Orchid in My Hair

by Wen Wen Yang

I placed the bone white orchid in my hair and smiled at my reflection. The orchid was almost as pale as me and stood in stark contrast to my jet black hair and midnight colored dress.

“Time to catch a soul,” I said with a wink to my reflection. She pouted and waved her hand impatiently for me to cross over.

With a sigh, I stepped into the mirror and appeared on the other side, at a party across town. No one noticed me, at least not yet. I pulled the rest of my dress out from the mirror and looked around me. The ladies were wearing ball gowns of the latest fashion while the men wore the same old suit they always seem to wear. I stepped away from the hallway mirror and made my way to the main dance hall.

Several people turned to look at me. I smiled at them, knowing that their minds were already forming false memories of me. Of course, they knew me from somewhere, but the exact place they cannot remember. Of course, they knew my name and that I had a perfect right to be here, but if asked to pronounce my name, the sounds would only sit on the edge of their tongue. It was true that black wasn’t an appropriate color for this spring ball, but none of them would dare mention it. Their hearts feared me but their minds didn’t know why. Reason obstructed their thoughts. I looked like a sorceress, but that simply couldn’t be because sorcery and magic did not exist. What I was—they couldn’t imagine.

“Ma’am,” said a servant in front of me. She was a small thing, no older than ten. Balanced on her thin, tanned arms, she held a tray of glasses filled with wine and harsher drinks.

“No drinks, but thank you,” I said, not caring for mortal drink or food.

“Sk-ut-ho-ma,” she said very softly, mouthing the sounds to one of my many names. “Collector of souls,”

“Among many other professions, yes,” I smiled at the child. It was no shock to me it would be a child, who had none of the reason and logic that plagued her adults, who would recognize me.

“You aren’t here to kill me, are you?” She asked in her native tongue. I know all languages that have a word for death.

“No, young one, my visit here isn’t for you.”

Tears filled her eyes. “Why not?”

I was slightly shocked at this but collected myself enough to kneel down to meet her eye level and wipe away her tears. “I shall meet you again some other time, child.” With that, I drew her memories of me out of her mind and kept them for myself.

“Where is the master of the house?” I asked her as I regained my composure.

“There, ma’am.” She said in the accented language of the country. “He wears the white suit.”

“Thank you,” I stood and walked to the man dancing with a slight woman who was a third his size.

“May I?” I asked. The woman nearly ran away from me.

“Sir Hawket,” I said, not bowing. I could see the odd purple light radiating off him. It shimmered and waved, recognizing me. The man was tall and I would have called him handsome, if I had not known that I was going to kill him. He had well defined muscles under his shirt and I had to smile at the thought of becoming stronger with the collection of his soul. How much more powerful will I be, I wondered. Will I now be able to shift into a man with his soul added to my many others?

“My lady,” he said, not knowing my name either. “Would you care to dance?”

“Not at the moment,” I said as I picked the orchid out of my hair. “They tell me you have an interest in botany.”

“Perhaps,” he said modestly. He looked at the flower in my hand. The purple radiance around him turned a light blue in the areas closest to the flower.

“Could you tell me what this is?”

He took it from me, as easily as that. I didn’t bother to listen to his explanation of the flower’s great values. Impatiently, I waited for the purple light to enter the flower. When it was finally done, I took back the flower in the middle of his explanation. It now had several lines of purple along a couple of its petals as if it was sticking its tongue out at me.

“Thank you for the explanation,” I said as I placed the flower back into my hair. “Could you walk me to my carriage?” I said without thinking. I let the power in the orchid manipulate me to its own end.

“Of course, milady,” he held out his elbow. I tried to restrain myself but the power was too great and I held onto his arm like a child. Such chivalry, I thought. Perhaps it is a shame that you will die.

We exited the party and made our way into the street. I saw a groomsman brushing his horse. The horse glowed light purple. I released Sir Hawket’s arm and let the power direct my body. “There is my carriage,” I said as I pointed to the carriage in front of the horse.

He went to open the door for me. The orchid made me smile.

Just then, the groomsman brushed too harshly against a blister on the horse’s side, which it received from the stirrups. The horse reared up and charged forward, knocking Sir Hawket down and trampling him to death. The animal was finally pulled away from the lord’s broken body, its hooves and legs wet with blood.

I backed away from the scene, becoming invisible to the people again. Their screams became more and more distant with each step I took.

After receding into the shadows, I reappeared in my own hall in front of a closed door. I pushed the door open and stood in a corridor without end. There were shelves along the walls, covered with trinkets entrapping each soul. Within the rooms that led off the corridor were more shelves and novelties. I walked down the corridor, not distracting myself with the objects there.

There were pieces of jewelry, books, and more items that glowed in all the colors mortals have thought to name, and many they have not. I walked until I felt the orchid directing me to a shelf on my right. I turned and saw the empty space reserved for it. Detangling it from my hair, I placed the orchid onto the shelf.

As the flower touched the shelf, an image materialized in my mind’s eye. Two pairs of feet were sticking out from under the covers on a bed.

“Adulterer,” I said, thinking that his chivalry likely won him more hearts than his wife knew. The image didn’t fade. I frowned, trying to think up the sin before the orchid decided to show me more. I noticed that one of the pairs of feet was struggling. “Rapist,” I said, thinking that perhaps he wasn’t so charming after all.

The orchid taunted me and added sound. I could hear the cries now. I covered my ears, but the sound was coming from inside my mind. “I already said rapist!” I shouted at it.

The image moved from the feet up to the sheets. I could see the bodies writhing underneath. I squeezed my eyes shut but the sight was in my head. “His sin is lust, show me no more!”

The orchid refused and showed me the faces. One was Sir Hawket. The other was the young maid I had met. I had seen this sight before but it hurt much more with each tearful face. “Stop it, stop it!” I shouted at the orchid and Sir Hawket. “He is a child molester, a rapist of the defenseless, now leave me be!”

The orchid narrowed in on the child’s face, covered with tears, mouth open in mid-scream, then shifted to Sir Hawket, red and sweaty from exertion. I saw the same nose and jawline. But the child was a servant, my reason cried. Then I banished reason and saw clearly.

“Deflowerer to the child who is his seed and slave,” I said at last. The image shattered. I collapsed onto the floor in the corridor of death.

What good are the souls that give me my power, that keep me immortal, that give me the ability to collect more and more souls—what good are they if I cannot help one living soul?

Suddenly, I came to a realization. I jumped up and ran out of the corridor of death. I slammed the door behind me and stepped into the shadows again.

I emerged in the slave quarters on the lowest level of the house. The young girl was sitting up in her bed, doll on her lap, fast asleep.

“Child,” I called out softly to her. Her eyes snapped open and she took a breath to prepare to scream but stopped when she saw me.

“Is it my turn to die?” She asked as she hugged her doll.

“No, but you may come to live with me if you wish. What can you do?”

She counted her abilities off on her fingers, “Clean, dust, and sew,”

I stopped her there. “That’s more than I can do. Come with me.”

She slid off her bed and took my hand. “Your hand is wet,” She pointed out softly. “Were you crying?”

“Everyone cries, and sometimes, someone hears you.”

And I took her into the shadows.

The End