The Revenants: Finale (special preview)

The High Priestess stood on the stoop and waved for Christabel to come inside. “The world is cold,” she said to her. “It’s best you come in and hide from the storm.”

Christabel looked to Moses and she took his hand. She silently went inside with him, standing in the quiet foyer as the High Priestess looked up at them. Her youthful face and hollow eyes belaid her powers. She then nodded slowly to them.

“I had a feeling you were not the simpering pet that Andrew made you out to be,” the High Priestess murmured. “I knew that no child of Percivell would come out of the womb untouched by his talents.” She walked away, leading them to the parlor where the ghost of a woman was serving tea and cookies. The High Priestess sat herself upon a cushion at the table that allowed her the height to sit comfortably. 

“If you knew, then why did you not say anything?” Christabel asked, her voice choppy and stilted from the moments earlier.

The High Priestess added milk to her tea and stirred before taking a sip. “I suppose the same reason all bad things are allowed to happen, I am a horrible person.”

Christabel grimaced at her. “Are you saying that you wanted all of this to happen?”

“No,” she scoffed. “Of course not.” She set her tea cup down. “I am saying, like all people, I ignored what I suspected. I did not act, I was lazy, and I did not want my own comfort to be affected by any change. I also feared you.” She sighs, closing her eyes. “Same way I came to fear your father. I did not want to succeed my power over to anyone.”

“So you were selfish,” Christabel glowers.

The High Priestess nods without hesitation. “Same as anybody. Of course, I did not want for this to happen, but I allowed it, regardless, with my own ignorance and failings.” She tilted her head, looking towards Christabel. “And now, you are here, and they have come,” she said of Lydia and Percivell. “I knew it would happen but I always thought it would be later, never now.”

“Well, now is now!” Christabel shivered. “Here I am, here they are. Here is Hell come right to your door. You let it in.”

“That is what I said,” the High Priestess sighed. “You can stay here as long as you like, I doubt I will need it anymore anyways.” She took her cup back up, blew upon it, and sipped again. Her hands were calm and steady. All the while, Christabel’s shook like leaves in a tree.

“Tell me,” Christabel choked. “Tell me how to handle it.” She lifted her hands, still stained with blood. “Show me how I can control it.”

“First,” the High Priestess replied, “you need a bath. You’re covered in blood and it is not as attractive a look as the cultists think.” She stood up from the table. “Follow me now, dear. I will get you taken care of. Your pet can stay here and finish the cookies.”

Christabel followed the High priestess, going to the bathroom where she was scrubbed from head to toe. The bathroom was bright red and emptied, then filled with milk, rose petals, lavender, a rose quartz, and water from a storm. Once Christabel placed herself inside, the High Priestess sat beside the basin and tended to Christabel’s nails.