FS-S1-Kobo

by S. K. Falls

  And its pleasures in all their new lustre begin,

  When we live in a bright-beaming world of our own,

  And the light that surrounds us is all from within;

  Oh, it is not, believe me, in that happy time

  We can love as in hours of less transport we may: --

  Of our smiles, of our hopes, 'tis the gay sunny prime,

  But affection is warmest when these fade away.

  - In the Morning of Life, Thomas Moore

  I stood on a cliff with my dad.

  His back was to the edge, mist’s white fingers poking and prodding him. His expression was beatific, and his glasses glinted in the meager sunlight. Tufts of hair poked up around his head, waving lightly in the breeze.

  "I'm scared, Dad." I clenched fistfuls of my sweater in damp hands and looked behind me. Something was creeping up, silently stalking me, but I couldn't see what it was yet. Trees hulked over the slender path, obscuring my view.

  "The soul of its sweetness is drawn out by tears." My father's lips kept moving long after the sentence was done, as if I were watching a badly dubbed movie.

  "Dad?" I stepped forward, but the mist was already wrapping itself around him, obliterating him part by part. He stood there, looking steadily at me, until the only things not covered were his eyes. As I watched, they went from brown to a dull, flat black and then to a glowing, deep iridescent purple.

  I woke up drenched in sweat. A quick glance at my alarm clock told me it was seven o'clock, but the light filtering in through my blinds was gray. I peeked through the mini-blinds and my suspicions were confirmed—another storm was blowing in.

  I sank back down on the bed and rubbed my face, trying to push the tiredness out of my eyes. What had my dad said in the dream? "The soul of its sweetness is drawn out by tears." I had the vaguest notion that it was a line from a Thomas Moore poem, but I wasn't sure. That didn't matter; my bookshelf would have the answer.

  As I suspected, I had a battered copy of classic poems, and Thomas Moore's work was in there. The poem was called In the Morning of Life, and it talked about how life is best appreciated through its trials. Was that a portent of things to come? Had my dad been trying to tell me that I had to weather this storm and then things would be fine?

  I set the book back and sighed. It was just a dream; images concocted by my traumatized brain because I’d been kidnapped by a demon. And now that I’d been informed he was part of a larger clan—a clan that would probably come looking for revenge—it was only normal that I’d be freaking out a bit. I pushed those thoughts away. I’d deal with them when I was safely ensconced in Dax’s mansion. My heart thrilled at the thought, my mood lightening even though we had so much to discuss about the possible upcoming dangers.

  After brushing my teeth, I padded into the silent, dark kitchen. Mom must still be asleep. I flipped on the lights so I could make coffee, and was barely able to bite back a scream. Mom sat at the table, nursing a cup of coffee. Except the coffee was just sitting in front of her while she stared into the cup.

  One hand on my chest, I tried to bring my breathing down to a more natural rhythm so I wouldn't faint. "Mom?"

  She jumped, seeming almost as surprised to see me as I was to see her. She was in her gray polyester waitress uniform, the embroidered "Grace" on her chest pocket flaunting the name she'd had in another life.

  "What are you doing?" I poured a cup of coffee from the pot she’d made and went to sit by her.

  "I have work," she answered, looking back into her cup unsurely. After a pause, she took a sip.

  "What time do you have to be there?"

  "Eleven."

  It was barely past seven o'clock. My heart clenched in pain at the thought of my mom, dressed and ready to go hours before her shift all these years that I’d been at college, just sitting alone in the dark. She was counting down time until she could join my dad wherever he was, just waiting for her body's clock to wind down and stop. I swallowed, hard, so I could speak again.

  "Mama…" I paused, considering what I'd been thinking since I'd got home. "How would you like to see a therapist?" I’d majored in psychology in college, and had come to appreciate how much good talk therapy really did people like my mom. We’d never gotten her any help after dad had passed away. Sure, there were no psychologists in Eden, but we could go to a nearby bigger city. I’d even drive her there and back and pay for it.

  She looked at me, her eyes blank as ever.

  "It might do you good to get out all the stuff about…about your pain," I said softly, gripping my coffee mug hard. Why had I ever left her here alone? I should’ve made her come with me to college, insisted on it. Had I been that much of a selfish brat four years ago that I hadn't seen how abandoning her in this place would change her?

  But she didn't respond, and after a while, I pushed myself back from the table. "I better go finish getting ready for work."

  When I came back out forty minutes later, she was gone. I wondered if she planned to just sit in the kitchen of Irma’s diner until her shift started.

  I wasn’t technically due at work until nine a.m., but today was a special day. Dax, Oscar, Victorine and I were going on a field trip of sorts.

  My heart sped up predictably when I got to the plateau at the top of the hill and began to drive through the wrought iron gates. I’d be seeing Dax in just a few minutes.

  It had been less than a week since my encounter with Marion, and we'd seen each other every day and every night since then.

  Oscar had been training me to manage Dax Allard Enterprise’s various charity accounts. I’d be in charge of everything social to do with Dax’s philanthropic endeavors now, since he was too grouchy to go to all the luncheons and grand openings that'd be expected of a donor in his league.

  Usually we hardly spent time together during work hours, since neither of us could concentrate very well in the other's presence. I was his betrothed, and since he was a Beleth demon, that meant he was in love with me. Only, his feelings for me were a million times stronger than what humans felt when they were in love because he was a supernatural being. And of course, I knew from my own pathetic need for him that I was in a similar grip of emotion.

  Even though we were going on a trip today, I had to drive my car up the hill to keep up the pretense for my mother, just in case she decided to ask questions (however unlikely that might really be). But in truth, Oscar, Dax, Victorine, and I would be leaving to speak with a "source" just as soon as I got up there.

  I parked in the driveway of the gigantic mansion and got out to stretch my legs. It was a beautiful November day, chilly and hauntingly beautiful in the mist. I realized that I was optimistic about what we'd learn from this source. Maybe Marion was part of a small clan, one with wimpy demons that could easily be defeated by Dax and Oscar. Was it seeing my dad and hearing his words in my dream that had given me this little push?

  I took a deep, calming breath and leaned back into the car to get my cell phone out. When I turned around, Dax stood right behind me, his wood smoke and spice scent immediately curling into my nostrils and making my head swim. My heart raced as erratically as a drunken horse, but I managed a smile. "You shouldn't sneak up on mortals like that. We're prone to heart attacks."

  He chuckled, and his scorching-hot hand came up to my face. His copper eyes immediately got darker as he studied my features intently, not at all used to being nonchalant and "cool" like human guys were wont to do. Dax played by his own rules. "You're beautiful in the morning." His deep, rough, sandpaper voice made my stomach flip flop. "I am so lucky."

  The genuine awe in his voice made me laugh and shake my head. "You have that wrong, actually." I leaned my cheek into his hand, letting the heat seep deep, right into my molecular structure. "I'm the lucky one."

  "I wish we could stay like this all day, but Oscar will wonder about us." He stepped back and let his hand drop. My cheek was immediately way too cold.

  "Okay." I followed him up the stairs, e
ntwining my hand with his, feeling his big, dense bones like steel under his flushed skin. He held my hand like it might break—and if he accidentally squeezed too hard, it just might. But I trusted Dax completely. I knew there was no way in hell—pun intended—he'd hurt me, even though his every last fiber screamed out for my soul.

  We walked into the giant garage that was set back from the mansion’s grounds. It held several shiny vehicles, all of which looked more expensive than most homes in Eden. Dax led me to the black Range Rover Oscar had driven before and opened the back door for me. I got in and realized that Oscar and Victorine were already in the front seats. I hadn't been able to see them through the tinted windows.

  Oscar turned, smiling, as Dax slid in beside me. His incredibly pale blue eyes—like ice with a slight azure tint—twinkled. "Good morning, Cara."

  "How are you?"

  "I'm well, thank you. Are you ready for our adventure?"

  "Um, I think so. Though Dax hasn't really told me much about where we're going." I smiled at Victorine, but she was already turning back around, her perfect blonde curls bouncing with the motion. She didn't care for me too much, ostensibly because she thought Dax was going to kill me and they were going to have to go on the lam, creating a new life in another part of the world. But I had a feeling there was more than just that underneath her violent disdain for me, though what that could be, I had no idea.

  Dax chuckled as Oscar sped out onto the plateau and back down the hill. He drove much faster than any human would dare to in Eden's wooded, hilly areas, but his reflexes were no comparison for ours.

  "Patience, dear one." Dax put his hand on my knee.

  I immediately felt that electricity crackle through me, zipping through my veins, turning my blood to steam. Dax withdrew his hand as though he'd been shocked, too, the smile slipping off his face, his pupils darkening. It was always like that for us—the slightest touch brought the most intense physical reactions. I knew why it was; we were meant to mate, to create a demon halfling, and my soul was meant to sate Dax's thirst for centuries. The physical reaction was just a nice side effect of all that.

  I drew a shaky breath, trying to collect my thoughts. What had we been talking about? Oh, yeah. The field trip. "I'm trying to be patient. But it'd help if I knew at least a little bit about where we’re headed."

  From the front seat, Victorine, completely oblivious to what had passed between Dax and me, said, "We're going to the halfling ghetto."

  "The what?" Halfling ghetto? I'd never heard the term before.

  "We must refrain from calling it that, ma chère," Oscar said, his voice full of loving reproach for his own halfling daughter. "It's not their fault they've been assigned a second class status by the demon world."

  Victorine had spoken before about how Dax didn't consider her as "real" of a demon as him or Oscar because her mother had been human. But I hadn't realized that there was an entire—what, race? Class?—of demons that comprised this halfling subset, nor had I realized they were marginalized so much by their world.

  I wondered what I was going to learn about Dax’s world today.

  Oscar sped past Eden town limits and the area where Marion had taken me just a few days ago, intending to mate with me and then steal my soul. I shuddered as we passed, and Dax, sensing my fear, wrapped one arm around my shoulders and held me close against his chest. I breathed in his fragrance and closed my eyes, listening to the loud, too-fast thudding of his heart. His fingers rubbed the skin on my arm, gently, caressingly. Before too long, I had to separate myself from him because my own heart began to gallop faster until I had trouble breathing. When I looked up at him, he smiled sheepishly.

  Finally, small hills and trees and strips of road began to give way to steep mountainous terrain and uncultivated, dense vegetation. Occasionally we'd pass by broken down cars or small, abandoned-looking shacks, but other than that, we were on our own. I understood why they'd chosen the Range Rover for today's travels: I doubted any other car could've made it through the mud puddles alone.

  Oscar pulled off a side path and we drove past clusters of identical bushes, trees, and other things with fronds. I was completely lost, and I wondered how good his sense of direction must be for him to find his way through an environment with absolutely no markers or paths.

  We turned into a small clearing and then out onto a dirt path with a small shack at the end of it. Unlike the ones I’d seen at the sides of the road before, this one didn't seem abandoned. The front door stood open, and there was a clothesline sagging off the side.

  Oscar put the car into park and we stepped out, Dax standing protectively by my side, his eyes constantly scanning the horizon and the opening to the cottage.

  Oscar turned to me. "Cara, don't be alarmed by what you see today. Halflings sometimes can be a bit difficult to talk to...they have their own rules, their own way of living life."

  Victorine shifted from one foot to another, as if she was impatient that I had to be told this. I glanced at Dax, confused, but he was still watching our environment.

  "Okay," I answered finally, not really understanding it at all.

  Oscar looked at me for another moment before nodding. He and Victorine walked in the front while Dax stayed with me in the back. As we got closer to the open door of the cottage, I heard the din of a TV and the smell of rotting food curled into my nostrils. Instinctively, I wrinkled my nose. I looked at Dax to see if he'd have the same reaction—after all, his sense of smell was much stronger than mine—but he just looked guarded, not disgusted.

  The inside of the shack was dark, even though it was morning. Whoever lived here had hung thick sheets in the windows to block out any trace of light.

  Oscar knocked on the open door, but with the TV blaring the weather channel, I wasn't sure that the person—halfling—inside would hear us.

  Victorine must've had the same thought because she yelled, "Hey! You have visitors!"

  In her French accent, with her perfectly coiffed appearance, she looked and sounded extremely out of place.

  But the TV was turned down, and a man, his head and body covered in a plaid wool blanket, as if he was sick, came to the door. He looked at us as if he couldn't be bothered to form an expression. Then he said, "What?" His voice was guttural, low.

  "Afton?" Oscar extended his hand. He didn't wear gloves today, but he was still dressed in his butler-like suit. "I'm Oscar Dubois. I was told you'd meet with me today." He gestured toward us. "This is my family. May we come in?"

  My happiness at being included in the family dimmed when Afton glared at me. "That is not a halfling nor a demon."

  Dax stiffened beside me. "She is none of your concern."

  Afton assessed Dax, and, taking in his height and his stature, finally shrugged and shuffled off inside. Oscar and Victorine followed.

  Dax gestured to the shack. "You first," he said softly. "Don't worry, I'll be right beside you the entire time."

  I stepped in and looked around. There was an old green couch, sagging in the center, which took up most of the room. A cardboard box in front of it was being used as a makeshift table and held an ashtray, a pack of cigarettes, and a bottle of cheap vodka. The ancient TV was tuned to a static-y weather channel. Rotting fruit, empty takeout containers, and crusty plates littered the floor.

  I resisted the urge to gag. At least the place wasn't crawling with vermin—that I could see, anyway.

  Afton gestured to the couch, but no one sat. Shrugging again, he lowered himself to the dirty cushions and plucked a cigarette from the pack. As I watched, his fingers started to smoke like Dax's skin sometimes did. Afton pinched the tip between his smoking fingers and lit his cigarette. He popped it into his mouth and sucked deeply, looking up at us with his fish-like, dead eyes.

  "We need to learn more about Marion's clan," Oscar said. Reaching into his suit jacket, he pulled out his phone and showed the screen to Afton. I guessed it was the picture Dax had taken of the clan symbol on Marion’s body.
<
br />   Afton stared at the picture for a while, and then he began to laugh. Dax, Oscar, and Victorine didn't join in, and obviously, neither did I. I was beginning to think the guy was insane. He sucked on his cigarette once and then looked up at Oscar. When he spoke, smoke oozed out of his mouth and coiled around his face. "That's the clan in Louisiana. The new one that wants to overthrow the Astaroth."

  Dax and Oscar exchanged a look.

  "What do you mean, overthrow the Astaroth?" Oscar asked.

  Afton waved his hand around, swatting at the smoke lazily. "They have grand plans, those ones. Got a bunch of halflings riled up, too. They're going to do what's good for us, see. Make a change. The Astaroth would just as soon see us waste away with no souls to claim. These ones are going to change that."

  A thrill ran up my spine. Was he saying what I thought he was saying? That whoever these Astaroth were, they kept an eye on the halflings and made sure they didn't kill humans, but Marion's clan was going to change that? I looked desperately at Dax—I needed to understand. He entwined his hand with mine and I clung on, desperate for the reassurance his heat provided.

  "How many are in the clan?" Dax asked, his voice tight and controlled.

  "Ah, about four or five."

  Dax and Oscar exchanged another look.

  "Thank you for your service," Oscar said, sensing that I needed to leave. He passed the halfling money. The outer note was a five hundred.

  The note disappeared into the halfling's blanket, and his hand came back out empty. As I watched, he reached over to the side of the couch, into an empty container of food, and pulled out a small mouse I hadn't been able to hear with my inferior mortal senses. The mouse gave an indignant squeak. Sensing what was coming, I tried to turn away, but it was too late. Afton bit off the mouse’s head.

  Dax put his arm around me and dragged me toward the door. I managed to not vomit until we were outside.