by Gail Bridges
He was…beautiful.
In the prime of life. Virile and strong. Radiating exuberance. Confident. The sexiest man I’d ever seen in my life.
I sucked in my breath. How on God’s green Earth could I still want him? How?
He took two steps into the room and stopped. He regarded the flamenco performance for a long moment, taking it in, appreciating the artistry behind it, nodding in time to Zenith’s stomping heels and Josh’s strumming hands. His gaze lingered on Vane in surprise. So Zenith was right. Mr. Abiba hadn’tknown Vane could accompany her. Mr. Abiba didn’t know everything, and that gave me hope. But then his eyes narrowed. His head turned from side to side. He was looking for me.
Angela! Oh Angela…
I took a deep breath, fortifying myself.
Did you think this show would distract me? My dear. We are in the middle of a grand lover’s battle, you and I. It would take more than a flamenco alegría to distract me, breathtaking as it is.
A bead of sweat made its way down my forehead and into the corner of my eye. This had to work—I had to make it work!
I shall play along. For you. Only for you.
Mr. Abiba crossed his arms and tapped his foot, watching Zenith finish her dance in a flourish of red skirts. He bowed extravagantly from the waist, clapping. “Well done! I am most impressed. Carry on! Carry on!”
The performers launched into a second song but Mr. Abiba was no longer watching. He was studying the paintings lining the walls. He turned in a slow circle, taking them in. The large beach mural, with its waving grasses and clouds and lighthouse. The view from the top of the North Tower at sunset. And then the people-pile painting I’d been so proud of, so full of arms and legs and genitals and giddy sexual energy. He spent extra time studying that one, just as I’d known he would, his head dipped in appreciation, his hand coming up as if to caress bare skin. “Sublime,” he said at last, shaking his head. Moving on, he gazed at the long row of portraits, all connected by painted leafy vines. My father, my mother, my sister. Vane. Zenith. Geoffrey, Logan, Nikki, Rhonda-Lynne, Josh. I saw a flicker cross his face as he realized my portrait wasn’t there, nor his own.
Interesting choice. A message, perhaps?
He completed his perusal of the room. Nodded toward the seated guests. And then, finally, he looked at the bridal arbor.
Goodness gracious. What have we here?
From my hiding place, I saw Valerian and Zora grab hold of the double doors and swing them away from the wall, bringing them toward each other.
I was going to faint.
Come out, come out, wherever you are.
He knew exactly where I was.
Josh played a solo. Vane and Zenith stood to the side, clapping in time, never losing the rhythm, their eyes glued to Mr. Abiba.
I squeezed the bouquet so hard that sticky, fragrant sap ran down my arm.
Why do you hide from me, love of mine?
It was time.
Are you so very frightened?
I took another deep breath, realizing that I’d been taking fortifying breaths from the moment he’d crossed into the room. Time seemed to contract and expand. The world around me became bright and hard-edged, hyper-focused. I was ready. I straightened my shoulders. I held the bouquet in front of my bosom, like the bride I was.
I stepped from my hiding place, revealing myself.
“I’m ready,” I said.
He saw me. His willing, beautiful bride. A look of pure, unadulterated joy spread across his face. I saw. It was real.
Mr. Abiba, demon, was capable of joy, of love, of happiness. It transformed him.
It took my breath away.
“Hello, Adi,” I said.
Time stopped. It was just the two of us, as if it had never been otherwise. Perhaps it hadn’t. Music still played in the background, and the singing too, and the thumping and swirling of Zenith’s dancing and the shocked gasps of our small audience, but the sounds came from somewhere far away, somewhere that had nothing to do with us. Background noise, nothing more. I stood there in front of my enemy, resplendent in my wedding dress, offering myself. He stared at me, his eyes traveling up and down the length of my body. Twice.
Angela, my love! You make me so very happy!
“You’ve made me happy too. In ways I never expected,” I said out loud. There was no need for telepathy—not any more. Not that I could do it without falling to the floor in a writhing mass. I held out my hand. “Marry me, Adi Abiba.”
Delighted laughter filled my head. Then I have won.
“Marriage? Really? Is that what you call winning?”
It was always so, my dear.
“With a bride as your prize?”
Of course.
The song ended and another began. From the corner of my eye, I saw the double doors swing closer together, almost but not quite touching, revealing the paintings of the bride and groom and their reaching, yearning hands, the glint of a golden ring and its diamonds. Zora waved at me—do it, do it now!
The game is hereby over, Zenobia my love! May I call you Zenobia? Ah…but it was a grand ride, wasn’t it?
I studied his handsome face. “For you, perhaps. It was never a game for me. And no. I prefer Angela.”
Beside the point. Are you willing to accept me? Of your own free will?
“I…am. Yes.”
Now it was his turn to study me. I steeled myself. Could he tell my lies from my truths? Because some of what I was saying was the truth. Some small part of me did love him, would have taken him as husband, would have been thrilled to have white-hot demon sex with him, would have spent the rest of my life learning from him. I latched on to those small truths—his truths—letting them grow, shine, fill me. I let him study me, let him see them.
I opened myself to him.
Some of myself, that is. For I was still playing the game. I’d erected the biggest, strongest mental barrier the world had ever seen to keep my own truths secret.
And he was too dazzled to see them.
“You do love me,” the Amorous Demon whispered.
He took my hand then and held it in his own as if it were a fragile bird.
“I have something for you,” I said after a moment, taking my hand away. “A gift. Turn around.”
He did. He saw the bride and groom painted on the doors—the missing portraits—and gasped. He spun around again to face me, his robes flaring, his eyes tearing.
“It’s beautiful!” he cried.
“Close the doors, Adi. Bring me the ring. Make us whole.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
But it didn’t happen that way.
Why would it? While everyone in the room held their breath, Mr. Abiba hurried to the doors. He reached for them with both hands, pushing them together…closing them…closing them…
I thought my heart would stop.
The painted hand of the bride so close to the groom’s, so close, so close, so close… And then…and then…a scream of rage that made my hair stand on end.
“Imbecile!”
Zettia.
I thought I would faint.
The doors flung open, smacking Mr. Abiba in the face with a sickening wet thud. He lurched backward, howling, his hands to his cheeks.
“You brainless moron!” Zettia screamed.
Stunned silence filled the room.
“Idiot!” shrieked Zettia, stalking into the Fine Arts Room, “Four hundred and eighty years old, and you still think they love you!”
I stared at her in shock. We all did. Even Mr. Abiba.
Zettia? This was Zettia? Sweet, accommodating Zettia who made our wonderful meals? Solemn, calm Zettia who talked Mr. Abiba down from his crying jags? Self-possessed, no-nonsense Zettia who made everyone wait for gifts while she cleared the table of dishes? What had happened to her? This new Zettia who’d just stormed through the double doors was someone we’d never seen before. She was bigger, taller, fiercer—someone to be feared. Josh and I shared an alarmed glance
from our positions across the room. Zettia had changed everything. What would happen now? Mr. Abiba hadn’t closed the doors—the circle hadn’t been completed!
Our plan had failed.
Zettia stepped right up to Mr. Abiba and skewered him with her steely gaze. She was almost as tall as he was. “Adi Abiba, you are colossally stupid! Did you really think she was going tomarry you?” She drew herself up to her full height, made an ugly hawking noise deep in her throat and spat loudly at Mr. Abiba’s feet—a gesture so perfectly full of contempt that it was almost beautiful. “Their kind never marry our kind of their own free will!”
I gasped. Zettia was a demon too. How had I not seen it?
Mr. Abiba growled low in his throat. It was a horrible, wrenching sound that started as pain and ended as fury. He took his hands from his face and pointed a long finger at Zettia. Blood flowed freely from his nose. “How dare you upset my plans, woman? How dare you?”
A part of me thought, So demons can bleed.
“Your plans?” Zettia batted his finger away. “You call thisa plan?” She flung her arm toward the paintings ringing the room. She turned her gaze on Valerian and Zora, who looked as if they wanted to wriggle their way into the brush marks of the landscape they were cowering against. “Clever little Guides, aren’t you? Nice try. The ringing spell.” She cast her gaze on Mr. Abiba again, her face red with fury. “But you, my dear Adi—you are a cretin. How could you let the Guides anywhere near our precious books? What were you thinking?”
Mr. Abiba stomped his foot, and I could have sworn the floor trembled with the impact. “You slovenly sow!” he thundered. “Yes, I had plans—and you ruined them!” His voice rose to a register that made my ears ring. “I had my Zenobia right where I wanted her! How stupid do you think I am? I didn’t believe their little charade for a single moment!” He leaned toward her, his voice suddenly lowering in very threatening way. “Zettia, I was never going to shut that door.”
A horrified gasp came from my right. It was Josh.
I tore my eyes from the arguing demons for long enough to gesture for him to join me where I was huddling under the arbor. He scuttled over to me and we clung to each other behind the ivy vines. Valerian and Zora were backed up against the wall, trembling. Zenith and Vane were crouched behind the erstwhile audience members, who were frozen with shock and terror. My head was spinning—everything had gone so wrong, so quickly! Mr. Abiba had been following our every move, the bastard. He’d promised not to! Our plan never had a chance because he’d known all along.
But… If he wasn’t going to shut the doors and complete the circle, what had he been planning to do? Had those plans included me? Was I still in danger? Were the others? Were we in worse danger now than before? I squeezed Josh’s hand so hard it must have hurt him. He put his arm around me and pulled me close. Our eyes never left the demons.
They were moving closer to our arbor.
“Did you not hear me, woman?” screamed Mr. Abiba. “I had everything under control!”
“Perhaps.” Zettia’s voice grew cold. “Perhaps not. You were playing a game of wits with her. Toying with her. Like a lion with his prey. I quite understand that. But this time you’ve gone too far.”
Mr. Abiba’s eyes darted in my direction, then back again. He didn’t say anything. But his left hand twitched and he quickly, smoothly moved between me and Zettia.
Shielding me.
Zettia watched, a disgusted look on her face. “Swine!You think you love her.” she sneered, her upper lip curled in a snarl. “You can’t help yourself, can you? She’s only the latest in a long string of conquests, yet you think you’re in love! Just like you loved all the others. One after another. For four hundred years! You’re pathetic, Adi Abiba. Pathetic!” She spat the word. And then she moved to his side, directly in my line of sight again. “You’re a silly, self-indulgent little man who specializes in creating silly, self-indulgent little girls! Girls you train to adore youabove all others! Girls who fawn over you and hang on your every word. Girls who believe you actually care about them. Girls like her!” She pointed directly to where I was hiding in the arbor.
A small, thin sound escaped my lips. I almost wet my pants.
“I do care!” Mr. Abiba took a step to the left, blocking her from me.
She ignored him. “And you’ve led this most recent example to believe she’s something extra special, haven’t you? You made her believe she has powers, isn’t that right? Of course it’s right. It’s what you always do!”
“My Zenobia is special! She’s a telepath!”
“You stupid cock monkey,” Zettia said in a scathing voice, pointing a long finger at Mr. Abiba and then at the row of terrified guests. “You know they can all do it if they try hard enough. If they can withstand the pain. Most can’t. Your little strumpet couldn’t! At best all she did was hurl a few words in your direction. Like I said, she’s nothing special.”
Mr. Abiba lunged at her, a tight ball of pent-up fury, but she deftly moved away.
“When is it going to stop, Adi? How much longer do I have to put up with these insufferable infatuations of yours?”
Again he threw himself at her but all he managed to do was tear her robe.
She let out a sharp, scornful laugh. “How many ‘loves’ have you had, anyway? Do you keep track of them? Because I do! Do you remember Gloria? And Imelda? How about Prudence? That was such a long time ago, wasn’t it? Do you still have Prudence’s embroidered kerchief to remember her by? Ah yes, I see by your expression that you do. You must remember sweet Maureen? Oh, and Rebecca too! How could I not mention Rebecca? She was the one you cried for the other day, if I’m not mistaken? She of the lovely soprano voice.”
Mr. Abiba howled in enraged indignation. Droplets of blood splattered the polished wooden floor. “Shut your mouth, woman!”
“Well I’m done with it!” Zettia shrieked. “I’m putting an end to this. Right now.”
Josh’s hand tightened around my waist. My knees threatened to give way.
Zettia whipped a piece of heavy paper from her robes. She fluttered it in front of Mr. Abiba’s face, taunting him. A flame appeared out of nowhere and began to singe the bottom left corner. The smoke was acrid, sour, permeating the room in seconds. It made my eyes water. “Our agreement, Adi. You must remember? Signed in blood on January the first of the year 1604? It was your idea.”
His face went white. “You can’t do that.”
“Watch me.”
“How dare you! That contract is mine! It was hidden!”
“Ha!” She stomped her foot. “You weren’t paying attention. I found it, Adi. I broke the guarding spells. You’ve been busy lately, haven’t you? You’ve been occupied with watching your little darling over there getting herself fucked! Over and over and over. Well I’ve been busy too. Searching! And…see?” She waved the contract back and forth, fanning the flames. “I finally found it.”
Mr. Abiba and Zettia stared at each other as pale flames flickered. The air shimmered with their fury. I was afraid to breathe, afraid to move, afraid to be in the same room with them.
“Zettia, I’m warning you…”
She wasn’t listening. “I agreed to keep your little friends fed and watered and sexed up while you underwent rejuvenation every four years,” yelled Zettia. “I threw glamour after glamour! I did my part!” The flame was spreading. “You siphoned off their sexual energy and you thrived! All you had to do was be true to me. Give me the apexes you would have squandered on them. Love me above all others! You signed in blood. You promised!”
Mr. Abiba’s eyes never left the burning contract. The lower quarter had already turned to ash and drifted to the floor. “I was true to you,” he said.
“Like hell you were.” Zettia moved her fingers away from the grasping flames.
“You are my only lover, Zettia. You! You always have been. What kind of monster do you think I am? Nothing’s changed.” Mr. Abiba jabbed a finger at her, then made a shockin
gly fast move for the contract. He missed. Zettia was quicker.
They moved so fast, these demons.
The contract was half gone. Zettia waved it back and forth again, baiting him.
“You try me, woman, with your petty jealousies. I’ve not sampled Angela’s delights, no matter what you think. You know that.” Mr. Abiba’s voice lowered, grew cold and threatening. “Zettia, you do not want to do this.”
He’d said “sampled Angela’s delights”.
The three ugliest words in the English language. Right up there with “silly, self-indulgent little girl”. I felt like throwing up.
“Oh, but I do want to do this. I have had quite enough, Adi Abiba.”
They were circling each other now, right in front of me, moving opposite each other, their flowing robes making them seem bigger than they were. Their cinnamon scent filled the room, growing stronger with their rising fury. How was it possible that I could be trapped in a room with two warring demons? With these two monstrous beings who were about to burst into full-fledged combat? Keeping each other at arm’s length, they snarled and snapped and hissed at each other like animals, getting nearer and nearer to my hiding place.
“You mock me!” Zettia screamed. “All the years I’ve given to you and you mock me!”
Mr. Abiba slapped her hard across the face.
She slapped him back with her free hand. Harder. Blood from Mr. Abiba’s dripping nose splattered the floor around them. Somehow they struck me as absurd, those slaps. I suppressed a horrified laugh. Demons slapping each other? Why bother hitting and slapping and name-calling when they had so much power, so much magic at their disposal?
It was so…human.
Zettia threw the contract onto the floor.
