Sebastian

by Anne Bishop

  He looked back toward Wizard City. He hadn’t deserved to be caged inside those walls simply because he’d been born and the succubus who had birthed him handed him over to his father instead of leaving him somewhere to die. He hadn’t needed the cruelty or pain that had shaped his childhood.

  But if he hadn’t been shaped by those things, would he have known Nadia or Lee or Glorianna? Would he have ended up in the Den, a place where he belonged?

  Sebastian shook his head. Pointless thoughts. An exercise in self-indulgence.

  Then the feeling of sickness shuddered through him again. The memory of feeling sand beneath his feet instead of the hard ground of the alley made him shiver. And with every second that passed, the conviction grew stronger that if he didn’t cross the bridge now, he might never again see a landscape he recognized.

  “Guardians of the Light and Guides of the Heart, please listen to me,” he whispered as he set one foot on the planks. “I need to get back to the Den. I need to get back to the Den.”

  He hurried over the bridge.

  Night. Open land. Nothing significantly different enough to tell him where he was—or even to indicate that he had crossed over to another landscape.

  Get away from the bridge.

  His body was in motion before he could decide on a direction. Maybe because there was only one direction that mattered—away.

  In this flat, undulating form, It flowed beneath the surface of the land as easily as It flowed through water, moving swiftly toward the mound of earth. It had found the Dark Ones—the ones who had opened up the darkness in human hearts and had forced the world to bring It into being.

  Then It slowed, circled, headed back to that finger of water that was too insignificant to hold any of the creatures It controlled.

  For a moment, as It had passed the water, It had brushed against something…familiar.

  Nothing there now. And yet…

  It reshaped a piece of Itself. A tentacle broke through the soil, rising up like some strange, malignant weed. The tip explored, found the planks that still resonated with the heart that had recently crossed over to a different place. More of the tentacle emerged from the soil, elongating as the tip moved across the planks.

  Yes, It recognized the resonance of this heart. One of the ones who had eluded Its attempt to alter the alley in that dark hunting ground called the Den.

  The tip reached the other side, pressed into the dirt to feel the resonance of this other landscape.

  Ah! It recognized this place. It had hunted in this dark landscape recently. The creatures who lived there had been a delicious feast, although not as savory as human prey.

  Nothing was as savory as human prey.

  Its power flowed through the tentacle. Pulsed in the tip that pushed into the ground.

  The world struggled to resist Its dark resonance, which surprised It. It probed a little more, trying to tap into the Dark currents that flowed through this landscape. Then It withdrew, wary now. Almost afraid.

  A powerful resonance flowed through the Dark currents. Something much stronger than anything It had found in the lair made by the enemies who had caged It long ago.

  Unwilling to yield completely, It tried again, pushing the tentacle back into the ground near the wooden planks.

  Just a small bit of darkness, It wheedled. A change that won’t even be noticed in a dark landscape. Something that will protect this place from dangerous hearts.

  Ephemera hesitated. Then the world surrendered a small circle of ground near the bridge—a piece now malleable to Its will.

  Perhaps that was for the best. A small anchor would be hard to detect by whatever heart flowed through this landscape, but that anchor would be enough to give It access to this place.

  Careful to conceal Its glee in having tricked Ephemera into giving up a piece of itself, no matter how small, It reshaped the ground to provide an access point into one of Its own landscapes.

  The tentacle tip withdrew from the soil. The ground in front of It lifted slightly, revealing sod covering a latticework of sticks that formed a trapdoor big enough to fit a full-grown man. Two large legs emerged from the trapdoor, testing the ground around the burrow.

  Satisfied that It had a way into this landscape, It drew Its tentacle back across the plank and reshaped it to match the rest of Its current form.

  Then It turned and headed for the mound and the minds that resonated so closely with Its own. It was time to slip into that twilight place between wakefulness and dreams. Once the Dark Ones knew It had returned, It would be that much closer to regaining what rightfully belonged to It.

  The world.

  Tired and thirsty, Sebastian trudged up another low rise. He still didn’t know where he was, had seen nothing but open countryside since he crossed over at the bridge. At least the trees he’d passed didn’t look alien, even in the moonlight, so there was hope that he’d crossed over to a landscape that had some connection to the Den.

  As he headed down the other side of the rise, a black horse pricked its ears and ambled over to meet him—and he knew where he was.

  It was a beautiful creature, but its looks didn’t make it any less a demon. Seeing the waterhorse confirmed he was in a dark landscape that bordered the Den. Unfortunately, it also confirmed he still had a long walk ahead of him before he got back to the Den itself.

  Sebastian kept walking, aware that he could be ensnared by the demon’s magic as easily as any human. But the waterhorse suddenly lunged, blocking his path. Its nostrils quivered, as if it wanted to get a good whiff of his scent but was afraid to get within reach. Which was queer behavior for one of these demons. They usually wanted to entice humans into taking a fatal ride.

  Moving slowly, Sebastian held out his hand. The waterhorse stretched its neck, bringing its muzzle close enough to snuffle him. Then it stepped back, tossed its head, and headed toward a glint of water.

  When Sebastian didn’t follow, the waterhorse returned.

  Sebastian shook his head. “I know what you are. I’m not going near water with the likes of you.”

  The waterhorse tossed its head. Stamped a foot.

  “No,” Sebastian said.

  A whicker that sounded sad. Almost a plea.

  Not knowing what to make of the demon’s behavior, he looked toward the glint of water—and felt a sick certainty that he already knew what the waterhorse wanted him to see.

  He moved blindly toward the water, not even realizing his hand now rested on the waterhorse’s neck. They stopped close to the remains of something dark and bloated that rested on the bank of the large pond. He tried to move closer but couldn’t do it. The waterhorse had used its particular magic to bind his hand to its neck, preventing him from getting too close to the edge of the pond.

  Not that he really wanted to get closer. Guardians and Guides, this was a pond, probably fed by small streams. The waterhorses were the creatures to be feared in this landscape. But something had not only killed a waterhorse; it had ripped out great chunks of flesh. Feeding.

  The waterhorse’s body quivered as it backed away from the pond, pulling him with it.

  No humans would regret the death of a waterhorse. After all, those demons drowned any humans foolish enough to ride them.

  But the way that body was ripped up…

  How many predators had found their way into the dark landscapes? And where had they come from?

  “I…” Sebastian cleared his throat. “I have to get back to the Den. I have to tell the others about this.” He tried to step away from the waterhorse, but his hand was still ensnared in its magic.

  It turned its head and studied him. Then it released its hold on his hand. But when Sebastian started walking away from the pond, it blocked his path.

  “What do you want?” He was tired, hungry, frustrated, and scared. Oh, yes. He was scared. He didn’t need another demon playing games with him.

  The waterhorse tossed its head, then lifted each foot in turn.

 
Four feet that weren’t tired. Four legs that could run faster than his own.

  “You’re offering me a ride?” Sebastian asked.

  The waterhorse bobbed its head.

  “No tricks? No gallops into deep water to drown me?”

  Head shake.

  “Why?” He knew the answer before the waterhorse turned its head to look at the pond. They’re scared, too.

  He wasn’t used to riding horses, and he mounted with little skill and no grace. The waterhorse didn’t seem to care, and as he felt the tingle of magic ensnare his legs, he acknowledged one advantage to riding this particular mount—unless a waterhorse chose to release its prey, a person couldn’t fall off.

  So they raced over the land and splashed through streams until Sebastian saw a cairn. As they passed it, he felt the tingle that meant they’d passed through a border and were now in another landscape.

  Borders and boundaries, Glorianna called them. Boundaries separated one kind of landscape from another—or the landscapes controlled by one Landscaper from those controlled by another Landscaper—and could be crossed only by using a bridge. Borders marked the places where similar landscapes belonging to a Landscaper were connected, despite how much physical distance existed between them.

  That was the way things worked in Ephemera. A man might not be able to cross a bridge to reach a neighboring village if he didn’t resonate with that particular landscape, but he could cross a border and walk through a village in an entirely different part of the world.

  A few minutes later, they were racing along the edge of a cliff Sebastian recognized—just as he recognized the lake. He felt the waterhorse hesitate, no doubt tempted by the combination of deep water and a rider. But it kept to the land instead of looking for a way to scramble down the cliff. Shortly after that, the waterhorse slowed to an ambling walk and stopped at the door of Sebastian’s cottage.

  They could still hear the lake performing a slow dance with the sand and stone on the beach.

  The waterhorse sighed—and released him.

  Sebastian slid off its back, grateful for its help and wary of its nature. “Thank you,” he said, moving around the other demon until he had his hand closed around the handle of the cottage’s front door.

  It watched him for a moment, then turned and trotted back the way it had come.

  He’d intended to drop his pack and head out for the Den, but a lingering scent of woman made him check the other rooms in the cottage.

  He found Glorianna’s note next to the bag of koffea beans.

  Sebastian,

  There’s something I need to see in another landscape. Then I’ll be back. We need to talk. Be careful.

  No signature. She never signed her notes. Not even with an initial. Since he saw her so infrequently anymore, the unsigned notes made her seem less…real.

  Considering what the wizards and other Landscapers thought of her, maybe that was her intention.

  But—daylight!—the note meant she’d been close by. If he’d waited a few hours before riding out to Wizard City, he could have talked to her instead of facing Koltak.

  A shiver went through him. He rubbed the back of his hand over his forehead. Was he ill? He certainly didn’t feel well. But that could be nothing more than a sick feeling in his gut caused by seeing Wizard City again—and remembering things he tried hard to forget.

  He rode Philo’s bicycle back to the Den. As he coasted up to the courtyard, he wondered how long he’d been gone. Were the daylight landscapes now passing into another evening or just beginning to see the sunrise?

  Since the Den never saw sunrise or sunset, what did it matter?

  Admit it. You were disappointed that you hadn’t seen daylight. That’s one of the reasons you were willing to go to that city. To see the world in daylight. To feel the sun on your face. Didn’t happen, though. Hasn’t happened in years. After all, an incubus is the kind of lover women only want to meet in the dark.

  Feeling unsettled, and trying to ignore the craving for the hunt growing inside him—a craving that was sharper than anything he’d felt in weeks—Sebastian walked the bicycle to the storage shed at the back of the courtyard. Teaser sat at a nearby table. Since there were plenty of tables available, the other incubus must have chosen to avoid the flirtatious games that usually took place at the tables closer to the street.

  Which wasn’t like Teaser at all.

  “Why aren’t you out trolling?” Sebastian asked as he pulled out a chair and sat down.

  Teaser gave him a pale imitation of his usual cocky grin. “Wasn’t in the mood for it.” He raised his half-empty mug of ale, then pointed a finger at Sebastian.

  A few minutes later, Philo came to the table with a full tray. He set down two mugs of ale, a bowl of melted cheese, and a basket of Phallic Delights.

  “He’s been swilling ale for hours now,” Philo muttered, not looking at either incubus. “Get him to eat something before he’s so drunk he can’t even manage a blundering grope.”

  Teaser snorted. “Like I’m interested in playing slap and tickle.”

  Sebastian, reaching for his mug, froze for a moment. Teaser wasn’t interested? Teaser?

  “What’s wrong?” Sebastian looked from Teaser to Philo and back again. “Has something else happened?”

  Philo wiped his hands on his apron and kept his eyes focused on the table. “You didn’t tell him?”

  “He just got here, didn’t he?” Teaser snapped. “Hasn’t even had time to swallow some ale and wash the taste of Wizard City out of his mouth.”

  “What’s wrong?” Sebastian asked again.

  Someone at another table called to Philo. He hurried away.

  Teaser picked up a penis-shaped roll, swirled it in the melted cheese, and took a bite. Chew, swallow, swirl the next piece of the roll.

  Sebastian plucked a Phallic Delight from the basket and swirled it in the cheese. The first bite was a sharp reminder that he hadn’t eaten anything while he’d been away from the Den. Since Teaser didn’t seem anxious to tell him what had happened—or find out what had taken place in Wizard City—he gave his attention to the simple meal.

  Then Teaser glanced toward the front of the courtyard and muttered, “Could have done without seeing her.”

  Glorianna? Sebastian looked in the same direction, his heart suddenly pounding. Then he looked away as quickly as Teaser had, hoping the succubus eyeing the other customers was too preoccupied with her own games to notice them.

  “Can’t say I’d feel sorry if that one disappeared,” Teaser said, tearing off a piece of the Phallic Delight before dipping it in the cheese.

  “You don’t mean that,” Sebastian said sharply.

  Teaser flinched. “No, I don’t. It’s just…well…that one. You know the bitch will ooze over here and make snide comments about incubi eating cocks.”

  Sebastian huffed. “It’s bread and cheese. We don’t get a vote on what shape Philo chooses to make the rolls.”

  “Tell her that.”

  I’d rather not get that close. Since they usually weren’t competing for the same prey, the incubi and succubi who lived in the Den tended to get along fairly well—and sometimes even played with one another for a night of mind-blowing sex. But that particular succubus…She didn’t live in the Den, but she visited often enough, and every time he encountered her he felt…uneasy. She was sharper, darker, more predatory than the Den’s residents, and there was a maliciousness to the way she played with her prey that made it clear to those who also played the game that she deliberately stripped all the fun out of sex and turned her prey’s need into desperation and addiction. And she was just as malicious when she tried to lure an incubus into playing her particular game.

  They sighed with relief when the succubus turned away from the courtyard.

  Breaking the last roll in half, Sebastian scraped the remaining cheese out of the bowl. He handed one piece to Teaser and ate the other. Full, and yet still hungry for something food couldn’t ease, h
e leaned back in his chair. “You ready to tell me what happened?”

  Teaser lifted his mug, then set it down again without drinking. “The alley changed.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It’s been altered,” Teaser said, his voice sharpened by uneasiness. He paused, clearly struggling with some strong emotions. “We figured we should move the…remains. Couldn’t just leave them there to attract other kinds of predators, could we? But the body was gone. In its place there are green plants growing in the middle of the alley right where the body had been.”

  Teaser stared at him. Sebastian looked away.

  “Belladonna was here,” he said reluctantly.

  “So she did—”

  “No. She wouldn’t bring a killer into the Den. She had to be the one who altered things after we left the alley, but that’s all she did. Although why she’d put plants in a dark alley is anyone’s guess.”

  “Covering her tracks?”

  Sebastian swore. “How many times do I have to say it, Teaser? I know her.”

  “You know the girl she was,” Teaser replied. “Do you really know the Landscaper she’s become?”

  No. But he wouldn’t admit that. Not to anyone. Because he had to believe Glorianna wasn’t so different from the girl he’d known.

  Teaser hesitated. “Maybe you should stay at the bordello tonight instead of going back to the cottage.”

  He almost snapped that an incubus couldn’t afford to be afraid of the dark. Then it occurred to him that Teaser was afraid—afraid to be alone right now and afraid that anyone he invited to his room might give him more than he’d bargained for.

  “I’m going back to the cottage,” Sebastian said. “There’s only one bed, but the couch is comfortable enough.”