Three played a 'Wicked Game.' Now, it's time for round two.
One will fight. One will meet The Maker. And one will try to keep them all safe.
The world may be black and white but to win this game, they'll have to play in the gray.
Bullshit. That's what this was. Some bullshit. It was the only word Isabeth could fathom to sum up the colossal conundrum of events that occurred in her life. Trekking in the woods to meet the tattooed henchman to the versifying leader of psychopaths. Bullshit.
She tried hard to do the right thing. Follow the moral code of life. As the sun bided the day farwell, tucking into behind the towering trees Isabeth clicked on her flashlight. The moon's iridescences weren't enough to pave her way and prevent her from snapping her ankle on the many roots and branches blanketing the floor of Poe Woods. She wondered how all the good she did didn't expunge her one misdeed.
Yes, she tried to kill a man but he wasn't dead and that should've been enough. That should have abolished her wrongs and sat her life back in order. Her right foot hit a root and she constricted her abs and swung out her arms turning to steady her weight all on her left leg but it buckled sending her toppling to the ground. The flashlight slipped from her clutches and her hands smacked against the toasty dirt.
"Fuck," She croaked out just before an owl began to speak to the night. She wasn't one with an affinity for swearing but once again it was the only word for this particular moment. "I should've stayed in Atlanta."
The words were muttered to herself but her ears weren't the only ones lurking in amongst the trees, "You're late."
The deep, harsh voice made Isabeth dig her nails in the dirt and clench her teeth. "I wouldn't have been if you didn't change the plan." She pushed herself up with a low grunt knowing patches of her skin were going to be sore in the morning and a bruise are two would appear on her mocha dermis. "Thirty minutes isn't enough time to navigate the woods. I'm not Sacagawea."
"Deviations happen when unforeseen variables impede the plan." He set the shine of his flashlight upon her face and her hand instantly shot up blocking her pupils from the harsh light.
She thought about smacking it out of his hand but then again he was The Messenger and she was still unsure of all his tasks and didn't want to end up as maggot food.
"What?" She hissed out.
"You have a twig in your hair." He told then clicked the flashlight off returning the woods to its natural state. "Do you have the list?"
"Yeah." Isabeth fluttered her hands through her hair hunting for the foreign object while trying not to tangle her curls more than they already were. "What's the unforeseen variable?"
His huff was a faint rumble below his Adam's apple that she wouldn't be able to hear if the owl hadn't flown off minutes ago—probably to scoop up a squirrel or a mouse. She didn't know, all she hoped was that she wasn't going to be prey to the predator standing next to her. His silence told her he wasn't going to answer her question so she dug in the purse strapped across her body.
"They're are five type O's in town," She pulled up the picture she took of the computer screen and turned her phone towards him. "Non-smokers. All healthy."
The Messenger kept his sight set on the darkness in front of them, "Are they all female, too? He only wants female...he deems their blood purer. Something about them giving life...he's a little poetic."
Isabeth's mouth dried remembering the names on the list. She hoped he chose one of the three males. It would have made her guilt easier to digest. She cleared her throat, hitting the power button of her cell and killing the light that blazed from the device.
"What if we tried another county—"
"No time." He informed with a pop of his knuckles and the cracking of his finger bones sent Isabeth's mind back to that night in Kyren where the rain was torrential and she released monsters from their cages—reminding her she wasn't as good as she once was.
"Pick one." His stern voice cut through her thoughts. "Anyone."
Isabeth's eyes snapped together. There was no way she could make that choice. She knew those two people too well to cause harm to them. "No."
"You want your friend back, right." He twisted towards her, his feet ripping moss from the dirt. "You want her back alive, right." He took a step closer to her. She wanted to move but she remembered once that you didn't let a wild animal see your fear so she stayed firmly footed. "And not piece by piece because The Maker will make you fall in line."
His face was so close to hers she could see the wicked smirk upon his lip but she also saw something else, cloaked in the rigidness of his eyes. Was that loss? Had he lost someone? She didn't know, couldn't tell but it wasn't one-hundred percent evil swimming in his irises.
"Pick. Pick one." He sniffed stepping back. "I know who's on the list. Don't make me pick...between the woman and the child."
"No." Isabeth shook her head. "She's only five...you." She blinked frantically as her child came to mind. Queasiness wreaked havoc on her stomach and her legs grew weak but she had to choose so Harper's little sister wouldn't get picked. "Gidget. I choose Gidget."
"Good." He patted her once on the shoulder, "See, that wasn't hard but this next task might be." He dug in his pocket and pulled out a brown vial. "Two drops in a drink will knock her out. Prepare her for him."
"No."
The Messenger held out the vial with an unwavering arm, "Three birds with one stone. Once you complete this you'll get your reward and trust me...it's worth it." He shook the vial lightly, "Take it. It's worth it. Trust me."
Isabeth's hand shook as perspired birth on her dermis, could she really...trust him?
Did Isabeth choose the right person?
Will she be able to complete the last step of her task?
Could she trust The Messenger?
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