Something was wrong.
Demarco didn't know what, but she could feel it with every step she took back to the Den. Of course, lots of things were wrong right now, but this was... different. She couldn't shake the feeling that she needed to be somewhere.
To hell with it, she thought. Rory always told her to trust her feelings.
Breaking into a jog, she trotted past the Den and headed toward the entrance to the tunnels. The underground passages that ran under Moonwood Mill were the quickest way for her to get to the Collective's cabin. Without knowing how or why, she knew she needed to get back to Etta.
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"Hello, Claudette," Professor John Faust's deep voice was like ice and fire in Etta's blood.
The sight of him, standing there behind her like some black shadow she could never escape, filled her with conflicting emotions. Anger, hate... oh so much hate... fear, shame and, despite everything, the desperate, bone-deep longing for his approval. The sheer intensity of her feelings was nauseating.
"Well, I am pleased to see that two years living among these feral beasts hasn't done you any harm my dear, except perhaps to your fashion sense," Faust said.
"Seriously? I mean... seriously?!" Etta gasped, the absurdity of his words cutting through her visceral reaction to him. "After two and a half years... two and a half years! ... you risk coming to Moonwood Mill to insult my clothes?! What do you want, Father?"
"Is it so strange that I would seek out my dear daughter," Faust said with a serpent’s smile.
"The last time we spoke," Etta said bitterly, "you said I was a defiant fool, a disappointment. You said I was nothing."
Even now, knowing better what he was and what he had done, the memory hurt. All she had ever wanted was to make him proud. The memory of things she had done in an effort to earn his approval sickened her and still she yearned for it, ached for it.
"My dear, I was angry," Faust said gently. "You had, after all, just betrayed me."
"Yes, well, betrayal seems to be a particular talent of mine," Etta said, holding tightly to her anger as a shield against her pain. "One you nurtured and honed to a keen edge. Careless of you… cut by your own weapon."
"Yes," Faust hissed. “Quite careless."
"I came to offer you a chance to return," Faust smiled. "A chance to regain the powers those sanctimonious Sages took from you. I can give you that... and more. Come back to me, my dear."
She couldn't breathe for the shock of it. There he was, offering her everything... her powers restored, her place at his side. All she had to do was take it.
"Why?" she heard herself ask. "After all this time, why?"
"I need you, Claudette," Faust said gently, kindly. "Great things are coming, and I want my daughter at my side. You were a powerful witch, and you can be again. Together, we can continue the Great Work..."
"I've... I've dreamed about this," Claudette said. "Literally dreamed of this moment... of you, standing there and offering to take me back, offering to restore everything I lost. Every time... every time... I woke up before I heard myself answer you. I've wondered... for so long I've wondered what I would say to you. Now I know, without doubt or hesitation, what my answer is."
"Go to Hell, Father!" Etta shouted. "I want nothing from you. Your words are lies. Your gifts are poison. You used me, twisted me, made me a weapon... nothing but your weapon! I will not go back! I will not join you. So yeah... go to Hell, Professor Faust! I have it on good authority you know the way."
With a deep breath, she turned her back on him and marched away. It had happened. He'd come to her, just as she had always wanted. He offered her everything, and she'd rejected him. She felt free. She felt strong... and she absolutely wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her throw up. She'd do that when she got back to her cabin and could break down privately.
"You ungrateful little slut," Faust snarled. "Don't you turn your back to me!"
Pain seared through every part of her body.
She couldn't move. She couldn't even scream.
Desperately, she tried to cling to her anger, to her defiance, her freedom. Another wave of pain ripped through her. She wanted to scream, to cry, to crawl to Father and beg for his forgiveness. Anything to stop the pain.
"Hey!" Demarco shouted. "What the hell are you doing to her!?"
She didn't know what was happening, not really, but she had no doubt that this strange, dark man was responsible for what was happening to Etta.
"Leave her alone," she snarled, looming over the man.
"Ms. Demarco, I believe," Faust smiled even as he reflexively leaned away from the werewolf's fury. "I've been so eager to meet you."
"If you don't back off, asshole, you're going to get more of me than you can handle," Demarco growled.
"Run," Etta sobbed softly. "Lux, run... please... run!"
"Oh, I think not," Faust smiled. "You see, I know how to handle bitches like you. Heel, dog."
"No," Etta cried as Faust raised his wand and spoke a Word.
Sobbing, Etta turned and fled. Lux, I'm sorry, she thought. I didn't have enough time.
Demarco stood, dazed. Her mind felt empty, as she awaited her Master's command.
Finally, Faust thought, the last of the Wildfangs is mine.
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