Capítulo 3: III. Nihil et Nativitas.
Vanilla and Rowie stepped back. Custos Cattus was as big as a cougar with his back arched and his fur puffed up. The banshee spread her lanky and skeletal arms. Her dried, long fingers had yellowed nails as long as butcher knives. From her putrid mouth spilled a light green fluid.
She and Custos Cattus danced on a circle, and they launched their might at each other.
He evaded her first attack and got on her, biting her neck and trying to disembowel the old leather she had for the stomach with his lower claws, kicking one after the other. Yowls and screams echoed across the cave.
But the banshee fought back. Her ear-piercing yelling made Vanilla cover her ear channels and Rowie howl. She used her twisted nails to rip and tear the cat's thick fur.
Custos Cattus fell back and struggled to breathe. His sides had multiple lacerations. He whimpered, and his nose and snout bubbled blood. Vanilla's night vision started to fade away.
That was a bad signal. If he continued like that then it'd be the end. The banshee would claim the doll and devour Vanilla. Her human body would heal her wounds and help her grow up into a more powerful being.
But it was not fortunate for the spectral woman either. The cloth she had for a robe was a sheer amalgam of mauled fabric. One of her popped eyes was missing and her torn down skin revealed her bone system.
What was that thing made of? At other times, Custos Cattus would not have any trouble tearing down apparitions back to whatever inferno they came from. This was different; he was confronting something that was an actual threat.
They hurled themselves at each other once again. Rowie furiously barked. The banshee glided her nails at the cat.
He evaded them and passed through her side. He then nailed himself on her hunched back and attempted to break her neck with his mandibles. She battled to get rid of him. He had her hooked like a bobcat would trap a hare.
Nonetheless, she didn't wish to vanish without taking her marked victim with her. Staggering, drunken down by the damage, she drifted at the insignificant girl who had her back against the grounded wall. The pup hid behind her. She made herself a ball trying to protect her body with her tiny arms.
The banshee still had enough energy. She ripped, tore, and shredded with the few strength she had left. The girl cried. Her keen nails cut her leather jacket and then slashed her skin like a hot knife through butter.
Vanilla screamed and helplessly begged. The giant monster didn't care.
The banshee finally lost all her energy remaining. Her corpse plummeted to the ground and her vision went black. She failed her master and lost against a human. An eternal void of sorrow expected her at oblivion. Such disgrace was unforgivable.
Custos Cattus did not let the aberration's neck go until he was certain his opponent was really gone. Her carcass finally turned into dust. Only pieces of torn cloth remained.
Did zero or ten minutes happen? Vanilla didn't know. She unwrapped her eyelids after the shock and adrenaline faded away. Exhaustion and thirst changed places with her survival instincts. But the torture was over.
Custos Cattus sat next to that pile of white dust. She looked at her arms. They were bathed with the gunk of blood and mud.
The cuttings sliced her blood vessels. Blood broke free from its carnal prison. Her blue dress of white flowers below her coat was soaked with warm blood.
She tried to get up, but it was impossible at that point. The coldest sensation took possession of her body and her vision turned blurry. Her heart tried its best to keep itself moving, and her lungs desperately tried to get energizing oxygen.
She finally understood it: She was dying. She knew that she would eventually run out of luck. At least she took that monster with her. Defeating a banshee was not something any common human could ever dream of, yet something she just did. At least that made her feel a little prideful about herself, making less tragic her last moments alive.
Rowie came out of her back and simply sat next to her. He put his snout on her lap and licked her pale, cold as ice and trembling hands.
Everyone was calm. Was Custos Cattus waiting to escort her through the darkness into the afterlife? One of her last hopes was that maybe the next plane would treat her better than this current existence.
Who was going to take care of Rowie? The poor pup would eventually meet his end inside that cave. It'd be a matter of time. He'd end up being forced to feed on the decaying corpse of what was his owner and friend.
Her father would never be able of seeing her as an adult. Did he have dreams of seeing her as a successful doctor, writer, or did he have dreams of grandchildren going to visit him when he was old and in a bed?
Soon they'd be mere speculations of a man with a daughter that suddenly disappeared, and was never to be found.
Tears dropped from Vanilla's eyes and hit the growing puddle of her own blood on the ground. Everything went black. Existence, pain, and joy faded away. Her heart said goodbye. A cold body sitting on the edge of that dark cave remained, waiting for someone to find it out and wonder about its tragic story.
•••
"Interesting. I didn't think it'd make it that far."
"Making what and how far?"
"Pursuing its own, intuition? curiosity? inquisitiveness? the human language is limited. But the idea of surrendering never crossed around its mind."
"Yet it paid the price. Imprudence is weakness."
"Don't you remember? Once, a long time ago, you and I were stepping with the same shoes."
"And now we do not have a beginning nor an end to empathize with that. And now we do try to extinguish our helpless boredom with that curiosity you mention."
"And now, it is time to satisfy it once again."
"Should we wake it up?"
"It was never sleeping. But yes, yes my friend. May its soul breathe once again for our empty enjoyment."
•••
Drops fell, wet dirt aromatized, and blue lights formed constellations in the never-ending, obscure void where neither life nor death had say nor opinion. It was a total cacophony of magnetic colors only audible to those dreaming inside a dream. Was she dreaming all this time? Was she a hallucination of a bigger essence? In no need to hurry or shout, she stared at the void, and the void effectively stared back.
"...Vanilla? ...Was that your name?" A voice with neither feminine nor masculine tone rumbled inside her mind, yet so far from her.
"I've been observing... Observing through time and space. They've told me about you. You're an odd one. It's been a long while since your kind grabbed my attention."
Her conscience woke up, but her instincts did not.
"...Who are you?"
"...I am what you humans fear so much every night and every day. I am what cannot be known nor understood. I am a paradox of tangible facts and unrealistic theories. I am a part of you, and a part of the external world you process with your primitive brain. Yet I am neither."
She no longer possessed a body to feel, watch, or hear. And she was neither standing up nor levitating.
"Yet you do not fear me." The mysterious voice continued. "Your, curiousness? foolishness? They did not fear me. And that error cost you with that childish dream you call life."
"...What made me different from other curious, ...fools?"
"Each and every curious fool is a special case. What made you special? ...Your will to break and look beyond the concept of reality. You did not only made use of what did not belong to you. You ended the mind of one of my creations. Of one of my daughters. The cases of a human doing so could be counted with the fingers of your former hands.
I saw you before using those spirits which you were too foolish to think that they belonged to you. You ended with many creations. You did well. But I do not care about those, as for they were not mine. Do you know why are you here? Are you even here? That also does not matter. You're not only here because I am intrigued by your curiousness. You meddled with a matter that was none of your concern. You must repay us."
"...Repay you? How so? I am no longer alive. Do you desire my soul?"
"You can keep your insignificant soul. You probably do not even know what it really is or how it really works. You will go back to that carcass your self possessed ...You will work for me ...I will grant you with multiple missions you must fulfill. I will provide you with the necessary tools and I will reward you for every task you achieve. Such rewards do not compare with the final prize I keep reserved just for you. I promise you I have excellent plans for you, and only you."
"...What if I refuse?"
"You cannot refuse. You do not have any options. It is either the emotionless void or the option of going back to that mundane world you come from. Now go, my promising servant. Go back and be Vanilla once more. Satisfy me and I will reward you. You have no option to fail."
Her lungs tried to reach for fuel, and her heart began to dance to the rhythm of that bittersweet melody called life once again.
The vast, infinite blue sky confidently melted with the bright sun, and together they cheered with their light. Vanilla's eyelids spread themselves.
Her body was cuddling with a bed of vivid grass that was the comfiest she had laid on in many years. Birds sang for mother nature and dragonflies played with each other across the lower sky. The scent of tulips played with her nose.
Incapable to remember much, she continued resting there with nothing operating her psyche mechanisms. For how long? The concept of time didn't matter at that moment.
She stared indefinitely at the fresh blue and the joyful leaves on the trees. Everything worked in perfect harmony. Her body was born and met the world once again. She sat up and glanced at her tore apart coat. She put off that disarray of leather and inspected her body. Pinkish scars decorated her ashen arms. Her legs had graved ancient self-harm cuts.
The cove she found herself in was surrounded by trees giving cover to fungi of cream color. A polished boulder served as a throne for her belongings on her rear. Her leather backpack and the plush of Mr. Fluffyball rested there. Next to them stood two objects she didn't remember before.
One was a red book with a pentacle graving its cover. Its title was written in characters Vanilla had never seen before. It was neither the Theban alphabet, Scandinavian runes, nor any other paganic writing system.
With a sleepy hangover, she picked it up and spread its pages. All empty except for a page in the middle. There was the drawing of a slender woman with long claws, accompanied by the same unrecognizable characters. Her memories unhurriedly returned. Her head spun and she closed the book.
The other artifact was a golden pole of feet and a half. It had engravings worthy of the most skilled handcrafter. The lower part was separated by three rings that had colorful gems encrusted below them.
It had inscribed the words in the middle part: A v r e v m B a c v l v m.
Her friend. Her memories kicked in. Rowie! Where could he be? She picked up her belongings and the strange artifacts. She jogged and climbed up a ramp of twisted roots. In the distance stood that adobe house she was trapped in the last night.
"Rowie? Where are you?" She approached the carbonized construction. Young barks escaped from its entrails. Pulling the blackened door, the pup came out wagging his tail.
She picked him up and hugged him tightly."Where have you just been?" Her voice was sweet yet as always raspy.
"...I could ask you the same."
"W-what?!" She dropped him.
"Ouch! that hurt! you have to be more respectful with your friends!"
She took a step back, almost falling off to a pile of charred bricks and pipes. "Who are you?! What did you do with Rowie?!"
"I am Rowie, Vanilla. Trust me!" His voice was high-pitched. What kind of entity just possessed her little pup?
"What's happening here?!"
"Don't you remember? You died down there."
Her mind cleared. She remembered the notes of that man, the banshee, Custos Cattus... her last moments bleeding out...
"... I know it's hard. But those shadows promised to bring you back. And they did!"
"Huh? What shadows?"
"I don't know who they were. They just told me they'd return you to life once more. Then everything went black for me. And finally, you're with me once again and they gave me a voice! How amazing is that?"
Shadows? Vanilla remembered a vague voice resonating in what seemed like an archaic epiphany. Was she even still alive? If she was, well, whatever revived her and gave Rowie a voice certainly didn't just because of altruism. Those beings were never up to anything good.
"Hey, haven't seen your eye?"
"What, my eye?"
"Yes. Let's see if we can find a mirror inside."
What was the talking pup talking about? She followed as he suggested. The sun illuminated the roofless, calcined house. There was a mirror hanging on the chimney. Vanilla cleared the ash and her reflection gazed at herself: Her left eye was not raven anymore.
It was now a shiny blue with a blend of aquamarine. It emitted soft brilliance. She didn't have a pupil anymore. It was a brilliant, fluorescent blue circle with a shape she recognized making five angles on it: A pentagram. It looked like it was made of glowing, golden string.
"...W-what the hell?"
A mark... Physical marks were something Vanilla had only read of, and even she wasn't sure if they did exist. But that was real. She had an oath made with whatever brought her back.
Demons and other beings rarely made contracts or pacts with humans, and when they did they mostly compromised mundane stuff and carnal pleasures, like the one with the man she investigated last night.
But this entity returned her to life and gave a noble creature the capability of reason. It had powers that were above life, death, and knowledge itself. What in the hell was it? And what did it want from a mortal like her?
"Well, I'll surely have to cover it once in the town... People would... burn me alive if they saw me like this."
"Why don't we just tell them to back off?"
"No. You better not say anything. When was the last time those ignorants saw a talking dog?"
The pup bent his head. "Guess you're right." He sighed. "I promise to not say a word."
"Hmmm..." The light streaks danced with the dust. "We better be going. Mommy Carol is not gonna be happy." She sighed. "I was supposed to be home last night."
"That old... Why don't we just leave?"
"Were it so easy Rowie... C'mon. Let's get going." She reached for the entrance and he followed behind, jumping and climbing the burnt debris.
She still couldn't process it all. What was this all about? She just died and then she was back. Her puppy now could talk and now she had to work for some wicked being with powers that transcended reality itself.
But why did she, between all people, had a second chance to live once again? This time she surely had to be careful. It was clear that Merry Oaths had other beings —both supernatural and human— that preferred to see her dead and rotting down.
They returned home and found themselves at the spooned entrance of St. Bernard of Clairvaux street, a Cul-De-Sac road where some of the richest people in Merry Oaths built their residences of gothic and victorian finishes. It was an orange evening, and for what it was it was a pretty day for the town. Vanilla couldn't remember when was the last time that the sky wasn't cloudy and foggy.
The place was forlorn sleeping, isolated from people and their day-by-day activities. Murders of crows cawed and glided on the coral sky.
Carol's Buick Series 40 was stationed outside of the Land Residence, where the cobblestone fences separated the construction from the outside world, Sigh. The thought of dealing with her yelling and complaints made Vanilla's trunk shiver with bitterness.
"Carol is going to be happy to see me." She said sarcastically.
"What are you going to tell her about your eye?" Rowie asked. Vanilla had wrapped it with a chunk of leather of what used to be her old coat. She fetched stares on her way back.
"I still don't know... I'll improvise something. And you, you better not say a word, no matter what happens. Am I clear?" She signaled him with her index finger.
"Shhhh. Dogs don't talk, silly girl."
Vanilla rolled her eyes and unlocked the ironwork door. She traversed the garden of dying hydrangeas, lilacs, and hostas until she reached the mahogany door at the grey porch.
No movements inside could be sighted from the picture windows on the door. She took a deep breath and unfasten the door, crossing the arched corridor until she reached the living room, decorated with Art Deco furniture and brown carpet.
The electric chandeliers on the yellow ceiling illuminated the dark cobblestone bricks with the same color. Next to the burning chimney and the bookshelves of her father, her stepmother sat on the favorite armchair of Lugus, wearing an expression more annoyed than surprised.
"Hello... I'm home," Vanilla said.
Carol pointed her blue eyes, crowded with hostility. She took a sip from a cup of wine she had on her table. She was drinking again. Sigh. Ever since Lugus left she had developed the nasty habit of getting drunk at least three times per week. Vanilla ignored her and walked to the stairs at the bottom, but what she already knew was going to happen halted her.
"Where in the goddamned hell were you?!" Carol got up from the armchair. Her blonde hair was tied on a loose braid.
"I... had a problem and stayed at a friend's house."
"Don't lie to me GODDAMNIT! Like you have any friends!" Carol approached, with her shoes almost getting tangled in the bear carpet in front of the fireplace.
"I'm telling you the truth!" Vanilla stepped back, almost accidentally sitting on the couch right behind her.
"How many times do I have to fucking tell you to obey me for christ's sake?!" She imposed herself close to Vanilla, who was almost a head shorter. The smell was a combination of those expensive, french perfumes whose's names Vanilla could not bother herself to learn and Taittinger Champagne. "What's up with your eye?! What happened?!" She yelled.
"I told you it was an accident!"
"Show it to me."
"No."
"Show it to me!" She strived to get her hands on Vanilla's bandages, but she pushed her away.
Carol didn't like it. She slapped the small girl's face with the full weight of her arm.
Vanilla heard static noise rushing through her face, combined with spreading burning pain. She closed her eyes and saw stars. She felt as if Blood was about to come out splashing everywhere from her nose. Rowie barked and growled.
"What? You're crying?" She jabbed her shoulder. "You aren't so tough now right? Lugus doesn't know how to educate you!" She pushed the girl back.
'You aren't so tough...' How many times had she heard those words recently? Humiliation, Impotence... Vanilla felt her body quiver. Tears plummeted from her eyes and hit the fluffy carpet.
"Respond to me!" Carol nudged harder than the first time.
Vanilla didn't think it twice. Oh no, this is the last time you touch me, you lanky b*tch. She gripped Avrevm Bacvlvm inside her loose pocket until her knuckles turned even paler, and whacked twenty-two ounces of solid gold of 24 carats against Carol's cheekbones.
The drunk woman grabbed her face and hunched back, with blood spreading out and spilling through her fingers. Her blue eyes turned into ones full of primitive anger. She rammed and locked Vanilla against the couch and the wall.
"YOU. THINK. YOU. CAN. COME. AND...!" She knocked Vanilla's head with her knuckles, first, one hand, then the other, and then the first one once again, punishing the little brat for thinking she was above her.
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