Harridan
XIII: Princeton & Prom

"Nibble, nibble, like a mouse, who is nibbling at my house?”

And the children answered, “Never mind, it is the wind.”

And they went on eating, never disturbing themselves. Hansel, who found that the roof tasted very nice, took down a great piece of it, and Grethel pulled out a large round windowpane, and sat her down and began upon it.

Then the door opened, and an aged woman came out, leaning upon a crutch. Hansel and Grethel felt very frightened, and let fall what they had in their hands. The old woman, however, nodded her head, and said, “Ah, my dear children, how come you here? You must come indoors and stay with me, you will be no trouble.” So she took them each by the hand, and led them into her little house. And there they found a good meal laid out, of milk and pancakes, with sugar, apples, and nuts. After that she showed them two little white beds, and Hansel and Grethel laid themselves down on them, and thought they were in heaven.

The old woman, although her behaviour was so kind, was a wicked witch, who lay in wait for children, and had built the little house on purpose to entice them. When they were once inside she used to kill them, cook them, and eat them, and then it was a feast day with her. The witch’s eyes were red, and she could not see very far, but she had a keen scent, like the beasts, and knew very well when human creatures were near. When she knew that Hansel and Grethel were coming, she gave a spiteful laugh, and said triumphantly, “I have them, and they shall not escape me!”

Early in the morning, before the children were awake, she got up to look at them, and as they lay sleeping so peacefully with round rosy cheeks, she said to herself, “What a fine feast I shall have!” Then she grasped Hansel with her withered hand, and led him into a little stable, and shut him up behind a grating; and call and scream as he might, it was no good. Then she went back to Grethel and shook her, crying, “Get up, lazy bones; fetch water, and cook something nice for your brother; he is outside in the stable, and must be fattened up. And when he is fat enough I will eat him.” Grethel began to weep bitterly, but it was of no use, she had to do what the wicked witch bade her. And so the best kind of victuals was cooked for poor Hansel, while Grethel got nothing but crab-shells.

Each morning the old woman visited the little stable, and cried, “Hansel, stretch out your finger, that I may tell if you will soon be fat enough.” Hansel, however, used to hold out a little bone, and the old woman, who had weak eyes, could not see what it was, and supposing it to be Hansel’s finger, wondered very much that it was not getting fatter.

When four weeks had passed and Hansel seemed to remain so thin, she lost patience and could wait no longer. “Now then, Grethel,” cried she to the little girl; “be quick and draw water; be Hansel fat or be he lean, tomorrow I must kill and cook him.” Oh what a grief for the poor little sister to have to fetch water, and how the tears flowed down over her cheeks! “Dear God, pray help us!” cried she; “if we had been devoured by wild beasts in the wood at least we should have died together.”

“Spare me your lamentations,” said the old woman; “they are of no avail.” Early next morning Grethel had to get up, make the fire, and fill the kettle. “First we will do the baking,” said the old woman; “I nave heated the oven already, and kneaded the dough.” She pushed poor Grethel towards the oven, out of which the flames were already shining.

“Creep in,” said the witch, “and see if it is properly hot, so that the bread may be baked.” And Grethel once in, she meant to shut the door upon her and let her be baked, and then she would have eaten her. But Grethel perceived her intention, and said, “I don’t know how to do it: how shall I get in?”

“Stupid goose,” said the old woman, “the opening is big enough, do you see? I could get in myself!” and she stooped down and put her head in the oven’s mouth. Then Grethel gave her a push, so that she went in farther, and she shut the iron door upon her, and put up the bar. Oh how frightfully she howled! but Grethel ran away, and left the wicked witch to burn miserably.

Kieran rubbed her eyes and shut the tattered, old book that was probably as old as its original authors. The tome - the Complete, Unrevised Collections of Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm - had a layer of dust that matched the heavy dustiness of the rest of James' library. A library with the feel of a slightly messy, neglected attic that no one has been in for years. Despite the sneeze-inducing dust factor, the faded rug over the black wooden floors, the hefty collection of cobwebs and the creaking rafters; the attic was nice to be in.

The four sloped walls were all lined with pinewood shelves and whatever colour the walls themselves were, was impossible to tell. Kieran pushed the book away from her, making bump into her discarded notes. Among the collection of books surrounding her, all of them were tried-and-true accounts of various types of waywards. Donnie sighed - next to her - and put down his notes to face her. The dark curls fell forward when Kieran looked down to her lap.

"You know," he began, "the point of studying yourself is to utilise what you learn."

"It also requires capabilities, Luke Kornet." Kieran turned away then laced her fingers on her lap. "I'm sorry."

"Do you want to talk about it?" A halfhearted shrug was all Kieran gave and didn't look up from her black sweatpants and shook her head. "Okay, well I-I was hoping to ask you something." Kieran sighed then whipped her wild hair to face him. "I picked these up from the school store yesterday," he went on and dug out tickets with mayflowers and the country club printed on them. "D'you want to g-go to prom with m-me?"

"To accomplish what?" Donnie gave a mere shrug. He was about to go on, but Kieran wouldn't let him and lamented on, "you have friends, you have notoriety, you have girls lining up to throw pussy at you. Ask one of those courtesans."

Donnie shook his head at her, seeing her pout form. "I don't have anyone else," he admitted. "Nobody would really understand, right now. We can be like Grim and Malaria from the Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy." Kieran arched an eyebrow at him. "Please?"

Kieran bit her lower lip then shrugged distantly. "No corsages; no pre-prom dinner; no prom king dance; and you're on your own for the after party."

"Deal," Donnie cheered without missing a beat. The smile he gave spread to Kieran too, albeit a smaller rendition. "So... pictures?"

"One."

"Three."

"One."

"Two; one here and one at the country club."

"Fine."

"Flowers. A small bouquet of red roses."

"We're not getting married."

"Peach roses."

"No roses."

"Dahlias?"

"Peonies. White. No more than three."

"Twelve."

"Flowers are expensive."

"It's one night in our lives, Rie."

She sat straighter then rolled her eyes. "Six, final offer."

"I can work with that."

"Dare I ask about the limo?"

"My mother called in a favour with an upstate friend who works for Aston Martin."

"A yellow Vanquish?"

"They didn't have a yellow one, so we went with white."

Kieran shook her head in disbelief. "I'm going to prom with my sister's boyfriend. I can't decide if that's sad or concerning."

"I love the way you call her your sister," he stated. Kieran shrugged with a small leer. "You realise that three weeks ago, we would just say 'hi' very awkwardly in the hallway?" Kieran's smile turned genuine as she regarded him. "What?"

"Even in death, Blaine's plans are still being carried out. She wanted this," the harridan added. "For us to be at point where we wouldn't say 'hi' and actually have a conversation."

Donnie grinned at that but his nod and the shadow over his eyes were sullen. The hazel eyes were a perfect blend of half green and half brown. Against the brown hair and the faint stubble that contoured his jawline, Donnie's eyes came across more brown than anything else. The cologne he wore filled the entire attic, although didn't do much in drowning out the dust. That towering height allowed his eyes to catch the rays that came through the single window.

The thumping underneath them didn't bother either one of them. Donnie did look over when the door barged open and Kieran exhaled her pre-encounter defeat. "Look what I got you," Magnolia sang, holding up a black hoodie with Princeton splattered across. "It arrived this morning and it’s just so nostalgic! You know I was a cheerleader, back then. I bet you $100 I still fit into my old uniform." Kieran only leaned her face into hand. "Oh, I hope you're in my dorm, that would make us..."

"I withdrew my application," Kieran stated casually and tugged the book back towards her. She turned to Donnie's awed expression. "We were doing the Grimm brothers, right?"

"E-excuse me," Magnolia roared. "It sounded like you just said you withdrew your application, to Princeton University. Which I worked my butt off to get you into after Doreen taught you that there's nothing wrong with doing nothing all day and..."

"Did I stutter? Now do you mind; we're looking for something." Kieran turned the page in her tome.

The attic was quiet; a contrast to the mini party James, Janice, Magnolia and Macy were having down below. Donnie swallowed hard, seeing the veins protruding in Magnolia's forehead. "What were you thinking!"

"I was thinking, 'I never want to be anything like you. You have a PhD in bioengineering and you're one of three journalists in a shitty, little town. That colleges... not just Princeton... aren't worth it for what I want to do with my life'. It's not what I ever envisioned myself doing, and it's not something gran wanted for me."

"Do you have any idea the hoops I had to jump through for you," Magnolia roared.

"After how many times I said I didn't want to go."

"And I said you're going!" Kieran balled a fist and Donnie jumped to her side, gripping her wrist. "You don't understand, do you? No mother really loves their daughter," she declared and that took both Kieran and Donnie by surprise. "A younger, more perfect version of yourself; one with the chance to live a better life without your mistakes. Only a crazy woman wouldn't feel some time of way about it and yet here we are. I didn't get the abortion your father paid for, I didn't give you to some infertile, delusional couple, and I didn't put my problems on you!"

"That part's debatable."

"And, now, you're throwing away everything I worked hard to give you."

"If you bothered to listen to me..."

"You are the worst mistake I ever made, Kieran Arclight!"

Donnie's hazel eyes were shocked wide while Kieran was rigid with the unexpected. He looked from Magnolia's daring demeanor to Kieran going very relaxed very quickly. The blackness ran from her veins and into her eyes. The attic began an unnerving rattle that spread through the house from shadows and darkness blotches rippling around them. Magnolia whipped her neck seeing the change in Kieran's appearance.

Donnie stepped between mother and daughter, holding an arm out to bar off Magnolia. The tears, black like the capabilities, sailed down Kieran’s cheeks as the shadows swirled more aggressively. They slammed the doors off their hinges, revealing Janice standing there. Shadows radiating off Kieran in all directions. Her chin tilted upwards as her hands spread. The attic tinted darker.

The sheer fright on Magnolia’s face meant nothing to her as the shadows crept towards her and Janice, beyond the huge rug. Kieran modelled towards them with the shadows lingering after her. Janice shielded Magnolia behind her and watched Donnie shift to face off with the harridan. A hand covered in darkness pointed to the lights. The shadows struck the lights!

Janice grabbed Magnolia then fled towards the doors, where Macy was coming in. Darkness seeped over the locks, halting their escape, trapping Macy inside with them. The mothers turned back to Kieran - protected against them by her powers - and the shadows around her spread rapidly. Magnolia screamed and banged on the doors. Macy grabbed a crate and slammed it into the doors.

Janice turned back to Kieran. “Donnie, hold her back or both of you are grounded!” Donnie had his trusty serrated knife drawn - weak in his defensive stance - but weak in his willingness to hurt Kieran. The iron blade slashed clean through the obsidian-like projectile she shot at him. Tentacles latched over his arms and ankles. She flung him into the shelf by only flicking her wrist.

The dark shrivelled away to the harridan, releasing the full force of her capabilities. She tilted her head at the dark going for them and Magnolia banged more forcefully on the door. Beyond it, James was also forcing his way in. Janice turned and threw the crate at Kieran. Shadows smote the crate aside. It crashed into splinters without Kieran flinching. Her chin arched even more up and she stepped towards them, parting darkness and dowsing the light around her path.

Macy gave a short unsteady huff before rushing up to Kieran. "Macy, don't," Donnie bellowed. Macy grabbed Kieran's hand. The unfeeling eyes turned her. Macy gasped. The fully black eyes went kaleidoscopic in the irises, mirroring Macy's. The array of colours shifted between spirals and mandalas. There was also brisk dilation and contraction in their pupils. Magnolia ripped the door open and burrowed into James' hold.

Janice, meanwhile, followed the shadows towards Kieran and Macy. Macy was breathing heavily, shakily and not looking away from Kieran's blank expression. Both their eyes were shifting between hues and shapes and in perfect sync. While tucking his knife back into his baseball jacket's inner pocket, Donnie trudged up to the two. He had his arms out - surrounding Kieran, but not touching her - standing at the ready. Macy's eyes looked to him, and he turned away wicked fast. Macy let out a saddened sigh before her eyes went back to her light brown.

Kieran moaned then caved into Donnie's waiting arms. Janice folded her arms at her children. "You taught to use it!" Kieran blinked off the sensation and shook her head as Donnie set her on the wooden floor. "Donovan, what were you thinking?"

"It scares her," he argued. "I had to do something."

Macy glanced to Kieran and hugged herself with tears pooling in her eyes. Kieran looked back at her and recognised that expression. "I know the feeling," the harridan replied then shifted closer to the ten-year-old and her bewilderment. "You feel alone, misunderstood." Macy nodded with a growing pout. "You're a storm, Macy. You can't put a storm in a glass jar. That's what my gran used to tell me." Macy sniffled but hugged Kieran tightly.

"You could have put her in a coma," Janice roared to her son. "Or worse!"

"Macy could have put someone in a coma! She was so scared of herself, she-- why do you think she wouldn't go out to parties, sleepovers, ma? I had to."

Janice knelt to face Macy and Kieran's hug. Macy's teary eyes looked away from her mother. Janice cupped the back of her daughter's head. "Are you okay?" Macy gave a timid nod. Janice tugged Macy into a firm hug. "Are you okay, Kieran?"

"My brain is fuzzy."

"That will subside," Donnie stated. "If you get a headache, don't fall asleep."

"What the hell is she!" The four of them looked to Magnolia using a folded chair as a shield. "She-she..."

"Maggie," James called. "Maggie! I'll explain everything." Magnolia frantically looked between James and Kieran. "She's okay, she's fine," he went on softly. "It's normal."

"'Normal'? There's nothing normal about that abomination!"

James dragged Magnolia out, his words were indistinguishable to Kieran but reassuring to Magnolia. Macy shifted to hug Kieran, who was watching Magnolia's appalled mug leave the attic. Janice aided Donnie to his feet, scowling in the direction of Magnolia's pedantic yelling. The medical examiner shook her head then looked back to the children.

Kieran had an arm over Macy's shoulder and the little girl was hugging her tightly with her tears leaving blotches on the black hoodie. The brown-haired girl nestled into the harridan tighter, not brave enough to face her mother. Kieran didn't hold back from hugging her. The wave of emotions Macy felt was nothing short of what Kieran went through in middle school; when the loneliness was new.

Just as quickly as the brush with capabilities ended, Janice left them to their vices. Macy slouched on the couch, picking out a book from the lower shelf. Kieran's lips parted and she turned towards Donnie. "Are you okay," he whispered. She nodded, but pointed to Macy. "James usually keeps the more detailed stuff away from his staff," Donnie deflected. "Not that they're allowed up here."

Kieran looked back at Macy, reading Parapsychology: Telepathy, Telekinesis, Precognition and Other Psychic Phenomena, written by S. Lavigne. James' collection of books were strewn in layers upon layers of dust and neglect. Donnie held out a leather-bound book to Kieran. Initiation into Hermetics and the Wayward and Faustus Sulla were printed in silver. Kieran looked over her shoulder again, at Macy wiping away her tears.

"This one should have a more in-depth look at harridans and what they're capable of," Donnie went on. Kieran arched an eyebrow at him. The basketball captain rubbed the corners of his mouth before whispering, "she doesn't like talking about it."

The harridan shot the pre-teen another crestfallen glance then exhaled weakly. "When I left special-ed and started third grade, I was afraid of everyone around me. That someone, anyone of them would see it. That they would burn me at the stake, like in the stories my gran told me. That's why I never spoke in class, why I was always crying. But I still had to deal with being the only one like this in town."

"I just wish she'd talk to me."

"Of course, she doesn't want to talk about it. How do you explain dancing to a kid in a wheelchair?" Donnie looked down to the book Kieran held. "Teaching her to control it is one thing; my grandmother taught me control. She couldn't understand why I would go running in the trees at night, not even when I explained I could see in the dark. She couldn't understand why I went moon bathing. I could feel the moonlight on the edges of the darkness and the sensation was..." Kieran hummed her delight. After that came a sigh from her. "The point is, just because you know what she is, doesn’t mean you’ll understand it. Nobody knows that better than the person you were teaching because of the first question you ask yourself when they try to help."

Donnie's shoulders slumped as he said: "how could they help when they don't have what I have?"

"Ding, ding, ding, Pat Connaughton." Donnie regarded Kieran smally as she started paging through the book. His curiosity got the better of him when he reached for her enticing loose curls. A whip of black gripped over his wrist and dark eyes looked up from the book. "If you value your life..."

He nodded and the shadows dissolved off his arm. "You know," he began, "Magnolia has straight, blonde hair and blue eyes while yours..." Kieran arched a warning eyebrow at him. "I'm just saying that it's possible that your capabilities manifest in your appearance. Like that," he stated, pointing to her nails. "What did your grandmother look like?"

Kieran examined her pointed, black nails as she replied, "wavy hair. It was mostly grey with streaks of black but when you saw it, it looked like burnt charcoal. Her eyes..." Kieran sighed then stopped paging through the book. "Blue. Really, really dark blue. Like, you wouldn't know her eyes are blue unless she looked into a light."

"That could mean you come from a long line of harridans. Possibly. There's no affirming way to confirm it, but the proof is in front of us."

Kieran resumed paging through the yellowed book with nothing more than a flicked eyebrow. She paused on the page headlined Harridan, with sketches on the next page. First was a drawing of an open mouth and an arrow that pointed to pronounced canines and incisors. There was also a sketched hand with pointed fingernails that read, elongated claws, strong enough to cut through bones. The sketched drawing of a woman with long hair that trailed over the floor. The sketched harridan was sitting on a rock with her shift barely covering her chest. Underneath it read:

The harridan was once considered to be one of the most mysterious and fearsome species of land-dwelling wayward. Known for their strong bite, capable of crushing bones, as well as their taste for human flesh. Until 1812, when the Brothers Grimm released their cautionary bestiary Grimm's Fairy Tales, no one even knew what a harridan looked like because they preferred to attack at night. With inherently evil capabilities that allowed them the advantage at night, making them mostly invisible, harridans were famed hunters.

The harridan is a uterine bloodline of German origin, as proven in the Grimm's bestiary chapter titled, Hänsel und Gretel. In the cautionary tale, the typical traits of the harridan are displayed: a solitary home although close to a thriving food source, be it a town or village; tactical hunting techniques, as proven by the house made of sweets, used to lure children and lost travellers; weak or scarce use of their capabilities, as the harridan often has nature-based abilities that serve little use during the hunt; as well as the common wayward weakness, fire. Like all capability-wielding waywards, the harridan has an aversion to iron.

In terms of personality and behavior, a harridan is a mix of a horse, panther, and a bird of prey. Harridans were designed to be cleaner, sleeker, and stealthier than other wood- and forest-dwellers. Although solitary by nature, they are highly intelligent, loyal and fiercely protective of those they care about. A harridan's wrath knows no limits and will result in sheer vengeance against anyone who wrongs them, their coven, or those under their protection.

In these situations, a harridan will resort to using the full extent of her capabilities. In extreme cases, she will enter stasis and the instinct to kill will not be appeased otherwise. Though they keep themselves closely guarded when they warm up to others, these women are also curious creatures that attempt to understand new things they observe.

Caution is needed, though. Any man, woman or child could easily become a meal if a harridan is offended, provoked or simply hungry. As one of the more animalistic wayward breeds, harridans are naturally territorial. Trespassing animals may be spared, however, humans both ordinary and wayward alike are likely to suffer the consequences, in spite of their horse-like temperament.

Kieran tilted her head at what she read and couldn't help but think of all the times Doreen acted like a true harridan. The name... harridan... was still a matter of getting used to. A strict, bossy, or belligerent old woman; nothing at all like the wayward. "Who gave us that name," she murmured. "Harridan. Sounds like something the Queen would call Lady Whistledown."

"I'm not that smart," Donnie admitted. "But did it help?"

"'In extreme cases, she will enter stasis and the instinct to kill will not be appeased otherwise'. The operative phrase here is 'in extreme cases'."

"My mom did say you're a bunch of rare phenomena rolled into a wayward that we don't really know much about," Donnie pointed out. "I mean, I only met one other harridan and she was terrifying, Rie. She never spoke to anyone, except her prey. She would chop off bowlfuls of them at a time. Then she would use her capabilities to stop the bleeding, keeping them alive for as long as possible. Traditionally, harridans are terrifying. You are..."

Donnie tossed a hand in defeat. "A fowl-mouthed, nyctophile, cannibal?" Kieran handed back the book.

"I was going to say, 'uncharted territory'."

Donnie tucked the book back onto the shelf. Kieran sighed then leaned into the shelf. The attic door creaked open and Donnie's hazel eyes shot to a ghostly white Magnolia clinking to James' side like wet hair. Macy shrank deeper into the couch, peeping over the illustrated dictionary. Kieran looked to the floor, facing Donnie's scuffed Nike sneakers with her growing pout. She brushed her curls down uncomfortably and swallowed hard.

"Kieran," James called warily. The harridan squared her shoulders then rolled to face them. James stood a pace behind his girlfriend, watching her rigid form that wouldn't dare look up. "Maceira, Donovan, your mother's dishing ice cream." Donnie brushed passed Kieran. Macy remained buried in her book, waddling her rue across the attic. James rested an arm over her. "We'll be downstairs."

"Don't leave me alone with it," Magnolia pleaded through gritted teeth.

Donnie did a double take. James gave a light shove on Macy's shoulder, pushing her towards Donnie. He watched them leave then face the Arclight women. "Maggie, she's still Kieran. She's still the same person." James offered Kieran his hand. She looked to Magnolia coldly. "Ladies, please." Magnolia looked over her daughter and lightly shook her head. "This doesn't change anything. It's genetic, it's in both your veins; it's just a matter of..." sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ Find_Nøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

"Was my mother like this," Magnolia cut in. "Is that why you two...?" Kieran gave a single, strained nod. "And my father?"

"Gran just called him a 'sperm bank'."

"Harridan is a uterine bloodline; it's passed down from female relatives to female relatives," James explained. "Maggie, you are a carrier. You aren't a harridan, you just passed it on."

"That abortion was starting to look better, wasn't it?"

"Maggie, she's your daughter."

"Don't say it like it's supposed to meaning anything," Kieran countered.

James shut his eyes and took a deep breath. "Kieran..."

"Ice cream," she cut in and wandered out of the attic.

The young woman skulked down the pull-out stairs that led into the corridor, up the way from her bedroom. Behind her was James and Magnolia's bedroom. Kieran continued across the better length of the mansion. Stuck on the wall of her closed bedroom door was another famous note. Kieran huffed then took down Anna's letter, recognising her handwriting immediately. The lingering walk to the stairs was line with wispy black tendrils, following Kieran down the wooden steps and towards the kitchen.

Macy was drowning her ice cream in thick hot fudge sauce that she poured from pot. Kieran sighed holding up the letter, making Janice stand straighter and Donnie's expression flattened a little more. Janice sighed then slid over an empty bowl. Donnie also shared the tin freezer canister of homemade ice cream towards her, along with ice cream scoop. The vanilla ice cream had toasted almonds and chocolate bits in it. Kieran also added wafer fans, fudge sauce, chocolate sauce and extra almonds.

Janice slid the letter towards her to read: "'My sweet doll, congratulations on finishing finals. I can only imagine the agony of writing with this weight on your shoulders. I am proud of you for soldering on. I am proud of the woman you are. There's a whole world waiting for us to face. Together. Love Mommy'. She's starting to see you as a possession now. She could strike at any moment."

"'Strike' as in...?"

"Kidnapping, torturing, smothering, it varies from beldam to beldam."

Donnie slid the note towards him and skimmed over Anna's sloped handwriting. "I can't believe it's Anna," he stated. "Alixandre and I used to shoot hoops when we first moved here but, at the same time..." he looked to Kieran weakly. "She wasn't really the same after he died." Kieran stabbed her spoon into a frigid scoop. "Rie, beldams are possessive creatures; if she doesn't know that you dropped out of college, graduation might be the only chance she has at sequestrating you away."

"That's why proctors will be sanctioned around the school, along with sonic emitters. Unfortunately, Kieran, if one goes off, you will feel it," Janice explained. "So, at least, enjoy prom."

"Until graduation," Donnie affirmed squarely.

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