In Darkness, Truth.

[xXTruthXx]

Darkness engulfed him, it had been his only friend while serving time as his Father’s slave.

“If you won’t lead, you will follow,” he had said time, and time again.

After his speeches, they would come again. Torturing the man that he was, the human part of what he’d lived to be. The flesh and blood, man of the cloth, that wound up being the son of The Destroyer.

Clawed hands would rend flesh, fire would sear into organs. Death would come, but merely watch, as if knowing he could not die, or it saw that glimmer of something in the eyes of The Son, the glimmer that no one held onto the way he had for the years he had been locked away in glowing shackle and chain.

His hand pressed into the bridge of his slightly crooked nose. A boxing injury, earned years ago at Our Lady of Hope, while trying to teach some of the after school kids a better way to live than on the streets of Chicago. As a priest, he had the respect of the flock for working with the boys, keeping them from a life of gangs and teaching the importance of education. From the boys, he earned respect by keeping the peace in their families. If one of the boys mentioned that their mother had brought home a lay about, while she was off to work to support them, Greg offered jobs through people in the church with small businesses, or even hired them to paint or clean around the place. Some turned out good, others wanted nothing more than a new support system.

Saying all the right words when alone, but trying to spend increasingly more time away from the kids, or worse, getting closer with the kids. Truth had seen all kinds of men, helped many of them, and was proud of how they’d become members of the church, helped others find their way down the road away from a confused woman, and scared kids. The thoughts of his own mother and father, the ones that had raised him, with raised voices and domestic violence a common place, he had sworn with the collar he’d not stand by to let another kid go through that, if he could help it.

For nearly twenty-three years he had helped countless families. Set many onto the path of the straight-and-narrow.

Then a series of events lead him to see the world was more than man and beast. The bad side of good, the disadvantages of up.

He met her.

The woman he loved, while very much a woman, turned out to be someone from stories he had read as a child.

A fae, of all things, and it seemed he had glamoured her.

The trust was there. She had chosen him as one of the Misfits. Man of Faith, so named “Truth,” and that name stuck. Rarely did she use his name, and she found slowly he was the most stable of her friends.

Love was shared.

Fear was faced.

Never talks of a marriage.

Then a miracle.

The miracle of a life.

Created by a couple in love.

Then?

Hell.

[SpadeMalloy]

This is madness…

Is it now darling dear Spade, or should I call you Mother? Mommy Dearest. Dearest mum.

Don’t. Do not speak such things. You do not exist. You are not real. You are dead. I saw the blood. I knew the pain. I saw the end before the beginning.

Did you now? Interesting notion that… for I… as much as I burn… am very much alive.



The words resonated in her head even as Sidonie bolted up out of bed, sweat soaked and gasping for breath as the bright tourmaline of her eyes cut to the window. Was it just the storm that had awakened her or something more?



The nightmares had not ceased to haunt her since the night Truth had disappeared. A part of her memories recalled a mention of suicide, another part of her thoughts considered it homicide, but her heart made her believe and suspect that Truth was very much alive.



Fingertips trailed to her stomach, feeling and searching even as the covers were thrown off. Spade expected to find the crimson mark of blood to soil the pale ivory of her nightgown but it remained flawless and pure in the white wedding beauty of silk.



Like a woman haunted, a woman torn between nightmares and dreams, reality and fantasy, Sidonie staggered over to the vanity to regard her own dark reflection. A startled blink as the mirror did not reveal her reflection but instead that of a young girl. Before Spade had a moment to react the mirror altered the reflection once more to show the dark fae the vision of her lover, Greg O’Malley.



“Truth?”



For a moment she was tempted to press her fingers to the glass in hopes that the mirror would act like a portal but instead the woman stumbled back to sit upon the edge of the bed.



Something was truly wrong.



Things now more than ever were not making sense.



A shake of head and her fingertips brushed along her temples as if the very gesture would soothe away the worry and the fear.



For so long she had suspicions that she thought to be only hallucinations or hopeless wishes… but now with these visions Spade was starting to question her own sanity.



What truly was happening? What had happened? What had gone wrong.



Everything…



Spade no longer had the heart to weep, no longer had the strength to scream out in rage.



Instead she fell once more into the sanctuary of giving in and giving up as she felt the tendrils of her own sanity begin to slip away.

[xXTruthXx]

In the pit...

Another body was thrown with such force that the bars nearly bent, even with the meat and bones breaking on impact. The blood sprayed thick and high into the air, and the child had barely moved. The pair observing could have sworn they hadn't even seen her move, other than when she started she had been by the back of the cell, when she was done, she was perched on her bed, staring up at them. With a flick of pale wrist, the demon that had been against the bars convulsed heavily, and a bright, white light began to crack through scales, breaks in flesh, and eyes. The light so intense those observing had to shield their own eyes.

"Another one, dead."

?The joys of raising a female child, away from her parents. Do you think she suspects??

?Have you heard her mention them??

?No, but I assume, with her father?s blood, and from what we know of her mother...the child will be powerful.?

?Will be powerful?" The taller, more muscular of the pair actually laughed then. "What is she now, if not powerful? You mean that she will become even more powerful." He leaned over and stared down at her, as if studying her. "The child has said only two words during her time here, well that I?d heard her speak.?

?What did she say? She?s said nothing to me, no matter what I?ve put her through.? He was proud that he hadn't been killed by a mere child, no matter the blood of The Destroyer flowing through her veins or not. If given the chance, he would kill her, and prove them all wrong, but curiosity was his weakness.

?Truth and Spade.?

?What??

A shrug of muscular, onyx black shoulders, ?That?s what she spoke. Quietly, and with reverence. Some sort of importance to her.?

?She?s killed three so far, and her power grows.?

?Even more with those two words.?

One clawed hand moved to rub absently at the gleaming black eyes, while they peered down upon the dark haired female. ?Has he found The Son??
?No, and I would not ask that if you even think he?s within ear shot.?

?I thought he heard all in the pit.?

?If that were true, you?d be dead...?

Suddenly, without warning, and no time to scream, the smaller of the two burst into the flames of a thousand years of suffering and torment, scarring the rock floor on which he had been standing.

The other turned to face the man that joined him. Dressed in a dark suit, with red tie and kerchief, he smiled when the demon bowed subserviently. ?Master, I...?

?Silence,? The word wasn?t spoken, but it was heard plainly. ?If you are asked again, The Son walks the Earth again, using what he learned from us. He can kill us, and be hidden from us, all the while walking among the humans.? The Destroyer walked to observe the child, who stared back up at him with tourmaline eyes, the eyes of her mother, with the hatred of her father. ?My own grandchild hates me as much as my son.?

?You can deceive her.?

?It matters not, what meat I wear,? He said with disgust as he turned from the cell. ?She sees me as I am, my true form.?

?And she still faces you with hatred?? The demon shifted from one foot to another, looking from the cell, to his leader in shock. ?She?s not scared of you?? asked in disbelief.

?That child, my granddaughter, will either destroy us or make us more powerful than ever.?

[SpadeMalloy]

Save me. I need you. You are of the Darkness. Lead the Wild Hunt once more. Save Me before it is too late.

Spade had become used to the lack of sleep and when she did sleep she dreamed of a girl child. A child that to some of the Fae would be considered as an abomination, to others a blessing.

The promise of salvation and yet Spade felt an unyielding twist of hopelessness and agony as the nights grew short and the days longer.

She had spoke with no one about the nightmares. Had confided in not a soul for she no longer trusted any one. Not her family, not her Misfit Toys, and especially not the Dark Fae.

"Lead the Wild Hunt."

Sidonie mouthed the words without giving voice to them as she recalled her dream. Or was it a nightmare? Or... something more.

Tourmaline eyes narrowed to mere slits as she could feel the rich velvety pureness of her power pool through her spirit and stream eagerly through her veins. A low growl that was far more beast than fae escaped her throat as she dressed.

Spade did not need the mirror's reflection to know that her appearance had altered to reveal her true form. The glamour dropped her flesh glistened in a hue the shade of molten gold left accentuated by the sheen of obsidian. The Black Dogs that ran rampant along her flesh.

They were awake and eager. Oh so eager for the Hunt.

Before she exited the room she grabbed the last few remaining weapons she possessed.

For a moment the reality of it all settled within her spirit and Spade smiled.

Truth be Told... Spade was the real weapon to be feared.

[xXTruthXx]

Movement in the apartment caught his eye from his spot in darkest shadow. Through his eyes he saw her, as she dropped the spell, became her true self.

?In darkness, truth remains,? He said as he leapt from the roof to land on the narrow edge near the window of their once shared bedroom. It was time that she knew she was not alone. Time she saw her lover, her companion, her friend and what he had become in their time apart.

He looked at the lock he had installed what seemed like years ago, and with but a thought, the lock slid open, allowing him to duck into the room. She had grabbed something, something from a memory he thought lost. The blades he?d used on a rampage through the Summer Court. The night he made a new Queen, the night he started a downward spiral.

?Sidonie?? His voice cracked as he said her name, it was his voice, but mixed with the darkness of brimstone, the heat of the pit. He tried to clear his throat, and then was slammed to the floor with the weight of the world. He could feel his Fey?s power, but there was another, reaching, grabbing, and needing her, before turning focus on him.

?You are supposed to be dead,? The voice echoed through his mind, causing his eyes to squeeze tightly together with the pain. Even in the time served as his father?s object of hate, he?d not felt the pain like this. Wild, growing, and out of control. ?Suicide, really?? Another wave of pain slammed his body, forcing a sound from his throat. ?I expected more...?

Greg pushed to his feet, he didn?t kneel in Hell, he wasn?t going to start here. ?Enough!? He shouted, and the voice went silent. ?Sidonie, STOP!? He couldn?t see her, but he did not intend to lose her again.

[SpadeMalloy]

The words snapped through her like a command, an order that the Black Dog had no desire to answer to. As Gabrielle of the Wild Hunt why should she respond or answer to any order save for one of her own?



The very nerve of undermining her will by trying to command the Gabrielle brought the low growl to resonate deep within her chest with the foreboding of a snarl.



Spade instinctively felt her fingers tighten their claim around the knives in preparation for a fight. A fight that she was so willing to invite and entertain the notion of.



Like the Hunter she was born to be she searched the shadows as the vibrant tourmaline of her eyes slowly bled into the ink dark of the Gabrielle.



It’s not a trick. It’s real. It’s true. Truth. Him. He’s returned.



“Quiet. Nobody asked you.”



A clip sharp as cracking ice ruined the normal lush black velvet of Spade’s rich voice as the growl grew in her throat and threatened to strangle the life out of her words.



The Gabrielle and more so the Black Dog that the Gabrielle harbored cared nothing for love or lovers, mates or caretakers. The Black Dog cared for nothing more than the Wild Hunt and the chase after prey. Oh the sweet thrill of the Hunt.



The Black Dog craved the spill of blood and the sharp rendering of flesh. To clean and polish with tooth, nail, and tongue the marrow from every single bone.



Still something within Spade’s spirit kept her centered, staring into the shadows even as her senses heightened and she crouched low in the stance of the predator’s pounce.



The knives themselves were held out to herself. Inch by inch the smile turned upward upon her lips as it grew more wicked.



The Gabrielle though had no chance to pounce even as the gold glisten of knuckles turned diamond white in the grip upon the knives.



It was not a scream or a snarl that escaped her lips or even a whimper as the black ink of her night dark eyes was brutalized by the severing pierce of a tourmaline spark.



Like a match had been lit to ignite a wild fire inside her own soul. No screams or whimpers for a prelude to the end of the days but instead a whisper.



“Truth…”

[xXTruthXx]

“Truth...” she said in a deep disbelief. He stood upright, preparing for a fight, he’d seen her when she was one with the hunt. The ink black, running her arms, crossing her chest, and taking the tourmaline eyes to make them as dark as the pit itself. It was part of her, as much as Hell was part of him.

He kept his hands at his sides, loose and ready, but in a non threatening gesture his palms were held toward her, showing the scars left after his body had been ripped apart, and put together again so many times he’d lost count. Everything was always fixed, and he was put together better than he ever had been. No marks on his near perfect flesh, except for the jagged crosses of his own design. The last laugh of a sadistic maker.

“Sidonie, please...it’s Greg,” he started a slow move toward her. He’d watched her for two nights, he’d seen her sit up in sweat soaked sheen, searching, scared, and confused. He knew, as he could nearly see that she was at a severe loss, and after all he’d seen her slowly losing her mind looking for him. That was the real Hell, watching the ones you love while they suffered agonizing loss and defeat. “I know The Hunt calls you, I can feel it too, but feel me. You know it’s me, and not a trick.”

He took a step toward her, slowly. Though there was a spark of recognition, there was also the dark pull against her. Something was wanting her to run wild, out of control, hunt something...no, someone that was calling to her.

“I don’t know where you are going, or planning on going, but stop...please, and come to me.”

In the pit...

“She woke with a scream,” He said quietly, peering down into the cell, then back at his new assistant. “It is the first sound she’s made since she’s been here, even when The Master has attempted to torture her.”

“The Master has tortured a child?” The new assistant walked to the overlook, and peered down at the girl who was now staring back at them. “She seems...harmless.”

He reached out with a massive hand and pulled the much smaller assistant back by one of his onyx horns that protruded from the side of his greenish head.

“Do not let her appearance fool you, Ursef. That child is dangerous, and her body count has risen to seven now, including one of the Mid-Echelons.”

“Pardon me for not believing you Belphegor, but I do not see her as being able to do that. Mid-Echelons are a step under what I can do,” Ursef boasted, looking offended that a mere child, a female at that could wield that sort of power, but he hadn’t considered that the Demon of Ingenious Discoveries and Wealth was overseer of her.

“You’d do better to mind your forked tongue in my presence, Knave. You seem to forget your place, and whom you are speaking to.” Belphegor straightened to his full height, a move of intimidation. “That child has the blood of The Master, and that of an Unseelie Court Fae, all indications point toward a powerful, and higher up at that.” He said proudly as he glanced down in curiosity as the child began to pace in her cell, looking like a caged animal. “Her age may be a hindrance, and most physical power increases with puberty, she already shows great promise.”

“You lie,” Ursef spat as he too looked over at the pacing girl. “That creature is not part of The Master, The Destroyer...he would not allow something that weak to live!”

While they watched, the child’s fingers at first started to turn black. She glanced toward them with fear at first, then a nearly feral smile crossed her face. The fingers of her right hand then began to crawl with a dark energy, much like their own. A quick look upward at her captors, and one of Ursef’s horns was snapped from his head and shoved deep into his chest. Belphegor stepped back quickly, and pulled the lesser demon with him, quickly removing the broken horn from his body, and allowing him to start the healing process.

“She has her Grandfather’s temper, Ursef. I should have warned you.”

[SpadeMalloy]

It keeps on hurting. It never stops. They keep on trying to break me but I won’t break for them. I swear I won’t cry. I’ll never cry. I may go mad but I never will cry…



“Just stay strong. We will come for you. I swear.”



The words left her lips before she realized they were to be spoken out loud. Head bowed she was solemnly aware of the brush of strands of her hair brushing against her jaw. Spade left her gaze lowered toward her feet even as the depths of ink slowly bled back to tourmaline while she looked upon the blades in her hands.



Slowly the growl died from her lips as she heard his voice pierce through the fury and hunger of the Black Dog. The effort to quell the desire to unleash the Wild Hunt was excruciating. The very effort was a pain that literally brought Sidonie to her knees as she snuffed out the last whisper and craving cry for the Hunt.



Within her there was silence near deafening from the sudden peace that consumed her. Bit by bit the sanity that seemed so distant before began to return to her as she gazed upon her hands.



His voice seemed to fill her senses, pouring through her spirit and warming her soul as she dared to lift her eyes toward him. At that moment she felt how the Fallen must have felt when judged by their Maker, or how it must feel to be before one of the Shining Ones.



“Please don’t judge me. I did what I had to do.”



A whisper. Spade felt nothing more than bespelled as the confusion and fear returned that had haunted her each and every night. The exhaustion that the Black Dog had buried within her slowly crept back and weighed down her limbs till she felt weakened by her own resolve.



For a moment she didn’t see him but one to serve as the Judge, Jury, and Executioner. This was the finality of her days. She knew it now.



The blades were sheathed silently as her hands dropped uselessly in her lap, fingers weaving and unweaving before her as she waited for her sentence.



Tell him. You have to tell him. We live. Both of us. We live. We are all alive… shouldn’t he know?



“What does it matter, child. I am already damned. This… is madness. You the insanity sinking through. I must be judged for my crimes. It is my time.”



The words were weighed not with defeat but acceptance.



Deep down Sidonie began to believe that maybe, just maybe, she really had lost her mind. After all she had to be if she was speaking to a child never born. A daughter that never knew the light of day or a breath of life. Only to know the Darkness. Nothing more, nothing less.



Just as her mother was meant to.

[xXTruthXx]

He stood in silence, watching the blades sheathe, and listening to her as she spoke. The growling that rolled from her throat turned to words. She was speaking to someone, someone he didn?t see, but rather felt briefly, before he realized they were alone in their once shared home.

In one way it was like her body was starting to heal itself. It was like he could see the shards of her sanity repairing itself, not unlike a shattered mirror pulling itself back to completion in a solid oak frame. He wanted to wait, watch for the recognition, and then she spoke again, the words cutting deeply as he understood what she said.

?Please don?t judge me. I did what I had to do.?

He could feel her waiting for the blade to drop. She saw him as an executioner. How cruel the powers that be, who would send the man she looked for, the man she wished for, the one that she wanted, after a string of playthings, to be the one to place judgement on her dark head. The ultimate torture. The ones you truly loved, placing judgement for your sins.

Her hands left the blades resting in their sheaths, and began to fuss with one another, almost as if she was unsure what to do with them. Dark hair was shorter now, but hid her face from view while she kept her gaze lowered at her lap before finally looking up at him, the ink gone, replaced by her eyes. The eyes that held love for him, now held an uncertain curiosity as she watched him standing over her.

Finally her hands dropped to her lap, and she looked defeated...fragile. Greg moved closer, wanting to take her into his arms, and she spoke again. Mentioning a child, and being damned. Madness and insanity, then finally saying it was time for her to be judged for her crimes.

There was no sadness.

She expected what was to come.

It would not come this night.

?Sidonie, love...I am not here to judge you. I am here to be with you, and I literally went through hell to get back to you.? His voice was quiet, serious in tone. The way he?d talk to her through the nights after they?d made love and started to drift off to sleep. The way a man in love spoke to the woman of his dreams... and she was that woman to him. ?I couldn?t judge you, as I am not without sin myself. I am your Truth, Love... feel that, please.?

Greg knelt down into the floor, before he finally, carefully wrapped his arms around her, and made a silent vow. If her mind was shattered beyond repair, there would be a war in hell like they?d never seen.

?Now tell me, please... who are you talking to??

[SpadeMalloy]

It seemed an eternity before Sidonie felt like her sanity was returning. Her eyes focused on Greg even as she made the determination that he was real. That he was real and so very much alive.



At first she had to wonder if her mind was shattering even more to give her this illusion, this hallucination to continue her suffering. Moments passed where she found herself watching him and seeing him for who he truly was. Greg O’Malley, her Truth.



The softness of her laughter escaped her lips as one hand lifted from her lap to curl upon his arm as soon as he embraced her. He felt so real and warm and so alive that Spade felt maybe he truly had spelled her.



A shake of head as the laughter fled into the sanctuary of a sigh as she dropped her head to push into his chest. It would be so easy to give in to sleep and to submit to the exhaustion. The weariness that Sidonie felt had been a constant in her life ever since she believed she had lost them both.



“Oh Truth…if only you knew.”



Her lips twisted into a faint smile as she drew back from his embrace, cupping his face in her hands as she searched his eyes. His question seemed to resonate through her mind in a repetition of foreboding.



For a moment Sidonie remembered everything that had been before. Her life. Her siblings. The Misfit Toys. The men that had come and gone from her life. Spade reflected briefly on them before her memories stopped on two. A memory of the Unseelie male that had sought to have her as his consort. Then there was the memory of the one she had believed to be an angel. A true vision of love personified. Just the memory left her snorting with dismissal before her eyes narrowed into slits.



Maybe there were the ones to blame.



Perhaps they were not as they seemed and maybe they both had glamoured her. Would it not be like her very own kind to corrupt and twist minds, to break and ruin spirits?



Demons had after all been mistaken for angels once so very long ago, and her kind considered as gods. Why could this not be any different when it came to the broken state of her own mind?



Lost in thought she felt like she was drowning in her own mind before his voice seemed to bring her back to the surface of reality. The smile resting on her lips was bittersweet even as her eyes began to bleed back into the shade of the Gabrielle. They used to say that Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned… well they didn’t know did they…



A woman that had lost her daughter to Hell, well that… that… was an entirely different story.



She rose to stand with his assistance even as she felt her strength return. Would he think her truly mad if she answered him? Well only time would tell.



The time was now.



“You ask who I was speaking to? I… I was speaking with our daughter, Truth. I can hear her, and she… is in Hell.”