She even prayed for her own death.
She turned her head a little to the right, glimpsed Angela’s lifeless, sliced-up body, and experienced another ripple of nausea, but this time it was a less violent dry heave. There was nothing left to throw up. Her eyes filled with tears again. She’d only meant to defend herself. What the hell had possessed her?
Bridget knelt next to her and placed a hand on her back.
Jordan’s breath caught in her throat.
Bridget stroked her, a soothing, sensual touch.
“That…feels nice,” Jordan said.
“Mmm.” Bridget’s hand moved up between her shoulder blades. “Let me guess. Something came over you. You didn’t feel like yourself. But it felt good.”
Jordan shuddered again. She sat up slowly and allowed the other woman to embrace her. “How…how did you know?”
Bridget smiled. “You felt the touch of the goddess. She was inside you.”
“But…how? You said-”
Bridget shushed her with a finger across her lips. “Never mind all that. I was wrong. Wrong about everything.” She smiled ruefully and shook her head. “This will sound nuts to you, but hear me out. I think there’s some things about yourself, about your origin, that you know nothing about. You’ve been lied to about your early life, I imagine.”
“But-”
“Relax.” Bridget touched her face, stroked her cheek. “Think about it. What’s your earliest memory? How much of your childhood do you really remember?”
Jordan scowled, shook her head in disbelief. “What the hell are you saying? I had a perfectly normal childhood.” But now she was thinking about it. A strange feeling came over her. Her scowl became a frown. It was odd, but she never thought much about her preadolescent years. She tried to cast her mind back to that time, but all that came to her were murky, dreamlike images. It was like a kind of mental block. “Well, this is…listen, just because I can’t remember anything…”
Bridget’s smile was full of sympathy. “It’s okay. You don’t need to be afraid. I can help you with this. Guide you. I can show you the truth.”
Jordan shrugged out of the embrace. “Why are you suddenly being so nice to me?”
Bridget’s smile didn’t waver. “There’s been one wild motherfucker of a paradigm shift, that’s all.” Her expression became more contemplative, but she seemed no less serene. “I hated you until a few moments ago. Not for any good reason. That’s just the kind of bitch I am. I’m as close to the goddess as any mortal can be. I think I have a special relationship with her. But the reality is that I’m just a mortal. I can’t know every facet of her grand design. I can only perceive or understand portions of it. You were a part I didn’t understand.” She hesitated, and a flicker of unease was apparent in her eyes. “Until now…I guess.”
Jordan’s expression was a study in confusion. “Oh, give me a fucking break, Bridget. I’ve had enough of this insanity. I’m not a part of anything to do with your fucking goddess.”
“But you are.” Bridget reached out to her, clasped hands with her. “Here’s what I do know. You are Lamia’s daughter. Sired by a human man. She told us you were out there. That one day you would return and become aware of your true nature, and that you would join us in the glory of the Harvest. You should embrace this gift, Jordan. Allow yourself to know the joy that is your birthright. You’re a half-breed, darling. Part divine, part human.”
Jordan snorted. “Bullshit.”
Bridget squeezed her hand. “It’s okay if you don’t believe. Trust me, this is hard for me, too. I guess I sort of hoped I might turn out to be the one.” Her expression turned strangely shy, very unlike the Bridget she knew. Her laughter was more than a bit nervous. “I fantasized about it, envisioned this great cosmic awakening. And it even would have made sense. Once upon a time Lamia masqueraded as my older sister, Moira. Alas, it was not to be.”
Jordan couldn’t stop shaking her head. “No, no, no. This is ridiculous. Deities don’t procreate with humans.”
Bridget brushed long strands of golden blonde hair from her face. “You’re proof to the contrary.”
“Look, even if Lamia had a daughter, how could you know I’m the one?” Jordan laughed without humor. “I was trying to stay alive, so you’ll have to offer more proof than…what I did to Angela.”
Bridget’s expression changed again, her sky blue eyes projecting total confidence now. “When you were attacking her, you…well, you…changed.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your face…it changed. Morphed.” Bridget’s tone was a mixture of fear and awe. “Your face became her face. You and the goddess are inextricably, uniquely linked. Like I said, she told us about you. Not about your human identity, but about your existence. And she said your true nature would be revealed to us one day, in this very way.” A shiver rippled through her. “And there’s more. So much more. Wondrous things, Jordan.”
Jordan’s heart was beating fast. “What are you talking about?”
Bridget shook her head. “Some things are not for me to reveal. You’ll know more when you meet your mother.” She smiled. “Your real mother.”
Jordan frowned. “Fuck this. I don’t believe any of it. It’s crazy. And if that goddess of yours is really my mother, and if she’s so fucking omnipotent, why did she let you and your bitch friend torment me so?”
Bridget’s eyes betrayed a deepening fear. She shivered. “I think I know. I…”
Jordan clamped a hand around Bridget’s jaw, forced the girl to look her in the eye. She saw terror in her expression. The real thing. Pure and vibrant. The kind even the best actress could never fake. And despite her doubts, Jordan became aware of a new strength thrumming within her. She moved her hand to Bridget’s throat, felt the life pulsing there, felt how easy it would be to snuff it.
“Tell me.” Her voice was hard. “Now.”
Bridget’s jaw quivered as she struggled to speak. “I…I suspect she wanted this to happen. She…must have wanted us to goad you to a breaking point, to where you’d feel compelled to defend yourself, to…kill.”
Jordan rose to her feet. No trace of her former weakness remained. She felt strong. Powerful. Invincible. Like some kind of fucking superwoman. It was amazing. And though it made her mind reel, she now knew Bridget was telling the truth. She felt it down to her DNA. Glaring down at her former adversary, she felt a resurgence of what she’d felt just before Angela’s death.
Bridget cowered at her feet. “Please…”
“WHY, Bridget?” Jordan was screaming now. “WHY WOULD SHE WANT THAT!?”
Bridget sobbed. “I don’t…know. Part of a process, a…transformation…maybe. I don’t really know. There’s nothing more I can tell you. Please believe me.”
“YOU’RE LYING!”
Bridget’s face was streaked with tears. “No…I swear…”
“I ought to kill you.”
Bridget bowed her head. “If…if that’s what you want.” Her body quaked with the force of her fear. “I submit to you as I would your mother.”
Jordan thought about it. She wouldn’t even need the knife. She could snap Bridget’s neck as easily as she’d snap a twig. Or punch through her chest wall and rip out her still-beating heart. The knowledge was exhilarating-and terrifying. She felt a strange and unnatural energy pulsing within her, something dormant come to full, screaming life, and she felt a strong urge to revel in it. Yet, a part of her was repulsed by it. This was the voice of her conscience, she supposed.