Chapter 9
Evelyn

"Well," Marian lets out a breath, "if that's all... you didn't even need to ask. That's my plan- world domination. How ever did you guess?" She says with a sarcastic air.

My brows slant down as I grasp my knuckles in a whitening grip, "This isn't a joke and lives are on the line- this world is on the line if you do not tread carefully."

She tilts her head back briefly, as if considering, "And who prompted this war of yours?"

"Where there is power, there is struggle over it." I intone grimly.

She shrugs her shoulders as if this is nothing- as if I am nothing before saying, "So let this happen- the takeover, that is. I hear Varsillia is in for a new ruler anyway."

"What do you know about Varkeshian's?" I ask in response.

She shakes her head, her hair moving within the process, "Very little, if we're being honest. I do know a lot about you though. I hear the whispers, the rumours, the taunts said in private when your courtiers think no one is watching. You are all tyrants up there. Whats one over another?"

My hands grip each other so hard that they start to bruise as I speak in low tones, "One tyrant over another? I have fought every day of my miserable life to ensure the safety of my people. My wife died to save those people and my family shed their blood in their own home to preserve their legacy. So when you ask," my voice shakes with the effort to hold myself back. "When you ask if Varkeshian pigs are better than me- I take issue. When they took advantage of a thirteen year old girl and destroyed her inside and out- I was there to see the horror of their brutality. Never once have I done such a thing- never once would I."

"So, no," The grip on my hands loosens as Marian grips the back of her chair tightly, "you would not be trading one tyrant for another. You would be trading a tyrant with lines for one with no such boundaries."

Her breath is caught in her throat as she stares and stares and stares at me. In disbelief and shock, "how many witches do you need."

"All of them."

She straighteners her posture, "I will be your equal in this war. We are allies and partners in this- or we are nothing at all, but enemies."

"You have two weeks." I say in a similar fashion as her.

A smile dances on her lips, one that I have made many a time, "two weeks, my queen." She stretches out a hand and I take it in mine.

We share a look- a single look.

In that look are a thousand words unspoken and a hundred misunderstandings passed between.

Her eyes flash silver as they meet mine- her evergreen eyes widening as she spins on her heel and leaves. I quickly pry into her mind out of sheer habit. I instantly regret it as the moments before play back in my mind from her perspective.

When our eyes clicked- she saw something.
Something that was everything.

O0oo0O

"Madeleine." I speak curtly while pacing the floor of my kitchen with a crystal tumbler clutched firmly in my left hand.

Her words come out in a rush of French accented English, "Haley was found in Azazel's Hell world. I had our best girls on this and yes- I more than triple checked it. I would not be speaking to you if I was not sure of this myself."

I take a long drink before sweeping a hand over my face and cursing unintelligibly under my breath, "Alexander and Killan Temes?" I question more harshly than I intend to.

She hesitates only a moment before answering, "We were not exactly sure what to do with them."

The rush of the river outside and the chirping of far away birds centers my being into this moment, "I need them to be the tiers of loose ends. Get it done."

"Do I even want to know why?" She says the worlds and yet they do not sound her own- as if the question is one that she fears.

At the hushed words I give a little chuckle, "likely not."

"Then it will be done. Au revior, chère."

"Merci, Madeleine."

The stone clatters to the counter top as the connection between us breaths and the glass in my hand smashes as amber liquid is sent smattering across the room.

The only reason that I snap out of my trance-like state is because I hear a feminie voice with a New Orleans lilt step through my front door, "Is there a reason you called on me so late at night."

"Why in all of the Hell's would I call you here?" I snap at her while flicking my wrist- letting my shattered glass and finely aged bourbon evaporate in mid-air.

"You tell me?" She half questions wryly as she steps through the front entryway, over the gray fade tiles and into the kitchen area.

"You can leave." I try to brush her off.

"It looks like I'm here just in time to witness a full scale meltdown. There is no way am I missing this- besides it doesn't look like anyone else is here to cool you down, tiger." She tries to say with a somewhat straight face.

"Don't you ever call me something so juvenile as- tiger," I spit the word as if I have been burned, "again."

She steps closer to me, reaching up to gently run her fingers over my cheek, "whatever you say, tiger."

O0oo0O

"I do have to say- that a least a small part of me admires you." Is what I walk into as I head for the kitchen, half-awake with bedhead and a yawn on my lips.

"Is that so?" I say as I see Marian flipping something in a pan.

She shrugs, "You are the single greatest equalizer of men and women alike. There is something inspiring to that."

I blink in surprise while trying to shrug off the clear compliment, "Well then," I take a sharp breath, "I'm glad that a part of you- no matter how small- sees me in such a light."

She shakes her head, "It's like you are this untouchable entity who's floating in the sky," her voice turns almost breathless. "You have no idea- and everyone who looks at you can tell."

"Tell..." I say with hesitation. Impressions can be difficult in situations like these.

"That you are your own person. No one else's. You were made for you and you alone. I have no idea why I'm saying any of this to you." Her voice turns bitter and weary as she trails off at the end of her confession.

I close my eyes as my stomach curls up at her words. Damn me right to Hell. Please tell me this isn't happening now of all times.

She sighs and swings her legs off the bed as she clutches the sheets to her chest- her hair falling in silky strands against her warmly tanned skin.

Push, push, push. Not relevant- I tell myself. I change topics quickly. "New Orleans- I need it together and ready for this war."

She heads towards my bathing chambers as she picks up articles of clothing along the way. "I know," She throws back at me.

"Do you," my voice turns hard, "because we cannot lose." I say with emphasis as I run my fingers through my hair, trying to unknot the black mess.

"This isn't my first war- I'd wager it isn't yours either. We both know the dangers, the consequences and the potential pitfalls. New Orleans will be ready if it is the very last thing I accomplish on this earth." She tells me with a familiar fire.

My heart gives a pang at that.

Look at the two of us: two women desperate to save their people- willing to destroy themselves over it.

The world is cruel and it takes. It will take until it sucks us both dry. That is the cost of power and that is the cost of war.

Varsillia is toxic and it has ruined everything it has touched.

I back away- standing up and throwing open the doors that lead out to the balcony overlooking the river.

"That determinative fire isn't always a good thing." Are my words to her before I disappear into a whirlwind of smoke and ash.

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