The Demon’s Tongue (Worlds of Protheka)

18. Geneva

18

GENEVA

I watch as terror floods Miss Pickett's face, her eyes darting between me and the crystal in my hand. The sight of her fear ignites something within me, a burning desire to make her understand the pain she's caused. For so long, she has destroyed countless lives. The blood on her hands runs like a waterfall.

"You know, Miss Pickett," I start, my voice eerily calm. "I've often wondered if you ever lose sleep over what you've done to us. Surely, there must be some remorse in that pathetic heart of yours."

She swallows hard, pressing herself against the wall. "I-I don't know what you mean. I've only ever done what was necessary."

I can't help but laugh, the sound harsh and bitter. "Necessary? Was it necessary to starve us when we misbehaved? To beat us for the smallest infractions?"

Her eyes widen, and I can see her searching for words. I don't give her the chance.

"Remember little Lily? She was only six when you locked her in that dark closet for a whole day because she wet the bed. She cried for hours, begging to be let out."

Miss Pickett's lips quiver. "That was... that was discipline. It was for her own good."

"Her own good?" I spit the words out. "And what about selling us off like animals? Was that for our own good too? I don't even know what happened to Julia and Margaret! Remember them? You sold them off the same day you sold me off!"

I take a step closer, and she flinches.

"You told us we owed you a debt for taking us in. A debt we never asked for, for a life we never chose. And your solution was to sell us to the highest bidder, to men who see us as nothing more than playthings."

Miss Pickett's face pales even further. "You don't understand. There were expenses, and I had to?—"

"Had to what?" I interrupt, my voice rising. "Had to strip us of our dignity? Our future? Our very humanity?"

I hold up the crystal, watching as it catches the light once more. It flickers with a familiar eeriness. Miss Pickett's eyes are fixed on it, terror evident in every wrinkle of her face.

"Do you know what it's like, Miss Pickett, to be touched by dark elves who see you as nothing more than a piece of meat? To be used and discarded like you're worthless?"

Her mouth opens and closes, but no words come out. I press on, relishing her discomfort.

"Of course you don't. You were too busy counting your coins, weren't you? Too busy planning which poor, innocent girl you'd sell next to line your pockets."

Miss Pickett's eyes dart around the room, searching for an escape that doesn't exist. Her fingers twist the fabric of her expensive dress. It's almost ironic. She used to dress me and the other girls in rags, while she adorned herself with jewels and the finest fabrics. Now look at she, groveling before me.

"You don't understand, Geneva," she says, her voice trembling. "There's a social hierarchy that needs to be maintained. The dark elves... they're powerful. They're on top, and there's no denying that! Every human on Protheka knows this!"

I cock an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue. She takes a deep breath, seeming to gather her courage.

"I couldn't fight back against the system," Miss Pickett explains, her words tumbling out faster now. "So I found a way to benefit from it. It was the only way to survive!"

I nod slowly, feeling a strange mix of emotions churning inside me. "Thank you for being honest, at the very least," I say, my voice soft. "It's more than you've ever given us before."

Miss Pickett's shoulders sag with relief, but I'm not done. I take a step closer, the crystal in my hand glowing ominously.

"But honesty doesn't erase what you've done," I continue. "It doesn't undo the pain, the fear, the loss of innocence. You still have to pay for what you've done to us. Do you realize how many girls you've condemned to death with your selfish actions? How many of us you've sold into a life of suffering?"

Her eyes widen in renewed terror. "Please, Geneva," she begs. "I did what I had to do. You would've done the same in my position!"

I shake my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "No, Miss Pickett. I wouldn't have. Because unlike you, I have a conscience."

The crystal pulses in my hand, as if sensing the moment is near. Miss Pickett's gaze is fixed on it, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

I lean in close, savoring the fear radiating from Miss Pickett. Her eyes are wide, pupils dilated in terror. I can almost hear her heart pounding from where I stand.

"Miss Pickett, would you like to know something fun?" I whisper, eyes trailing along her quivering features. "There's something I haven't told anyone yet. Something that might interest you."

She swallows hard, her throat bobbing. "W-what's that?"

I smile, slow and predatory. "You should know that I haven't been working along. I've killed two dark elves during my short stint at Sylas' manor. And do you know how I managed to do it?"

Miss Pickett's bottom lip trembles.

"I have a demon on my side."

For a moment, there's silence. Then Miss Pickett lets out a strangled laugh, high-pitched and desperate. Sweat drips down the side of her face. "That's... that's impossible. Demons aren't real. You're lying."

"Am I?" I cock my head, studying her. "You don't have to believe me, Miss Pickett. It doesn't change the truth."

Her laughter dies abruptly, replaced by a look of dawning horror. "No," she whispers. "No, it can't be."

I show off the crystal once more. She tries to take it from out of my hand, but my reflexes are faster than hers. "This isn't just some pretty bauble. It's a soul trap. And now, your soul is mine to take."

Miss Pickett's eyes dart between my face and the crystal, panic etched into every line of her features. "Please, Geneva!" she begs, her voice cracking. She clasps her hands together, as if in prayer. "You don't have to do this. I can change! I can make things right! Please! I can release all of the girls in this orphanage right now. Right at this instant!"

I shake my head, unmoved by her pleas. "It's too late for that. You've had years to change, to show even a shred of compassion. But you never did."

"I was just trying to survive!" she cries out, pressing herself further against the wall.

"So were we," I reply coldly. "The difference is, we didn't destroy lives to do it."

I raise the crystal, its surface beginning to glow with an otherworldly light. Miss Pickett's eyes widen impossibly further, her mouth opening in a silent scream.

"Goodbye, Miss Pickett. Thank you for teaching me many important lessons about the cruelty of the world," I say softly. "May your next life teach you the compassion you lacked in this one."

Miss Pickett's scream pierces the air, a shrill sound that echoes off the walls. I focus my attention on the crystal in my hand, feeling its power pulse through my fingers. The sight before me is mesmerizing. This is something I've daydreamed about, during the many times where Miss Pickett's discipline has made me question my will to live.

Miss Pickett's hands fly to her throat, her nails digging into her skin as she claws desperately. Her eyes bulge, filled with a primal fear I've never seen before. She falls to her knees, her expensive dress pooling around her in a mockery of elegance.

"Help!" she chokes out, her voice barely more than a rasp. "Please, Geneva, don't do this!"

I watch, transfixed, as a silvery mist begins to seep from her mouth and nostrils. Her soul. Disgusting noises bubble out of her throat as she tries to fight the inevitable.

The mist swirls in the air for a moment before being inexorably drawn towards the crystal. I hold it steady, feeling an intense feeling of triumph as Miss Pickett's soul is absorbed into its depths. The crystal thrums with power, and I can already imagine her soul screaming out perpetually while trapped in the confines of this stone.

With a final, rattling gasp, Miss Pickett's body goes limp. She collapses to the floor with a dull thud, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

I can't help the smile that spreads across my face. It's over. She's gone. The woman who tormented us, who sold us like animals, who stripped us of our dignity and humanity—she's finally paid for her crimes.

And I was the one who delivered her sentence.