Antennas to Heaven

Confessions of a Witch 4: Weekend from Hell

She’s a goddamn monster.

I say it but it don’t feel right. Even though I watched her force a guy to walk off a roof without a second thought, just to distract us. Even though she would’ve made me kill… Cara, dammit, I would’ve killed her right then and there. Even though she fuckin played me and I stood there and let her do it. For Chrissakes, Adrian, she put those poor bastards under her control and then just let go of it knowing if she slipped up an inch it’d leave the door wide open for the Abyss to screw ‘em six ways from Sunday. And you, you brainless dipshit, you can’t stop thinking about seeing her again? What the everloving fuck is wrong with you?

Why doesn’t it feel right to just write her off as the enemy?

Much as it would be classic Butterfly to chalk it all up to that wet-dream voice of hers, I give myself more credit than that. It’s something else, it’s the way she talks about the Eye. Something don’t sit right with me. It’s like she dipped her toe in the wrong puddle once and got conned to hell and back into justifying it forever. Don’t get me wrong, she deserves to pay for all the shit she’s done, but crushed under the heel of the fuckin Illuminati god because she gave up on people being worth her time? Bullshit. Listen, I ain’t gonna pretend I’m any kind of saint, but at least I can say I stand for something. She came out of Hell a willworker and all she can think to do with it is enforce the status quo because some ascended voyeuristic motherfucker said so? How the fuck does a Warlock of all people wind up handing over responsibility for her actions to an Exarch?

There’s more than one way to gut a king. A tyrant ain’t much without good little soldiers marching to his tune. If I can win her over, prove to her the Awakened City’s worth fighting for… jesus, listen to yourself. Who do you think you are, fuckin Superman? But maybe I can at least get her to ask a few questions she shouldn’t and raise a little hell. That, this witch can handle. I mean, come on, “traitor” is my middle name. If I can’t get her to betray her god, nobody can.

Shit, I still owe Jones a night without a bar full of slobbering assholes staring at her while she dances. That’s what I was doing when this whole mess with the men in black started. Feels like it’s been a year, not three fuckin days. And in three days I got myself ass-deep in Assembly crap, found out Porter’s scared shitless of being on the front lines, inherited a haunted theater full of skeevy vibes from a bunch of twisted Seer lunatics, and almost got sucked into some kind of Invasion of the Body Snatchers hive mind world. Not to mention pissed off the family ten times worse and dragged Carmen headfirst into the whole thing. Wasn’t enough to bail on em, steal from em, and let my new boss swipe their secrets from my head. Nah, I had to bring a pyromaniac into their vampire kumbaya and antagonize Vinny until he foamed at the mouth, too. Pretty sure this is what Jack would call Destiny doing its thing. I call it the story of my life. …not so funny when it’s right on the nose, huh.

Don’t get me wrong. This whole weekend’s been kind of a breakthrough. Project Oenopion has finally got its hands on some honest-to-God Seers of the Throne. Okay, minor setback, they’re dead. Doesn’t mean I can’t spy on when they were less dead, maybe find out where another one of their hideouts is or something. Plus, I got my very own Obrimos bodyguard now, which is a fuckin weird thing to say—since when does Adrian Giovanni need a goddamn bodyguard? I am the bodyguard. But Q was right when he said it’s better if people don’t realize how much of a threat I am. My pride’s taking a nose dive but next time somebody decides to fuck with Angeli Pontis, I’ll be thanking him for putting me in the perfect position to crack some unsuspecting heads. Besides, he pulled my ass out of the fire today, can’t argue with that.

Best of all, Cara’s a Sleepwalker and I can finally tell her everything. No more tiptoeing around what I do all day, no more listening to her imagination coming up with the worst possible fucked up scenario—though let’s face it, the nightmares she cooked up pale in comparison to the real deal. Y’know, it crossed my mind to be jealous, when we were in Josie’s Oneiros and saw she was gonna wake up. To be pissed that it was her and not Carmen on that Path. But if Fate says she ain’t ready yet…well, that’s Cara all over. She puts everybody else first and pretends she’s content till she believes it. So until she’s ready, I’ll protect her, and she can keep me from going off the deep end when I start losing it.

Like I almost lost it this afternoon, jesus. Every time I picture him now I just want to break his fuckin arm and punch that smug disappointed look right off his face. What the hell did I ever do but what you wanted? Did you ever give half a shit about your family, or were we just window dressing for you so you could keep pretending to be human? When were you planning to tell me you were grooming me to be a vampire, huh? When it was too fuckin late because you’d already, what, made me drink your blood? Christ, I can’t even believe these are the questions I have to ask here.

…maybe I oughtta get Porter to teach me something about Death. The Moros study souls, right? If I could See them with Death, maybe I could figure out whether they’re still people or not. Maybe then I could give Cara the answers I don’t have.

Maybe then I’d know whether I’m supposed to try to save him, or kill him.



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