The screams.
Susanna Sophia glanced over her
shoulder. A shriek shrill enough to rattle bones scurried down the stone halls
and reverberated in every crevice of the ancient structure. Even the torches
seemed to quiver.
A new patient.
Wrapping her stick-like arms
about her delicate body, she shuddered. The upcoming days would surely be busy.
The work was grueling.
She crossed the threshold to
the nearest window. Beneath an indigo sky, two of her world’s three moons had
already risen. The setting daylight held a hint of mysticism. A breeze blew
between the bars, dancing with her hair and long gown. Susanna closed her eyes.
When the refreshing gust had subsided and the fortress’s stale air again
dominated her lungs, she turned away from the window.
Holding her hands aloft, she
concentrated. Sometimes she compelled herself to check. A pulsing, a heat, her
fingertips began to glow a dull blue.
Yes, the gift was still intact.
But was it a gift . . . or a curse?
“Susanna Sophia!” her name
echoed through the chamber. “We mustn’t waste time.”
She immediately buried her
hands—and the glow of her skin—in her long tresses of pale lavender hair and
began to compose a braid.
The master of the fortress
entered, his long robe sweeping the floor. There was a fire in his eyes.
“A new patient, professor?”
He nodded fervently. “I’ve been
hunting this one for ages. Congratulations, my dear. This will be your best work.”
“We siphon memories from the
mind and store away the energy for consumption and study. The work is
unchanged.”
“Indeed.” Her master rubbed his
hands together. “But this particular patient has been a thorn in my side—an
adversary of sorts.”
“Rolxkien, is this revenge?”
Susanna’s shoulders dropped.
“Call it what you will.” An
eager smile plastered itself over the professor’s pasty face. “Prepare
yourself, this will take a long time.”
As he left the room, Susanna
called after him. “How many years?”
“All of them.”
Such a task could take days,
and Susanna hoped she possessed the stamina. After all, an unfinished task in
her line of work could cause disastrous results.
Legality of their work was not
the question. After all, nobody knew. . . because no one remembered. The
patients stumbled out of their fortress without care for what brought them
there and began new lives unaware of the change wrought upon them.
Professor Rolxkien’s exports
couldn’t exist without Susanna Sophia. Her ability to remove the memories and
consume their energy was the foundation of all they had accomplished.
The question was why . . . why
her?
You could always run. The door is wide open.
Susanna climbed the stairs to
the operating room, her chest heaving with exertion and the weight of what she
was about to do.
But her curse was employed. It
was far better to be useful than to be moral.
She often wondered what the
patients would have been if they had not met her. At the touch of her
fingertips, their fates became rewritten. Was their potential forever
eradicated? How she wondered.
“Hello,” she whispered, entering
the chamber.
The door wasn’t locked, but
every patient bore chains. No equipment was necessary; Susanna being both the
scalpel and the surgeon.
Staring with large, terrified
eyes was the patient: a young man. His coat and vest were of fine quality and
his shirt pressed and decked with brass buttons. He trembled, the chains about
his wrists rattling.
“Who are you?”
Don’t I crave that answer?
Susanna Sophia seated herself
beside the barred window, arranging her skirt. “A colleague of the
professor’s.” she answered simply.
“You’ve no idea what you’re
dealing with. Flee and save your innocence.”
A smile graced her lips. A pink
hue brightened her cheeks. “I no longer believe in innocence.”
The young man’s eyes grew sad.
Raising a hand, he brushed his coal-black hair off his forehead. “The opposite
is guilt, I see you have full faith in its design.”
“I haven’t time for this. I am
about to perform a terrible operation on your mind. Everything you know will be
stripped away. Perhaps then, when your mind is but a blank slate, you’ll be as
close to innocent as you’ll ever be.”
The young man swallowed. His
eyes grew wide and his chest heaved anxious breaths, but he accepted his fate
with composure.
“Tell me the name of my
victim.” Susanna’s heart was numb.
“Ashton.” He whispered, a tear
drifting down his cheek.
“It is time!” The door swept
open to welcome the professor, his face alight with glee.
Fear fled from Ashton’s face, immediately
replaced with rage. He tried to stand, his arms straining at his chains,
causing his elbows to arch like spider’s legs.
“Face me, monster. I am due
answers.”
Rolxkien scoffed, keeping his
distance. “You’re due nothing, whelp.” He looked at Susanna and nodded. “Let’s
begin.”
“Are you worried, snake? Afraid
I might slip away again before your dirty work’s complete?”
“Oh, I am extremely eager for
your demise, dear Ashton. Our rivalry has been quite marvelous . . . but it has
run its course.”
Susanna stood, pushing up her
sleeves. Once her master began talking, it was unlikely that he’d cease. Her
fingers began to glow. She drew a deep breath. This would take hours, maybe
even all night.
“You began this, Rolxkien. Your
hatred . . . bitterness . . . jealousy.”
The professor laughed. “Of course,
but that is past. You needn’t worry because you won’t remember it. In fact, you
won’t remember me.”
Drawing near to the patient,
Susanna reached out her hands, thrusting them on either side of the man’s head.
Blue tongues of flame leapt from her fingers, engulfing the patient. Once the
cessation of his struggling was complete, his body went limp. With the help of
the professor, Ashton’s body was lowered onto the stone ledge. Susanna also
seated herself, cradling his head in her lap. Her fingers intertwined in his
hair. His face gleamed a dull blue. Susanna also closed her eyes.
Now the real work began.
Moments, hours, days, years . .
. they all flowed like water down a river. The colors of a life lived danced
through Susanna’s mind. This portion was peaceful. Memories of happiness—such
as a pristine childhood—were easily forgotten. They brought her pleasure.
Ashton’s early years were easily eradicated, but it would most assuredly become
more difficult.
As expected, the visions turned
grim. Gasping for air, Susanna arched her back, fighting to keep hold on her
patient’s memories. Such suffering, no life was without its share, but Ashton
had endured much.
With this pain, came the
interjection of external forces. In this case, it was two prominent figures
that influenced Ashton’s history. One was a beautiful maiden, dark haired,
amber eyed, and as pale as a lily. The other—of course—was Professor Rolxkien.
“Wait!” Ashton’s body lurched.
His eyes shot open.
Susanna clamped her hands to
his temples. Her fingers blazed like fire. The pain that wrecked her body
intensified as she found herself not subduing the patient’s mind, but combating it.
Never had she encountered a
mind strong enough to wage a struggle against her powers. This patient . . .
Ashton was different.
“If you destroy my memory . .
.” Ashton used every ounce of his strength to speak. “You will fail. You will
have no victory.”
The professor was unimpressed.
“I won’t remember that . . .
that you murdered her.”
“Susanna, please, won’t you
silence him?”
There wasn’t strength to spare
to inform him that she was trying her hardest to accomplish this feat.
“You . . . you murdered my
wife!”
The defining moment. Struggling
to pry the memories from his mind, she saw the terror in the maiden’s eyes. A
dagger was raised in the hands of her colleague. Then she watched as the knife
plunged into the woman’s chest. Blood gathered about the hilt, dripping down
over her dress.
What had she—what had Ashton—possibly
done to deserve this?
Was this how she wished her
gift to be employed . . . for revenge?
“Susanna! HURRY UP!”
With tears streaming down her
face, Susanna gritted her teeth and dug deeper. It took every ounce of will in
her body, but she overcame. Ashton’s eyes once again rolled back and the days
of his life were stolen away from him.
Recovery was grueling. Susanna
hardly left her chamber, bedridden. This was the usual aftermath, but this
time, the effect was magnified. Her dreams were dark and dreary. Images of
Ashton’s life replayed themselves over and over. Rolxkien hadn’t hesitated to drive
that knife into the maiden. What other disastrous deeds were her colleague
hiding?
She began to regret.
When she was able, she rose and
dressed appropriately for travel.
“Wherever are you going?” The
professor inquired, watching her pack provisions from the fortress storehouse.
She stiffened. “I need a
sabbatical. If the work is to continue, I will need more time to recuperate.”
The professor’s face grimaced.
“Your timing is suspicious.”
“I simply wasn’t aware that I
was the means to revenge.”
“You’re slipping, Susanna. Your
work was extremely shoddy. If you are unable to perform your duties . . .” his
eyes narrowed.
She looked over her shoulder.
“Will my fate be the same as that maiden’s?”
Rolxkien snarled. “I’ll not be
criticized by you. It was necessary.”
So many secrets . . . if this
was the life this fortress had for her, she wanted nothing to do with it.
She brushed past him, lugging
the sack full of provisions over her shoulder. After leaving it in her chamber,
she climbed the stairs again. Anticipation fluttered in her chest. This change
of heart excited her. If she could accomplish one good deed in a sea of pain
and suffering, perhaps there was hope.
Back in the tower prison, she
pushed the door open. Ashton was also recovering from the procedure. Slumped on
the stone ledge, his eyes were closed and his skin a sickly parchment color.
Kneeling beside him, her
fingers glowing, she reached out and touched his temple. Closing her eyes, she
recalled the memory of his wife. Not the gruesome murder, but of the maiden
standing in a glade, twilight dancing in her eyes.
Susanna had never given a
memory back before, but she had to try.
Ashton’s eyes cracked open. Too
weak to move, he simply watched her.
“Who are you?” he whispered.
Susanna concentrated. It had to transfer. “A friend.”
Maybe lives could be rewritten
. . . redeemed.
“Friends . . .” he breathed
deeply. “Wonderful resources, they are.” He looked at the blue light stretching
up her arm. But he wasn’t surprised. “Ah, this is familiar.”
“It is?”
Raising a feeble limb,
something surprising occurred. His own fingers began to glow.
Susanna stared in absolute
astonishment.
“I know what you are.” Ashton
smiled. “I’m one too.”
She could weep for joy.
Loneliness fled. Perhaps it was not a curse after all. Curses that dwelled
together were blessings . . . gifts.
“I can’t seem to remember much,
but this girl . . . do you know who she is?”
Susanna nodded, tears filling
her eyes. Maybe she’d committed a terrible sin against this man, but she could
rebirth anew. They could run away, and rewrite fate. And maybe, she could
return what she’d stolen.
“She’s your wife. Hold onto
that memory. It’s precious.”
Ashton closed his eyes. “Yes,
someday . . . maybe I’ll find her again.”
Susanna reached out and stroked
his black locks tenderly. “As soon as you’re well, I’ll get you out, Ashton. I
want to learn more about what I—what we—are.
Maybe we can help each other.”
And maybe . . . just maybe . .
. “helping” could become healing.
