by Gail Bridges
He kissed me again, on the mouth, and I suppressed a moan, lost in the moment.
But wait.
What had he just said? Something important. Something about playing games, about outwitting him, about secrecy…
Oh…oh!
He was doing nice things to my nipples, very nice things, and I stopped caring what he might or might not have said. What did it matter anyway? His large, cold hand cupped my breast, massaging it, making love to it as no one ever had, not even Zenith. Through mixed shivers of delight and disgust, I remembered something from before, something that had happened in the ghost town, something Mr. Abiba had done. I sucked in my breath, my body reminding me of a glancing touch of pure light, a touch of pure liquid beauty. There was something else too. Hadn’t Mr. Abiba hinted that he wasn’t allowed to make love to me?
But why? Why wasn’t he allowed? What was stopping him from using everything in his power to entice me to have sex with him? He could do it! He could take me by the hand and lead me away, and there would be no resistance from me—no, none at all. I yearned for his body, for his newly sculpted chest and his youthful arms corded with lovely veins. I wanted nothing more than to run my hands down his hard stomach and to explore what lay below. I wanted that pure light inside me again—I wanted him inside me again. Oh, how wonderful it would be!
All true. Yes.
But I also wanted to spray myself down with disinfectant and take a bath in fingernail polish remover.
He smacked his lips, grinning. The bastard knew what he was doing to me.
“Stop it,” I hissed.
And it did stop. It faded away—the want, the shivers, the heat waves. All of it gone.
And that right there is why I love you, Angela Taylor.
“Why?” I asked, curious in spite of myself. “What did I do?”
You have no idea, do you? He took my chin in his fingers and gazed into my eyes. Then I shall do my best to explain. You put up a wall. A small, insignificant wall—nothing that could stop me but a barrier nonetheless. Do you know how many women could do what you just did? Only you. Only you.
I didn’t say anything.
You, my dear, are truly remarkable.
I just stared at him.
You don’t believe me, my love? You need more? Then I shall give you more. Do you remember the train game? Of course you do! You were remarkably good at it. Your reaction time was very swift. Your involuntary sexual response was the strongest I’ve ever encountered. You were so eager, my love. You embraced each sensation I threw at you and came back for more. And oh, what you did to me! How you ignited my passion! What a delightful little surprise you were!
He shook his head, remembering.
But that’s not all. You stopped the game! No one has ever stopped the train game. Until you, I didn’t even know it was possible.
I blinked. I spoke aloud. “I derailed it?”
No. You stopped it. There’s a difference. You wrested it away from me. You took the train into yourself—you took control of it. You broke my charm! My love, you are the only person ever to have done such a thing. And I’ve been doing this for a very long time.
“Wonderful. And here I thought I was the broken one.”
He ignored that.
And the ghost town. Amazing.
“The ghost town? You weren’t very nice to me in the ghost town.”
There you are, scowling again. You ought to be careful—did your mother never warn you that your face could freeze like that? His laughter filled my head. My dear, nice has nothing to do with it! I was testing you. Watching your reactions. Discovering how far I could push you and at the same time giving you a bit of tutoring. A private Lesson, if you will. You had no idea I was teaching you to control your rampant sexual nature, did you? No, of course you didn’t.
My what? I didn’t answer. Now I was scowling and pinching my lips together.
You’re so strong, Angela. You just don’t know it.
I took his hand, removed it from my chin. “Maybe I’m beginning to.”
Yes, you are. And it makes me want you all the more. Why do you think I am allowing you play with my precious Tool? I wish to see what you do with it. Did you really think you could keep your little plans from me? There are no secrets in my inn! I shall be watching your every move, Angela Taylor. Because one day, with the proper training, you might yet be a match for me.
“No. Never.”
His pink tongue flicked at the edge of his mouth. His eyelids fell to half mast. The voice in my head sounded husky, if such a thing were possible.
I happen to be partial to strong women.
We stared into each other’s eyes.
Very, very partial.
“I don’t…love you,” I said at last, my heart pounding. “Not even a little.”
Ah, but you will. You will. One day soon you will love me as I love you. I am very good at what I do, Angela Taylor. Very good indeed.
I believed him. And I was afraid.
Mr. Abiba withdrew from my mind in a rush, leaving me reeling. Breathing heavily, he looked out over the dining room full of people shuffling from foot to foot. They were coming out of their dazed state. Only a few minutes had passed but it seemed like much longer. I frowned, bit my lip, crossed my arms over my chest. Already our exchange of words was going dim in my memory. Why did he bother? Why tell me whatever he’d told me when he knew I’d just forget it again? What was the point? Hubris, as I’d said before? Did he do it because he couldn’t help but gloat?
All that remained was the fear. And my bitter determination to win.
When Mr. Abiba spoke again, his voice was raised for all to hear. “So there you have it, everyone! Angela Taylor now owns the Storybuilder Tool.”
There was scattered clapping. No one seemed to have noticed our little time out.
“I have given Angela my private Storybuilder capsule,” Mr. Abiba went on. “It’s special—two people can use it at once. Logan has four more capsules in his Toolbox. I hereby give them to Angela also. There are no others! I cannoteavesdrop. I will not spoil your surprise.” He draped his large hands over my shoulders, a benevolent teacher again. “So go ahead, my love. Please. Take my Guides and Joshua with you into storyland. Make your little arrangements, with my blessing.”
And then he was done. With a final squeeze of my shoulders, he let go of me. Turned away. Found someone else to manipulate.
I’d done it.
I thought I might faint. My entire body shook. I was trembling so hard I felt as if I were about to slump to the floor…but I’d done it. I’d done it. Josh’s wide grin told me all I needed to know.
I went to him.
“That was unbelievable, what you just did,” he said, folding me in his arms. “Un-fucking-believable!”
“If it works,” I whispered.
“It’ll work. Are you okay?” He kissed my forehead, worriedly rubbed my upper arms. “You look pale.”
“Just…you know. Ugh, ugh, ugh.” I made a pretend gagging noise.
“I don’tknow. You’re amazing. So brave. So strong.”
I buried my head in his shoulder, fighting a rush of nausea. The golden Storybuilder chain dug into the side of my neck. “No, Josh, don’t say that. Don’t call me strong. I don’t want to be strong—I just want to be…me.”
He kissed the top of my head. “You are, babe. You are.”
I leaned in to him. Took his bruised, stiff hand and gently massaged his swollen fingers.
He winced. “Angie. I’m so sorry about that…thing. With Nikki.”
“It’s okay. And I’m sorry I overreacted.” I was wincing as well but for a different reason altogether. “I seriously didn’t mean to call you out like that in front of everyone! Man, that was brutal. It was him. It was him.”
“Then we’re even.” He lifted our clasped hands and kissed my knuckles, golden flecks in his eyes.
And just like that, everything was right between Josh and me again. We were ready
for whatever came next.
I hoped.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It was an hour later. We were in the North Tower, Josh and I and all four Guides, wearing the Storybuilder pendants around our necks. We’d just eaten yellow petals pulled from the flowers on my bedside table. I still had no idea what they were supposed to do for us. “You’re sure you’re all right, Zenith?” I asked for the third time, pulling her down onto the bed to sit next to me. I took her hand in my own. Twined her fingers in mine. Looked into her eyes. Josh sat on her other side and put his arm around her.
I squeezed her hand, a message. We’ll talk when we get to storyland.
She nodded. Yes.
Vane pushed a chair out of the way, picked up a white robe with a noticeable spray of blood splatters on the front—he raised his eyebrows, horrified—and stuffed it into the corner. Then he shoved Josh’s suitcase into the enormous, lurking wardrobe, making sure to pull the skirt of my wedding dress out of the way. “There. I cleared enough space. Let’s sit here, in the middle of the room.”
We arranged ourselves in a loose circle. The four Guides faced me and Josh. Zenith was at Josh’s side, Vane at mine. We were about to use my favorite Tool—apparently I owned it now, whatever that meant—but the familiar thrill wasn’t there. This time there would be no titillating erotic encounters. We had work to do—important work. No time for play. With a bit of prompting from Vane, I recited the activating words, asked the correct questions and received the proper answers. As soon as the last person had said they were my friend, the capsules hanging at our necks began their fireworks, showering multicolored sparkles over us…but all I could think was how I wanted the gaudy light show to be over so we could talk. We had privacy now, but what was the plan? We didn’t have one yet. I hoped someone had a good idea, because I sure didn’t.
Then the display was over and they were all looking at me. Vane patted my knee. “Angie, you have to start the story. You’re the leader.”
“Oh, sorry…let me think.”
“We could go back to the ghost town,” said Valerian.
“Not there.” I smiled at him, suddenly shy, admiring his freshly cut hair, wondering why he and I hadn’t yet gotten around to finishing our aborted lovemaking session. “Too many memories. We need something else. How about…a cave? Yes. We’re in a cave. A big one.” That seemed safe enough. I waited, holding my breath. The room darkened, the air acquired a wet, earthy smell. But that was all. The North Tower was the same as ever. Bed. Roll-top desk. Windows. Carpet. The Storybuilder wasn’t fully working yet. Clearly I hadn’t said enough to generate the story. I was about to add more when Zenith stopped me.
“Honey,” she whispered, peering at me over Josh, “we all have to add something to the story to make it work.”
“Oh,” I said, “of course.”
Vane, in line next to me, closed his eyes. “It’s a cave, like Angie said. High in the snowy frozen mountains, where no man can go. A dragon’s cave!”
A hush fell over us as we waited, watchful. The room grew darker. It was distinctly cooler all of a sudden and the earthy smell was joined by an acrid, sour odor that stung my nose. Dragon droppings? Something else? I squinted, looking around, trying to keep my eyes from crossing as the magic—or whatever it was—started up in earnest. The walls shifted, the floor buckled, the ceiling rose cavernously above us. A gaping, light-filled entrance opened in the wall where the door used to be. Through it I saw white-clad mountaintops and stark Cerulean Blue sky. Everything around us was changing form, molding itself into new shapes, turning into rough, unfinished stone. A stalagmite rose out of the floor behind Valerian, then shriveled away again. In spite of myself, I sat up straighter, holding my breath, excited now.
“But the dragon no longer lives in the cave,” said Zora, the next in line, shooting a quick, rather annoyed look at Vane. It was so cold now that I could see her breath. “It’s been empty of dragon droppings and rotting carcasses for years. It doesn’t smell anymore. No animals live here at all. Not even bats. In fact it’s a very nice cave, with good airflow and a great view.”
I breathed a sigh of relief as the rancid odor vanished as if it had never been.
It was Valerian’s turn. He looked around, frowning slightly. “Um…it’s cold, so we’re all wearing jackets and mittens and other warm stuff—hey!” He made a surprised little grunt, finding himself wearing a woolen coat of deepest Ultramarine Blue, a knit scarf and hat and fur-lined boots. I was too. From one moment to the next, each of us was warmly bundled up in matching winter clothing. “Nice!” he said, tying a knot in his scarf. “One last thing. There’s a roaring fire in the middle of the cave.”
“Oh!” breathed Zora, scooting over to where a large, cheerful fire suddenly appeared to our left. She pulled her jacket hood over her thick curls. “It’s toasty over here! Good idea, Valerian.”
The rest of us, cozy in our new garments, joined her. Zenith looked around. “My turn, I guess.” She sounded tired. She held her mittened hands out to the fire, thinking. “The cave is furnished with stuff the dragon swiped from a long-ago castle. There is fresh food for us. And drink. Simple, hearty fare, not the fancy stuff that Zettia serves us.”
Suddenly the cave wasn’t empty anymore. We were surrounded by velvet-covered couches, wooden tables with heavy carved legs, chairs with plump damask cushions, cabinets filled with antique curios, a narrow counter holding covered tureens of steaming food. A bookshelf, even. Heavy tapestries hung on the walls, making the place seem much less cave-like. Three canopied beds and several many-branched candelabras were on the far side of the fire, toward the back recesses of the cavern. I smelled roast beef.
Josh hoisted his long body onto the nearest couch. The rest of us waited while he stared into the flames. He would be the last person to add to the story. “All right,” he said softly, “I’ve been thinking. We need stuff to help us plan. Our cave is stocked with paper and pens. But more importantly, there are books here—lots of books. Encyclopedias. Histories. Manuals. The best of their kind. And they’re all about magic…and magic spells…and magic beings. About demons and devils and witches and the occult and…well, who knows what Mr. Abiba is? But we have to find out, don’t we? So there are books here.” He clasped his hands between his knees. “Helpful books. In English. That’s all. I can’t think of anything else.”
He didn’t need to.
I’d managed to get us away from Mr. Abiba, but Josh had done something far more important—he’d secured information! I saw movement from the corner of my eye and spun around to gape at the bookshelf. The huge, leather-bound volumes were morphing, changing, remaking themselves into books that could help us to escape.
Vane whistled. “That was a genius move if I’ve ever seen one, Josh.”
Josh shrugged. “Thanks. The idea just kind of came to me out of the blue.”
Zora stood up. “All right. That’s it. We’re safe. The spell is complete.” She put a mittened hand on my arm. “Angie, Josh…we have so much to tell you. I hardly know where to begin.”
Valerian held out his hand. He looked nervous, as if he wasn’t comfortable being away from Mr. Abiba’s ever-present surveillance. How long had he been at the inn, anyway? “In a minute, Zora,” he said. “We’ll get to that. But we need to be careful. How much time do we have before he gets suspicious? We need to be alert, even here.”
Zenith was peering behind her, into the shadowed areas of the cave. “That’s right.”
“I agree,” said Vane. He was already rifling through a box of writing materials. “I suppose we could stay an hour or two. Let’s sit at the table. I’ll pass out paper and pens.”
Something was rummaging in my head.
Hello, Angela.
I jerked. Mr. Abiba!
Please, take as long as you like. Take all day if you wish. I can wait.
“Go away!” I whispered fiercely.
The bastard was in my mind. Again. In storyland, where he’d pro
mised he wouldn’t intrude. But Mr. Abiba’s voice was more fleeting than ever, fading away before I’d even fully noted its presence. I was left only with Josh’s quizzical look and the uncomfortable feeling that something was wrong.
What was new about that? A hell of a lot of things were wrong.
I left the bonfire and went the six steps to the cave’s breezy entrance, a ledge high up on a sheer cliff. Unless we grew wings, there was no way down. I looked out over craggy, stark mountaintops and thought I saw a mountain goat on a slope in the distance. I squinted into the brightness, shaking my head. This cave I’d dropped all of us into was a fitting metaphor. We were as trapped here as we were in real life.
“We should leave in a couple of hours,” said Zenith, “but I do wish we had more time.”
I returned to the fire. “I think we can take more time if we want. I really don’t think he’ll mind.”
They looked at me, dubious.
“If we take longer he’ll just think we’re having sex with each other. Right?”
Valerian snorted.
“Good point,” said Zora.
“That’s exactly what he’ll think,” added Josh.
Zenith motioned for me and Josh to join her at the table, which we did. A tall, twelve-branched candelabra sat in the middle, throwing flickering shadows on her face. She held herself tight, like a spring ready to snap. “God, but my pinky aches. Must be the cold.”
“I ought to have said there were painkillers here. Sorry.”
She touched my cheek with her good hand. “You’re a painkiller all on your own, sweetie.”
Angie! Oh Angie!
Damn. The voice was back, insistent.
I simply must tell you! I cannot wait another moment. Your Joshua is not as clever as you think. The books were my contribution to your adventure. A pregnant pause. I gave him the idea—me!
I made a low sound deep in my throat. The others didn’t notice.
Not to worry, my dear. I have provided you with good information. The books are authentic.
