Blood on Snow
“Damn you, Shay,” the woman whispered, her voice hoarse. “Damn you forever after.”
Cecilie Devereux sat straight atop a massive shelf, still as a statue. Hidden in the shadows fair features were cut in stone, and only her swinging in midair feet indicated she was alive at all, kicking at rows and rows of colorfully-bound books.
A choking sound, a moan, a gasp of pain erupted from the very far corner of the room, where tar black drapes of an enormous in size window let slip one sole beam of yellow moonlight, enlightening a clammy, chalk white face set in a horrible grimace. His light blue eyes were half closed, and his breathing was ragged, shallow. The man was sprawled on the kitchen floor, and blood leaked through the hand pressed over the wound on his chest, spilling onto the pastel blue tiles.
Cecilie leaned out of the shadows, and stared.
She wasn’t a dazzlingly beautiful woman, her shockingly pale face made up of bland features that demanded one to forget them, with white lashes and colorless pupils, and fair, loose wisps of hair flowing in curtains down her back. The only accent of color were her painted crimson lips, now slightly parted as she mouthed his name.
“Did you think of me, Shey? Just once, during all these years, did you think of me?” she demanded coldly, and he groaned in reply, looking not at her but at the pool of blood at his side, at the leaking through his fingers life. “Once, Shey, once in the forty years that have passed, did you think of me?” Cecilie asked once more, her voice cracked. The hand raised to push away a strand of hair from her face shook, and the bracelet around it jingled. She stopped swinging her legs.
“Ce… Cecilie - Cecilie,” he breathed, barely audibly, and pain flashed in her eyes as she looked into his, deepening as he said her name. “Every - every day, Ce… Cecilie, every day-”
“Liar!”
Silence rang afterward, and Cecilie seemed to flinch at her own voice, cringing as the echo faded out. She wrapped her arms around herself, curling her hands into fists in an attempt to control herself. “Liar,” she whispered again, tiny diamonds shimmering on her cheeks. Impatiently, she wiped them away, her shoulders shaking. “Not once did you think of me, Shey. You lived on as if nothing had happened.”
“They said… Cecilie – they said...” He tried to sit up, leaning on the wall and countertops for support, leaving bloody imprints on both as his attempts failed. The crimson pool at his side enlarged itself as drop after drop of blood dripped into its depths. “Cessy – Cecilie, help me, please-”
Cecilie ignored him, collecting herself. Gracefully despite her high-heels, she jumped down form the shelf, the thick carpet muffling out any sound that the boots might have emitted. She threw the dagger that she had taken out of the left one into the air, and caught it, observing not the blade but Shey, who traced the weapon’s path through half-closed eyes, vigilant despite obvious pain.
“You recognize it, darling?” she asked, her voice low, dangerous. Her eyes flashed, bright despite their colorlessness. Lights turned on in the room, enlightening the darkness even though neither she nor Shey had made a move. “And you should, Shey, you should.”
The blade in her hand glimmered in the sudden brightness, its sharp edges glistening menacingly. It seemed absurdly frail, the weapon, as if ready to turn into dust at the slightest touch of the bearer, and only the diamond inlayed in the hilt had a life of its own, absorbing the newly found light.
"Marked - marked by the devil, they called you, Ce - Cecilie," Shey whispered, his voice faint. "They said... they said-"
"And you believed them!"
She stood there, hugging herself tightly, weapon in her left hand, and stared at him as silence fell once more. If there had once been the slightest trace of pity in her eye, it was once gone, replaced with deep hatred, a betrayal that could not be voiced in words. And so she stood there, unmoving, still as a statue, with teardrops dripping to her chin, to the collar of her purple blouse.
“You did what they asked you to do,” she said, her tone calmer, with no sign of her shrill outburst. The tears, too, were gone, and as her features rearranged themselves to an indifferent mask, she continued, her voice barely more than a hiss. “Marked by the devils, was I? Had my fate written in my blood, in my parentage, did I?”
And then the tears flowed freely once again, and Cecilie did nothing to stop them. Shoulders hunched, she swayed on her feet, and she leaned against the table for support, curtains of fair hair falling on her face. The knuckles on the table, already a ghostly shade of pale, turned white. ”I fought with it all my life, you know? And I thought I won, I really did. I met you, and I fell in love with you - and I thought you loved me, too. And then - then…” She stopped short, twirling the dagger, and smiled almost tenderly at him.
“You were supposed to take me to see a film that night, remember? They were black and white back then, but you knew how much I loved them, and you offered to take me too see one.” Cecilie paused and took a deep breath, once again wiping away tears staining her face. Slowly, she ambled toward Shey, boots clicking on the tiles as she maneuvered around the bar, stepping into the kitchen. She continued to toss the dagger. “Remember? It snowed that night. Flakes and flakes, beautiful white flakes fell. And when it stopped snowing, stars appeared, strewn across the black sky. Remember?”
“Ce… Cecilie-” Shey rasped, unable to say anything more. He inched away from her, wincing at each movement, terror on his face.
“I wanted to call a taxi, didn’t I? But you said it was too beautiful a night to be wasted away, and I didn’t want to argue with you. We walked, your arm around my waist. We walked and we laughed, snowflakes in our hair and cheeks red from the cold.”
With a smooth movement she caught the blade in midair, and sheathed it into her boot again. The hilt visible under her long black skirt, she kneeled at Shey’s side, touching his clammy cheek with her hand. She bit her lip, for a moment silent, and then leaned over to whisper into his ear.
“I trusted you, Shey. I gave you my life, my soul, and you sold it,” she hissed, not looking at him. Her face was no longer calm, despair and hatred etched in every line of her features. “And for what? Two, three, maybe four diamonds? That was all I was worth to you, Shey?”
“You killed me in that alley, remember? Took out the dagger, plunged it into my heart, and then you left me there, in the snow.” Cecilie closed her eyes and breathed heavily. “It was cold, so very cold… And you left me there. You took my soul, my life, my heart and my love, and left my body there, in that dark alley. You left me there, Shey, you killed me and left me there!”
“Cessy, please… please-” He reached out to her, but she cringed away, her expression that of pure disgust. “You don’t – don’t under – understand, Cessy-”
”I died there, Shey. My blood was on the snow.” She laughed hysterically, the unpleasant sounds echoing throughout the room, and when her laughter died out, there was desperation on her features. ”There is nothing redder that fresh blood on newly fallen snow, Shey. Nothing.”
“You know what became of me, Shey? No?” she asked softly, her tone not matching her expression. “Oh, but I will tell you – may you have something to think about in your coffin. Five thousand years of service in the Court of the Fallen, Shey.” She forced a laugh again, tears of anger mixing with those of misery. “And all because of your greed, Shey. You sold my soul to them, sold it for five diamonds.”
”Ce-”
Shey moaned again, and Cecilie watched him, merciless, as he took his last breaths. For a flash of a second she look to the window, through the tiny gap between the black drapes, before returning to the man. Carefully, she placed a kiss on his cheek, and traces of lipstick seemed to shine on his sweaty, pale face.
She watched, pain on her face, as he sighed his last sighed, and as the hand he had pressed against his wound felt limply to his side. She watched life escape his clear blue eyes, just as so long ago life had been taken away from hers.
As the first rays of sunlight filled the room, the woman who had once been called Cecilie Devereux disappeared with the night.
