Pomegranate Seeds ~ Editing in Progress

Chapter II

AUTHOR’S NOTE: So… I don’t want to cause anyone offense, so if you’re religious and you do find this offensive, then you have my sincerest apologies. The name is completely random, and I don’t think it’s even a proper name. Oh… it’s dedicated to Jenna because she was so complimentary. 

“Garaeli.” I murmur the name softly into its ear. It writhes in my arms, twisting and struggling. Suddenly it stops, and looks straight at me; its heavenly blue eyes mirroring to perfection the colour of the fresh spring sky outside our shack. As far as I know, the name is meaningless; yet it seems oddly familiar, as though I have known it before. Shaking off this nagging sense of doubt, I turn my mind to more important matters; should the child be christened?

There is a small chapel not far from here – even a sparsely inhabited hamlet such as ours is connected, by immediate consequence, to God. I can picture myself now, the embarrassment of parading an inhuman, genderless, half-devil being in front of godly villager’s eyes. But if it is the right move to make, then I can set aside my own humiliation for… for Garaeli’s sake. I have disgraced myself, in their eyes, enough already. They may not know of Garaeli’s true parentage, but they are aware of the circumstances surrounding him birth. I am a young woman, no more than an adolescent, husbandless and alone. I may have been born their superiors, but I have sunk to such depravity, that I am lower than the lowest. What harm will a little more scandal do?

But part of me does not want to have it Christened. I do not want to honour the God who has forsaken me. Perhaps, with God’s guidance, such a mistake may not have been made. I would not be the outcast demon’s prostitute, but a revered and holy young lady, obedient to her husband and mindful of God. Omni-benevolent, he may be, but I was forgotten by him time and time again.

The meager quantity of hair, that covers its dark head, is ash blond, like evening sunshine. Golden hair and blue eyes, just like the illustration of angels in the old manuscripts. It may seem ironic, but perhaps it is not. The Devil is supposed to be a fallen angel afterall.

I can feel the strength pulsing through the tiny body I hold next to my bust, close to my heart. It will need all the power it can muster to defeat and overcome the dark forces that oppose it. I bend my head; my dry, cracked lips brushing its skin, nuzzling its smooth, unblemished visage. In my eyes, at least, it is the most beautiful creature on God’s fine earth. Ironic really, that it should be no gift or blessing from God, but my sin and The Devil’s malice that created this life.

To my surprise, I find myself laughing for the first time in eons. Laughter was part of my childhood; me, the mirthful, disrespectful girl who sullied her sedate family's holy name. So different from them,  that many considered me  a changeling. Perhaps I was – my brother and me, the faerie children. We fitted the part, in appearance and personality, with our wild dark curls, milk white skin, mischievous grins and gleaming green eyes. We were sardonic and rude, a disgrace to our wealthy parents. We flitted about the countryside together, disregarding all warnings and threats. We were free, and uninfluenced by other. We believed we were susceptible only to out own rule. I’d never realised how desperately wrong we were.

But when Xander ran off with a pink-cheeked, bright-eyed peasant girl, far below his status, my parents, exasperated with my antics and unable to find a suitable man willing to marry me, decided a nunnery was the only option.

I walk to chapel in silence, Garaeli hidden beneath my cloak. My skirts trail in the dust, and errant pebbles scuff my bare feet. I have shoes, but the soles are worn and flimsy. I want to preserve them for as long as possible, and therefore do not wear them for such menial trips. The chapel stands, tall and erect, in the centre of the hamlet. It is defunct of all the frivolities I encountered as a child – no stained class or painted dome – but is clean and orientated to the will of God. Fresh rushes floor it. I brush the worst of the dust from the soles of my feet, and step tentatively inside. It is deserted, but for the parish priest. He regards me with indifference, continuing his task without deviation. I know that he recognises me, and am thankful for his tolerance. The rumours have no doubt reached him ears too.

I seat myself stiffly upon wooden pew, and fold my hands in my lap. Garaeli wriggles a little in his blankets, stirring himself from the slumber he had entered into. I insert my hand to wear he lies, and stroke him soothingly until he settles. The priest raises his eyes, and stares at me with his steely gaze. His eyes are pebble blue, dark and menacing. His hair is greying and greasy. I stand up and prepare to depart. He remains motionless, but his eyes follow me to the door. As step back into the square quadrangle, surrounded my the houses of parishioners, I am greeted with questioning eyes. Some are narrowed and accusatory. Some are fearful. Some are merely curious. Affronted, I hurry home as quickly as I can.  

I return to discover that I had failed to extinguish the fire in the grate properly. Although no damage has occurred, the room is unpleasantly smoky. It makes my eyes water. I return Garaeli to his crib, and poke dejectedly at the ashes. I used to adore fire, approaching it with a pyromania found only in the most daring of souls. Now it is just a necessity, to keep away the winter chill.

A sharp rap at the door disturbs my recollection. Before I can answer, it is abruptly flung open to reveal my best friend, my twin in all but age, dark-haired and green-eyed like me. My brother. He is ashen-faced and wide-eyed with terror, visibly quivering with fear. As I start forward, he opens his mouth to speak.

“Lilith.” He looks deep into my eyes, and I can sense his fright, but his voice is perfectly steady. “Lilith. He’s after you.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Okay, so maybe I’m ending on a cliff hanger to much, but it’s a really easy way to end a chapter.