The Brand Ch. 13

With that, she turned around and dropped her blade just long enough to pull the dead bird out of Grandmother's hands. Flinging it aside, she then threw the old woman over her shoulder. Standing, her heart pumping, her legs strong like stone pillars, Victria took a last look at the brilliant moon. It was all she needed to see inside its red halo, pocked, cratered, grey sand and pebbles, such a remarkable distance to be viewed from, the everlasting gaze, seeing right through her, from no face, to all faces that ever stared upon a horizon, to the only face, held in the black grip of the night. Victria understood as she finally turned around and carried the old woman toward the cabin. There was work to be done.

5

Glory arrived again the next day. Victria had texted her from her track phone at around five in the morning. The cock is dead, she'd written. Long live the cock. You need to come as soon as you can. GM cast a spell on me and now I'm cured. Now it's time for you to help us leave.

She sat in the cab of her Murano for a good long time, stunned by what she saw spread out beyond the chicken's pen. There were the two great holes dug in the ground just past the pen. Then there were the two heaps of dead animals beside each one: a small hill of Grandmother's dogs and a considerably taller one of what were obviously coyotes. Glory took in the conditions of the bodies, the bloodied hatchet in the stump, the swaths of blood that stained the ground, and the ripped up remains of one of Grandmother's chickens, its bones strewn about and picked clean of any flesh.

In silence, she watched Grandmother's great bull mastiff as it lay beside a coyote, a living coyote, staring right back at her. Then, as if the scene wasn't disturbing enough, Glory finally noticed Victria, naked, her hair matted with dried blood, dried blood cracking and flaking on her face, strolling behind the chicken wire fencing of the coop. She was strolling from nest to nest, gathering up fresh eggs and placing them in Grandmother's basket.

Glory glanced once at the cabin. It seemed ordinary enough, on the outside anyway. But, Grandmother wasn't in sight nor was Melody. As she slipped out of her seat and slammed the door shut, she contemplated checking first in the house. Glancing again at Victria, she thought better of it. Instead, Glory walked to the stump, and pulled the hatchet from it. Holding it across her waist, she stepped toward the chicken pen. Suddenly, she stopped short. The mastiff had gotten up and, growling low, put himself between her and Victria. Glory stared, stunned. Never before had she ever been threatened by any of Grandmother's dogs.

"Back off dog." Shouted Victria.

The dog lowered his head and slowly retreated. Glory watched him as she passed to the gate. Victria stood just behind it, a full basket of eggs hanging from her right arm, her mask of dried blood revealing fragments of healthy complexion, her smallish breasts a healthy peachy white, her nipples like the pink painted tips of two small bullets. Glory looked down at her legs. She saw, though the scars and stitches still glared, Victria seemed to be standing without the slightest hint of discomfort.

"What happened?" Glory asked, tilting her head back toward the two piles of carnage, "Where's Grandmother?"

As chicken's warbled and cluck behind her, Victria unlatched the gate and passed through. Glory stood back and gripped the hatchet more tightly.

"I'll trade you these eggs for that axe." Victria answered.

"Where's my grandmother, bitch?" said Glory with gritted teeth.

Victria set down her basket of eggs. Glory didn't notice her having picked up a clump of dirt until it flew into her eyes. Instinctively, she reached a hand to wipe it away. The next thing Glory knew was that she had been toppled onto her back and that the hatchet was no longer in her other hand. With one eye open, she watched Victria raise the hatchet high, and then bring it down. It had landed, before she could even move, right between her legs, not two inches from the fly seam of her jeans. Glory's heart began to race. She tried to calm her breathing as she awkwardly continued to stare with her clean eye while franticly blinking the dirt from the other.

"She's resting comfortably," said Victria as she withdrew the hatchet from the ground between her legs, "along with Melody."

"What the fuck happened here Victria?"

Glory backed away, and then got to her feet. Still wiping her face, she watched as Victria flung the hatchet back toward the stump, its flight end over end until its blade struck into the stump's surface. Perplexed and dismayed, taking in the carcasses again, Glory watched Victria from her periphery, pick up the basket of eggs, and then begin to make her way toward the cabin.

"I'll explain it the best way I can," called Victria, "While you help me dig those holes deeper and bury all those unfortunate creatures."

Glory followed Victria into the cabin, and got her confirmation that both her grandmother and Melody were safe. However, it appeared that the old woman was not as sound as she'd known her to be. It was four hours later, under the light of the sun at high noon that the two women began to throw the dead animals into their respective pits. Victria had explained as she'd promised. There was a summons. The time was right and the universe had exploited Grandmother. There had been magic, both white and dark. Grandmother was the white witch. She was strong, strong enough. She knew the spell, an old spell, simple in its intention and execution. The dogs were there for battle: warriors of the white and of the black. As Victria reflected, she described it as a very beautiful thing to have seen.

"I think you're totally out of your fucking mind." Glory declared as she heaved the last of the coyotes into the pit, "But, I suppose I could ask: what spoils was the black seeking to obtain from this battle?"

Victria paused. She narrowed her eyes in thought. The muscles in her arms and belly were tight, defined and shining with sweat. Still clutched in each hand, were the feet of a mauled Siberian husky she was about to throw into the burial pit.

"Melody." She said finally.

"I don't get it. What's so special about Melody?"

"She's mine, that's all." Answered Victria, "They, it, wants her because I want her, because I- Because I overstepped my bounds. I pushed too hard."

Victria paused again, heaved the big broken dog, and then swung it onto the rest of Grandmother's fallen.

"But Melody's mine, "she continued, "She needs to stay."

Glory stepped away from the pit of coyote carcasses, and then regarded Victria once more.

"And what's so special about you?" she asked.

Victria met her gaze. She was still naked, comfortable in the Vermont April chill, confident under the scrutiny of Glory's suspicion.

"I told you." Victria answered, shrugging, "I took from them, from it, without realizing the consequences. Otherwise, I don't know. Maybe- Maybe Melody's walking away is supposed to stop with me."

"What will you do now?"

"I have an idea. I don't want to talk about it."

Glory approached her, keeping her back to the hatchet in its stump.

"You know I can't let you take her." She said.

Victria faced the tall, magnificent, woman.

"It's not up to you." She said, Melody's coming with me, and that's all there is to it. It would be best if you helped us."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I'll get her there without you."

6

"How much is this one?"

"

The Ruger hammerless? Five forty-nine. But I would go with the .357 rather than the .38."

"Really. And who's that?"

"Well let me tell ya'. I know this ex-cop out of Miami. He's spending his retirement working for the county coroner down there. Anyway, he's been taken notice of what rounds do the most damage the quickest. And you know, hands down, .45 is still right there at the top, well, I mean other than a shit load of fifties shot out of a Bushmaster."

The old man behind the counter gestures to the AR 15 locked behind glass against the wall over his head.

"Amen." Victria intoned as she assessed the lines and curves of the weapon with a strange desire in her heart and a surprising tingling inside her sex.

"Yeah, but what my buddy determined was that if you were gonna' go revolver, and with only five cylinders, a revolver chambered for the .357 would mean the difference between the bad guy ending up neutralized and you walking away."

"Hmm." Victria hummed as she continued to stare at the Bushmaster over the old man's head. The gun shop owner, sturdily muscled for his age, brown skinned, grey hair in a crew cut, narrowed his eyes at her and gave a small smile.

"Could I interest you in the auto rifle?" he asked, "I build them myself. You could walk away with one for, oh, a buck fifty."

Victria met his gaze then. His smile brightened, but only slightly.

"What state you out of?"

"Connecticut."

"Connecticut?" the gun shop proprietor repeated, "Shit. Well that's too bad. Here in the fine state of Vermont, you can buy whatever you like. You just can't take it back home with you."

"Maybe it's not home anymore." Suggested Victria, "Maybe I'm licensed to carry in thirty-two states."

The gun dealer laughed sagely.

"Well, just stay away from New York," he suggested, "Massivetwoshits, as I like to call it, and California too and you can enjoy the fullest extent of your freedom as an American."

Victria returned her gaze to the rifle, its hollow stock, its upper and lower receivers and its stout barrel. The gun dealer kept his eyes on her as he took the Rugar .38 from the glass counter, and then returned it to its place. Victria could see his every move from the corner of her eye. It wasn't as if he was a threat. She was just keeping herself on a perpetual, from that day forward, yellow alert. He was a patient man. There would be no hard sell. It wasn't as if his little hole in the wall store would be crowded any time soon. Presently, Victria turned her gaze back toward the old man and said:

"I'll take the Rugar, a box of hollow points and three boxes of target rounds. And, I'll take that Smith & Wesson semi auto, the .45, four high capacity magazines, two more low capacity, two boxes of hollow points and six boxes of target."

The gun dealer fixed his gaze on Victria for just a bit longer than was necessary before he moved off to collect the gear she'd requested.

"And the 15?" he asked as he began to gather up the paper work.

Old man, she thought, you must be making thousands of those if you're only charging that much.

"A buck fifty is certainly sweet." Victria replied, "But, no, not this time. Thanks though."

Spanky had been napping on Melody's lap, but he'd instantly perked up upon hearing the bell of the gun shop's door ring. After an initial warning bark, he silently watched Victria head around to the back of her new Ford Forester. Spanky jumped from his mistress's lap, and then onto the back seat. Excitedly, he studied Victria as she raised the hatch door and proceeded to fill the compartment with her purchases. Spanky sniffed, but couldn't discern the presence of anything he could eat. Down again went the hatch and the little dog kept his eyes on his other mistress as she went around to the driver's side.

"Alright then Cowboy." Said Victria as she closed the door and seat belted herself in, "We are now officially at our new starting gate."

Victria turned to regard Melody. Spanky had returned to her lap. Melody was staring straight ahead as the little dog licked her chin. Is it registering, Victria wondered, that she's looking at a gun shop? Should I care? Will this get worse before it gets better? Probably. Victria turned the ignition and then reached for the center glove box. From it, she withdrew a fresh pack of wipes. Opening it, she withdrew one from the pack and proceeded to wipe Melody's face with it. Dumb Ass's spit was gross, especially if she wanted to kiss Melody too. Which, she did, in full view of Spanky, of Melody and of the gun dealer who was watching from inside his store. Victria kissed her long and sweet, and although Melody did not, even in the slightest, kiss back, Victria lingered and enjoyed her lover's lips against her mouth. Presently, Spanky whimpering, Victria drew back and sighed. Then, staring into Melody's eyes, she watched tears welling around their lifeless green depth.

"Please understand that I love you Mel." Victria said as she wiped the tears from her lover's cheeks, "Above all else, I love you. I know you're probably very disappointed in me. I wish I didn't have to kill those guys, but I had to. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my guns. But, whatever God is made sure that they were there, so I'm not going to apologize for making sure I'm armed again. I never should have taken you out of the hospital. I never should have played dolls with devils."

Still, Melody's tears fell. Then her head began to droop. Victria took her by the chin, and then gently turned her face toward her.

"But I can't change anything I did honey!" Victria intoned, a few of her own tears beginning to spill, "Please, let me try one last thing, and if it doesn't work, I'll bring you to where you can be medicated out of this paralyzing inside place you're stuck in. Melody, I promise you. I will not hurt you. I won't let anyone hurt you. I have to exhaust everything before I give up. God, I don't even want to think that, giving up. I've never fucking given up anything. Please Mel, don't let me start now, with you, please."

Victria finally let go of Melody's face, looked away, and then wiped the tears from her own eyes. A moment more, confident and composed, she shifted the Forester into drive, and then pulled out of the gun shop's small lot.

7

Glory stood in the doorway of her grandmother's cabin. As she rubbed the soreness from her wrists, she watched the old woman kneeling before the two mounds of turned earth. Solemnly, she bowed her head. Glory reached up to check the swelling on her bottom lip. It stung and she winced upon contact. That psychotic little bitch, she thought. Glory leaned against the jam, folded her arms and continued to watch her grandmother. That selfish shit. Grandmother could have been killed.

Glory reflected on that afternoon. She and Victria had just finished burying the dogs and the coyotes. Then they'd returned the shovels to the shed and walked back to the house. Glory bided her time. Grandmother sat in her rocker, her body just as listless and her face just as blank as Melody's. Victria was ahead of her. Glory flung herself forward and tackled Victria. They wrestled. Victria squirmed like a snake. For a time, neither could gain purchase, both their bodies' slick with sweat. Then Glory became stunned from the force of the back of Victria's head. The smaller woman, naked, sweat, dirty and blood stained, exploited her advantage, slid completely around, sprang back, kicked the big woman in her gut, scrambled around to her rear, and then put her into a triangle hold until Glory was choked-out into unconsciousness.

She woke later. She didn't know how long she was out, but she found herself gagged and bound to a chair. She saw that Grandmother too was bound, though not so severely, and she saw that Melody and Spanky were nowhere to be seen. Glory realized that the shower was running, and then, upon closer inspection of the room, she realized that that all of Victria's and Melody's things were gone from the room. Presently, the shower was stopped, and then ten minutes more after that, Victria stepped into the room.

She was dressed in tight jeans, a white blouse and black track shoes. Her long dark brown hair was bound in a single pony. Their eyes met. Victria did not smile as she lowered herself to her knees at Grandmother's feet. Glory watched the young woman take the old woman by the hands and kiss them reverently. Then Victria got to her feet, and kissed Grandmother's cheeks as well. Still, without speaking, Victria advanced to Glory, crouched at her feet, and then, her expression somewhat playful, looked into the tall woman's eyes.

"I'm going to borrow your car for a bit." She Said, "I promise I won't leave the state with it. Hey, no hard feelings, right?"

Glory's eyes went wide with furious contempt. If she hadn't been gagged, she would have lunged at the small woman's face and chewed off her nose.

"Yeah, you're wicked pissed." Victria continued, "I know. Try not to stay upset too long. Though. "It's not healthy. Anyway, I'll call the local authorities if you don't answer your phone after we've left the state."

Victria got to her feet, ran her fingers through Glory's hair, and said:

"You're cute. It was nice meeting you. Try not to worry. Mel will be fine. Thanks for everything doll face."

Then she was gone. Glory began immediately to assess the room. Ultimately, she spied the bloody hatchet, set in the corner by the door. It took some doing, but Glory was able to fit the axe head between her heels and gradually slice her feet free. From there she was able to use a corner of kitchen counter to use as a means of removing the gag from her mouth, so that she could pull the silverware drawer open with her mouth and drop it to the floor. Then, after a very long while and not without some extreme awkwardness, Glory was finally able to cut her wrists free.

Glory's phone suddenly vibrated to life. She turned away from where she'd been standing in the cabin's doorway, and then stepped to the kitchen table. In one brisk, steady motion, she picked up her phone and thumbed the call open. Then, rather than speaking right away, Glory listened and waited.

"Hello?" said Victria, "Doll Face? Is that you?

Glory listened to Victria's pause. Presently, the pause was broken with gentle laughter and a bark from Spanky.

"Come on now," Victria continued, "My phenomenal Amazon, tell me that you and Grandmother are okay so I can tell you where your car is."

Glory sighed as she stepped back outside and said:

"I'm fine. As for Grandmother, she's walking, at least."

"That's good."

"It's better. Where's my fucking car, bitch?"

"Now Glory, there's no need for nastiness. Say you're sorry."

"Fuck you Victria."

"Fine. Fuck you too then sexy. Your vehicle is waiting for you at Harlin's Ford dealership in Bellow's Falls. Seriously, thanks for everything."

Glory continued to hold the phone to her ear as she watched Grandmother's mastiff and his coyote bitch settle in by her side.

"Listen to me Victria." Glory whispered into her phone, "I know you. You won't let anyone near Melody, not anymore. You won't be bringing her back to any hospital. You won't let anyone or anything, spiritual guides, doctors or worthwhile treatments to get in the way of your control over her. Victria, you sick fuck, Melody is right where she is because you put her there. You need to give her up, Victria. For the sake of that woman's health and well-being, you need to give her up. If you don't, mark my words bitch, you will kill her. She will die by your hand and your hand alone. You won't be able to cure her Victria, so you will have to do her in, like a lame horse or like some half road splattered little pussy, you'll have to put her down. Are you hearing me bitch?"

Glory listened for an answer. None came. There was nothing but the static of air rushing and the murky babble of a song on the radio. She waited.

"Who's to say that magic isn't an entirely natural phenomenon?" Victria finally said, "Grandmother proved it for me. It's just that whatever has Melody is still too strong for her. So, it's my turn. And, just because I'm capable of my very worst doesn't mean I can't redeem myself, and save Melody, through my very best. And if I can't, well, maybe you're right. But then, that would be mine and Melody's business. Good-bye Glory."