Marzanna

[Cinnamon Cherrywhip]

Marzanna started life off as anyone does, being born and held by her mother, looked after by doctors and then released from hospital. After that however, things took a turn and became anything but normal. Her family was poor and she was the fifth daughter to be born to her parents. They were not rich by any means, in fact poor was a bit of a stretch for the small farming family who lived on a scrap of land that had bad soil and barely produced enough food for them to live on. They lived in a very traditional area of Poland, where the old customs were followed and believed, and the one that worried her parents the most was the dowry they would have to supply for each of their daughters when the time came to make them a match. Of course, they wanted what was best for their daughters, they wanted more than they had to give, which meant that a good match needed to be made. However, without a dowry, there was no chance that could happen. That was something to worry about in the future though, and when they brought their new baby home they couldn't have been happier and she was celebrated and loved just as the first had been.

For 6 months they continued their life normally, enjoying being a family and being happy despite the absolute poverty they lived in. They had each other and they had their health, and that was all they needed. Until one day, the older girls ran in saying there were people coming, people they didn't recognise. This in itself was strange, because as a community they all played together, celebrated together and went to church together. There was no-one the girls didn't recognise in the community, so of course strangers were a big and scary deal.

Her parents regarded the strangers with suspicion, but did the right and polite thing by welcoming them into their home and providing them with water, after having been told they had a proposition for them. They sat and listened as the strangers explained that they were from a religious sect whose leader had died the same day that their daughter had been born. They believed that her spirit had been transferred into that of a baby that was being born and so were going around testing the children born at the right time and on the right day to see if she had managed to return to them. So of course, they were here to test their child. Her parents weren't sure what to think, but they knew their child was nothing special and wasn't what they were looking for, so agreed for her to be tested. Besides, the people there were well fed, muscular and imposing. Had they really wanted to, they could have done it by force and there was nothing that could have been done to stop them. So they had agreed - and lived to regret that decision for the rest of their days.

The parents were escorted out of the room while she was tested, so didn't see what was done. But they stripped her down and examined her entire body, finding it flawless without a mole or a freckle anywhere. They then brought out a set of long, thin needles and inserted them into the body of the baby. When she didn't cry and only looked at them with a baby frown, they looked back and a whisper ran through them...

"Marzanna"

Gathering the baby in one of their arms, they all left the room. The woman with the child walked out of the entire building, down the path and into the car while the others held the parents back. One of them explained that the baby had been tested and found to be exactly what they were looking for, and so she now belonged to them. They offered her parents a large wad of cash, in payment for the child and for never looking for her again. At first, they refused and tried to demand that their child was returned - but that was not going to happen. It was explained to them that the cash was the only optional part of this whole situation, that they could take it or leave it, but the child would be leaving regardless.

Reluctantly they took the cash, unable to deny the amount of good it could do the rest of them in enabling them to ensure the future of their other children. However they made it very clear that they were not happy with what was happening. The entire family stood at the gate of their property and watched as the car drove away over the dirt track that sufficed as a road - taking their child away never to be seen again. Tears ran, eyes stared, but no sound was made - and after a while, all memory of the child that was taken was wiped from their minds with disbelief and pain, persuading them it had been nothing more than a dream and that their next child was the fifth they'd ever had. Not their sixth.

[Cinnamon Cherrywhip]

They drove for hours that turned into days, taking the child from her farming home out into the mountains of Poland. They wound down roads and tracks and even off roaded a couple of times to hide their tracks in case any should follow or try to find them. Finally, they emerged from the trees to see a large commune within a compound that was hidden out here in the middle of nowhere with the mountains and lake as their nearest neighbours. They got out of the car once they had pulled up, and held the child up for everyone to see, proclaiming her as Marzanna and holding her there while the crowd chanted her name. They walked through the crowd as it parted without fuss to let them through, still holding the little girl aloft, until they reached their destination. It was a large building that was ornate and intricately decorated, but in various shades of black. Where all the other houses were white with read or blue awnings. This one was pure black. And it was in here that she was taken, blocking the crowd outside as the doors closed behind them.

Marzanna, because that's the only name she ever knew, grew up within those walls. She studied everything a normal child would in school from the best teacher the commune had to offer. However, once the normal classes were done, she had to then follow one of her 'keepers' into the very depths of the building, down in the basement. There, she learnt about the rituals she was expected to take part in, about the history of their commune and about the beliefs and needs of her people. She learnt the yearly cycle of rituals, when they needed carried out, how they needed to be carried out. She practised day and night until she had them memorised perfectly - and then she was trotted out before everyone to perform what she'd just learnt.

Most of them were nothing special, just your blessings of crops, offerings to the gods, blessings of marriage and other such things. However, then there were the slightly more sinister ones such as when a baby was born, spilling it's blood to keep it safe. But watching to see if the cut would heal on its own, or if the baby would die. Depending on the day it was born and the time of year, the cuts were made at different depths and on different places on the body. When the baby was cut, she too had to cut herself in the same manner - to show her strength and power, and to show it could be survived. Or there were the gods who would only be satisfied with a show of love and devotion to them. She would pick out two people, a man and a woman, they would be stripped of their clothes and forced into intimacy by her word alone,a nd should a baby be born from this act - it was tested and sometimes offered as a sacrifice to the god who had made it, or put into the service of said god. So many things she saw and experienced from a young age, that nothing shocked her.

Older and older she grew until she became a young woman and bled for the first time as all women do. That, that was when things began to change. The clothes she'd been wearing to then - what amounted to a couple of black sacks - were removed and were replaced with more revealing and close fitting items. She was finally allowed to leave the temple, under guard, to be taught how to hunt in the woods and around and in the lake that surrounded their home. She was taught to fight and use a blade, being told that guns were used by those lacking in skill and too afraid to come face to face with that they were trying to kill. Sympathy, empathy and pity were not things she was taught, and any sign of them was soon beaten and bled from her until there was no sign of it left and she was as hard and cold as could be.

From the moment she'd been given that little extra freedom, there had been people accompanying her. They were usually the same people, but now and again they would be different. However, there was always one constant. Zevach. He was a boy of about the same age as she was, and where she'd seen the others who were with them before, she'd never seen him before. They were allowed to chat and have fun together while they were learning, and then were always separated once more when they returned to the temple. She grew to look forward to her outdoor excursions more and more as time progressed, simply so that she could see him. Zevach had become her friend, and she knew that she felt more for him than simply friendship, and he felt it too. Their bare feet running through the woods always found each other, hands and fingers intertwined with one another in those brief moments when their watchers couldn't keep up with them. There were even stolen kisses here and there when they thought they were unseen.

They worked out that they were kept in the same temple, quite close to one another, and so had tried a few times to escape their protectors to see one another in privacy. However, they were always caught and returned to their rooms before they ever made it to the other one. But, like most young people, this did nothing to dampen their feelings or stop them from trying. It only spurred them on and made them more determined.

Marzanna was learning about a new ritual that was coming, one that wasn't a yearly one but a special, one off. She was told that once more, two people would be chosen and would be expected to be intimate with one another. However, at the height of the love making, she was to kill the man - to take a dagger and plunge it into his heart. She was learning the words to say and the way in which the knife was to be held, as well as exactly where he was to be stabbed. None of it phased her, because she had been killing animals for a while now, their still warm blood being smeared upon her to mark her kill and make her tough and strong. She'd even been given a pet that she'd loved and cared for, before being made to kill in front of others. This was just another animal that had to be killed, and it didn't upset her at all. However, she should have remembered what they had done with her pet, and guessed at what was to come....

The night of the ritual came and the moon was riding high and full in the sky. She walked out of the door and into the ritual room, who's roof had been pulled back so that all there were bathed in the light of the moon from above. Everyone was there from the commune she thought as her eyes scanned the faces of the crowd, all of whom were looking at her eagerly. She stared back at them all with her cold and hard stare, no flicker of recognition, kindness or happiness showed on her face as if it were made of stone and nothing but a mask. She walked forwards to the large stone table in the centre of the room and looked around, expecting to be told to choose the two to take part tonight, as had been done with other rituals involving two people. No such command was given, not that night.

The crowd parted silently, and a naked man was led down the aisle that had been formed. His head was bowed and Marzanna cast a glance in his direction and quickly dismissed him, waiting for the female to be brought out. There was barely a thought about the difference tonight to normal, because this was a different ritual, one she'd not done before. However, no female was brought forwards and no command was made to have her pick one. Instead, a couple of the priests stepped forward with a large blade each, one to stand behind her and one to stand in front of her. She looked up at the one before her, directly into his eyes as her clothes were slashed and ripped from her body. She didn't flinch, she didn't move, her eyes simply narrowed as the penny dropped and she realised exactly what was expected of her.

The man had been lain out on the table and given a draught of something that would 'get the party started', and once it was, she was lifted to the table and watched in silence. Her eyes found his, and both sets widened in realisation, because it was none other than Zevach lying here under her. It was Zevach she was going to have to kill. Most people would have balked at the idea. Most people would have refused. But with her upbringing and the ideals that had been drilled into her head, she knew that this was what was expected and this was what she had to do. She did her duty, the knife was brought to her in the middle of their copulation and she took it without hesitation. Her lips moved as she spoke the words she'd memorised, while her ears blocked out his words of pleading, his cries of fear and her thighs and knees held him fast so he couldn't escape. She lifted the knife above her head, and as she spoke the last word, brought it down and drove it deep into his chest.

Zevach immediately went quiet, a last breath escaping his body as she lay atop him and their blood mixed and drained onto the table, along the rivulets and down into a glass vial. He was dead, and it felt like she too had been stabbed through the chest, something within her shrivelling and dying with this one act. The blood stopped rushing through her ears, and little by little her senses returned to her as she stared impassively at the face of her lover beneath her. She could hear her name being chanted all around, she could hear the cheers and the whoops from them all, and then she felt the hands lifting her from him and carrying her away.

Now, she was to be taught about her true nature. She had passed all of the tests set to her through her life. Marzanna, goddess of death, had returned to her people - and now it was time for her people to rise!

[Cinnamon Cherrywhip]

And so her life continued in this way for a number of years. She was trained harder, faster and toughened up with real physical bodily harm. There was no point in training with fake weapons, with no fear of death and harm - no-one learnt then and the senses weren't alive. When she was trained, one would always end up bleeding and unable to move, or sometimes dead - and it was never her. She was now allowed out on her own, to walk amongst the people, however people kept their distance and bent their heads in respect and fear as she passed by. She was treated like a queen amongst these people, and she was able to dole out punishments of death and life to those who came to her looking for judgement. She also gave life, by helping the gods mate with the humans, to see that their babies were born into the world and that only the strong survived. She was strong, she had proved herself the strongest of them all, for she was Lady Death herself. She was Marzanna.

She knew no different, she didn't know there were other ways of living out there. She knew there were other people, because others would come to her from outside. Travellers from other communes would come to pay their respects and a couple of times another claiming to be Marzanna would come and challenge her. They would fight and it would be glorious to watch - and she always came out on top for she were the one true goddess. Other 'gods amongst humans' would come to her as well from other communes around the country or beyond. These would proclaim to be worthy of her hand, that the children she would bear them would be true gods, with the human part whittled out. These too were tested in various ways - their children with others put to the trials, their bodies and minds tested - and all were found lacking. Once more, these fakes were killed, because you did not come to the Goddess of death, lie and then escape with your life. You were killed, and she bathed in your blood for you were nothing to her.

The years passed and she grew older until she was in her mid 20's and still thought she were invincible. She'd overheard some people talking about unbelievers they'd seen hiking through the mountains and she'd sensed the fear in them as they'd whispered their concerns of being discovered. This was the first time she'd heard or even considered there might be people who didn't believe as she did and it made her mind run over the possibilities. The heathens could be made to believe, she could reach out to them and convert them - or kill them all! Afterall, it was who she was, what she was. She was to be listened to and obeyed, her word was law and all should quake at her feet. So she knew what it was she needed to do.

She flounced back into the temple, ignoring the people who bowed and prostrated themselves at her feet, and once in her room, summoned her maidens. She issued instructions to them to pack her things and then sat and waited. She knew that her commands would get back to the high priest, they always did somehow, and she knew he would have something to say on the matter. It didn't take long at all before he was there, bowing before her and then rising as she waved her hand to allow him to speak. He tried to persuade her to stay put, tried to explain to her that the world beyond the compound was not what she expected it to be. But of course, they had brought her up well, to be the perfect goddess who didn't listen to any and who's word was law. So with one look and move of her hand, he shut up, though the pain was evident in his eyes, and bowed to her before leaving once more. Her mind seemed to be made up and there was no changing it. She was off to save the world from itself, and she had no idea what it was she'd be facing out there.

And so it came to be that Marzanna left the world she knew, and entered the modern one - without a clue what she was getting herself into, and just a giant plan of action to 'save' everyone and bring them round to her way of thinking, or kill them in the process. It would be their choice, for they were nothing but heathens.

[Cinnamon Cherrywhip]

Marzanna was completely lost and alone, the first time that she'd ever been alone in her life in fact. She was panting, hiding down by the river as she heard people's voices and dogs, calling out, hunting for her. Her leg was bleeding and her top was ripped to pieces. The people she'd brought with her were all dead and things were seriously, seriously wrong. This was not the world she'd been told about and no-one had heard of her before. A few farming peasants had behaved as she'd expected, but when she'd reached a city and declared herself a goddess, they had laughed at her. Her sword had been drawn and her people stepped back to let her work. She'd managed to kill a few of them, but soon there had been flashing lights and loud noises, people shooting at her and telling her to disarm. Her people had tried to help her, tried to step in front of her and shield her - and they had died for her, every one of them. She was surrounded by bodies, her sword dripped with the blood of the heathens, and a bullet ripped through her thigh and brought her to her knees.

Hands had grabbed at her, tried to drag her to one of the cars with the lights that flashed as faces stared and names were called out at her. However, she was Marzanna and she would not go down like this. Her feet, fists, teeth, forehead, knees, hips all worked together as she writhed and lashed out. Her strength coupled with the sudden and intense writhing took the police that held her by surprise and their grip released. She took the opportunity to turn and run from them, trying to find better ground on which to fight them. They had disarmed her and she was outnumbered, in an out and out fight on the street while the cowards used guns to shoot at her - no. That was a fool's battle and she was no fool. She'd retreated to the woods and had been picking them off one by one where she could. In the morning, the light would rise and they would see that the goddess of death had been there. She made her mark wherever she went!

It took a few hours, but she was persistant and soon there were no more police or dogs in the woods - at least none that were alive. She emerged from the trees, barely clad and covered in blood from head to toe. This of course did not bother her in the slightest, it was normal in fact for her to be covered in blood. However, she had lost her way. It had not been her job to keep track of where she was, where she'd been or where she was headed. That had been one of the people's jobs and they were now dead. She was alone in the world and she was lost to her people - and for some reason, that put a shiver of fear through her like she'd not felt before.

Looking down the road, she saw the beginnings of the city she'd just been in, and decided it would not be wise to return there until she had more people with her, so turned and walked the opposite way. The nest of heathens was bigger and more powerful than she'd expected, with the cowards using guns because they were too scared to face her one on one in person. She needed to recruit before she returned, but return she would. She couldn't have them thinking that they had bested her after all. However, for now, there was the issue of the bullet in her leg that needed to be removed. She limped off the road, back into the woods and down a track that seemed infrequently used - wondering if perhaps there would be an abandoned home she could break into and sort herself out in.

Down the track she walked, winding and weaving her way through the trees until suddenly it opened up and she heard the noise of a gun being cocked at her. She took another couple of steps and then stopped, looking around to find a couple of men pointing guns at her and snarling. Her demeanour was cool, calm and collected as she looked them over, even flashing them a sneering smile that obviously took them by surprise. There was an exchange of words that ended with her having a gun pressed into her back as she was led beyond the chainlink fence and on into the large building beyond. She was intoduced to one Andrzej Kolikowski who was an ugly man that reminded her of a rat. She must have made a good enough showing of herself, because despite the threats of the previous men, she was left alive.

For a while, it was like she was back home in a way. Her meals were brought to her, three times a day. She was escorted everywhere she went. She had very little freedom to go where she pleased or do as she pleased. And whenever someone tried it on - she killed them with her bare hands. After she killed the fourth man, Andrzej summoned her to him once more and tested her against various animals and people - all of which she killed with ease. The look on his face was all she needed to see to know his thoughts.

Marzanna had just been recruited by the Polish Mob.

[Cinnamon Cherrywhip]

She spent a few years working in various places around Europe for Stanislow, who'd taken over from Andrzej after his murder. Cleaning up loose ends, starting wars between rival factions, assassinations, money collection - anything at all he needed of her. In return, he and his men and women taught her all about the modern world and how things really worked. It took her a while to come to terms with the fact she wasn't an all powerful goddess, but a lifetime was not wiped out so easily. She retained the attitude of entitlement, the fact she thought everything she wanted - belonged to her already, that she was in charge and what she said was law and that she was always right. Whenever these ideals were challenged, or whenever something happened that she didn't understand or agree with, her default position was violence. Numerous people would end up with a bloody or broken nose, or jaw, for merely disagreeing with her. She had been placed on a pedestal for so many years and been revered, that it was too much to think she would ever fully step down from it.

Stanislow summoned her one day, to meet him in Germany to collect her next assignment. She met with him, listened to him, picked up her money and the required documents and set straight off to the airport again. It seemed, Stanislow had reached out to the brothers in America and they were trying to get a hold of the American gold. She was to go over and become a hired hand for any and all who required it of her, because she was one of the best they had. The women in Poland, at least the hookers the men surrounded themselves with, had taught her the art of seduction and how to tap into her natural allure. So while she never did anything with anyone, she always gave the impression she would so that she could get them alone, after which they were shortly dispatched from the world. However, none of it prepared her for America.

She thought that leaving her compound and entering the modern world had been a shock. Well, leaving Poland and the run down parts of Europe she'd been exposed to and entering America was something else entirely. She'd never seen so much electricity being used, so much excess, so much greed. She imagined taking these people and putting them into the life she'd had and grown up with, and she just couldn't imagine it. They were all so soft and wouldn't cope with anything and in fact, a few of them irritated her so much, she had to kill them to be rid of their stupidity from the world. She travelled throughout America, going where she was instructed to - usually working in strip joints and pole dancing clubs as a cover.

However, the more she danced, the more she liked it. The power she felt up on the stage was similar to the power she'd felt in front of her people, when she'd been commanding them. All eyes were on her, all the owners of said eyes wanted to be with her, or to simply be her. She even dipped her toe into the sexual pool, and found she had an appetite for it. Her one and only experience up until then, had been when she was with Zevach - when she'd killed him. Up until then, it had been her first and last sexual experience, but now, in America, she was learning and exploring all sorts of new things.

It was on one of these jobs that she met Kennedy, and here and there she would once more meet up with her around the country randomly. She seemed a nice person, fairly chatty, but as hard as she was. They seemed like kindred spirits, and it made CC wonder if she perhaps was like her, had been brought up like her. Of course, that sort of upbringing was not one that was spoken about - there were plenty of rumours about the Angel of Death, as she was known in the inner circles, but Cinnamon Cherrywhip - the name she'd adopted as a cover - was not one to spread, start or clarify said rumours. She just silently smiled as she heard the men talk about her, wonder about her, and never know it was HER they were referring to. Not until it was too late. Then they knew all about her, her skills, and the fact they had pissed someone off enough that they were going to die for their sins!

A ticket arrived in the post for her one day, one way, to Las Vegas. So once more she packed all of her measley belongings together, as she had so many times before, and set off to Las Vegas. She arrived, set herself up, and then went to meet her new employers and to see what it was they wanted. Only unlike other jobs, this one would change her life forever.

[Cinnamon Cherrywhip]

She spent a few weeks finding her way around Vegas, both the strip and the outlying town as well. She always liked to know where she was and what was going on around her, her time in the cult had shown her that in a variety of ways. Not only did they teach it when they were teaching her to hunt, but also when she discovered that her entire life had been a lie, and that she were surrounded by a world completely different to anything she'd ever known before. Now, she found herself in Vegas with it's own rules and decor and costumes, as well as customs. She enquired about a job in a few places, finding work in a couple of the casinos as both waitress and dancer. It gave her a look at both sides of the world she'd found herself in this time, and only once she was comfortable in her surroundings did she reach out and make contact.

Once more life continued as it had for the last few years. She would get the information from those she needed to, kill those she was asked to, punish yet others - but still she refused to sleep with any she worked with. Instead, that was her secret as she experimented and dabbled in the various club scenes around, just as she had for a few years, wherever she was at the time. Years of forbidden experiences were being crammed into a few months at a time as she found herself, found what she enjoyed, found what others enjoyed, found that she could be what others enjoyed and make comparable amounts of money as she was making with the mob jobs. However, she was built for killing, it was what she'd always known and what she understood. This, sexual awakening was new to her and she wasn't sure of it at all, so was very wary - yet excited - of and by it.

Her and Kennedy once more crossed paths here in Vegas, and it seemed that this was her base of operations. She too was tied to the gangsters that operated here, but from what CC could tell and find out - they were different to the ones she worked for, however she couldn't find out what type it was exactly. They kept the woman on a tight leash and CC was distinctly aware that they were always watched and followed wherever Kennedy went. It was like she had a permanent shadow attached about 10 feet behind her. Again, having lived for so many years with one of her own, it didn't bother her in the slightest. She had her life, it crossed with the woman who'd come to be as close to a friend as CC had ever experienced since Zevach. She'd purposefully not allowed herself to become close to anyone after that, for fear that she would kill them, or be forced to kill them. Once was enough for her, especially when sometimes it felt like she was holding onto normality by her fingernails and if she let go - she would snap and release the demon within her.

Her mind often thought back to all the people she'd killed, all the times she had let herself become Marzanna the goddess demon of death. The blood she covered herself in, the flesh she tore from the bones and pressed to her lips and into her mouth to eat raw and fresh. How artistically she arranged the body and the inner organs around the kill site. She was never ashamed of the deaths when she was lost to the Marzanna mindset. Death was exhaulted and revered, and to be killed by her was an honour for all to see and know. The death of a snivelling coward, shooting a gun from afar was not something to be proud of and those who went out that way or killed others in such a way should be ashamed of themselves. It was something she believed deep inside and could not change.

There was nothing of interest for months more, simply the normal jobs as she'd had for years now. Until one night she was dancing on stage and saw Kennedy talking to someone she recognised from a life she'd left behind. Maksym was here, and he had seen her too, and the look they gave one another must have been comparable, for they both stared in shock and surprise - and then ran. He ran from her, she ran after him and neither cared how Kennedy or the others he'd been talking to reacted, both had their reasons and their goals. Of course, Maksym was no match for the younger, more supple and agile and fitter CC - and it wasn't long before he was pinned to the wall with her eyes glaring into his. He was dragged to the alley and it didn't take too much of a beating before he remembered who she had been in the commune and spilled everything he knew.

She paled upon hearing what he said and looked back up to the club where she knew Kennedy was completely oblivious of what was planned for her future, what was planned for her life - and quite how short it was to be. She knew, she had been there, she had seen it and she had been the cause of other women like hers deaths. The two sides of her wrestled with one another - the Marzanna, the goddess who'd been brought up in the cult to kill and cause blood to flow to ensure the harvest and cycles continued - and the woman who'd come to see the world had moved on and no longer believed such things. Could she really do nothing and let Kennedy find out the truth of her life from before first hand. Could she really allow the woman to meet such a fate? She knew the answer, she knew it had to be no and she knew the only one who could stop it was her.

[Cinnamon Cherrywhip]

She'd told Maksym that she wasn't finished with him, and would meet him later that week to discuss options, as she wasn't going to let his plans be carried out. He'd understood that if he went against her, he would never escape her. He was a believer and he had grown up on the tales of Marzanna and all she could and had done - there was no way he was going to cross her because he liked his life. Meanwhile, she retired to some of the rooms she had hired to consider all he'd said, all she'd found out and all it meant to someone she actually cared about.

He was there for Kennedy, because of her parents. Just as her parents had been approached once upon a time, so had Kennedy's. The signs had all been there and had all pointed to Kennedy as the mother of Trygław - a fusion of three major gods into one, to once more descend and walk amongst his people. She was being kept safe and watched like a hawk by various hired hands, and a story ahd been told to her about why she was being watched that had nothing at all to do with the truth. Her parents had, as CC's had, taken the money offered to them and sold their daughter to this cult many years before. Now they were simply waiting for the date to arrive when she would be shipped to Poland, impregnated, and then her baby would be ripped from her body and bathed in her blood to welcome it into the world. However, she was't sure how the child would be brought up, because she only knew how she was brought up as Marzanna. The upbringing for each of the supposed gods and godesses, and those to act as sacrifices, was completely different and steeped in tradition. She shivered at the thought, seeing Kennedy lying on a stone table as she'd seen so many women before. Held down as she was sliced open and her child - which would supposedly be three headed - ripped from within and held aloft for all to see. No, she knew she couldn't let that happen to Kennedy. But she had no idea what she could possibly do to stop it from happening.

Her immediate thought was to fly back to Poland, to use her contacts and sources to find the people awaiting the arrival of Trygław. However she knew they were all tucked away in the wilderness with no visible tracks. She could find one or two of the communes, but she would never find them all and unless she found the very specific one who was keeping Kennedy - she would forever be in danger. Maksym wouldn't know either, he was a man at the very end of a very long chain that would come to an abrupt halt were she to try and follow it to it's completion. As soon as they heard that Marzanna was coming for them, they would retreat faster than a sea anemone back into itself. No, she knew she had to offer something better to them. She also knew that Maksym would have been spreading tales around about her here and about her past. Too many people would know things about her that she didn't want them to know, which meant Marzanna was coming out to play again.

She rested for the rest of that day, the next day rising and gearing up so that she was ready. She would be burning a number of bridges tonight in this town, and she doubted she would ever be able to return. When she left her lodgings, she paused to look back in what could be mistaken as sentimentality, but actually, it was just so that she could toss a match back to light the little trail she'd left. So as she walked away, her entire background shot was filled with flames. No trace was to be left here, nothing that could be traced back to her. Then she headed for town, her plan running through her head so she knew what every step was, about 3 steps before it was to occur.

Systematically she moved through the town, finding the 'bodyguards' she'd seen Kennedy with before and killing them all. Every body was splayed out and arranged in what she considered a beautiful manner. The police on the other hand, would probably think differently. Each and every life was taken that could possibly link her face to the tales from the old country of the Angel of Death, of Marzanna. It took a number of days, but she was like a machine as she found even those who had guessed she'd be coming for them and had therefore gone to ground. It was like the rapture had come and the city was cleansed of a particular type of vermin, though there were still plenty that crawled the streets. She found some of them to be most useful once the slaughter was over, because these she paid to resume the services that those she'd killed had been doing. Kennedy wasn't to know that anything had changed, neither were her parents, they would simply think that the shifts had changed and would continue with their lives as if nothing had happened. In her cleaning up, removing any sign of their true intent and origin - she found papers that at a quick scan seemed to indicate someone else, or somewhere else that might hold the key to more people able to bring about their lost gods and goddesses, so these she saved for later. Just in case she found she had a conscience.

Finally, she hunted out Maksym and found him quivering in a corner and weeping as soon as he saw her, thinking she had come for him too. Hauling him to his feet she explained that he was to contact whoever he knew back home - to tell them that she was coming to them unarmed and supplicant. She would birth a baby for them, if any could complete the rituals needed to bed her. His eyes widened once more and he crawled to her feet, bending and praising her - because a baby born of her would be blessed indeed, and more powerful than anything that could possibly be born of a mere human.

So it was done. Kennedy was saved, because she had averted their gaze from her and put it firmly back on her once more. The date of Trygław's coming would pass without notice, because they had bigger fish to fry and she knew the sign readers would be looking at everything to see who she would produce for them. Her message given, Maksym made the calls he needed, made the arrangements he needed to, and when he returned to find her sitting peacefully and waiting for him - you could see on his face how pleased and proud he was that he was the one delivering Marzanna back to her people, to produce for them another god or goddess. With her back, they could not fail in their goals and once more the world would bow before the gods. While they had been the first to worship, they would be the chosen people.

[Cinnamon Cherrywhip]

So it was, a few days later, that CC found herself back on a plane and heading back to Poland. She'd not said a word to Kennedy about her departure, because really, what could you say? 'I've just saved your life from a cult your parents sold you to who were planning to impregnate you and then kill you while you were giving birth'. No. That wasn't something you could just blurt out to someone, no matter how much you liked them or knew them or had done for them. That was something you went to your grave knowing, while they lived in blissful happiness, unaware of the whole that happened around them.

Her dreams were bloody and her sleep was restless as she dozed on the plane. It seemed that the closer she got to 'home', the more intense and gruesome the dreams became. Finally, she simply gave up and looked over at Maksym who seemed to be staring at her with a fixed grin on his face. She snarled at him and turned over to look in the opposite direction, tempted to get up and move to the other end of the private plane and thinking that one day she needed to work out where it was these blasted people got their money from.

Finally, they landed after a silent flight between her and Maksym, the only talk coming from the flight attendant as she passed by offering drinks or snacks, or a couple of times the in flight meals. As she walked through the gates into the arrival lounge, she saw them. There were faces there from many years ago, as well as a number of new ones, that were all looking at her expectantly. She said nothing to any of them and simply held her head high and walked with confidence towards and then right through them all, out to the limo that was waiting for them all. She was Marzanna to them, and so she needed to act like it - or they would kill her.

The limo drove her away from the airport and out into the country, out to the mountains. But it was not to her mountain that she was taken, she didn't recognise where they were going but she refused to worry and panic. That is what CC would do, Marzanna - or the Angel of Death - would take it all in her stride. It turned out they planned to have her make good on her word immediately. She was taken to another compound where the god Jarylo was supposedly in human form. He was the god of fertility, war and the harvest - and with her being of death and harvest, the sign readers had thought them a good match.

Night came and the fires were set to give them light by which to see, and then the ritual began. The people encircled them as they stood at either end of a stone table, and then he made his move by leaping over the entire table to try and catch her unawares. It was however, a stupid move in her mind. Once he was in the air there was very little chance for him to change his trajectory, and as she'd been waiting for him to make a move, she simply took a few steps aside and watched as he landed in the dirt, grasping at nothing. And so the dance continued late into the night, where she made it seem like she was willing, but that he was simply not worthy. She was growing tired after her long journey and the time that had slowly crept up on them, so decided enough was enough. She most certainly wasn't going to give herself to him, and she was sure any child who ended up with his genes would not survive the tests it would be put through. She might not fully believe in all they said and did, but this was ovre 20 years of her life, and she couldn't help but care a little bit about how they saw her. So the next time she avoided his grasping hands, she turned on her heel and came back at him, killing him by snapping his neck. The people who followed her cheered, those who followed him screamed - but all respected her for refusing such an inadequate mate.

And so it went, week after week that drew into months. She was brought before male gods to be mated with them, and none of them were up to her standards and so she killed them all. That is, until she were brought before Świętowit. He was actually, for once, an attractive man. War, fertility and abundance were his to rule over and as she eyed him critically, he was doing the same to her. Once more the fires were lit and the people gathered to watch. As usual, she stood and waited for him to make the first move. However, either he'd heard of her tactics or he was smarter than your average man god, and so he did exactly the same thing and didn't move. Something moved in the corner of her eye, and thinking that perhaps it was someone sneaking up on her, she glanced, she couldn't help it - and he took the opportunity it afforded. His bow was drawn and an arrow fired, swiftly followed by another. She didn't see them coming, couldn't get out of their way and so they both found their marks. One through her thigh and the other through the opposite calf. She fell to the ground without a noise of pain, as was expected of her, and then he was upon her and lifting her to the table. He had won his prize.

A little over nine months later, she was once again lying upon the stone table only this time she had a knife in her hand. Her labour pains were horrific and she knew she was close to giving birth, yet she had to fight the priests and priestesses off - as was tradition. She could not show weakness and she had to show her child from the beginning how it was to be a god or goddess and what it would have to aspire to as it grew up. It took two days, but finally she had her baby in her arms and the attacks finished as she killed the last one who'd been assigned the honour of seeing her through the birth.

The sign readers came forwards and inspected the baby, while others helped to clean CC up and sort out the wounds she'd sustained in the fighting and also to dress her. Finally, the sign readers proclaimed the baby to be Dziewanna, because with parents such as she had - who else could she be but the goddess of the hunt. CC was relieved, she knew a little of such a goddess and knew that her upbringing would be nothing like what she had. However, that was the last she saw of the baby as the sign readers turned and bowed to her, thanked her for her gift to them and then left, baby and all. CC had to turn off any and all emotions involved with the child - because this was what was always to have happened to a child she had with these people. However, she had done this for Kennedy, to save her a truely horrendous life until death. The woman was now free, because in her months of captivity, she'd heard of a woman who had naturally given birth to a baby with a defect - siamese triplets, a baby with three heads and so the cult had taken in the baby from the relieved mother.

CC stayed with the commune for a few more days, until her strength was returned to her, then she packed a few things and slipped away. She knew where she had to go.... The papers she'd taken from the Poles in Vegas had talked of gods and goddesses possibly turning up in Canada, a place called Harper Rock. They mentioned all manner of occurrences that no human could possibly have accomplished, for they were supernatural in what they were. So that was where she would go - after all, it was as good a place as any, and at least that way she could legitimately go in the eyes of the commune. She was off to look for those of her own kind, and that they could accept - so they let her go freely, but ensured she was always watched. Always.