by Gail Bridges
There was laughter in my head.
But they won’t help you. You won’t be able to understand them—they are far too advanced for the likes of you.
The laughter intensified—sharp, biting.
What a pleasure it will be, though, watching you try!
I sat there, staring at the bookshelf, blinking.
As you were, my love. Pay no attention to the voice in your head!
Josh took a pen and rapped it on the table. “You’re right, Zenith. We don’t know whether his word is good. He told us he wouldn’t eavesdrop but who knows? We have to carry on, though. Like you said, what else can we do? Tell us your stories, then. Tell us everything.”
The four Guides shared a look.
“Please,” I added, “tell us.”
“They need to know,” said Zenith.
Vane passed out plastic ballpoint pens—ordinary, everyday things that seemed terribly out of place in a dragon’s cave. I watched him through the branches of the candelabra. “Of course they need to know.” He sat down, sighing. “Angie. Josh. Here’s the thing. You two are destined to join us. We think Mr. Abiba singled you out at the very beginning, when you registered at the front desk. The blood on the contract and all that. The pictures he took of you on the staircase. The games you played in your bedroom… Yes, he was watching. You had whatever it was he was looking for. He was beside himself, he was so excited.”
I sucked in my breath. “From the first day?”
From the first minute, Angela! From the first minute. I knew you right away. I just didn’t know how perfect you were. Not then.
Vane nodded. “He’ll let the other guests go when the week is over, but not you. He’ll keep you for himself, make you and Josh into Guides. He’ll force you to stay behind when the others leave.”
“He can’t do that!” I said.
I can. And I will.
Vane ignored my outburst. “He’ll get you and Josh to tell your families that you decided to extend your honeymoon for another month…or longer, even, consequences be damned. And no one will know where you are, because all this is hidden from the rest of the world. They can’t find us.”
I heard laughter in my head.
Josh and I sat in shocked, disbelieving silence. He took my hand and I clung to him as if he were a life raft in an angry, empty ocean.
“The four of us, we had it once,” said Valerian. “Just like you—that special something.”
“Lucky us,” said Zora.
“Me and Zenith, we came four years ago,” said Vane. “As guests.”
Josh jerked. “You’re a couple?”
Zenith nodded, her eyes on Vane.
“Eight years ago,” said Valerian. “That’s when he got Zora and me. It’s been eight years for us.”
I could barely breathe. “You were newlyweds?”
“Mr. Abiba likes newlyweds,” said Zenith.
A little treat I give myself. Newlyweds are so full sexual energy! Bursting at the seams, just begging for erotic release. How can I not partake?
“Won’t you shut up?” I shrieked, pressing my hands to my temples.
Five faces stared at me, baffled.
I put my head on the table. “Just stop it already…”
“Angie? What’s wrong?” asked Josh. “Are we being too loud?”
“No!”
“Maybe she means me?” said Zenith. “Vane says my voice can get annoying. Angie? Honey? Do you mean me? You want me to talk quieter or something?”
“No, no, not you—it’s none of you.” But I couldn’t remember what I was objecting to or why I’d spoken up. “I’m sorry. I got overwhelmed, I guess. Forget it.”
Josh gave me one last lingering concerned glance. Then he turned to Vane. “So. You and Zenith came four years ago.” He turned to Valerian. “And you and Zora came eight years ago. What’s with the four years in between? Any special significance?”
Valerian took off his mittens and rubbed his hands together. Then he put them on again, stalling for time. Finally he spoke. “Actually, yes. It does mean something. After this honeymoon week is over, Mr. Abiba will start to age again. He’ll get weak. His hair will fall out. He’ll fade. We think it’s his life force seeping out of him. Eventually he’ll be forced to start his aging cycle all over again, with fresh young couples. In four years.”
“Every four years,” added Zora. “Get it? His inn only operates every four years.”
“Fucking shit,” said Josh.
“What is he?” I said under my breath.
Only someone who loves you very much.
“He needs these weeks,” Valerian said. “It’s a matter of survival for him.”
“You should’ve see him before you arrived!” said Zora, “He looked ghastly.”
“He doesn’t anymore,” I said.
“Exactly,” said Zenith, nodding.
Valerian continued from where he’d left off. “Mr. Abiba plans this, all of it, down to the last detail. He chooses a location. He designs and builds a new inn. He casts his net wide, looking for newlyweds. This time, he placed an ad on the internet.”
“Yes,” said Zenith. “He chooses his victims from the people who respond.”
Josh was staring straight ahead, his jaw working. “The internet…fuck!”
Valerian looked at Josh as if he knew exactly how he felt. He probably did. “Mr. Abiba works hard at it. He plans activities. Makes up new games. Creates Tools for his guests. It’s his whole life, preparing for these special weeks.”
“What else goes on during the downtime?” Josh asked after a moment. “There has to be more.”
Vane shrugged. “Well, we don’t know exactly. He sends us back home—back to our real lives.”
“Really?” I said, aghast. “He lets you go?”
Zora nodded. “Yes. He puts us on standby, until we’re recalled four years later for the next go around…”
“When we are compelled to return,” said Zenith.
“But we all wanted to, in case you’re wondering,” said Valerian. “We couldn’t wait.”
“We even showed up a couple of weeks early for boot camp,” said Vane.
“Boot camp?” Josh asked.
Zenith tossed her hair, more animated now. “Um, yeah. Specialized training, you might say.”
“He introduces us to his new Tools. Shows us how to use them,” said Vane. He rubbed his cheek, exchanged a quick glance with Zenith. “Um. It’s…rather fun, actually.”
“Yep,” said Valerian.
“And he teaches us master classes in what he calls the erotic arts,” said Zora, licking her lips, glancing at the other Guides.
I do indeed. And what lovely classes they are!
The Guides squirmed in their chairs, remembering.
Angie, my love. Do you not wish to learn the erotic arts? I have ever so much to teach you.
I squirmed too, feeling as if I might throw up.
“What happens when your time as Guides is over?” Josh said. “I mean, when he doesn’t…want you anymore?”
Zora was the one who finally answered. “We don’t know exactly.”
“Oh,” Josh said, looking as if he wished he hadn’t asked.
I bit my lip, wondering. Zora and Valerian had been around the longest. What would happen to them when Mr. Abiba had Josh and me all trained up and ready to go? Did Mr. Abiba ever use more than four Guides at a time? Somehow I didn’t think so. Zora hadn’t been feeling well. Mr. Abiba had shouted at Valerian for being too slow, not to mention his fury with him in the ghost town. My God. Would Mr. Abiba let them go back to their old lives, knowing what they knew about his…operation? He wouldn’t send them over the edge, would he?
“What’s Zettia’s story?” Josh asked, a transparent attempt to change the subject.
Valerian picked up his pen, twirled it in his fingers, put it down again. “We don’t know her very well. She’s been with Mr. Abiba for a long time. Um…what else do we know? He calls her his
consort, whatever that means.” He looked at his wife. “Zora thinks she has something on him.”
Zora always was an observant little thing.
“Would Zettia help us, do you think?” Josh asked.
Absolutely not! My Zettia would be of no use to you whatsoever. None. Forget her.
I picked up my pen and wrote the name Zettia on the blank piece of paper sitting in front of me. Then I underlined it. For some reason, Josh’s question had caught my attention and I was suddenly very interested in Zettia. Who was she? Was she tired of being Mr. Abiba’s consort? Was she a potential ally? But then I stared at what I’d written, having second thoughts. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea after all. We couldn’t approach her—it would be far too dangerous. She might be firmly under his influence. She could tell him our escape plans. How would we know? She was too much of an enigma. I scribbled over her name and put my pen down.
“She might help us,” said Vane.
“But she might turn us in just as easily,” said Zenith, echoing my own thoughts.
I put my hands down flat on the table. “I don’t think we can risk it.”
The bonfire crackled and popped, an incongruously cheerful sound.
“I tend to agree,” said Valerian. He stood up and gazed out the cave’s entrance. “Look, it’s starting to snow.”
I shivered, even with all my warm clothes.
“We have to move on to the serious business,” said Josh. “We need to hit those books over there. But I have one more question first, if you don’t mind.” He rubbed his mittened hands together. “It’s kind of personal. What I don’t understand, and please don’t be upset by this, is why you’ve never—”
“Why we’ve never tried to escape?” said Valerian quickly, interrupting him. “Why we’ve never joined forces against Mr. Abiba? Is that what you want to know?”
Josh gave a slight nod. I did too.
Valerian’s face was turning red. His short hair looked as if it was standing on end. A vein throbbed in his forehead. “Because…” He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, lowered his voice. “We used to like being around him. We loved it here. Who wouldn’t?”
“Let’s be clear. We loved him, in the beginning,” said Zora.
“Still do, sometimes,” admitted Vane.
“And when we didn’t anymore,” continued Valerian, “when we realized things weren’t as rosy as they seemed, that he was using us, draining us of our life force, it was too late.”
“Yes,” said Vane, quietly. “It’s always too late with Mr. Abiba.”
“He’s too powerful,” said Zenith, clutching her hand, frowning. “He does what he wants with us.”
“Look at me!” cried Valerian, plucking at his jacket. “Look at Zora! We’re just about washed up, aren’t we? Only four days into it this time around, and we’re exhausted. Zora’s sick. Hell, I could barely get it up with poor Angie.”
“It wasn’t you,” I said quietly.
“It was me, but thank you anyway,” he said. Then he emitted the most heartbreaking sigh I’ve ever heard. “You want to know why we’ve never fought back, Josh? It’s simple. When we realized what was happening, he already had us. If you haven’t noticed, Mr. Abiba is a master manipulator.”
“Valerian, they’ve met him,” Zora said, patting him on the knee. “They know what he’s like.”
“Why now?” I asked.
“Like I told you last night in my note,” said Zenith, leaning forward, her Burnt Sienna hair catching glints of Quinacridone Gold from the fire, “he’s losing his grip. Going crazy. Well…maybe crazy isn’t the right word. He’s going power-mad. He’s doing cruel things—crueler than usual, anyway.” She waved her hand in the air. “Like this. He would never have hurt me like this before.”
“We’re terrified,” said Vane.
Valerian put his hand on top of Zora’s. “We are too.”
“Who knows what he’s capable of?” whispered Zenith.
Vane caught an escaped hair from Zenith’s ponytail and tucked it back in. “Yes. What if Mr. Abiba is escalating? What if a week every four years is no longer enough?”
“What if he decides we should be with him permanently?” said Valerian.
“What if he…” whispered Zora, looking at us each in turn.
I sat up straight in my chair, my knee bouncing uncontrollably, knowing what was coming.
“What if he shoves the whole lot of us over the edge?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
That horrible thought put an abrupt end to the conversation.
Vane noisily pushed back his chair. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? Hey, Angie. Does this dragon cave of yours have a bathroom?” He didn’t wait for an answer, which was just as well since I had no idea if it had or hadn’t. He took off to explore the far reaches of the cavern. A moment later he was back, after peeing from the cave’s entrance.
In a moment of lucidity I wondered where that pee would end up back in the real world. On the carpet? On our bed? On the landing by the North Tower’s front door? Or maybe it wouldn’t leave storyland at all.
Whatever. It didn’t matter.
I went to the bookshelf. There were well over a hundred books crammed into it, thin ones and fat ones, tall ones and short ones, even a set of tiny handmade booklets stitched together with fraying linen thread. Some volumes seemed old beyond imagining, with cracked, fragile pages. Others looked as if they could have come from the local bookstore, paperbacks that wouldn’t have been out of place on my own bookshelf. I ran my fingers over spine after spine, leaning over to peer at their fascinating titles, wondering which one to study first. Would Zagoff’s Guide to Everything, Volume Seventeen be more helpful than Aunt Lilith Is Not a Monster? How about One Hundred Spells Your Father Never Knew? Or the beautifully illustrated Our Favorite Demons? Maybe the heavy, thick-as-a-dictionary The Universe Within—Explained and Explored would be just what I was looking for?I picked up The Lost Incantations of Mesopotamia, then put it back again.
So many. So many. I wondered whether I would even begin to understand what was in them.
Perhaps, my love. With me to guide you. Otherwise it will be so much gibberish.
I stood aside, frowning slightly as Josh carefully pulled the oldest-looking volume from the uppermost shelf, a frail thing with peeling covers, a split spine and a musty smell. He held the book together with both hands so the pages wouldn’t flutter to the ground. The cover said simply Encyclopedia Satanica. “This one. I’m going with this one. Ancient is good, right?”
“Who knows?” I said, shrugging.
A small book with a leather cover of deepest Alizarin Crimson caught my eye. I pulled it out and approved of the title—Angel or Demon. I took the book to the table and ran my fingers over its buttery-textured red cover. “You know, everybody,” I said slowly, over the crackling of the fire, “we have several tasks to do here. We should split up the jobs, yes?”
Valerian turned from the bookcase, where he was replacing a very fat, very heavy book. “Absolutely.”
“First, there’s Mr. Abiba,” I said. “We need to figure out exactly what he is so we know what we’re dealing with. I’ll work on that that.”
“I’ll help,” volunteered Valerian.
“Thanks. Second, there’s the matter of the…um, magic.” It felt weird saying that word out loud, making it concrete by giving voice to it. Magic. That such a thing actually existed sent shivers down my back. “Who will look at the magical aspects?”
“Me,” said Josh. “If it’s a spell he has us under, there must be a way to break it. I’ll try to find a way to free us.”
“I will too,” said Zora.
“Number three…” I started, but my voice died in my throat. Mr. Abiba was speaking to me again.
My, my, my. Quite the little leader, aren’t we?
“Number three,” I repeated loudly, doing my best to ignore him. “We have to—”
Hush, my dear. Just look how they fol
low you! See how they hang on your every word! Nice, isn’t it? Why, a person might become accustomed to such attention.
I frowned, shook my head, mumbled something incoherent.
Do you think I might have had something to do with it, with the way they’re being so accommodating? Do you suppose I might have whispered in their ears? Told them to listen to you? Suggested that they follow your advice? Do you suppose?
He was mocking me.
Josh has chosen well, I see. The Encyclopedia Satanica.
He sighed dramatically.
My poor Joshua. He doesn’t know to be careful with that tome. The encyclopedia has been known to generate the most unbearable frights in the unwary. But then again, it is one of my favorite references. Joshua will find useful information in the section called “Radiances, Glamours and Blights”. Perhaps you ought to suggest he take a look? Are you paying attention, my love?
I was doing my very best not to. And failing.
He laughed.
I had to get rid of him. Perhaps I could talk to him the same way he was talking to me. Silently, mind to mind. I furiously zoned in on the voice in my head, trying to match its ethereal quality, doing my best to copy the peculiar pitch and tenor of the words.
I don’t want your help! Go away! Get out of my head! I screamed silently, pushing my thoughts at him as hard as I could, flinging them at him with so much force it made my head hurt. Leave us alone! You promised!
The laughter stopped abruptly.
Telepathy? You?
Silence.
Telepathy. What an unexpected development! You send me swooning, oh love of mine! But beware, Angela Taylor. Telepathy comes at a high cost. Especially for one as unschooled as you. Be careful, my love. Be very, very careful.
Shooting pains zapped from one side of my head to the other, making me gasp. The telepathy? Was the telepathy making me feel that way? I stared at Angel or Demon on the table in front of me, unable to read. The words wavered in and out of focus for several long moments. The flickering light from the candelabra jabbed at my eyes, making me blink, causing rolling waves of pain to shoot through my head. I felt unbalanced, unsteady. In fact I was about to tip over and crash to the floor. I leaned over the table, resting my head on my arms.
