Siobhan, The goddess' handmaiden

11. A puppet

Siobhan knows she’s moving. Her feet are walking, but she’s not the one in charge. The owl tattoo is tingling slightly. It’s not the same way as that bracelet Ereshkigal made her wear, but similar in a way. What is going on? She opens her eyes, but she doesn’t see anything. After a few minutes of consciously trying she finally catches a glimpse of herself in a window that she passed. Where is she going and why can’t she stop? How come she doesn’t have any control over her own actions? Siobhan had never sleep walked in her life. Why now? Why can’t she wake up?

A narrow staircase that is all too familiar opens up before her. There is a wolf cub sleeping peacefully on the first step, so she steps over him. She can see where she’s going now, but she still can’t stop. Siobhan is only a passenger in her own body, an observer, a narrator to a story that unfolds in front of her eyes. Nakir warned her that Ereshkigal could take over her body. Is this what is happening?

“Clever little witch,” Ereshkigal chuckles. The voice comes from inside of her head.

“Why?” Siobhan asks.

“Why not? You are fun,” the goddess answers. Nakir’s door is in sight. What is she planning? But Siobhan doesn’t get to ask. It’s like an invisible hand was slapped over her mouth. She can think, but she can’t form questions. Not even in her own mind.

“Look at him. Sleeping without a care in hell. He reminds me of Munkar so much,” the goddess sighs. From what they have told her, you couldn’t tell the difference between the twins if you didn’t see their eyes.

“I’d rather not,” Siobhan answers. She pines after him too much as it is. Watching him sleep is just creepy, though.

“You’re so weird,” Ereshkigal chuckles.

“I’ll take that as a compliment. I’d hate to be boring,” Siobhan smirks. The whole conversation is weird, but she can’t do anything about it. She is but a puppet in the hands of the goddess.

Ereshkigal uses her body to step even closer. How is it that he can sleep so soundly without noticing her? Oh, no. What is she doing? Her hands are almost touching Nakir. “Don’t touch him!” Siobhan pleads with Ereshkigal.

“You don’t want it? Tell me the truth,” Ereshkigal asks.

“I do, but he doesn’t. Nakir told me that there can’t be anything between us while you own me,” Siobhan tells the goddess. But she just knows it’s not gonna change anything. Ereshkigal made up her mind to torture her.

“Ha! Watch me,” Ereshkigal scoffs. “Or better yet, watch you. It is your body. You get to feel him, too.”

Siobhan watches her own hand slide down Nakir’s chest. She longed for the touch, but it feels wrong when he’s asleep. Her gorgeous angel is all hard planes and chiselled muscles. He is perfect. Ereshkigal makes her kneel on the bed next to him. She caresses his face and leans forward. A gentle brush of her lips over his wakes him up. At first he pulls her closer and kisses her back. His hands on her body are bliss. The kisses are tender and almost timid. He caresses her back through the thin camisole she has on. His kiss deepens for a moment and Siobhan is in ecstasy after so long. Then he opens his eyes and Siobhan finds herself plastered to the wall with his hand around her neck.

Her airways are cut off, but being dead she doesn’t actually need to breathe. It’s a reflex thing in her brain to start choking. Nakir recognised her. The way he glares at her right now is scary. The darkness in his almost black eyes is filled with lightning. The scowl on his face bodes nothing good. Siobhan is frozen in fear. She never feared Nakir before, and she’s seen him do a few very terrible things. But she is afraid now. His glamour has fallen. She can see him in all his angel of death glory. If he spreads out his wings too, she is done for. What is deader than dead? Is there something even more? A state beyond dead? She can almost hear Ereshkigal laughing her head off. The goddess is amused by the predicament she has gotten Siobhan into?

A slight twitch of her hand sends Nakir flying back. He crashes on the bed and catches himself by one hand around the bedpost. His eyes shot daggers at her. Siobhan lands on her feet like nothing has happened at all. It’s not a reflex, Ereshkigal drives her body like she’s done it before. No uncoordinated moves, or jerks that would give her away.

“Ery! This is not funny!” Nakir shouts. “How did you get past Fenrir?”

“Your puppy is fast asleep,” Ereshkigal chuckles.

“Why her? Why use Siobhan?” He glares back at her.

“What gave me away?” The goddess totally ignores his question.

“The eyes for one,” he tells her. “And Siobhan doesn’t have the power of telekinesis.”

“Mmm,” Ereshkigal murmurs. “But you want her?”

“What do you want me to say? She’s yours and you never share your toys,” Nakir glares at her. Siobhan wants to shout at the injustice. She loves him and he cares for her, but he won’t fight a goddess for her. The toy remark might be true, but it still hurts like hell to have it thrown in her face.

“No. I’m not keen on sharing,” Ereshkigal smirks.

“Leave, Ery. Just go,” Nakir glares at her. He doesn’t move from the bed, but he does sit down. “Or, I’ll make you.”

“You might be powerful, but you’re forgetting who I am. Even in this body I have all my powers,” Ereshkigal laughs.

“Your choice,” Nakir smiles. Siobhan knows that smile well. It’s not a happy thing. It’s a cover for something very unpleasant. What is he planning? Ereshkigal should know him better. “Please, let’s go. He means it.”

“He can’t do anything to me. His word binds him,” Ereshkigal answers her.

“He won’t do anything to you, he’ll do it to me,” Siobhan tells the goddess. The stubbornness is astonishing. The goddess glares defiantly at Nakir when a full length mirror appears in the room. They can both see the strains of grey in Siobhan’s red hair. The first wrinkles on her face. She is returning to the state she was in when she died. It’s Nakir’s power that is keeping her looking young.

Siobhan falls to the floor in a heap. Her legs can’t hold her, her body is giving in to old age. Will he make her relive her death? She can feel when the goddess leaves her body. The owl tattoo stops tingling and her mind is all her own again. The mirror vanishes the way it came, and Nakir finally moves from his bed. He picks her up gently and sits her on the edge of his bed. He holds her hand as her vitality and youthful looks return. Nakir leans his forehead against hers and sighs deeply:

“Kill whatever feelings you have for me, or she’ll use you again to get under my skin. Ery gets bored so fast. She doesn’t understand that her tricks aren’t funny for us.”

“Then you show me and her that you don’t care for me,” Siobhan tells him. She can’t kill her love for him. It’s the only thing she has left.

“How is your vanity these days?” Nakir asks her.

“What are you talking about?” Siobhan inquires. She doesn’t understand what that has got anything to do with their situation right now.

“Ery is very attached to her looks. Her forever young looks. She doesn’t need the creams and lotions she’s making you work on, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want them,” Nakir says. He passes his hand over her hair and it turns grey: “Your magic is not strong enough to counter mine. But you can beg her to make your hair red again. Now, go!”