La Sacerdotessa

Satira

SATIRA sat alone in the darkness that was her mind.

I'm not a murderer, I have never killed anyone in my life.

"Are you sure?" A small voice called out from the darkness, causing Satira to look around her.

"Where are you?!"

"I'm here, I'm not here," the voice seemed to grow closer.

"Come to me! Show yourself!" The small child walked closer, a spotlight shining only on her. Her dark hair was a ratty mess and her clothes were but worn out rags. Her dark wine eyes were full of pain.

"No..."

"I'm you, you're me. You must remember? Someone save me! I'm hungry! I'm tired! I'm weak!" The younger Satira chuckled sinisterly.

"You're no longer part of me! Caterina saved me- saved us- from that life! She gave us love! She brought us to our brothers!"

"But she didn't get there in time, did she?" Young Satira smiled, and footsteps echoed in the darkness. A man walked to stand beside her. He had dark eyes, brown hair tied into a low ponytail, and a bleeding gash across his neck.

"You don't remember him, do you? You suppressed him, dug a pit in your memory and left him there. You can't remember his rough touches, can you? Or the fact that you killed him, left him with a nice little choker," Young Satira suddenly held a shard of broken glass, the tip dripping with blood.

"No. I didn't- we didn't..."

"Yes. Yes we did! You're a murderer!"

The word murderer seemed to echo; Young Satira smiled as she took the man's hand and walked back into the darkness.

"No! You can't leave! Tell me I didn't do that!" Satira screamed into the void, chasing after her. There was only more darkness.

"Why are you running?" Another voice called out.

"What do you mean why am I running?!"

"You're scared, it's ok. You were always scared, weren't you. Always hiding from people you didn't know. Thinking they would all end up hurting you. And maybe you were right. Humans are walking parasites, aren't they?" An older Satira walked into the light, her skin a sickly shade. She was in a long dress that resembled a hospital gown. She coughed and shook, coughing up blood.

"You remember this, don't you? This was just after you made your contract with Il Sole. Your body began to shut down as the two tarroco fought. You were in so much pain you were wishing  for death. But the boys never knew, did they. If they had known, then maybe you would have had the strength you needed without Jolly there to help you."

"It doesn't matter! They know the truth now! You have no power over me!"

The other Satira started laughing, which led to more coughing, and she coughed up blood that drenched her hands. Satira reached out to her, but she glared at her older self and stumbled back into the darkness.

Satira shivered, looking around her in the darkness. "I'm not a bad person! I have saved people! I have protected Regalo! I'm saving Papa!"

The words bad person echoed in the darkness, and for once, someone other than Satira answered her.

"If you've saved people, why couldn't you save me?" A little blonde boy asked, his arms twisted in odd angles, and his eyes were lifeless gray orbs.

"Or me?" A woman with curly red hair said, her skull cracked open, showing her inner membrane.

Satira remembered these two from when she'd been patrolling as the Head of Wands. The boy was involved in a fatal car accident that she had been at the scene for; the red head a woman Satira had attempted to- and failed- save from jumping off a building. Satira wanted to cry, but shook her head. She wasn't about to show weakness to whatever this was.

"You're not real!"

"But we were. Once." The red haired woman said.

"And soon, you'll be just like us...like us...like us..."

PACE watched as Satira sat in her bed, her knees pulled into her chest, her eyes wide and lifeless, and her entire body shivering, rocking back and forth. He slowly walked over to her bed, sitting at the edge of the mattress. Whether or not she could feel his weight on the bed, she didn't turn to look at him.

Looking at her in such a state made Pace frustrated at himself. He wasn't strong enough to stop it, to fix it, to help her. He could only watch as she sat there, her mind elsewhere. Pace sank into himself, his hands coming up to cover his face as he broke down.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"WHO was that man?!" Debito yelled at Jolly as he feverishly scanned through books on who was in the famiglia.

"According to the records, he isn't a part of the famiglia. I have no way of knowing... unless..."

"What?!"

"See if there are any Samiels or Morningstars."

"I see where you're going with this. You think he used a cover name related to the devil?" Luca pointed out from where he stood slumped over a pile of records.

"No shit," Jolly gripped the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb, pushing up his glasses.

"What did he steal that was so important anyway?" Debito asked from where he sat with Elmo beside him.

"Quelli Dimenticati."

"The Forgotten Ones? What are those?"

"They are the precursors to the Tarroco. Those thirteen are more powerful than the tarroco. They've been lost for centuries. Satira found them for me while she was out researching the void."

"Shit! Shouldn't we run after him!"

Jolly chuckled. "You think I trusted that man that easily? You underestimate me. That box was a box I used alchemy on to make it look exactly like the box the cards were left in. I replaced the fake box for the real one everytime he left."

"You think he'll be back?"

"Most definitely. Men like him don't stop  until they get what they came for."

"Jolly! I found him!" Luca yelled, carrying the book over to him. Jolly scanned through the page of Samiel Morningstar, smirking at his unoriginality.

"Do any of you have Satira's dagger?" Luca nodded, his gloved hands reaching into his pocket for the dagger he had wrapped in his handkerchief. Jolly took it from him, using a scalpel to scrape the blood into a vial. He closed it and look at the boys.

"Which one of you want to be my puppet?"

"Why?"

"We need a sample of Ms. Bianchi's blood. If this man truly is her father, it is possible I can make a tracking spell."

"I'll do it," Debito answered, taking a vial and one of Jolly's dissection knives with him to Satira's room. When he opened the door, he found Pace there, hunched over and shaking from crying.

"Hey," Debito said as he entered.

"Debito..." Pace turned as he walked toward the bed, noticing the knife in his hand. "Get away from her!"

"Jolly needs a sample of her blood, you idiot!"

"Can't he wait?! Shouldn't we be trying to save her instead of worrying about that man?!"

"The faster we get done with this, the faster he tells us how to fix her!"

"You heard him! The famiglia couldn't save him from his arcana powers! That means he can't fix her!"

"Jolly... is the best person to take care of this right now, as much as I hate to say it. He has to know a way. Now, step back, or hers isn't the only blood I will be collecting."

Pace glared at his friend, but stood back as he took the knife and make a small cut across Satira's arm. She didn't flinch, didn't make a sound nonetheless blink.

"I'm sorry, tesoro."