There was no dining table, and the space, though really high in the middle,
was not wide, but it did seem larger than my apartment. As if he could read my mind, again, Paul explained: 'There are no bedrooms on this floor, just the kitchen. The bedrooms are one floor up, where the ceiling is lower. Will you come and sit in the kitchen? I'll make us dinner.'
The kitchen was the most beautiful place yet. Its ceiling was lower than the living area, but all the cupboards were made of wood ornamented with copper silhouettes of flying dragons. There was a beautiful copper boiler, not hidden away but in plain sight. The sink was also copper, set in a beautiful piece of hardwood. The dining table was set up here, with four light chairs.
The table had no cloth, but was polished to a high sheen.
Light came in from a window, opening up to the inner garden of our block of houses. I was stunned, not able to say a word. Coming from a lower class family, able to study only with the patronage of my parents' employer, I had never in my life seen such riches. It wasn't gaudy, and I knew he had almost certainly made every piece of metalwork himself, but the value of everything in this house was way beyond my experience. I was overwhelmed.
He led me towards one of the chairs, seemingly too fragile to sit on, but he assured me they were a lot stronger than they looked, and encouraged me to sit down. Then he moved one of the chairs close to mine and sat right next to me, laid his hand on mine and told me: 'I take it you approve?' Now I finally found my voice: 'It is beyond words. I've never seen something so beautiful.
All the work you've put in, the materials, the style.'
He closed his hand over my hand, and said: 'Thank you. Do you want tea, or a glass of wine?' I opted for the tea, with all the strange things that had been happening I preferred to keep my wits about me, though alcohol generally didn't affect me strongly.
Paul didn't put on a kettle, but used a little tap that was part of the large boiler to pour steaming hot water into an old-fashioned china teapot. He measured out tea and put it to steep. Then he started busying himself peeling and slicing various vegetables, and he took what appeared to be noodles out of a cupboard. I offered to help, but he asked me to just watch him work and maybe pour myself and him some tea.
He had a strange way of making dinner, immersing the noodles very shortly in more steaming water from the beautiful boiler, then draining them in a sieve. He cut up the various vegetables very finely, as well as some white meat, poultry I guessed. Then he fried it in a large copper pan, over a high
fire, in oil instead of butter. Several spices from little jars went in and then it was all ready.
I was amazed, again. And it tasted fabulously, light and savoury after the heavy meal of the afternoon. The combination with the smoky tea was also excellent. I realized that fried potatoes were not his staple diet, that this was what he usually ate. No wonder he was so thin.
With the food finished, he graciously allowed me to help him wash the dishes, not that there was much to clean. After that, he made a pot of a different tea, and invited me to sit in the living area, bringing the pot of tea, along with some chocolates.
Sitting on the soft sofa with Paul, looking about me, I realized why he didn't seem to have an inclination to become intimate with me. It was very clear to me now that whilst he seemed to be a normal craftsman, working hard and renting out an apartment to a working class girl to make ends meet, socialising with me in this non-fashionable part of town, he was in fact a member of a much higher social circle.
I was way beneath him, and certainly not the kind of woman his class preferred, with a paid job in a man's domain, dressed more like a man than a woman, voicing opinions like a man. I had let my fancy once again get the better of me, but my common sense did allow me that he hid his true colours really well. I couldn't have known he was this upper-class.
Paul, sitting next to me on the sofa, had again been studying me whilst my thoughts were dragging me down to my own level. He was very good at not speaking, letting silences fall where they would.
When he spoke, it was in a low voice: 'You are awfully quiet tonight, Melissa, I don't know you like this at all.' I pride myself on always controlling my emotions, and whilst I did not show any unseemly signs of my disappointment, it did make me reply with more truth than propriety.
'I am, I am much more silent than usual. Seeing this has made me realize that I have been a great fool. Since I have moved in and we have started socialising, I've allowed myself certain feelings towards you. You are very attractive, and we share a lot of interests.
I know you have not encouraged me in any of this, and I hope I have not shown my preference in any way that might be embarrassing to you or to myself. But this afternoon you said some things that made me realize you might not be exactly what you seemed to me, an artist and a craftsman
making beautiful objects through hard messy work. And seeing all this, I suddenly realized you are way above me. A gentleman.'
I still wasn't crying, and I wouldn't, but I was sadly disappointed and suddenly afraid to lose a good friend because of my admission. I should have kept quiet and overcome my infatuation in secret, safeguarding our friendship above all.
And again, Paul didn't say a thing whilst I was controlling my feelings in silence. He just sat there, his expression thoughtful but friendly, and not condescending, which I was afraid of most of all. He moved close to me, really close, and put an arm around me. I could smell him, as exciting as ever, the smell of the craftsman I admired, the smoke, the cleaning agents used to improve adhesion between the metals, his own smell.
The familiarity of it, and his touch, had a calming effect on me. He waited until I was myself again, and by then I, secretly enjoying his closeness, was even able to discern signs of enjoyment of our closeness in him. A slight pressure of his body against mine, his head leaning the tiniest bit on my shoulder, his face in my hair, did he just take in a deeper breath to smell it? It did certainly seem that way.
Then he confirmed my suspicions by kissing my hair, slowly, not stealing a kiss but giving it to me. And still sitting so close to me he said the following:
'You did not become friends with a personality I play. That is the real me.
The craftsman you are attracted to really exists, and he is sitting right next to you. I rarely let people into my home, because it usually gives a totally wrong impression of me.
I was born in a high class, but I have left it voluntarily because I see no class.
To me, you are not lower in any way. My home is the culmination of my art, I have made every inch of it myself, even the cast iron, even the woodwork.
All of it. Though I did have some help with the sofa we're sitting on. Are you comfortable?'
I sure was, even though I still felt foolish for confessing I had a crush on him.
But sitting so close to him I regretted it a lot less, it felt so good. I only nodded, knowing that would be enough answer for him, daring to settle even more comfortably against his solid body. How I'd love to feel that..stop! My common sense was losing ground fast. Fortunately he spoke up again, halting my lustful thoughts.
'Melissa, I had to show you this, but in a way it was too early for you. It has made you doubt me, doubt yourself, and you will have to trust both of us in the coming period. You may have realized by now I don't need to lease my top floor. I get by really well without the rent you pay.
You live here, because you have a talent that will soon show itself, and when it does, it will need training and you will need guidance and protection. I am a so-called guardian, I can see and manipulate magical energy, and I use it to protect this part of the city and its inhabitants, human or other. It is an innate talent, one cannot stop it from surfacing.
The power a guardian has attracts predators, making an untrained guardian an easy target and almost certain to meet a painful and messy end.' Here he stopped talking to look at me inquisitively, I guess he wanted to see whether I believed him. He looked almost
anxious, as if that were very important to him.
So I looked him in the eye and spoke my thought: 'And I'm a guardian too?'
He replied: 'Can you believe that?' Again, the truth: 'I did have a feeling this afternoon that there was more to you than meets the eye. Seeing this', I tried to encompass the whole house in one gesture, 'I thought it was stature, but now I realize it is spiritual.
You have certain powers, picking up my romantic thoughts about you from the first, seeing something in that folk art piece I bought, something sentient.'
I must have said the right thing, for he looked relieved. He said: 'I'm glad you believe me. Once the guardians become aware of a talent, they appoint a mentor to guide him or her through the awakening of their powers and to protect and train them.
Though I may seem a bit young, being not that much older than your twenty years, I was raised by a family where guardianship is hereditary, so I've been trained since childhood. I am well able to mentor you and guard you.
Usually we take time to ease our pupils into the guardianship, but your awareness of the goat-man was an indication that your talent is stirring. That in turn meant you needed to know about this place. It is a sanctuary, impenetrable by evil magic, protected by layer upon layer of spells. You will always be welcome here and you will always be safe here.
But there is one more thing you need to know: I did know your feelings, and though I have not encouraged your attraction to me, it is mutual. I could easily fall in love with you, but I have not allowed myself to do so as yet.
For I know you will change as your talent develops, and your love for me may not survive that process. That would break my heart, and it is difficult to teach someone who has broken your heart. Therefore I must beg you to be patient, to first let me help you discover your talent, become one of us. And if you still feel the same about me once your power is totally awakened, I promise I will love you as much as you could ever wish for.'
This was quite a lot to take in. So he wanted to love me back but dared not for fear of being hurt. That seemed sensible in one way, but how could one decide to not love someone? Since he did say he was attracted to me I felt free to follow my feelings and hug him really closely.
I would have liked to kiss him but I didn't have any experience at all with loving, and I supposed at his age and with his looks he would have.
Understanding his reasons to not want to become intimate yet, to try to kiss him in a fumbling way would have been embarrassing in the extreme.
And besides, me, magical powers? I just couldn't imagine that, nor that I could have him within reach and still choose another. But knowing my infatuation was at least not hopeless, I decided to wait and see.
He fished something from one of the many pockets of his vest, and handed it to me. It was a key. 'The key to this sanctuary. Whenever you need me, come to me or call out for me. I will find you.' Looking me straight in the eye, he said forcefully: 'Even if you have done something that you are ashamed of, or that might hurt me to know. Don't hesitate, or you will be in danger and that will hurt me more.'
It is as if he had an suspicion what would happen, and already expected to suffer great emotional pain because of my actions. I decided there and then not to let him down, to be as resolute as he was and face whatever would be coming.
He came with me to my door, and we held each other one more time, as if we were not going to see one another for weeks. Which just wasn't true. He said:
'I'll see you tomorrow at eleven, first lesson even though it's your day off.' I didn't say anything in return, but just held him shamelessly, memorising the feel of his muscled body, and the smell of his skin. I ran my hands through his hair, having wondered for weeks what that would feel like.
How could I ever not love this gorgeous sweet man, I could not for the life of me imagine it. But I could easily survive a few weeks of just working
together, I was sure of that, so I gave him a chaste goodnight kiss, and opened my door. He left.
Chapter 3
Back inside I decided to not take a shower, but go right to bed instead. That way some of his touch and his feel and smell might still cling to me, to help me go to sleep after this intense day. Taking one last look at my new decoration, I went to bed in quite a flutter.
The man I had been dreaming of since I met him returned my feelings! I fell asleep more quickly that I'd believed possible, probably dreaming about him a bit more and hopefully not of evil things hunting me down and devouring me for my as yet dormant magic.
Until I sat up straight in my bed, suddenly wide awake, for I had heard a strange noise in my living-room. It took just a few moments to gather the courage to get out of bed and check out the room. After all, what was going to pass those protections on this house? Paul had told me it was absolutely safe.
Slipping on a dressing gown I waited for my eyes to adjust to the dark. Then I quietly moved towards my living-room, alert but not really afraid. I opened the door in total silence, and came into an apparently empty room. Checking the room, I found the space above the hearth empty, and the mirror-like shape lying on the floor. Picking it up, I noticed that the goat-like figure was gone, not leaving a surface of torn paper, but just an empty mirror.
That was decidedly weird. Feeling a bit ridiculous, glad no-one could see me, I put the empty mirror on the table, and started to search the room quietly, listening carefully for any sound a goat-man might make in my living-room.
And indeed I did hear him before I saw him, a small sound of something hard briefly touching metal. Moving towards the metal hearth I never feared an attack, somehow the creature had given me the impression of being harmless despite its fearsome horns. I found it hiding in an incredibly small space behind the hearth.
How it had managed to get in there I don't know, but if it hadn't accidentally struck the hearth with one of its large curved horns, I would not have spotted it. All I could see was a bit of horn and some mottled skin, crossed with
angry red welts, some of which were bleeding. I was nearly overcome with pity for this wretched creature, for when I touched its skin, stroking it as one would a scared dog or cat, it cringed and I felt it shake.
Also, I felt ribs and bones sticking out everywhere. Deciding to stick to the scared dog or cat tactic, I talked soothingly, stroked it, promising food and a nice warm blanket. The shaking did stop, and the creature seemed to enjoy my gentle stroking, for it got a tiny bit larger, and more horn appeared. It did not trust me enough to come out though, and I couldn't deduce from its actions whether it was intelligent and could understand speech or not.
In a last effort to convince it before I'd get some food to tempt it out, I held out my arms and called: 'Come on then!' This had an immediate effect.
Within a fraction of a second I was nearly bowled over by an armful of mottled skin, arms and legs. And horns. The creature didn't try to lick me as a dog would, it rather settled in my arms as a child would. It had a decidedly musky scent, not unappealing, just rather strong and very enticing.
It was really, really thin, skin over bones, and I felt the sticky blood covering the fresh welts. Now the horns moved, and a face looked up at me. It was the face with the goat-like features of the work of art I bought, now animated.
It looked at me mostly trustingly, but with a little flicker of suspicion still in its eyes. I said soothingly I wasn't going to harm it, to not be afraid of me. In response, a hand came out of the collection of bones and skin, and touched my face. It was quite a large hand, and well-shaped, though it did seem divided in two somehow, reminding me of a cloven hoof.
I took it in mine, to show I meant no harm. Sitting hunched was becoming painful to me, so I warned the creature I was going to move and I stood up, still holding its hand. It stood up with me and to my surprise I noticed it was at least as tall as me, only a lot thinner. And he was most definitely male, for his naked body was ornamented with a rather large and well-formed penis.
Now I had him stand
ing, I had to decide what to do with him. The wounds needed to be looked at, he needed food and drink badly, and something to keep him warm, for he was still shivering. I decided to try communication first: looking straight at him, I said: 'Hello, I'm Melissa.'
He clearly didn't understand so I used my hands to explain, pointing at myself and saying: 'Melissa'. Now he understood, and he pointed at himself and said:
'Lykos'.
He had a nice voice, much deeper than you'd expect from such a slight
creature. Trying to pronounce his name as he said it was really hard, my efforts at which he apparently thought quite funny, smiling broadly, revealing perfectly normal teeth under his deeply dented upper lip. Combined with the horns that lip made his face quite goat-like, but also very appealing in a roguish way.
I asked him: 'May I call you Lukas instead?' He pointed at himself again and said: 'Lukas?' Now it was my turn to smile broadly, this clearly was a smart guy. His reaction to my smile was extraordinary, he sort of launched himself at me again, making me hold him as a natural reaction. This seemed to please him, and he blissfully surrendered to my embrace, leaning into me with a very slight weight, resting his horned head on my shoulder.
We stood like that for a while, until his bony body and the sticky feeling of the blood still running from the welts on his back started to bother me. I tried to get his attention again, but he seemed to be almost sleeping so I spoke up:
'Lukas, do you want something to eat?'
My voice and the name he had adopted got his attention, and he looked at me again. I pointed at him and then at my mouth. He suddenly became eager, probably realizing he was very hungry. I took him into the kitchen and showed him the things I had there, some bread, some cheese, a few apples.
He nodded, apparently able to digest them, so I took all of it to the table with a plate and a knife, glad I wouldn't have to go out in the dark to pluck dandelions for him to eat. He followed me like a puppy, and at my gesture sat down on one of my chairs, on the tip so he'd not stick to the backrest with the bloody welts.
Mirror Bound Page 2
