Capricorns and Devil Horns

She Said To Satan

   Viv wanted David's funeral to be private. So private, in fact, that she would be the only one to attend. It was only fair, I supposed, to let her grieve, while we went out and put a stop to it all. Morgan assured me it wouldn't be quite that simple, although, I was adamant that, if anyone could coax Hannah to stop, it would be me. She'd been my best friend since we were six- I could bring out the human in her.

   "Dear, she's been changed. Your friend is gone. I'm sorry, Love- you know I never thought it would be like this. I came back to Earth to exterminate my offspring and leave." He told me with a sigh, "I never anticipated she'd be the best friend of the one I love..."

   "You love me?"

   Morgan smiled, inching closer to delicately brush the hair from my face.

   "More than anything..." He whispered.

   Morgan leaned closer and pressed a kiss to my forehead, lingering for a few moments with his chin resting on my head.

   "And that's what's going to make going back even harder..."

   Before I could respond, he turned away and left the room, scratching through his stubble. The words slipped through my lips, just as Morgan seemed to slip through my fingers.

   "Don't go..."

   We didn't talk about it. Morgan took it upon himself to do some background research on the Nephilim's victims, whilst I decided to be useful and do what I did best- get out of the way and paint. After three or so hours, I was left with a decent painting of a gorgeous seductress, scantily clad in scarlet lingerie, leaning over body covered by a bloody sheet.

   Since Morgan's arrival in my life, my art had taken a much darker turn. Part of me thanked him- I was always inspired when he was around, but part of me missed being able to paint pastel coloured fairies and mermaids. Gosh, what if mermaids are real too?

   He came in with a knock, telling me about the connections he'd found- of which there weren't many. Something about engagement and tea leaves? Morgan looked over my shoulder a the painting, probably realising I wasn't really paying attention to what he was talking about.

   "Ooh saucy." He commented, "What would your mother think?"

   "Kathleen Priestly would not approve." I half-laughed.

   My laughter faded when I noticed the shock upon Morgan's face. His eyes were wide, but his brows were knitted in confusion.

   "What?" I questioned wearily.

   "Your mother is Kathleen Priestly?"

   "Yes... Why? Oh my God, please tell me you haven't slept with my mother!"

   "No! No" He defended, "Nothing like that!"

   "Then how do you know her?"

   "Oh my Dad! It all makes sense now! You need me because... And that's why I need you and... Oh my it all makes so much sense!"

   "Not to me it doesn't! Will you please tell me how you know my mother?"

   "Sit down, Love..." He said, the excitement having vanished from his voice, now replaced with... guilt?

   I sat on the edge of my bed, looking at him expectantly.

   "I met her down this dark dingy road. She'd called me. I still remember it all so vividly... A woman with these pretty curls and freckles just like yours... and a little bump under her dress." He paused for a moment, growing quieter, "She was in a lot of pain, Nora. She told me that her baby was dying. God, she would've done anything to save her baby. She loved you so much... But you were so small."