by Jane Kindred
“Help him sit up, Vasily. We need to get some soup into him.” Lev sat on the edge of the bed while Vasily propped pillows behind Silk. “A little nourishment, a little fluid,” said Lev, holding up the spoon. “Just to start with. Vasily, do you want to find him something clean to wear in my room? The top drawers of the bureau are mine.”
“His handler kept him drugged,” said Belphagor when Vasily had gone out. “I don’t know what the bastard was giving him, but he may be a bit of a mess for a few days.”
“A mess?” Lev looked up with a furious scowl. “He looks like he’s been in lockup being interrogated by the KGB, not turning tricks. What the hell happened to him?”
“He intervened when a sadistic demon took after Vasily with a strap. Guess that was his reward.”
“Why was someone after Vasily? Where were you?”
Belphagor sighed. “It’s a long story.”
“Not that long,” said Vasily behind him. He pushed past Belphagor. “He sold me to a whorehouse glamoured as a boy and told me to let perverts fuck me.”
“I did not tell you to let them fuck you. I expressly told you to avoid that.”
“Wow.” Lev looked from one to the other with disbelief before offering another spoonful of soup to Silk, but the exhausted young demon had closed his eyes. “Guess that’s enough for now.” He rose and set the bowl on the nightstand.
“I’ll get him cleaned up and dressed,” growled Vasily. It was a clear invitation for both of them to leave.
Lev was quiet while he poured tea for Belphagor in the kitchen.
“I didn’t actually sell him to a whorehouse,” said Belphagor. “I mean, I did, but it was part of a hustle. He was fully aware of what we were doing.”
Lev sat with his tea. “You don’t have to justify yourself to me.” His tone said that Belphagor clearly did. “So is this why you’re on a break?”
Belphagor occupied himself with stirring extra sugar into his tea. “He said we were on a break?”
“You’re not?”
“He asked for some space. I didn’t think that was a b—oh fucking hell.” He downed his tea like it was vodka and burned his throat. It reminded him of Vasily.
“For what it’s worth, he said the word ‘break’ like you were punishing him. I didn’t get the impression it was something he wanted.”
Belphagor poured himself another cup. “Well, to be fair, I was the one who said we should spend some time apart. After he asked for space.”
“But you’re not punishing him.”
“Of course I’m not punishing him. I’m punishing myself.”
“Doesn’t that usually mean punishing him?”
Belphagor glared. “We’re not doing that anymore.”
“Oh. Wow.”
“That’s why I wanted some time apart. I don’t know how to be around him. I think there’s something wrong with me.”
Lev reached his hand across the table and closed it over Belphagor’s. “There’s nothing wrong with you. The two of you have a very intense relationship, so it’s only natural you’d find it difficult to suddenly shift gears.”
Lev’s touch on his hand brought to mind the fun the four of them had engaged in at the apartment in Moscow. Belphagor had offered Vasily to Dmitri and Lev to play with when they’d first arrived, showing Vasily that he owned him completely. Not only had it been incredibly hot to watch Vasily on his hands and knees being fucked by Dmitri while Lev sucked his cock, it had intensified the bond between Vasily and himself. On another occasion, at Lev’s request, he and Vasily had fucked Lev senseless while Dmitri watched.
The best part had been punishing Vasily for his part in all of it, and how close they’d become through Vasily’s surrender. It was afterward that Belphagor had given him the piercing, the promise that he would be Belphagor’s always. The memory of that sublime moment when Vasily had submitted to the piercing of his flesh—not knowing what Belphagor was doing but trusting him so thoroughly that despite his fear, he’d let Belphagor draw his blood—was painful to think of now. And the thought that not only was the intimacy between himself and Vasily on hold, but nothing of that sort was going to happen with Dmitri and Lev on this trip either depressed him further. He had to admit to himself with a twinge of guilt that he’d been hoping to spend a little time getting to know Lev better while on this “break”. With Dmitri’s blessing, of course.
“I got him to eat some more soup, but he’s sleeping now,” said Vasily behind him, and Belphagor jumped guiltily, banging his knee on the underside of the table and upending his tea as he yanked his hand out from under Lev’s.
“Shit. Sorry.” Belphagor scrambled to sop up the tea with a napkin, but Lev grabbed a tea towel from the counter and took care of it efficiently, regarding Belphagor with a curious smile. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll clean up in here. Why don’t you two relax in the living room for a bit? Dmitri should be home soon.”
Relax. With Vasily. Like that was going to happen.
They sat with a conspicuous space between them on the sofa that felt like the depths of Lake Baikal.
“Thank you for finding him,” Vasily said finally.
“I wish I’d managed it in Raqia.” Vasily said nothing to that, which was damning enough. “You should take him home, as soon as he’s better.”
Vasily’s eyes sparked. “Why would he want to go home? What is there in Raqia for him?”
“What is there in the world of Man for him? Do you think he wants to stay here? At least in Raqia, the boy can earn a living on his own terms.” Belphagor didn’t add that Silk’s introduction to the world of Man was too like his own to bear thinking on, that every face in the world of Man would remind Silk of faces he’d long to forget, every human voice make him cringe for years to come.
“His own terms?” The words were a low growl. “Silk isn’t like you—or me, for that matter. He isn’t cut out for the street. He needs someone to take care of him.”
“And who’s going to take care of him in the world of Man?” As soon as the words were out, a shocking bolt of understanding struck him through the heart like an electrified arrow, though Vasily said nothing. His boy—because, dammit, Vasily was his boy—was prepared to stay here for good to take care of Silk. His boy was in love with another demon.
He rose, too agitated to stay still. “Vasya, he’s—he’s just a kid.” But maybe that was it. Maybe Vasily only felt protective of him. Maybe it wasn’t love he was seeing.
“He’s older than me,” said Vasily quietly. “He’s twenty-one.”
“Twenty-one?”
Before Vasily could respond, the front door opened and Dmitri called out from the entryway, “Is that the Prince of Tricks I smell?”
Belphagor stuffed down his dismay and managed a genuine smile as Dmitri came into the room after changing his shoes. “I didn’t realize my smell was that distinctive.”
Dmitri grinned. “All right, it was your boots by the door that gave you away.” He gave Belphagor a hug and a kiss that was slightly friendlier than he would have expected and winked as they parted. “But you smell quite nice anyway.”
“Well, that’s just fine,” said Lev from the doorway with his hands on his hips. “Kiss Bel first. What am I?”
“You’re my khozyayka, of course.” Dmitri tried to pull Lev into his arms for a kiss, but Lev feigned outrage and turned his head, so that Dmitri’s kiss landed on his ear.
“You bastard.” Lev pushed at him, but Dmitri wrapped his arms around Lev so he couldn’t escape.
Vasily glanced at Belphagor. “What’s a khozyayka?”
“Housewife,” said Belphagor with a grin.
Lev was still steadfastly avoiding Dmitri’s lips. “Guess who’s sleeping on the couch tonight?”
“Actually,” said Belphagor, “I was hoping I might sleep on your couch tonight.”
Dmitri turned, still holding onto the squirming Lev, his look amused. “Why would you sleep on the couch when there’s a full-size bed
in the guestroom for you? After that tiny daybed you two shared at our last place, I’m sure you’ll both manage to fit.”
“Silk has the bed,” said Vasily, kindly not mentioning that they wouldn’t have shared it anyway.
“Silk?”
“He’s one of the boys from Raqia I came to track down.” Belphagor exchanged a look with Vasily. “Well, apparently not so much a boy as I thought. He’s twenty-one. But the demons who sold him passed him off as a youth. He’s been beaten and drugged, so he’s going to need to recuperate here for a bit.”
Dmitri let go of Lev. “Khrystos. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be…” He shrugged helplessly.
“Don’t apologize,” said Belphagor. “You didn’t know. And we don’t all need to tiptoe around him being somber and morose. That’s only going to make him uncomfortable. Just be kind and friendly. Your usual selves.”
“So,” said Lev, glancing slyly at Dmitri, “you’ll be a bastard, Bel will make inappropriate sexual advances toward me, and Vasily will act like he’s mad at all of us even though it’s really just Belphagor he wants to punch.”
Dmitri looked mortified, and Vasily folded his arms and glared, but Belphagor grinned. “Pretty much.”
There wasn’t another opportunity to talk to Vasily alone until after they’d eaten dinner and the four of them had shared a bottle of vodka and some smokes. Lev and Dmitri headed off to bed while it was still light out with the midnight summer sun, but it was difficult to convince a Raqia-bred demon’s body it was time to sleep. Vasily, nevertheless, rose to turn in, taking one of the blankets and pillows Lev had left for them.
“Vasya.” Belphagor rose with him, and Vasily tensed. He steeled himself. It had to be said. “You know that whatever’s happening between us, you have my—” Permission wasn’t the word. Not anymore. “My blessing to do what makes you happy. If that means intimacy with—”
“Intimacy?” Flame nearly shot from his eyes. “You think I want to be intimate with Silk after what’s happened to him?”
“Not right now, no. But you obviously care about him a great deal. I’m just telling you that wherever things are with us, I don’t want you to worry that you’ll make me angry if you want someone…who isn’t me.”
Vasily stared at him, the fire in his eyes going cold. “You’re a fucking piece of work, Bel. You just can’t even conceive of having feelings for someone that don’t involve your dick.”
Belphagor recoiled from the words. “Vasya—”
“Fuck you, Belphagor.” An outline of furious radiance danced over Vasily’s skin like the blue glow of the earth’s atmosphere he’d seen in pictures of the planet from space. Only Vasily’s glow was a painfully beautiful ruby that made Belphagor yearn for him. Ruby. Like the name Silk had used for him. “Just fuck you.” Vasily took his painful ruby beauty away from him and closed the door.
“Ruby?”
Vasily lifted his head from the floor. He’d been lying here for hours but hadn’t slept, unable to stop thinking about Belphagor’s unbelievable arrogance.
Silk was propped on his elbow, peering over the edge of the bed. “Is that really you?”
“Yes, it’s me.” Vasily scrambled to his feet and came to the side of the bed to take Silk’s hand.
“Wow.” Silk lay back against the pillows, his skin pale. “You’re tall. And hairy.” Vasily chuckled softly, and Silk smiled. “And you’ve got a really sexy voice. Even your laugh. This is really weird seeing you all grown up.”
Vasily sat on the edge of the mattress, squeezing Silk’s hand. “I’m so sorry I left you there. I should have taken the beating. It wasn’t meant for you.”
“Don’t be an ass. That was my job, to protect you. It’s not like I’ve never been hit before. And he had a lot worse in mind for you than a few strokes of the strap.” Silk closed his eyes. “There’ve been boys who didn’t survive him. He pays extra when things go too far.”
“But I shouldn’t have run. I should have tried to fight him, to take you with me.”
“Ruby—”
“If I’d known they’d sell you right out of Heaven, I never would have left.”
Silk sat up, clutching his head and swaying dizzily. “Out of Heaven? Where the hell am I?”
“The world of Man. The princedom of Russia. You don’t remember the Hell Staircase and the train ride?”
“The Hell Staircase? Are you just shitting me, Ruby? This isn’t funny.”
“I’m not. The portals between the spheres use an illusion that makes it seem you’re descending into a long, winding stone stairway. They must have kept you drugged for the trip.”
“I thought…” Silk pushed his hair back from his forehead with both hands, looking ill. “I thought something seemed weird. I couldn’t understand anyone—the patrons—my new master—they didn’t look like Raqians. But nothing was making any sense anyway; the drug, I guess. I just thought maybe I was hallucinating the weird stuff.” He drew his fingers outward through his shorn tresses and looked up at his fingertips as they came away. “My hair…”
“They probably wanted you to look like you were from here.” Vasily tried to smooth the hair down. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re looking at me like… Is it that bad? It’s bad.” He shook his head as he studied Vasily’s face. “I just can’t get over how different you look. I mean, you were lovely before, but now you’re—” Silk’s gaze traveled downward to Vasily’s chest, and he blushed and covered his eyes with his hand. “Sorry. I’m not usually this… Gods, I’m acting like a girl.”
Vasily gave him a puzzled smile. “Not so lovely anymore?”
Silk moved his hand from his eyes. “No—I mean, yes, you’re—well, lovely’s not really the—I guess ‘stunning’ would be…dammit. You’re really hot, Ruby.”
Vasily withdrew his hand, thinking Silk meant this literally, and then it was his turn to blush. “Bozhe moi. Stop it. I am not.”
Silk laughed. “Have you seen you?” He sank back against the pillows as if the strength had suddenly left him. “Sorry, I think I’m a little delirious.”
Vasily rose. “You’re probably starving. We should get you some breakfast.”
Silk nodded and then looked puzzled, struggling to sit up again. “Don’t I have to work? Or do—you didn’t buy me, did you?”
Vasily shook his head. “Belphagor did. But not like that. To get you out of there. You’re free.”
“Free?” Silk’s expression changed to one of alarm. “To do what? What am I supposed to do?”
Vasily came back to the bed and took Silk’s hand between both of his. “Silk, it’s okay. Don’t worry. We’re at a friend’s apartment. We’ll figure it all out. Right now, all you have to do is rest and get your strength back.” He eased Silk back onto the pillows, and on impulse, kissed his forehead. Color washed over Silk’s pale face.
“Belphagor,” he murmured, eyes half closed as Vasily went to the door. “That’s your prince.”
“Yes.” Vasily nodded, and his face felt heavy as stone. “That’s him.”
What little breakfast Silk managed to get down, he unfortunately soon lost. Spectacularly. It seemed Vasily was going to have to buy Lev and Dmitri a new bed after all.
By midday, shaking and feverish, Silk was racked with stomach cramps.
“Did he pick up a bug?” Vasily asked as Belphagor examined him.
Belphagor shook his head. “It’s the drugs they gave him. They’ve probably kept him so high he’s hardly been aware of what’s been happening, which is both a blessing and a curse. He’s going to be a bit sick coming off them.”
“He was sitting up and talking to me earlier.”
Belphagor glanced at Vasily, his expression guarded, and nodded. “He’ll be in and out, I expect.” He ran his hand over the spiked tips of his hair. “I need to find out what he knows about the rest of the boys before I make my next move. I can’t go into this blind. I guess I’ll have to wait it out.”
“So sorry he’
s inconveniencing you.”
The hurt and astonishment on Belphagor’s face made Vasily’s blush with shame. “Vasya.” He shook his head for a moment, looking as though he couldn’t find words. “We need to talk. This has gone too far.” Belphagor stepped out of the room, and Vasily followed him to the kitchen, hands stuffed into his pockets. He had gone too far, and he didn’t know what was the matter with him.
He waited while Belphagor poured them both tea from the samovar Lev had left warming when he and Dmitri had gone out this morning, wishing he could say something that would stop this conversation, a quick apology for being a shit. But even while he knew he was behaving out of proportion with events, anger was choking him—anger toward Belphagor that was so strong it frightened him.
They both remained standing, and Belphagor spoke at last. “I don’t know what to do, Vasya. Please. Tell me what to do.” Vasily looked down at the cup and saucer in his hand. “Are we over?”
Vasily’s head shot up. “Well, that would be the easy way out, wouldn’t it, Bel?”
“Do you want it to be easy?”
“No, you fucking—” Vasily was gripping his cup too hard, and he cursed as tea sloshed over the sides. Even a firespirit didn’t relish boiling water on his skin. “Dammit, Belphagor. Why the hell did you give me this tea?”
Belphagor sipped his. “I thought it would keep you from strangling me or throwing a punch. But maybe that’s what you need to do.”
“Strangle you?” Vasily had certainly considered it.
“I rather hoped you’d choose punching.” Belphagor set his cup in his saucer and placed it on the table. “Maybe you just need to have a physical fight.” He took Vasily’s cup from his hands and set it next to the other. “So go ahead. Hit me. Let me know exactly how you f—” Belphagor’s head snapped back in surprise as Vasily’s fist made contact with his chin.
“How I feel?” He landed another blow, this time in Belphagor’s gut, eliciting a groan and a huff of air from him. “Did you ask me how I felt when you sold me to the fucking Fletchery and left me there?” Vasily swung again, connecting with a surprisingly hard six-pack as Belphagor braced for it and tightened his abs.
