Born Claimed (Broken Angel 2) - Page 19

Ruby nodded and turned her gaze upward. Ra

e followed her sight and traced the hypnotizing patterns of the branches and leaves of the trees. “Do we not reside in a natural cathedral?” Ruby asked. “Do you see? Everything has been constructed to reflect the hierarchy of the universe. Mankind binds its wrists with symbols. The lamb lives innocently to die by the lion’s tearing teeth.”

“So it can live forever,” Rae said.

“Infinite and pure,” Ruby added. “The world needs both lions and lambs. Otherwise, where would we be?”

Heaven.

Rae imagined a field of sheep, calmly grazing until the shepherd called them in for supper and sleep. She saw the image of that man blowing into a horn, another trophy. She thought of a warm cabin in the woods. Near a burning fire, a family watched the man hack an axe into a plank of wood to keep them warm. In this prophetic vision, a candle made from the belly fat of a whale illuminated the house so they could live in light. The world was built on the back of suffering, and mankind could hardly wrestle with this understanding, let alone admit it.

Rae stood and clutched the dead bird to her chest, staining the white of her dress with splotches of rosy reminder. If her unkempt disposition angered Ruby, she did not show it. Instead, her demeanor had turned kind.

Ruby lowered her voice to a whisper and positioned her face toward a small deer that had magically appeared behind a set of trees. The animal bent her neck into the grass to eat, ignoring the two entirely. “Now, grab your rifle from the ground. It’s your turn to tumble a beast.”

Rae cowered inside her head. The deer in the horizon was exquisite and yet another reflection of her docile self. She was not a hunter, but she was becoming aware of the danger she was actually in. Without knowing when, there could only be one logical conclusion to her sister’s games: death and trophy. Eventually, a holiday might be celebrated in her name. She’d live on and on, and on and on, cutting the fields with her own dull scythe, for she was death and life’s quiet handshake.

“No, I can’t. I won’t,” Rae whined.

Ruby took the gun herself and forced it against her sister’s chest, and Rae’s arms curled around the metal shaft and wood butt. Her hand seemed to want to pull that trigger, to destroy everything in sight and even kill. She thought if she could unleash the fury of a full metal jacket, she could end her sister easily and possibly escape.

Of course, that was just another fantasy. As Rae held the deer in her sight, two adorable fawns peeked their heads out from a nearby shrub. Without a sense of danger, they frolicked toward their mother and let out falsetto noises of curiosity and adoration. Her tongue seemed to thicken against her throat.

Rae attempted to lower the gun away from their mother, but Ruby took the barrel in her hands and held it steady. “Do not run from your destiny,” she said. “You are Rae. You are immortal and pure like the glossy dew that falls into the soil.”

“I cannot kill,” Rae protested.

“Did you already forget that you killed your maker? You clearly have the potential inside your heart,” she said. “Give these beasts a slice of immortality.”

Lost in a state of panic, Rae shut her eyes and focused on the heavy beating drum of her heart. Thud, thud, thud—the meaty organ kicked against her sternum. The beat of war, the apple plucked from a tree, the coiled snake resting in the stomach; in one instant every archetype flashed through her mind until—

Boom.

“No!”

Rae let out a shrill cry of fear, desperation, and loneliness. Shaking, she dropped the smoking gun and clasped her hands over her cheeks. Womanly shrieks ripped through the forests, sending the deer running as a herd. Rae couldn’t believe what she had done.

Ruby jumped and stomped her heel into the earthy soil. “Damn!” she cursed. “Damn, damn, damn!”

“Is that all you can think to say? I murdered their mother,” Rae cried, mouth full of thick saliva.

Ruby took her by the root of her hair and pulled until she stood firmly on her two feet. “You moron. You missed!”

Rae wiped her wet eyes and focused on the tree trunk where the bullet hit. Slowly, sap dripped down the bark. She hadn’t merely missed her target. She hadn’t even tried.

“I’m sorry, Ruby. I tried. I really did,” Rae muttered.

But there was no time for cheap apologies. As soon as the deer vanished into the green forest, the driver opened the door to the sound of the babies crying for their rightful mother. “Madam, I’m sorry to cut your trip short, but the minister of propaganda wishes to see you at once,” he said.

Ruby clutched the dead blackbird’s feet together and squeezed. “Severin? What on earth could he want?”

But before she found her answer, Rae lifted her rifle and pointed with a smile. “Bang,” she said. “See? Maybe we can both be icons.”

Needless to say, Rae received the worst thrashing of her life on the way back home.

Chapter Six

Father, why is it that I feel you near me wherever I go? Is this the type of mania an orphan feels, the ghost pains of separation after being ripped from your father’s hands? It’s troubling to me that I do not sense my mother. I feel as if she died with the incident. My birth. Judging by my pack’s past brutality, I might not be wrong.

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