The Goddess of Love - a Moonknight short story

3

Her head was spinning and her vision was blurry. Every fiber of her body, lying on the freezing, floor ached. Layla braced herself and sat up, but the world didn't stop spinning and she only felt worse. What had happened? Where was she? It took her a few moments to remember the church and the hidden room they had found.

"The poison," she murmured, putting a hand to her throat. Though she felt a slight burning inside, Layla was able to breathe and that meant she was alive.

She forced her eyes to stay open and realized her vision wasn't blurry. It was the light that had changed.

By the time she passed out (was that the correct word or had she just slept?), the light inside the room they ended up in had turned bright, white as if it were broad daylight or the walls themselves were emanating it.

It took her a while to recover and get used to the brightness.

When she finally managed to identify the shapes of the objects around her, she stood up. Her feet collided with a carcass and Layla immediately panicked. She lunged at the body, turning it so she could see his face.

"Jake!" she cried, adding curses of sheer terror.

He was wearing different clothes than she remembered and there was no sign of his gloves or hat.

"Marc, please wake up!"

Since the body wasn't moving, Layla tried to feel his pulse. It was faint, but present. This gave her some peace. She put her hands on his chest and started giving CPR as she had learned.

After just one attempt to open his mouth for air, the body doubled up and he coughed. Layla felt tears of gratitude form in her eyes. She put a hand to her mouth to suppress her sobs.

Marc looked around confused. "Where are we?" the voice was her husband's and Layla, unable to resist anymore, wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I thought I lost you again," she said between sobs.

Marc stroked her hair, squeezing her to him. "It's okay, I'm here and I'm not going anywhere."

Layla enjoyed his warmth and the familiarity of Marc's touch.

A grunt made them jump and she turned away from Marc to look for the source of the sound.

Layla felt her jaw drop as she stared in amazement at another body she hadn't noticed before.

"Where we are?" she recognized Steven's British accent immediately.

Layla pulled away from the man she had just embraced, terrified. Marc leaped to his feet. His terrified gaze stayed glued to the body that had Steven's voice, watching him intently as he struggled to stand on wobbly feet.

"Marc?" Steven's voice was shaky and his eyes seemed to fill with tears. "Did we die again?"

Layla took a step back, her hands going back to her mouth to hold a scream. A cracking sound shot out of her control, catching Steven's attention, who stared at her with wide eyes.

"What is going on?" Steven's voice had become a desperate shriek.

Marc advanced towards him with the same fear in his eyes. "I don't know," he tried to modulate his voice to make it sound calm and reassuring.

Steven looked around in bewilderment and it seemed he was on the verge of crying and screaming. Layla was tempted to approach and reassure him as Marc seemed to want to do, but the confusion she was feeling prevented her from moving. What if it had been a trap and the two men she had before her weren't the Marc and Steven she loved?

She still had no idea what had happened. Her mind was too disoriented to make a logical thread and she began to fear that she was really dead.

Someone else moved into Layla's peripheral vision. She turned in that direction, staring at a third body lying on the ground.