kiss a certain man with crimson lips. Even as the image appeared in my head I felt naive for thinking such a thing. This world won't let me have anything, so I have to bend it.

Pushing those thoughts away, I checked myself back into reality.

We were in one of the larger rooms on the upper level of the east side of the castle. Dull colors and drapes of black enclosed the room with its thin arch windows as sunlight passed through. It wasn't completely lifeless. Grimm kindly sent a group of stylists to take care of Dilara and me, although I thought it was a bit much until one of the stylists gave me a note. Grimm wrote the stylists were souls that were previously beauticians who wanted to make art one last time before they left for the afterlife. Grimm wanted me to help them grant their wish, so I let them in.

Dilara sat by my side as we looked at ourselves through the twin oval mirrors, her gaze kept flickering back and forth between my eyes and the stylists. I knew I shouldn't haven't told her about them. She was twitching and squirming in her seat.

I crossed my arms. "They were once like you and me." Dilara cut her gaze toward mine. "Except they don't breathe anymore." She leaned in and said in a hushed tone. "The dead don't belong with the living. They should be resting." I had thought the same.

But from what I have seen, the dead had difficulty leaving this world. The living is to blame. The pain we give to each other when we are alive, the invisible wounds that appear on the soul. It makes it hard for anyone to get rest. Understandably, they become vengeful, spiteful, and hateful.

Souls then become ghosts, they haunt you for what you have done to them.

"I'll rest as soon as I get rid of your eye bags." Dilara jumped as a stylist pushed herself in between our chairs. She had brown shoulder-length hair and wore a black blouse. Her lips curved into a soft smile and held a poised attitude. Still, it must have been uncomfortable to be inside a body that wasn't hers. Bodies were like homes, I supposed. She must be feeling unwelcome.

The longer a spirit stays inside the human body, it starts to collide with the other soul. It is painful as they fight for possession. But I doubted any of the stylists would possess the bodies for more than a day. Grimm, known as The Capture of Souls, always stuck true to his title.