Zoe's only wish is to be able to run barefoot through grass, but she knows it'll never happen. Ever since she was born, she's been unable to touch anything living without it instantly dying. It's a curse she would do anything to get rid of, but that...
It was two days later when the Priestess showed up. I was in the garden, like most days, when I heard the unmistakable popping sound that indicated that someone had teleported nearby. It was a similar sound as when uncorking a carbonated drink. I looked up from among the herbs I had worked on to see her.
She stood by the door, smiling at me. She always smiled. Once upon a time, I had believed that the smiles were genuine.
She wore a short dress like always, a black one which seemed to be the only color in her wardrobe. The dress was tight and showed off her figure. It went up to her neck, but there was a cut, in the shape of a drop, on the chest that showed off her cleavage. Her black, silk-smooth hair cascaded down her back and all the darkness was in contrast to her icy blue eyes. I supposed she was beautiful. I had at least heard other people calling her so. But I could not see any beauty in her anymore.
A little behind her stood another woman. Scarlet Moore. When I had been younger, much younger, I had thought of Scarlet as a friend. But she had since then become my second least favorite person in the coven, the Priestess being the first.
Scarlet was in red, compared to the Priestess's black. I had always wondered what had come first; her fondness of red or her name Scarlet. But I had never asked.
She wore a long, loose red dress and a red cap, definitely looking as if she had stepped right out of the fairy tale The Little Red Riding-hood. Even her hair was red, though it was such a strong red that it was clear it wasn't natural. Underneath the red color was brown hair that I thought suited her better. I had seen it once, when I was about thirty-five years old, right before I had stopped being able to call her a friend.
Scarlet looked at me with her hazel eyes. The ill-disguised contempt was as present as ever.
"Good afternoon, Zoe. I have some things to discuss with you," the Priestess said and indicated the door with her hand.
I walked over and let them in.
"Do you want something to drink?" I asked. "I have some freshly made blueberry juice."
"Wine. Red," the Priestess answered as she strolled into the living room and took a seat on one of our two chesterfield chairs.
"Just a moment," I answered and forced a smile.
I got out two wine glasses and a bottle from the corner of our cupboard. Neither me nor Father drank wine, or really any type of alcohol, so that wine was solely there for when the Priestess came by.
When I went into the living room, Father had joined as well. He was seated in the love seat with a tensed jaw. Scarlet stood up in front of the window and overlooked the situation almost like a bodyguard would.
I placed the tray on the table, put one of the glasses in front of the Priestess and poured. I glanced at Scarlet, but she stood so rigid that I decided to not pour her a glass. Instead, I sat down on the ottoman.
The Priestess had taken her glass and sipped on it. When she had properly tasted the wine, she smiled at me.
"Not bad. Much better than what you served last time. How that could possibly pass for wine, I do not understand," she said and took another sip.
"I'm glad you like it," I answered and bit back the retort I wanted to give, that the wine she drank was the same brand as she had last time she was here as well. I had only made the label change into that of a more expensive one.
"So I assume you have heard about the terrible things that's been happening to us," she continued.
"Yes, Priestess, I have."
"It's dreadful. Really dreadful. Four sisters lost. All of them talented and valuable members of the coven."
"Unlike others," Scarlet muttered under her breath.
The Priestess didn't seem to have heard Scarlet's words, or she pretended not to.
"As you can understand, it is of the utmost importance that we stop these attacks," the Priestess continued. "We wouldn't want to lose another sister. Or brother."
She glanced at my father and I felt my stomach tighten.
"Of course not, Priestess," I said immediately.
"That's good. So you will take care of this issue for us, Zoe?" she asked.
She would always ask me if I wanted to take on whatever task she had in mind for me. But she also always made sure that I knew what would happen if I said no. Most of the time she had been more subtle about it however. It was only the second time she had made such a blatant death threat towards Father.
"Yes," I answered without any hesitation. "Do you know who is behind the deaths?"
"Harry Jackson. He comes from a long lineage of witch hunters," Scarlet said from her spot with a smirk on her face.
A witch hunter? I felt how my pulse instantly quickened at the words.
"Priestess, isn't there someone else that..." Father started talking. His face had gone pale and his eyes were wide with fear. But he never got to finish his question.
He suddenly clutched his chest over his heart. His face was scrunched up in pain, but there wasn't a scream. If anything, it looked like he didn't have air to make any sound. He wasn't able to sit anymore, but slid to the floor, still gripping his shirt.
"How dare you speak without being spoken to, filth?" Scarlet sneered, her eyes gleaming with wicked satisfaction.
"Please!" I shouted and got to my feet. "Please stop! I already agreed! I will do it!"
The Priestess waved her hand. Scarlet leaned back against the window, and Father's body relaxed, but his breathing was labored.
"Then that was settled. Thank you for your help, Zoe. You are a real angel. I expect your good news in a day or two," the Priestess said to me with that never ending smile. "Come Scarlet, let's leave this place."
And with that they left me standing, pale, and with my whole body shaking and Father laying on the floor, his breathing in a mess.
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