Who I am

Patience, My Dear Abbadon

"Did it work, mistress?" Abbadon asks. The figure faces the mirror.

"Yes. It worked perfectly. Thank you for the blood, Abbadon." The figure strokes the doll in her hand. "Problem is she told that mundane she cares about. That will not work." She muses.

"But what about the jealous Nephilim? That will not be a problem. Although, I still don't understand why we didn't use him. He has much anger."

"Yes, while that's true, he has less to threaten with. But the girl, she has lots. She has the boy, her family, friends, all mundane. And I said this, the prophecy." She continues to stare into the mirror. Images appear. And then a girl's voice with a boy's shouting back and forth at each other. "The boy has just her. That's enough. You remember what he said?" She nods.

"All to clearly. 'You made it my fight when you hurt her.' Words of a boy in love. He would never want her hurt. That's a lot to threaten, along with the old man, and the siblings. Sure. But I sense that the girl is more promising, that she would be able to offer more to my services. She has more fear than the boy. That means more to threaten. She has the boy too. He will be the one weapon. Both of the boys. But it's mostly the prophecy that they are keeping from her."

"Then why were you angry that she told him?" Abbadon questions.

"I wanted to haunt his mind and have him go insane and not have even the slightest reason why. Oh, well. It will still work. Mundane minds are easy to crumble." She says, not even the slightest bit angry that he's questioning her.

"When will you use it more, mistress?" He inquires, wanting to know more of the plan.

"Soon, my dear Abbadon, soon. These plans take patience." She soothes. The images fade and she still pets the doll, with a fondness.