The Revenants: Part Two (complete)

Andrew Penvellyn had been in love with a woman named Lydia. More specifically, a human woman. Lydia was beautiful, and well known for being a songbird. While Andrew loved her, deeply and troublingly, the songbird was a pet to another witch, more powerful than him.

Percivell Winthrop had once been a lonesome stranger in Salem, a young man who came in with more dirt on his face than his heels. But the High Priestess took a great interest in the young man, and discovered that Percivell was a highly gifted conjurer. Percivell became invaluable to the High Priestess and claimed a high seat in the coven while still in his youth. This struck a raw nerve in the young Andrew, who was a direct descendant of the High Priestess and yet had no such place of power.

Andrew harbored years of animosity towards his rival, with Percivell never even knowing. By the time that Percivell became aware of the hatred that simmered in Andrew’s heart for him, it was too late to rectify anything. As he nursed his silent fury, Andrew became a healer, building up his own strengths and skills, and learning how to use his craft not only to cure, but to sate his own greed. All the while, the High Priestess continued to lavish praise on Percivell, who was growing stronger by the day.

Lydia was a human in the High Priestess’ household, and had taken care of her mistress’ garden and cats ever since she was a young girl. When Percivell first arrived on the High Priestess’ doorstep as a dirty young lad, it had been Lydia who cleaned him and cut his hair. She placed the cats in his bed to keep him warm, and sang to him as he drifted to sleep.

“I wish I was magic like you,” she confessed one night to him. “I wish I could do even half the things you do, Percivell.”

“How can you say that when you have such a voice?” Percivell sighed in awe. Already, the young witch was enamored of the beautiful human.

“I just sing,” Lydia giggled.

“It is not just singing!” Percivell gasped. “It is a charm, a lure. You are the siren singing men to their deaths!”

Lydia laughed again and placed a kiss on Percivell’s lips. “I do not wish death on anyone. I only wish to use my voice to soothe. I sing to the High Priestess’ plants so they will grow. I sing to her cats so they will settle down. I sing to you to make sure your sleep is deep and good.”

Percivell leaned in, stealing another kiss from Lydia. “Be my pet, then, and sing to me every night,” he whispered. “The High Priestess said I could take you, as long as you said yes to me.”

“Do you mean it?” Lydia asked, her eyes wide and bright. “You’d take me as yours? Out of all the humans out there, you truly want me?”

“It is not about want at this point, Lydia,” Percivell whispered. “It is about need. I feel as if I do not have you, I will die.”

“You are such a dramatic,” Lydia sighed as she embraced him, becoming his with one soft kiss after another.

It was the greatest slight to Andrew. When he saw Lydia was gone from the High Priestess’ home, a rage grew in him that would not be quelled. He had asked his great aunt over and over if he could have Lydia for his own. 

“How come this Percivell is so special? Why not me? Why do you not favor me?” Andrew fumed to the High Priestess, who barely opened her eyes to look at him. The High Priestess was centuries old, but she still had the appearance of a child with long white hair.

“Percivell is special, that’s the key,” she replied. “You have yet to give me a reason to favor you.”

Andrew was on edge. These were not the words he desired to hear. “But our blood-”

“The covenant is thicker than blood, and Percivell upholds it better than you ever shall, Andrew.” She opened her eyes fully, and they were hollow. “You only seek to uphold yourself.”

This was more than Andrew could stomach. He left Salem for several years, only to return when the High Priestess summoned him back. He had appeared to have changed, to have become an upstanding healer and a more level-headed man. He worked his way into the High Priestess’ favor, and found himself a place of trust in the coven.

By this time, Percivell was focused on his pet and the child they were expecting. He was happily spending his time with Lydia, watching her belly swell and making plans for the child. 

One night, Andrew was called to their house; Lydia was suffering greatly, and bleeding from between her legs. “I trust you to take care of her, Andrew,” Percivell pleaded. “Please, help her.”

Andrew had dreamed many nights of stealing Lydia away. Always, his mind turned to lascivious thoughts; he cared not for the romantic notions that Percivell had. Andrew only wished to be served. His idea was already brewing and he knew he needed to work into Percivell’s favor. “I will do all I can for you, old friend. Your beloved pet is in good hands.” He clapped his hand on Percivell’s shoulder, then went in to see Lydia. 

Even in her suffering, Andrew thought Lydia was lovely. He tended to her, gave her medicine, and assured her the baby was safe. After a restful sleep, thanks to the medicine, Lydia was right as rain again. After that, Percivell spoke highly of Andrew, and helped him to earn a high position in the coven to repay him for saving Lydia.

“I cannot wait to see my child,” Percivell bragged to Andrew one day.

Already, Percivell’s fate was sealed. “I know you are eager,” Andrew said with a smile. “And do not worry. I will care for them as I have cared for your pet.”

Not long after, Percivell was hanged at the gallows for the crime of treason. It was a dark day, and it rained continuously for weeks. So heavy was the burden in the air that the executioner quit his job, wracked with his own guilt at having tied the noose around Percivell’s neck.

Andrew took in Lydia, but she, too, was tried for treason. She was hanged after her daughter was born. All she could do was give the child a name before Andrew callously took her away. Christabel became a ward of Andrew, and he waited greedily for her to repay the debt.

Andrew had barely changed since his youth. He was still a lascivious and crude man who only thought about his wants and needs. He had been giving Christabel examinations since she came of age, all in order to touch her naked body. He pleasured himself often to the thought of laying with her. His mind swirled with the ideas of planting himself in her virgin slit, laying his thick seed inside until it spilled from her body. He couldn’t wait for the day she would become completely his, and he could use her as his toy, at the mercy of his whims. In his mind, she should be grateful for it. She should be eager to please him and earn his blessing. 

Andrew had no idea Christabel had been doing everything in her power to spite him. She had found comfort in the arms of another man, letting him spill his seed inside her arse and on her lips. She did all the things Andrew fantasized about doing to her, but to the gentle Harper. She knew what Andrew wanted, and she was never going to willingly give it, nor make it a pleasure for him. Instead, she took her own pleasure behind his back. 

Christabel had known of her mother’s fate, and that Andrew had not been the generous and compassionate man he claimed to be. Lydia never loved him as he said, and never held him in high regard. He had kept Lydia prisoner in his home, begging her to accept him or hang for the same crimes as her husband. Repulsed by him, Lydia refused him. It wasn’t until she gave birth to Christabel, and learned she had cursed her daughter to a terrible fate, that she considered relenting. But Andrew’s attentions had already turned, and his plans had changed. He would raise a willing pet, and dispose of the disobedient one.

Christabel knew her mother could have never loved Andrew, as there was no one in the world who could possibly love Andrew. It was a hard lesson to learn after a childhood of looking up to him. Her first blood came, and with it a certain clarity. She saw him for who he was, or at least she saw the dark cloud around him. After that, her heart withered, only pulsing for the flashes of rage she got to show, and the spite she shared with Harper. 

Harper allowed it, not because of any romantic feelings he held, but because of kindness on his own part. He knew the suffering Christabel was going through, and he extended his hand to allow her some peace. Yes, having sex with a beautiful woman was a great pleasure, but he would have done anything she commanded of him. In their relationship, Harper was the willing pet. 

In part, it was guilt that made Harper follow Christabel willingly. For it was his rope and his hands that had carried out the execution of her father, Percivell. Much like the High Priestess, his powers kept him eternally young, but every hair on his body was white, a fact that Christabel relished.

“My cat has long white fur,” she told him one night, as she bent him over the bed and slid an onyx phallus into his rear. “So even if your hair lingers on me, no one will be the wiser.” She pushed deep in Harper, making him cry out.

For years, Harper had been Christabel’s plaything, just like she was Andrew’s pet. Yet Harper had been happy, and enjoyed all the stolen moments he had with Christabel. He, too, hated Andrew passionately. He had been waiting for the day to prove Percivell’s innocence and to show the world what Andrew truly was. He had been searching for years, but had yet to find proof. Now, with the Revenant of Percivell cursing all of Salem, he felt assured the truth would come out soon.

Harper wakes the evening of the Revenant’s appearance, only to find it in the corner of his home. The shape of it flickers and dances, and it leaves with him a piece of bone with instructions carved into the side.

“The blood, the lamb, and the finger. Bring these three, or none shall be free.”

He takes the bone to Andrew as soon as he can, laying it before him while Christabel sits at Andrew’s side.

“I can’t believe this,” Andrew whispers. “Why would they leave it to you?”

Harper glances at Christabel, whose dark brown eyes bore her command into him. “I am the executioner. It is my job.”

“But what does it mean?” Christabel asks.

“The Revenant wants something,” Andrew shakily drinks his tea as he continues to stare down at the bone. “Revenants often have unfinished business, and will not leave until it is completed. Whatever these are, they are the key to its final peace.”

“Do we know who the Revenant is?” Harper asks. He looks at Christabel, who answers him silently.

“No,” Andrew answers in a louder voice. “At this point, there is no way of knowing.” He picks up the bone and places it in a black bag. “I need to take this to the High Priestess,” he says. “Dinner is close to being served - Harper, I insist that you stay. Christabel, come with me to the door and bid me farewell.”

He walks away as Christabel stands up. As Christabel passes by Harper in his chair, her fingers brush suggestively against his neck. She goes with Andrew to the door.

Leaning back just enough, Harper can see around the corner. He can see Andrew push up Christabel’s skirts as he kisses her. Christabel is like a stone, letting him paw sloppily at her for his goodbye.

Once he is gone, Christabel returns to the parlor where she grabs Harper’s hand. Harper willingly follows as she takes him into Andrew’s study. “I have longed for this,” she whispers. “Taking you here, where he works.”

“It’s dangerous, Chrissie,” Harper replies.

“Everything is dangerous now,” Christabel snarls. “The Revenant, my father-” she shakes her head. “You know who it is, right?”

“I’ve been waiting on him to return. Why now, I do not know.” Harper watches Christabel’s expression. “It is alright to be afraid,” he tells her. “It is said that the Revenant is tied to blood still living.”

Christabel shakes her head. “I am glad he is here. I hope he kills whomever he wants. It is just that I do not think he is the only danger.” She cups her hand around her cheek. “You remember how I told you that I do not dream?”

Harper nods. “You say it is only shadows.”

“I saw one, in my dreams,” she whispers as her arms tighten around herself. “It didn’t look like the one the elders described when they were here. It was different, and its voice was not like the other’s.” She closes her eyes. “The other one - my father - it came to my window and told me to come out. I know if I did, I would have died, but part of me wishes I had.”

Harper puts his arms around her, hugging her close. Christabel sniffles, hugging onto him with shaking limbs. 

“The elders wanted to kill me,” Christabel sobs.

“Of course they do,” Harper growls. “Easy solution.”

Sounds of screaming and turmoil rise from within the house. like a storm has been waiting to break. Christabel looks to Harper with a terrified expression, and what color lingers on her cheeks from her earlier excitement is gone. She surges forward, pushing Harper away from the door as she makes her way towards it. 

When Christabel opens the door, she is splashed with blood. Hanging from the ceiling, like a morbid pendulum, is Marleygrin. Her narrow throat is slit, and her eyes are gouged out. Written on the wall in her blood are the same instructions as on the bone.

“Oh my god,” Christabel rasps, forgetting to breathe. Her vision goes blurry and foggy as she looks at the blood on her hands. She turns to Harper, unsure how to move or what to do. Her eyes look strange to him - their usual dark brown seems almost amber in color.

“Come to me, Christabel.” Harper moves to the doorway and pulls her back, just in time to see as the Revenant coming down the hall, floating in a cloud of ash and grave dirt. Their neck is elongated, and the head hangs at an awkward angle. The belly of the Revenant is swollen.

“That’s the one,” Christabel gasps.

Harper gazes at the Revenant in despair. As it passes by him, it vomits blood - and Marleygrin’s milky white eyes - onto the floor. He recognizes this spirit, and he realizes why the Revenants are here.

The Revenant before Harper vanishes, leaving only ash and dirt behind. He turns to Christabel, who is trembling like a leaf. Her face, hands, and clothes are covered in blood. Her breathing rattles in her throat, and streaks of tears cut through the blood on her face. As she looks at him, pleading, he gently takes hold of her hands.

“The Revenants did not come here of their own volition. I see now that these were summoned by someone with a great power,” Harper whispers.

“But who?” Christabel shivers. “Who could possibly do this or even want this?”

“You did, Chrissie,” Harper replies. “You told me so yourself. You prayed something would come and bring ruin. Your father himself was a powerful conjurer.”

“But-” Christabel starts to laugh. “I’m not a witch! I’ve shown no powers.”

“I’ve suspected Andrew of tampering for some time now.” Harper takes his sleeve and wipes the blood away from Christabel’s face. “Your power is growing, and you brought your parents back from the dead to seek vengeance for you.”

Christabel takes in a shaky breath. “I want to get out of here.” 

Harper puts his arm around her, leading her away. “I know.” 

Christabel covers her eyes as Harper walks her out of the house and onto the street. She sits on the cold stones of the curb as blood pours down the stairs and pools at the base. The front of the house is defaced by long gashes cut into the stone, and the windows are smashed.

As Harper moves Christabel aside, Moses runs up the street. He is breathing hard, and his face is flushed red. “I came as soon as I heard what happened,” he whispers. “Is she alright?”

“Not sure,” Harper murmurs. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Moses moves towards Christabel and smoothes his palm along her cheek. “What’s wrong with her?” he whispers, his brows sinking low. “Her eyes look strange.”

Harper takes another look at Christabel. The once-brown gems are changing, their color becoming a faded amber that is melting into green. She jerks her head away, stumbling on the sidewalk until Moses catches her.

“She’s coming into her magic,” Harper murmurs low.  

Moses shoots him a dirty look as he pulls Christabel to his chest. “But she’s not a witch! She’s a human, like I am.”

Harper shakes his head. “No. Not like you.” He takes Christabel back and holds her to his chest as her breathing grows rapid. “Andrew has kept her on his leash for so long. Now, I suspect that leash is breaking.”

Christabel suddenly pushes Harper away. Her eyes are a bright, vivid blue, and her body is twitching. 

“Chrissie,” Harper tries to urge her. “It’s okay, calm down.”

“NO!” Christabel roars. The rest of the glass on the house shatters.

A smile spreads across Christabel’s face. “Oh, wow.” She looks down at her hands. “That felt wonderful.”

“Chrissie, please,” Harper pleads.

She looks up at him, her blue eyes unsettling when he is so used to a beautiful brown. “I don’t need you anymore.” She reaches up, yanking the choker away from her neck and tossing it onto the ground. She then turns to Moses, looking him over. A smile spreads across her face. “Do you wish to be my pet?”

“What?” Moses’ expression pinches as he looks at her. 

“Christabel!” Andrew’s shrill scream fills the crowded area. “Christabel!” He pushes through the crowd, coming towards them.

As soon as she hears his voice, Christabel’s expression shifts. She grimaces, turning slightly away from Andrew as he breaks through the crowd.

Andrew’s distraught and gruesome expression melts into relief. His treasure, his prize, is unharmed! He can continue to hold close to his dreams of keeping her as his own. “You’re well! Oh, thank goodness! Come to me now!” His excited words sound only like commands. 

Christabel turns towards him, revealing her blue eyes. Andrew’s victory is short-lived as a new expression comes over his face - one of dread and denial.

“Come here this instant.” Andrew’s voice quivers.

Christabel chuckles softly, tilting her head close to her shoulder. “No.” She gives her head a sharp twist.

“I own you!” Andrew roars. “Come here now!” He points to the ground at his feet.

Christabel’s expression goes blank, and then a wicked smile spreads across her face. “You took me. You stole me!” The house above her starts to shift. The foundation twists, and the stones crack. “You manipulated and you lied!” She snarls, her voice warping into something dark and dangerous. “You controlled everything about me! And now you’re going to pay! The blood is on your hands!”

The house shifts again, jolting, then shedding wood and glass. The foundation swirls as if lodged in a sinkhole. The house contorts, wrapping around itself, the bones of it snapping and grinding until they scream. The roof leaps off, sliding down into the street at an angle. The people nearby scatter, falling out into the streets as the house collapses in on itself. 

In the ensuing chaos, Harper loses Moses and Christabel. He sees Andrew lying in the street, screaming, and he leaves him there.

Harper knows what he must do, as an executioner, he’s always known where his path would lead. The blood, the lamb, and the finger. He knows who they are, and he knows how they have to die. The Revenants will continue to follow Christabel until the end of days, until they all become ash and dirt. But that is not what Percivell and Lydia want.