Page 150 of Eldritch
His eyes. Warm, blue eyes that never once looked at me any different than he looked at his own daughter stared curiously at the two of us. His brows pulled together, and it was then I remembered the silver in my eyes and turned away from him.
“It’s just a condition, Father. I’m fine.”
“My…apologies for…staring.”
Through a mist of tears, I took in the scribbles scratched into the walls of his cell. Verses from The Red Book, if memory served me. “Father?” My attention shifted back to him, and his eyes shone with the kind of hope he must’ve abandoned long ago.
His expression broke, the corners of his mouth pulling downward into a look of sadness and guilt. Lip quivering, he opened and closed his mouth, as if he fought for what to say. “My girls,” he rasped.
Father!
Something bloomed inside my chest at the sight of him. It felt as if another broken piece of my life had clicked back into place. The universe had given him back to us.
“Break the lock, Maeve.” The urgency in Aleysia’s voice mirrored my own, as I curled my hand into a fist, glancing at my father.
“He’s probably going to be upset, seeing this.”
“He will have to understand, if he wishes to get out of this damned cell.”
Nodding, I closed my eyes, visualized the bone whip, and felt a weight in my palm when the spine clacked against the floor.
Father’s eyes widened, and he kicked back on the bed until his spine pressed against the wall. “Wh-wh-what is this?”
“Try not interrupt her, Father. She’s not entirely proficient at this part.”
I sailed a glare back at my sister and, noticing the white mist expelling from her lips, handed off her dress to her. “Would you like to give it a try?”
Aleysia chuckled. “Of course not, silly. I was just trying to ease the shock, is all.” She waved me on. “Proceed.”
“Hey!” A voice shouted from behind. “When you get his open, perhaps you might consider this one next.”
Aleysia glanced over her shoulder, and her face soured when she turned back toward me and whispered, “Ignore him.”
“Who?” I asked, and as I turned to look, she cupped my cheek to stop me.
“Father. Focus on Father.”
“Hello?” the stranger asked from behind.
Despite my curiosity, I didn’t bother to turn, but drew back the whip.
First strike bent the lock’s face.
I threw forth my palm for a second strike that sliced a divot in the cell bar.
The third cracked the lock open, and Aleysia rushed forward, yanking it free, as I drew back the whip. As both of us rushed into the cell, the horrific stench of body odor and defecation nearly gagged me.
Father pushed to unsteady feet, his legs unmistakably weak and brittle. “Red God in Heaven, I never thought I’d see the two of you again!” He reached out for the two of us, but Aleysia pressed her palm to his chest.
“Perhaps after a bath.”
He lowered his arms, and gripped his tattered robe. “I must look positively disheveled.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” she muttered, and I shot her a look of disapproval. While Aleysia had never been entirely affectionate towards our father, there was no reason to be outright rude.
I reached for his cold and wrinkled hand, smiling as I gave it a squeeze, and he lifted it to kiss my knuckles, then lowered it with a tender pat.
Glancing around the room, I took in the small bucket next to the bed, the discarded rat hides, and that of a larger animal I couldn’t identify from its remains. I swallowed hard, trying to imagine how he must’ve survived all this time.
