Jezebel

Part Three: 12

Ashera was free at last.

She shot through the clouds with a victorious whoop, the wooden bull clutched tight in her hand and hair whipping behind her. It was night, the moon was absent—just as she liked it—and she was miles and miles away from wherever Abaddon's lair was. Pushing clawed fingers through her dark hair, she gazed down at the earth as the clouds parted beneath her feet. A stretch of barren land as far as human eyes can see; she blinked once and took in the underground webbed paths that led to the location she was itching to be.

What to do?

The question bounced around her mind. One thing was as certain as the rising of the sun though, Molech must pay dearly for his betrayal. She wondered what he was doing now. He was always on his guard and a master at sneaking up on his enemy, but he could even imagine she was out of Abaddon's hold?

A simper escaped Ashera's lips. Molech had no clue of the madness coming his way. The rage that had stewed within her all that while she was stuck, trapped like a weakened human soul with no hope of escape. Ah, Molech must pay.

Lifting the bull carving to her eye level, Ashera observed it. If she were to cast it in fire, Baal would be free just as she was. Did Baal deserve freedom? Memories of how he foolishly trusted Molech and more or less handed Israel over to him made her want to spit.

No, he did not deserve freedom. Not yet.

As though Baal could read her thoughts, he blinked his wooden eyes once. Her smile was slow in appearance. "Yes Baal. I think you deserve to suffer a little bit more. You put us in this situation, it's only normal that you suffer the resulting consequences at a greater degree."

Steam burst from the bull's nostrils.

Ashera laughed. "Your rage has only begun. Little advice, I think you should save it for the one deserving of it." With those words, her dark hair stretched, separate tresses moving like snakes as they curled around the bull and pulled it into an intricate knot at the nape of her neck.

"There."

After twisting her neck from side to side, Ashera stretched her hands above her head, fingertips touching and dived towards the earth.

***

"It's like I am going crazy." Gomar's voice was hoarse from all her wailing and railing at who? She didn't know. It was that time just before dawn, she was kneeling on the grassy ground with her knees inches from the stone slab that marked Naboth's resting place.

Was he resting? Where was he now? Was there any reason for his existence? Maybe he ceased to exist the very moment he died. Gomar yelled. A boiling hatred for everyone and everything roiled within her. She didn't want to be free, she owed it to Naboth to grieve for him; the life he lived deserved her unending grief. Nothing excited her, whatever smile she gave was dead on the inside, it was difficult for her to think of herself with another man. The thought made her shiver in repulsion.

"Just look at me." Her open palms rested on her tights as she stared at them. "I am such a foolish, idiotic woman. I went after her, Naboth. I went after the queen and now I feel like such a fool." Hot tears raced down her cheeks and her nose ran. She sniffed, swiping her arm across her face. "What was I thinking?" Her laughter was a harsh bitter thing. "I see me now; I see what my brothers have been saying all these years. I see the uselessness of my pursuit to kill the queen... but what do I do now? I feel dead. Nothing excites me."

There was a crunching sound of feet on loose gravel, someone was approaching with measured steps. Sniffing, Gomar glanced in the direction.

"Greetings."