Elizabeth cringed as Grispheran’s mind crept into her own and systematically demolished the barriers time had put in place. Mercilessly, he explored her conscience and suckled on the unforgiven experiences harboured there.
A thousand or more grey ones and then onward with force toward the putrid acidic ones that gnawed on her soul and hunted her sanity in the dankest, darkest moments of black days and nights when there was nothing left to hide behind. He rampaged freely within the tightly locked cell where her deepest stained memories were held hostage.
Elizabeth writhed like a living moth pinned to a velvet mount as she revisited her tortured memories of guilt, despair, pain and humiliation. His mind continued to hold hers fast as they both drank from the font. Nothing was sacred to him. Finally, when he had stripped her to the core, he released his grip and she once again found herself standing in the gloomy corridor.
The hand holding her own squeezed gently in reassurance and, feeling her spirit rise, Elizabeth prepared to face the fallen angel beside her.
Isn’t evil supposed to be ugly
Laughter broke through her thoughts as Grispheran addressed her verbally this time. “You are your own torturer, not I.”
His knee-length malachite green coat stood out amongst all the death, horror and gore that had invaded the corridor. The delicate lace cuffs of his shirt danced macabrely before her as he ran his fingers nonchalantly through his long jet black hair. His beauty astonished her, but it was his eyes that captivated what was left of her sanity.
A small piece of Elizabeth’s mind remembered the open window and yet her legs held no flight. She lacked the strength to flee.
Grispheran dismissed her with an arrogant air and casually made his way over to join Tashriel and Gemma who were in deep conversation a little further down the corridor. From where Elizabeth was standing, it appeared as though Tashriel was admonishing a rather smug Gemma. Elizabeth noted that Gemma looked as fresh and full of sparkle as she had earlier in the day.
Elizabeth could taste her intense dislike of Gemma; it washed over her lips and into her mouth, and it was so thick she gagged. It was not until she raised her hand to her mouth that she realised she was no longer holding the hand of the teenage girl and fought to remember when they had been parted. In her despair, she scoured the corridor hoping to find her presence there. The only sign of her existence was the pathetically crumpled body on the floor not far from the mutilated and liquefied remains of the first vampire.
She flinched and wondered why he was still in smithereens. Wasn’t he supposed to regenerate or something? There had been no stake or holy water and the sunlight had not harmed him in any way. Tashriel joined her. He smiled and attempted to move a little closer.
"He was no match for Grispheran!"
Elizabeth backed away, hugging herself in the process and attempting to contain the hysterics she could feel rising. Something brushed against her shoulder and the entire corridor seemed to sway before her.
“Some bloody angel!” Elizabeth flamed, feeling her rage boil as her fear seeped away; the pitiful shadow she had been five minutes earlier was singed in the wake of her fiery anger. The force of her words caused her blond hair to sway and her green eyes flashed. Unwittingly, she drew the attention of Gemma and Grispheran who turned their focus in her direction. Elizabeth wondered briefly what it would feel like to slap that cheesy grin off Gemma’s smug face.
Labels: Elizabeth, Present Day, Refuge of Delayed Souls, Web Fiction