by E J Frost
Hmm.
I walk slowly into the house, kicking at some fallen leaves. Let myself in quietly to avoid waking the demon, and jump when he calls to me from the kitchen, “Hot chocolate, sweetness.”
I kick off my muddy boots and drop my overflowing backpack by the door. Walk warily into the kitchen. I expected him to be asleep. Will he notice what the Squire’s done to the bindings? I didn’t think I’d have to face this until the morning, although some small rational part of my mind recognizes that the time won’t make any difference to his reaction.
The demon’s standing at the stove. Two steaming mugs sit on the table. The mouth-watering smell of melted chocolate fills the kitchen. Three salamanders sit on the floor at the demon’s feet, in a neat little line: crimson, blue and cream. As I walk into the kitchen, the demon bends down and offers Wizard a piece of something brown and crunchy. The other two lizards crowd closer, eager for their share.
“Hi,” I say softly, not wanting to disturb this very domestic, if infernal, tableaux.
“Hey. Thought you might like a midnight snack. You zest that lemon while I’m watchin’ these? Don’t want ‘em to burn.” He nods at the counter where there’s a lemon and a little stainless-steel zester that I definitely don’t own sitting on a cutting board.
I move to the counter, stepping over the lizard-line, and pick up the lemon and zester. Beside me, Jou opens a waffle-iron that I also don’t own. He takes a golden-brown waffle out of the press, pops it onto a pile of waffles sitting under a dishcloth, and pours more batter into the iron. My kitchen fills with a warm bread smell, a million times better than toast. Saliva floods my mouth and I have to swallow hard to keep from drooling.
“Your idea of a midnight snack is a lot more epicurean than mine,” I tell him.
Jou chuckles. Such a nice sound in my kitchen late at night. Some of the tension that knotted my neck and shoulders on finding him awake ebbs.
I create a small pile of lemon shavings on the cutting board while Jou cooks three more waffles. Two go under the dishcloth. One gets fed to the lizards. Jou shoo-es me to the table, and the lizards out of the kitchen, while he assembles the waffles and fixings.
Watching him, seeing the care with which he sprinkles the lemon zest over strawberries he’s got marinating in balsamic vinegar, makes me realize how much effort he’s put into this. I collect a wooden tray from under the sink, set the cups on it, take out two of my Dala’s china plates and the overly-polished silverware, and carry it all into the living room. I fluff the couch cushions, arrange two place-settings on the coffee table, and tap my iPod dock, which hiccups, probably from all the arcane energy the demon’s kicking off, then obligingly fills the room with Natalie Imbruglia’s sweet croon.
“Got any ‘Stones?” Jou asks, balancing a plate of waffles and two bowls as he walks through from the dining room. “Big favorite in Hell.”
“Sympathy for the Devil?” I ask.
“Gimme Shelter.” The demon grins, showing too many teeth.
I roll my eyes but tap up Forty Licks.
Jou sets his plate and bowls down on the coffee-table, seats himself with a creak of his leather pants, and pats the couch. I curl up next to him. “Hey.”
“Good shoppin’ trip?”
I nod, waiting for him to mention the bindings, now that he’s made the conversational opening. But he doesn’t. He picks up my plate, serves me a waffle, a spoonful of strawberries, and a dollop of whipped cream.
“Wow.” I take the plate from him. Cut into the waffle with the side of my fork. It’s got just the right amount of crunch. On my tongue, it melts into a bready-berry-sweetness that nearly makes me swoon. “Wow, Jou.”
He smiles. Takes a bite of his own.
“I thought you’d be sleeping when I got back,” I say.
“Th’ sex woke me up.”
“It usually works the other way,” I say, thinking of Saul, who used to fall asleep milli-seconds after he came.
Jou stretches, until his knee presses against mine, and one arm circles my shoulders. “Still not human, sweetness.”
That thought bothers me less than it used to. Maybe because I’m getting used to it. Or maybe because his waffles have lobotomized me.
“’Sides, I haven’t slept like that in centuries. Can’t remember the last time I slept through a whole day.”
“No?” I ask around a mouthful of waffle, strawberries and cream. “Too busy?”
“Too wary. You saw what the Old Man’s like. He’s just one of a dozen who’d take my head if they caught me unconscious.”
“Oh.” I stop eating and look at him, sensing the seriousness of what he’s saying. “Is that . . . what would happen? I mean, they’d take your head?”
Jou nods.
“Would that . . . um, you know?”
“Kill me?” Jou shrugs. “Probably. Old Man’s been beheaded a couple of times and he’s still around, but he’s a lot older than I am.”
“Uh, how?”
“He grows a new one. Not pretty. Not somethin’ I wanna try.”
I can understand that. “You said you’d let someone else take your father out. If he can survive losing his head, how can he be killed?”
Jou stretches out his legs, crosses them at the ankle, and flexes his bare feet while he considers my question. “Nothin’s certain when it comes to the Old Man. Maybe throwin’ him into the Bez Toma. Maybe destroyin’ the Iron City. All I know is, I wouldn’t wanna be the one who takes the shot an’ fails.”
Neither would I. That’s why I haven’t done anything with the knowledge of Jou’s weakness.
“I know about your father,” I say, before taking another bite of waffle. “Why do the others want to kill you?”
Jou grunts, and for a minute I think he’s not going to answer, but then he swallows and says, “Politics.”
“Politics with your father?”
Jou shakes his head, dreadlocks rustling. “Stepmonster.”
Oh, boy. “You mean that literally, don’t you?”
“Uh-huh. Soae. Queen Bitch. She hates anyone he’s sired. My clutch most of all, ‘cause we were the last-born. Anyone in her court would be happy to take me out to curry her favor.”
“I guess your father doesn’t do anything to stop that.”
“Nope. Whatever doesn’t kill you, an’ all that.”
I finish and swirl my fork around my plate to gather the last of the whipped cream. I’m tempted to lick my plate. Instead, I set it down on the table with a sigh. “That was amazing, Jou.”
“Thanks, sweetness.” He grins around a mouthful of waffle. “You ready for bed?”
“Jeez, haven’t you slept enough?”
“Nope.”
“I need to unpack—”
He shakes his head. “Wait until morning.”
“Jou!”
He puts his half-finished waffles down on the table, scoops me up like I weigh nothing, and carries me up to bed.
I wake feeling much more rested than I have any right being, given how late I was out gathering, and how much attention Jou demanded after we went to bed. I blink sleepily at the morning light pearling through the curtains. It’s still early, or it’s raining.
I twist so I can look at the clock. Six-forty. Why am I awake so early?
I begin to push off the bedcovers when a heavy, warm arm slides around my waist. Jou pulls me back against him and rumbles low in my ear, “Where you goin’?”
“To the bathroom first. After that it’s negotiable.”
“After that, come back to bed.”
“Maybe,” I say, sliding to the edge of the bed. “You’d have to persuade me.”
He catches my hand, pulls it back under the covers and places it on his erection. Hot silk under my hand. “How’s that?”
I consider smacking it, but I think he’d just take it as a sign I want to play rough, which I don’t this morning. In fact, in addition to feeling very awake, I’m feeling very . . . warmly towards the demon i
n my bed. He made me waffles at midnight. None of my boyfriends have ever cooked for me. Or given me three orgasms in a row.
I give him a squeeze, and a kiss, before I climb out of bed.
In the bathroom, there’s a ghost sitting on my toilet. Smoking furiously. And ready to remind me of what an idiot I am. “He’ll have your soul. He’s already got his claws sunk in it.”
“Goat, I’m so not in the mood.” The last thing I want at the moment is for him to burst my golden bubble.
“Is this what you want? Eternity in thrall to the Shadow Man?”
God, he knows just what buttons to push. I close the bathroom door and lean against it. Cross my arms over my chest, grateful that I’ve put on my bathrobe against the cool morning air. Why do my family ghosts feel free to invade the intimate spaces of my house? They could stay in the kitchen. I’m almost never naked in my kitchen.
“Worse than eternity in Limbo?” I snip, annoyed by both his intrusion and his attitude. I can push a few buttons of my own.
“We choose to be here. Not to pass on. So we can guide you, káulochírilo.”
“Really?” I don’t know whether to believe him or not. The Billigoat was not what I’d call scrupulously truthful in life. “’Cause the only guidance you’ve been able to offer me on this particular problem is to sacrifice someone else’s soul. Pretty sure that would end me up in Limbo, ‘Goat.”
My uncle smokes in wrathful silence for a moment. “It’s not a perfect plan.”
“It’s not any kind of plan. And it’s not going to happen. Even if he’d accept a substitute – which he won’t – I won’t do it. It’s disgusting.”
More ectoplasmic puffing. “What about the other?”
“A doppelganger? He knows about that. And I have no idea how to make one. Do you?”
The ghost shakes its head, without disturbing the wreath of smoke. Against all the laws of physics. “You know the beng’s weakness.”
“Submerging him in running water? Do you really think he’s going to let me do that without a fight?”
“Then cut off his head. Draw the demon blade—”
“No,” I say flatly. “I’m not killing anyone.” Not even to save my soul.
“You heard him, it might not kill him. Besides, he’s soulless, káulochírilo.”
“So that makes it okay? Killing is fine as long as the victim doesn’t have a soul? Sorry, I don’t believe that. This particular victim thinks, feels, has a family he cares about. I have no idea what defines a soul, Goat, but I do know that my soul will be forever darkened if I hurt him to save myself. So if you come up with a way to send him back without hurting him, you let me know. Otherwise, I’d really appreciate it if you got off the pot. I need to pee.”
I nod at the toilet he’s sitting on. Or not sitting on, since he’s a shade. I try not to contemplate the interaction of the physical and the aetheric too closely. It can make you schizophrenic.
With a glower and a puff of smoke, my uncle’s shade rolls up and disappears.
I shake my head at the empty air and move to the toilet. Family. Can’t live with them. Can’t kill them if they’re already dead.
Chapter 34
My uncle’s taken the bloom off my rose, so finding Jou asleep when I return to the bedroom is more a relief than a disappointment. I pull some clothes out of the bottom of my closet and slip downstairs to dress. The lizards, who should be in food-comas after those waffles, line up to watch me. Since when did watching me dress become the favorite pastime of faeries and salamanders? I shoo them off self-consciously. Izzy and the blue one waddle off into the kitchen, but Wizard climbs into my sneaker, pokes his head out over the tongue and hisses at me. I guess he doesn’t like being shoo-ed.
Once I’m decent, I scoop him and my backpack up and carry them both into my herb room. Wizard happily noses around my workbench while I bundle and bag the herbs I collected last night. Most of them are going to the office with me, ingredients for the magic milk, but the smokeberry stays at home. I have no idea what a fae herb would do to a fertility potion – probably create a generation of changelings. I use it to enhance my wards. Or I would, except that I turn my back for a moment to hang up some chicory that I plan to dry and use in coffee, and when I turn back around, Wizard is rolling around in the pile of smokeberry, all four stubby legs in the air.
“Uh—”
The lizard wiggles his legs ecstatically, and smears purple pulp over his cream and gold scales.
Great, salamander catnip.
With a sigh, I tickle his tummy and leave him to enjoy his high.
I surprise Lin by arriving at the office before eight. She jumps a mile when I poke my head through the door of her treatment room, where she’s putting a fresh cover on her acupuncture chair.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“What’re you?” I return with a grin. This is great; I never get the drop on Lin.
“I’ve got an early appointment with Mr. McNulty.”
“I thought that was yesterday,” I say. I’m sure I scheduled it for Monday.
“He rescheduled.”
“Huh.” I should be used to how often clients do that. “How’s it going?”
“Too early to tell. I’ll let you know after today’s sesh.”
I nod in acknowledgement. “You want some coffee before you get started?”
Lin shakes her head. “Coffee breath. How about dark roast afterwards, though? It’s a dark roast kind of day.” She nods at the overcast fall sky through her office windows.
“You got it.” I leave her to finish setting up and head into my hearth-room to brew.
I finish a double-batch in record time. So much so that I bump into Lin and Mr. McNulty as she escorts him out. He stops when he sees me and I brace myself, since our last encounter didn’t go exactly swimmingly.
He surprises me by immediately offering his hand. I shake, expecting his defrosting-jellyfish handshake, and am further surprised when he takes my hand in both of his and shakes heartily. “Thank you so much, Doctor.”
“Lin’s the doctor,” I remind him, but soften it with a smile. “How is the treatment going?”
“Night and day. I can’t tell you how much difference it’s made. Some of the treatments we’ve tried, they’ve been so harsh. They made Caroline miserable. She’s like a new woman. She doesn’t much like the taste of what you’ve got her on, mind, but she says she feels so much better. She’s even eating normally again.”
What is it with the taste? “I’ll work on the taste.”
“No, no, no problem. She’d drink turpentine if she had to.”
It doesn’t taste that bad, does it? “Well, I’m pleased to hear you’re seeing such an improvement.”
“We’re even going to try—“ He leans into me conspiratorially. “One of your special sessions.”
“Oh.” I glance at Lin, who nods. Since she charges triple for the conception sessions, it’ll be a really good month. “That’s great. I hope it goes well for you. Don’t forget the flowers.”
“I won’t!” He pumps my hand again before he lets go. Lin and I wave him out the front door.
“Wow,” I say after the door closes behind him.
“Wow,” Lin echoes. “Turpentine, huh?”
I bump her with my elbow. “Shut up. It doesn’t taste that bad.”
She holds her hands up. “Horse’s mouth.”
Damn. I’d better work on the taste. But first, coffee. “You ready for that coffee now?”
“Hell, yeah.”
Starting so early leaves me yawning by mid-afternoon. Something is definitely up with my body clock. I never nap in the middle of the day, but am wondering if anyone would care if I put my head down on my desk just for a few minutes when my phone rings.
I pick it up blearily, expecting Evonne.
“Though you were comin’ back to bed,” the demon says.
I prop my head on my hand and close my eyes while I speak into the phone. “I sho
uld have. Why are you calling me when you can talk into my mind?”
“You asked me to stay out for a day. This is me stayin’ out.”
I’m pretty sure I said “a night,” and that night is over. But I’m not going to argue with him. Although it bothers me a little that I didn’t notice he wasn’t in my mind last night when we were going at it. But, then, he was chatty last night and what he was saying distracted me. A lot.
“Okay, I appreciate that. What’s up?”
“You’ve been doin’ your greenwitch thing again, I can smell it.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You need to go shoppin’ tonight?”
“Mmm, could do.” I can always use fresh dock, and finding more smokeberry to replace what Wizard rolled in would be a bonus.
“How ‘bout I pick you up in an hour? I’ll make a picnic and you can shop.”
I open my mouth to protest and then shut it. Am I really about to object to a picnic? Of his food?
“Okay, let me just check my calendar.”
“I already did. Evonne says your afternoon is clear. See you in an hour, sweetness.”
“See you.” The last word dissolves in a yawn.
“Fuck, take a nap before I get there.” He hangs up and I open one eye to look at the phone before I drop the handset into the cradle. I really am so sleepy I can barely think. I cross my arms on my desk and let my head droop down between them.
I wake with a crick in my neck. Golden late afternoon light fills my office, and gleams on the constellation of papers, pens, files and stapler that are making lazy circles in the air above my head. I stare at them for a moment, open-mouthed, then cover my head with my hands as they fall unceremoniously on me.
Lin opens the door as I’m picking up the scattered papers. “Are you okay? I heard something.”
Probably the stapler. It hit the desk with a bang.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little spontaneous levitation.”
Lin cocks an eyebrow at me.
I shrug. “It happens.”
“Really, when?”
Okay, it’s never happened before, but, hey, there’s a first time for everything. “I was dreaming. About flying.” Not in an airplane, and not with wings. Floating free, buoyed up on skein after skein of Air.
