I Pledge my Soul

Chapter 6- An awkward interaction

Waking up the next morning, Zelda felt uncharacteristically vulnerable. She couldn't get last night's events out of her mind, she had relived her emotions in her dreams over and over again. Lust. Fear. Pain. A tension that built and built, but was never released. She raised her hand and pressed lightly on the marks the high priest had made only hours earlier, wincing slightly at the sharp ache the action caused.

She climbed out of bed and walked over to the mirror, consciously avoiding the carpet by the bed, where she swore she could still see the imprints of her hands pressed deep into the rose design. Turning around in front of the mirror, she gasped when she saw the state of her butt; harsh red lines crossed each other like a cross-stitch pattern. There was no doubt that they would scar. An uncomfortable feeling settled at the bottom of her stomach at the sight of the brand that tied her to Faustus; he had never been like this at the Academy, and while she had enjoyed some parts of last night, she hated that she had no upper hand. It was no longer a game between them- it was master and servant, and Satan knows she wasn't going to be the master anytime soon.

'Oh, Zelda, you fool, what have you done?' she whispered, damning herself for putting herself in such a weak position. How did we even get here? And then she remembered. That woman who taught Sabrina at Baxter High. Zelda still couldn't believe the way she had felt towards that woman, in all 427 years of her life she had never been attracted to a woman, and she had never felt the need to run back to an old flame in order to avoid those feelings of attraction. So really, Zelda mused, it was the schoolmarm's fault she was in this mess. That small offering of relief did not help Zelda to answer the questions that had risen to the surface surrounding her own sexuality however, nor did it provide the witch with a way out of the mess she now found herself in.

She needed answers, and in order to get them she had to speak to the mortal woman herself. But no sooner than she had decided to pay the schoolmarm a visit, she changed her mind. She was doing exactly the same thing that had landed her with an ass looking like a waffle; she couldn't keep running to one person in order to escape her feelings for the other, and she had a feeling that if she visited Mary now, she would not have the strength to fight her in a battle of wits. There was no doubt that Mary would probably be expecting a visit from her too, judging by the way she had smirked at her when they met a couple of days ago, Mary was aware of the way she had made her feel.

The witch shivered, suddenly remembering she had no clothes on, save for her bra and she looked around the room for her clothes. She frowned as she realised that her dress, coat and panties were gone, as was Faustus' shirt.

'Oh shit,' she said. She knew there were no clothes in this room, she had insisted on keeping this room empty for guests and she damned herself for that decision. It dawned on her that she would have no chance but to streak across the hall to her bedroom and hope that none of her family saw her. She tried to cover her front with her hands as she crept towards the door, opening it a tiny bit. She peeked out into the hall, which seemed to be deserted, thankfully. She opened the door as quietly as possible, before slipping into the hall and creeping down towards her room. Suddenly, the trapdoor to the attic room where Ambrose slept swung open in front of her and her sister appeared from the opening with an empty breakfast tray, climbing down with her back to her. She was trapped, she couldn't get past without Hilda seeing her and she froze, mortified. She had no choice but to barge past her as fast as she could.

'Oh, good morning, Sister! How ar- OH MY DEAR SATAN, ZELDA!' The ginger witch pushed past Hilda and hurtled into her bedroom as fast as she could, causing cutlery to fly off the tray as Hilda lost her balance.

Zelda slammed the door of her room shut and leaned against it, closing her eyes and catching her breath- she seemed to be doing that a lot lately. She snapped her eyes open and immediately saw her clothing from the night before folded up neatly on the edge of her bed, alongside the equally neatly folded shirt and pile of buttons she had torn from the High Priest's body the night before.

'Oh, go fuck yourself, Faustus, ' she snarled.

~~~

Having finally washed and dressed, and after repairing the damned shirt, Zelda headed downstairs. She sat down at the head of the kitchen table and lit a cigarette- Satan knows she needed one- before hiding behind a German newspaper. She ignored the sideways glances her sister kept giving her as she made jam at the stove, instead staring intently at the page in front of her, not really seeing the words, but focusing on suppressing the red blush that was steadily rising up her neck to her cheeks.

'Are we not going to talk about whatever the heaven just happened, Zelda?' Hilda's half-amused, half-shocked voice cut through the thick silence.

'No.'

'Not the fact that you didn't get home until late last night?'

'No.'

'Or the fact that you slept in the spare bedroom?'

'No.'

'Not even the fact that less than an hour ago you streaked down the hall almost completely nak-'

'If you finish that sentence, Hilda, I will cut your head off and use it as a lamp.'

Hilda snapped her mouth shut; she wasn't about to call her sister's bluff on that threat. But she continued to watch her sister out of the corner of her eye. She thought she could see some kind of mark peeking from under the high white collar of Zelda's dress, though she didn't dare question her anymore. They were saved from another awkward silence by the ringing of the bell at the front door. Zelda immediately stood, folding her newspaper and smoothing her dress.

'I'll get it.'

She opened the door and was greeted by the one face she least wanted to see.

'Faustus!'

The High Priest stepped past her into the lobby, removing his hat. 'You shall address me as Father, or have you forgotten our arrangement already?

'N-no of course not Father, you simply took me by surprise.' Zelda closed the door behind him. 'I thought you wanted me to bring you the shirt at noon? It is only 10:30.'

'Believe it or not, Sister Zelda, there are more important things in life than a shirt. While you were busy seducing me, my wife had a panic attack.'

Zelda's momentary incredulity at his comment on seduction was swiftly replaced with shock and concern for Constance.

'What? What time exactly? For how long?'

'Here is an idea, Sister Zelda, rather than throwing questions at me that I haven't the answers to, why don't you make yourself useful and go check on Constance yourself? Or are you suddenly incapable of acting rationally? Hysteria doesn't look good on you Zelda, stick to haughty submission.' He turned and headed back to the door, either not noticing or ignoring the tears in Zelda's eyes. 'Oh, and you can bring the shirt with you, I know you have already fixed it, like the good mistress you are.'

Zelda picked up the shirt from the stairs where she had left it and followed him out, doing her best to hold back the flood of emotion welling up inside her.

The door closed behind the High Priest and Zelda and the lobby was deathly silent. Hilda stepped out from her hiding place in the shadow of the stairs and stared at the place her sister had stood in defeated silence moments ago, hellfire burning in her eyes.