Chapter 19: Night: Celia and the Sister Duo | Sister Cinco (Scenes 1-2) [R-18]

Night: Celia and the Sister Duo

Sister Cinco (Scenes 1-2)

[Jacques]
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players; . . .

—William Shakespeare,
As You Like It,
Act II: Scene 7

1

With Rancaster controlling all the mirror shards in the house, it only took a few minutes for him to locate one of the side halls leading to the inclined passageway into the lower floor, where the top landing split into a double grand staircase down towards the foyer below. The recessed paneling of the walls showed the remnants of mirrorless casings, every mirror now strewn in tiny shards along the mahogany steps and into part of the parquet flooring at the base of the stairs.

"Watch your step, bambina," Rancaster said, leading a winded ‘bambina’ downstairs past M. C. Escher lithographs and mezzotints, then stopped at the base of the stairs. “My my, this Katherine Hearn has quite an eye for detail—I'll give her that. And she loves reading books, too, it looks like," he added and pointed towards the entrance leading towards Katherine's dream library, then looked back at the ‘bambina’ still breathing hard from running around the hallways and nearly getting skewered onto the wall. “Tell you what. Why not take a little break and enjoy the wonders of this place for a bit? That library seems inviting enough, for a start. Care to have a looksie?"

The ‘bambina’ regained her breath and said, "Thank you, Father," and ventured into the library lined on all of the walls with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves stocked with books.

Rancaster sighed and said, "Listen, Auna. Despite what you think of me, you need not be so formal when it's just you and me. Try to lighten up, even for a little while."

The bambina turned and looked at Rancaster, managing the slightest hint of a smile, and walked into the library.

Here she scanned the first few rows of books on the shelves, running her fingers across the spines of several volumes of philosophical and political tracts, anthologies and collections and omnibuses, and used paperbacks and hardcovers of modern and old classics, till she came across an author she admired:

Lewis Carroll.

She smiled and picked it off the shelf, and her heart fluttered when she noticed it was a three-volume compilation of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass and The Hunting of the Snark, all three titles emblazoned on the cover in faded gold leaf. Several characters from the first two titles flashed through her mind, from Alice and the Cheshire Cat and the Queen of Hearts to the Red Queen and the White Queen and Humpty Dumpty and others. Then her mind drifted to L. Frank Baum’s Oz books that she hadn’t read yet, though she still remembered the old technicolor adaptation of the first book in that series. When she was younger, she used to think the Oz books were ripoffs of the two Alice books, but she had relented since then. How was she to judge a series of books when she hasn’t read them yet?

Turning from those thoughts, she took off the jacket draping her shoulders and threw it over a chair next to the cafe table, then went to the salon sofa and parted the book open to a random page. It happened to fall on the last page of Through the Looking-Glass, so she read the ending with a poem:

“A boat, beneath a sunny sky,
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July—

“Children three that nestle near,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Pleased a simple tale to hear—“

And in her mind, she imagined her younger child self in a gondola floating down the Canale Veneziano into Arcadia Park, where the hubbub of downtown filtered through the air like faraway dreams. Her child self had longer hair in this dream, and she wore a sky-blue Sunday dress and skimmer hat atop her head, and carried an open umbrella shielding her from the afternoon sun of mid-July.

She continued reading:

“Long has paled that sunny sky:
Echoes fade and memories die:
Autumn frosts have slain July.

“Still she haunts me, phantomwise,
Alice moving under skies
Never seen by waking eyes.”

And in her mind, flitting on the edge of dreams, she saw herself through the eyes of her current teen self in a white Sunday dress sitting with her younger ten-year-old self, telling her younger self something reassuring but not hearing her own words. She kept assuring her younger self that it was okay, that she need not fear anything, that she was safe. Still, her younger self frowned and looked down, as though nothing she said could convince her otherwise.

She looked into the face of her younger self and saw anguish there, in her brows and in her eyes and in the grimace of her cheeks, and her heart yearned to comfort her however she could. So she kneeled down and kissed those eyes that were squinting back tears. She hugged her and let her cry onto her bare shoulder, rubbing soothing circles on her back, saying that it’ll get better. Maybe not today or tomorrow or the day after that, but it will get better. Someday. Just as the sun declines into sunset on tired wings, she said to her, so too will it rise again at dawn on wings of hope.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she continued to read:

“Children yet, the tale to hear,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Lovingly shall nestle near.

“In a Wonderland they lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as the summers die:”

And in her mind, as shadows lengthened through the park in civil twilight, she got up and sat beside her, so her drowsy younger self could rest her head over her thighs. She took off her hat, letting it tumble to her feet, and felt her strands of hair tickle her inner thighs, the weight of her head like a bowling ball. In this way, she took up the umbrella lying to the side of the gondola and pitched it against the growing blaze of sunset, bleeding through the fabric in a soft golden glow. And as the sun declined over the horizon of the faraway mountains, turning into orange hues and then to shades of red, she let go of the umbrella.

She then ran her hand through the hair of her younger self, wiping the bangs from her forehead and letting her sleep on her lap. And like her younger self, she too felt drowsy, she too felt like she needed a nap, so she reclined herself against the cushioned seat and closed her eyes. 

Now in the realm of dreams, she read the last verse:

“Ever drifting down the stream—
Lingering in the golden gleam—
Life, what is it but a dream?”

And in her dream, she felt lethargic throughout her body, her limbs heavy and her strength weak. Just as sunlight sunk below the horizon, she opened her eyes and noticed that her younger self had changed into the young woman she had become, clad in her Shad-Row uniform, her mirror image coming to life. This doppelgänger roused from her lap and propped herself up over her reclining self, while Auna struggled to move but to no avail.

Her mirror image had roving predatory eyes, the eyes of a she-wolf, wearing her own face and her own clothes but was not her. Those eyes lit up with mischief, hinting at forbidden desires coming to the surface like hellfire from unfathomable depths. And in those eyes, her doppelgänger carried a cesspool inside of bodily sensations that only wanted more, more of Auna’s body, more of her heart, more of her soul.

A slasher's smile stretched across her doppelgänger’s face, her mirror self lifting the hems of her Sunday dress up her thighs and past her waist. She pulled down her panties past her knees, even as Auna clamped her thighs together, revealing only the top part of her pubic hairs.

She then straddled her lap and looked down on her face, wiping the bangs from her forehead slicked over with sweat, staring into her crying eyes and peering at her soul and smiling at the things she saw there. Then, cupping her hands on her cheeks, she kissed her eyes and then her lips and said,

“This is who you are, my love,
And who you’re meant to be.
Wear your thousand fickle masks:
They can’t hide you from me!”

And in the lunatic seconds before awakening back into consciousness, Auna endured intrusive kisses from her mirror self, who placed them on her mouth and down her jaw and on her throat, which turned into hickeys further down over the skin of her collar bone and the center of her chest. Then she reached behind her neck and loosened the knotted bow that kept her summer dress on, and pulled it down to reveal her breasts. Her evil self fondled them in both hands and squeezed them and thumbed at her nipples till they were erect and sensitive, then went to work leaving more hickeys further and further down. Down to the area below her stomach and further still, where her thighs stopped straining and parted in defeat and exposed her to defilement.

At this point, Auna was a hot and heady mess, sweating and breathing hard against the strain, then waited in an ecstasy of anticipation and horror, waiting for the inevitable.

And she endured, balling her hands into fists against the force keeping her down, squeezing her eyes shut and gritting her teeth and holding her breath against stronger doses of pain and pleasure surging through her core, arching her back against sensations she dared not imagine in waking life, and losing her mind in a rush of endorphins that took her down the rabbit hole of unconscious sleep and back to the conscious sleep of dreams.

She gasped, taking in gobs of air as if coming up from a deep dive, and found herself sprawled over the salon sofa. Her head rested on a pillow over an arm rest, with her left arm over the edge of the sofa and her fingers over the book lying parted with its pages down on the parquet flooring. Her other hand was in her panties, and she pulled out and wiped the residue over her shirt and clipped on the fastener of her skirt.

“Was it fun?” a voice said.

And she sat up in a panic, blushing at the sight of Aaron Rancaster sitting at the cafe table, watching her.

She said, “How long were you there?”

“Long enough to see the whole show,” he said, getting up from the chair and approaching her, eyeing her on the sofa. “I never thought you’d be the type of girl that would enjoy pain.”

“You’re wrong, I don’t!” she yelled, turning away from his gaze, sitting erect with her hands balled into fists at her sides, clamping her thighs together and crossing her ankles, not giving an inch of shame.

“And getting off on a children’s book, too,” he added. ”I never thought that was a thing, but to each her own.”

“I’m not that kind of girl!”

“Oh, but it seemed that way to me. Did your father pinch you as a punishment when you were little?”

Auna kept silent, mentally cursing the accuracy of his deduction. She missed her father dearly, but that didn’t erase the things he did to her.

“No matter,” he said, bending down to pick up the book Auna had dropped in her delirium, and placed it back on the cafe table. “Back to business, bambina. Whenever you’re ready, meet me at the top of the stairs.”

He left, but Auna refused to face him till his footsteps receded past the library’s entrance and up the double grand staircase.

Only then did she allow tears for herself. So she cried, leaning over her knees and burying her face in her hands to muffle out the sniffling and hitching of deep unsteady breathing. She cried and cried, letting the tears cleanse the shame away, till she was an empty vessel of her shame-faced self, building back up a mask of indifference to hide her emotions.

Standing up from the sofa, she dried her face with her sleeve, then took her jacket off the chair and slung it over her shoulders like a cloak of armor over her heart. She steeled her nerves and hardened her heart in order to follow orders and to kill, leaving the remnants of her humanity on the sofa. Like it or not, this was who she was and who she was meant to be.

You are reading story Days of Blood and Roses: A Magical Girl Thriller at novel35.com

Before leaving, she paused at the cafe table and looked at Carroll’s book and felt a tugging at her heart. Her childhood vanished when her father started touching her when she was ten.

She said, “C’est la vie,” (Such is life) and walked out.

2

After reconciling, Celia and Katherine told Madison about Nico's harrowing experience at the hands of Aaron Rancaster, from her abduction along with her sister to their participation in Russian roulette and the subsequent confrontation with him and that gun-toting 'bambina' girl. When they finished, Madison was pale in the face and wide-eyed, looking from her sisters to Nico and then to Mara, sound asleep on the bed, then back to Nico.

For a time, Madison was speechless, then said, "Oh my God, Nico. I . . . I honestly have no idea what to say to that."

"That's okay," she said.

"No, it's not okay! That fucker is gonna pay for what he did, I swear—"

"Maddy, that's enough!" Katherine yelled.

Madison looked at her sister. "Then what do you suggest we do, huh? We can't just sit back and do nothing!"

"That's not what I meant. Just let me think—"

"Ah, Christ, you and your—"

"Maddy, please be reasonable for once!" Celia yelled. "You're not a one-man army!"

And before Madison could protest, Nico grabbed onto her arm, saying, "You already know what happened to me and my sister. I won't let you make the same mistake we did, okay?"

"Then what do we do?" Madison said.

Nico didn't reply to her, though; she only looked to Katherine for guidance. "This is your dream realm, so you're in charge. What do we do?"

With Madison, Celia, and Nico looking at her, Katherine remained silent for a time just rolling things over in her head, trying to come up with a plan that didn't involve a direct confrontation with Rancaster or that 'bambina' girl, but there was no getting around it. Sooner or later, they'd have to confront their foes if they wanted to get out of here.

She lowered herself back into her chair, staring at the floor beneath their feet, and said, "If I had control of all my mirrors in this place, I'd go out there with you, but I'm in no condition to fight at all." She then raised her gaze and looked at her three companions in their eyes, saying, "Take care of yourselves out there. Don't take risks if you don't have to."

“We’ll try not to,” Celia said. "What's the plan?"

So Katherine told them her plan for the next several minutes and asked them for their thoughts on it. Celia and Madison added their own observations on all the countermeasures she suggested, and finally Nico added in her own ideas with one more backup plan, should all else fail.

All three Hearn sisters looked at Nico.

Katherine said, "That's a huge risk."

"I know."

"You sure you wanna go through with that?"

Nico sighed, turning around to see her sister still asleep on the bed, then back to the faces of her newfound friends. "I'll do anything I can for my sisters—for all of you, not just Mara."

"Then have faith in us," Katherine said.

Nico looked at her elder sister and nodded, hoping against hope that their next run-in with Rancaster and that 'bambina' girl will be worth it. And something in her mind, in the deepest inner recesses of her thoughts, told her that it was.

She turned again and looked at her sister sleeping on the bed, thinking, Is that you, Mara?

As if in response, Mara's presence swept through Nico's astral body and filled her with warmth, like the warmth of their first kiss, sending color to her cheeks. Nico felt her sister's strength and will pouring into her, and her breathing became labored, her lips parted, and her heart drummed in her chest.

"What is it?" Celia said.

But Nico stayed silent, thinking, What are you up to?

And in response, an image flashed in Nico's mind of both sisters playing hide and seek when they were children, and driving her parents crazy for hours on end. Mara was up to her old tricks, and Nico would play along with her sister-in-crime.

Each of the Hearn sisters followed Nico's gaze.

Madison said, "Wait, is it Mara? Is she with us?"

Nico turned with a smile on her face, saying, "Yeah, she's definitely here. It just took her some time to wake up, but she won't be obvious about it."

"What do you mean?" Katherine said.

"Mara and I used to play hide and seek a lot when we were little, and we drove our parents crazy every time. We'll do something similar here," she said, "but we need your permission to mess with this place a little. It's your dream realm, after all."

Katherine looked in Nico's eyes and saw mischief there, and had qualms that Celia’s influence must've rubbed off on her. "Try not to mess with it too much, okay? I don't want a certain someone getting any ideas."

Celia protested, saying, "Hey, I'm not like that!"

"Sure, you're not." Katherine ignored further protests from Celia and said, "What have you got?"

When Celia calmed down, Nico looked at her fellow conspirators, and said, "Okay, here's the plan. First, we let Mara distract them, and trust me—they won't find her in this room. They'll be too busy with Mara messing with them. Once they're distracted, we'll separate them. Celia and Maddy will deal with that 'bambina' girl, and I'll handle Rancaster."

"Wait," Celia said, "are you sure about this?"

"Don't worry. I'm no longer afraid of him. He's messed with me one too many times, and I'll make sure he'll regret it."

"Wait," Madison said, "does he have a weakness?"

"His memories. He messed with me with his memories earlier, so I'll just return the favor." At this, she curled her hands into fists, till her knuckles were white. "I'll mind-fuck him till his brains leak out of his ears, the bastard!"

The three sisters noticed, and Celia said, "Geez, you're more devious than I am."

"I know. He has no idea what's coming to him."

"So that just leaves me with—wait?" Katherine started from her chair, looking at the empty bed. "Where's Mara?"

Madison and Celia looked at the bed, then back at Nico, then back at the bed again in disbelief.

"Mara's awake. She's just hiding right now, so don't worry," she said before any of the girls spoke, looking at her three conspirators. "We know what we're doing. And Celia," she added, turning to the girl in particular, "Mara's already forgiven you, okay? She gets angry, but she doesn't hold grudges for long."

Tsuzuku

You can find story with these keywords: Days of Blood and Roses: A Magical Girl Thriller, Read Days of Blood and Roses: A Magical Girl Thriller, Days of Blood and Roses: A Magical Girl Thriller novel, Days of Blood and Roses: A Magical Girl Thriller book, Days of Blood and Roses: A Magical Girl Thriller story, Days of Blood and Roses: A Magical Girl Thriller full, Days of Blood and Roses: A Magical Girl Thriller Latest Chapter