A Caress of Twilight

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  Doyle came back out, muttering under his breath. “Kurag is not near his mirror, or any still body of water. I cannot reach him, Merry. I am sorry.”

  “If Kitto were sidhe, what would you do to save him?”

  “The sidhe do not fade from lack of faerie,” Doyle said. “The sidhe fade only when they wish to.”

  I held Kitto’s cold body in my arms and felt the beginnings of tears. But tears wouldn’t help him, damn it. I needed to talk to Kurag, now. What was one thing all goblin warriors had on their bodies at all times? “Give me your blade, Frost.”

  “What?”

  “My blade is trapped under Kitto’s body. I need a blade, now.”

  “Do as she says,” Doyle said.

  Frost didn’t like doing something he didn’t understand, but he took out a knife from behind his back, one that was almost as long as my forearm, and handed it to me hilt first.

  I took my hand out from under Kitto’s legs, and said, “Hold the blade steady.”

  Frost dropped to one knee steadying the blade with both hands. I took a deep breath, placed my finger against the point, and jerked downward. It took a second for the blood to well.

  “Merry, stop—”

  “Hold the blade, Frost. That’s all you have to do, so do it. I can’t hold the blade and Kitto, too. Just do it.”

  He frowned but stayed kneeling, holding the blade as I drew my bleeding finger down that shining surface. The blood didn’t coat it, just stained it, almost beading on the immaculate surface.

  I dropped the shields that kept me from seeing spirits, kept me from shedding magic like old body skin. The magic flared for a second, glad to be free, then I willed it into the blade. I pictured Kurag, his face, his voice, his rough manner. “Kurag, I call you; Kurag Thousand-Slayer, I call you; Kurag, King of the Goblins, I call you. Thrice called, thrice named, come to me, Kurag, come answer your blade.”

  The surface gleamed through the light latticework of blood, but it was just metal.

  “No sidhe has called a goblin by blade in centuries,” Rhys said. “He won’t answer.”

  “The naming of three is very powerful,” Doyle said. “Kurag might be able to ignore it, but few others of his people could.”

  “But I have something he won’t ignore.” I leaned close to the blade and blew my breath warm upon it until it fogged with the heat of my body.

  The blade glittered through the fog, the blood. The fog cleared and the blood soaked into the surface as if it had been drunk. I was left staring into a dim silvered surface. A blade, even the highest quality, is not like a mirror, no matter what the movies show. A blade gives an uncertain image, misty, as if you need to adjust some button or knob, but there is none. There is only a vague outline of a small portion of a person’s face; their eyes are the most clear.

  A blur of yellow lump-covered skin and two orange eyes appeared in the downside blade half; the upper was less clear but showed Kurag’s third eye like a dim sun seen through cloud.

  His voice was as clear as if he’d been standing in the room. It boomed out in a surprising rumble that made me jump. “Meredith, Princess of the Sidhe, was that your sweet breath that blew across my skin?”

  “Greetings, Kurag, Goblin King. And Twin of Kurag, Goblin King’s Flesh, greetings also.” Kurag had a parasitic twin who consisted of one violet eye, a mouth, two thin arms, two thin legs, and small, though fully functional genitalia. The mouth could breathe but not speak, and to my knowledge I was the only one who ever acknowledged his existence as separate from the king’s. I still remember the horror I felt when I realized there was an entire person trapped in the side of Kurag’s body.

  “It has been long since a sidhe has called the goblins by blood and blade. Most of the warriors who fought beside us after the great treaty have forgotten this old trick.”

  “My father taught me many tricks,” I said. Kurag and I both knew that my father had often contacted him by blade and blood. My father had been Andais’s unofficial ambassador to the goblins, because no one else wanted the job. My father had taken me to the goblin hill many times as a child.

  His laughter did not so much roll out of the blade as roll through the room. “What would you have of me, Merry, daughter of Essus?”

  He’d offered his help, and that was what I needed. I described the condition we’d found Kitto in. “He’s fading.”

  Kurag cursed in the guttural language that was high goblin. I understood only about every other word. Something about black tits. “The mark ties you together, you and Kitto. Your strength should sustain him.” His hand passed over his face like a yellow ghost in the blade. “This should not be happening.”

  I thought of something. “What if the mark healed over?”

  “The mark would not heal, it would scar,” he said.

  “It did heal, Kurag, and it did not scar.”

  His orange eyes got very close to the blade, and very wide. “That should not happen.”

  “I didn’t know that it was a problem to have it heal. Kitto didn’t say anything.”

  “A lover’s mark always scars, Merry. Always. At least among our kind.” I couldn’t read his expression in that narrow piece of reflection, but suddenly he let out a great snort, and said, “Has he been allowed to mark that white flesh only once?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “And the sex?” He sounded suspicious now.

  “The treaty demanded only that I share flesh. Sharing true flesh is more valuable among the goblins than sex.”

  “Gabriel’s Hounds take me. Yes, we value flesh, but what’s a little bite without a little poke? Sinking teeth and dick into flesh, Merry girl, that’s the ticket.”

  “Kitto shares my bed, Kurag, and stays with me most of the time, touching me. He seems to need to touch me.”

  “If the touch of your skin was all he had …” He dissolved into high goblin again, which goblins rarely did; it was considered rude to use a language that the other person didn’t know. My father had taught me some goblin, but it had been too long, and Kurag’s use was too rapid for my rusty skills.

  When Kurag had ranted long enough, he paused for breath and spoke in a language we could all understand. “The high and mighty sidhe, goblins are good enough to fight all your wars, do most of the dying, but not good enough to fuck. Sometimes I hate you all. Even you, Merry, and you’re one of my favorites.”

  “I love you, too, Kurag.”

  “Don’t sweet-talk me, Merry. If you’d have fucked Kitto regularly, the mark would have scarred. He needs a constant supply of flesh to sustain him out in the Western Lands. Either true flesh or fucking, but his tie to you is too weak without it, and he is dying because of it.”

  I looked down at the still, cold figure in my arms, then realized he wasn’t as cold. He was still chilled, very, but not icy. “He’s warmer.” I said it softly, I think because I couldn’t quite believe it.

  Doyle touched Kitto’s face. “He is warmer.”

  “Is that you, Darkness?” Kurag asked.

  “It is I, Goblin King.”

  “Is he truly fading? I don’t think Merry has ever seen anyone fade.”

  “He is fading,” Doyle said.

  “Then why is he warmer? If he is fading, then he should grow colder and colder.”

  “Merry has been holding him in her arms for a time. I believe that is warming him.”

  “Maybe it’s not too late then. Is he strong enough to fuck?”

  “He is barely conscious,” Doyle said.

  Kurag said a sharp word that I knew meant something that no goblin ever wished on another: impotency. It was their worst insult one to the other. “Can he tear her flesh with his teeth?”

  We all stared down at the still form. He was warmer, though he still hadn’t moved at all. “I don’t think so,” I said.

  “Blood then, can he take blood?” Kurag asked.

  “Maybe,” I said.

  “If we wiped it upon his mouth, we might get some of
it into him,” Doyle said. “If it did not choke him.”

  “He’s a goblin, Darkness. He can’t choke to death on blood.”

  “Does it have to be Merry’s blood?” This from Rhys.

  “I know you of old … Rhys,” and that silence held a name that no one used anymore. “You should come visit us again, sidhe. The womenfolk still talk of you. That’s high praise from a goblin female.”

  Rhys had gone very pale and very quiet. He made no answer.

  Kurag gave an unpleasant laugh. “Yes, it must be Merry’s blood. Later, if some of the rest of you want to share blood and flesh with Kitto, feel free. The sidhe are always good eatin’.” He glared at me with those orange eyes. “If the blood revives him, then give him flesh, Merry, real flesh this time.” His eyes suddenly grew huge in the blade. He must have nearly pressed his nose to the blade. “You thought you’d get the goblins as allies for six months and not have to bed one of us. You shared flesh, so I can’t say you lied about the alliance. But you pixied on the spirit of it. You know it and I know it.”

  I placed my still-bleeding finger against Kitto’s lips, painting them crimson while I talked to his king. “If I take him to my bed, then he has a chance to be king, king of all the Unseelie. That is worth more than a six-month alliance.”

  Kitto’s eyes flickered; his mouth made a small movement. I slid my finger over his lips, between his teeth, and his body jerked, once.

  “Oh, no, you won’t get me that easy, Merry girl, not that easy. You give him flesh like you should have done all along, and you get only three more months out of us. After that, your battles are your own.”

  Kitto began to suck on my finger like a baby, gently at first, then harder, harder, teeth beginning to graze my skin. “He’s sucking my finger, Kurag.”

  “I’d take the finger out before you lose it. He’s not in his right mind yet, and goblins can bite through iron.”

  Kitto fought me, his mouth trying to hold on to my finger. By the time I pulled it free, his eyes were trying to open.

  “Kitto,” I said.

  He didn’t react to his name, or anything else, but he was warmer, and he was moving.

  “He’s moving, and he’s warmer,” I said.

  “Good, very good. I’ve done my good deed, Merry. The rest is up to you.”

  I looked directly into the blade again, instead of down at Kitto. “You’re just going to sit back and watch who wins, aren’t you?”

  “What matters to us who sits on the Unseelie throne? It matters to us only who sits on the goblin throne.”

  Doyle’s deep voice cut in. “And what if Cel’s followers were planning war with the Seelie?” Doyle knelt down, one hand squeezing gently but firmly on my shoulder. I think he was warning me not to interrupt.

  “What are you babbling about, Darkness?”

  “I am privy to much among the sidhe that the goblins do not know.”

  “You are not at court now.”

  “I am not without ears.”

  “Spies, you mean.”

  “I did not use such a word.”

  “Fine, fine, play the word games that you are all so fond of, but speak plainly to me.”

  “There are those at the Unseelie Court who believe Andais is desperate to have Meredith named her heir. They believe having a mortal on the throne is the end of them. They are talking about going to war on the Seelie before they all become powerless mortals. Our strength comes from our kings and queens, as you know.”

  “What you tell me is enough to make me throw in my lot with Cel’s people.”

  “If the goblins were Merry’s allies, then no one at the Unseelie Court would risk fighting against her. They dare to challenge the Seelie only because they assume they will have the goblins’ support.”

  “What is it to us if the sidhe kill each other off?”

  “You are bound by word, blood, earth, fire, water, and air to support the rightful heir to the Unseelie throne in all matters of strife. If Merry sits on the throne and Unseelie rebels fight against her while you sit back and do nothing, then your oath will come back upon you.”

  “You can’t frighten me, sidhe.”

  “The Nameless walks the land again, and you think it is I whom you should be frightened of? There are terrible things far beyond me that will rise from the depths, descend from the sky, and take rightful payment from those who are forsworn by such oaths as you have taken.”

  It was difficult to tell in the blurred image, but Kurag looked worried. “I hear your words, Darkness, but Merry has fallen silent. Are you her new puppet master?”

  “I tend your goblin, Kurag, and I have a better use for my tongue than telling you what you already know.”

  “I remember my oaths, girl.”

  “No, Kurag, that is not what I mean. The sidhe may not bear tales to the goblin mound, but you and I both know you have other means.” I did not say out loud that the lesser fey at court, some servants, some not, talked to the goblins, sometimes for a price, sometimes for the feeling of power it gave them. My father had given his word never to tell of Kurag’s system of spies. I had given no such oath. I was free to reveal the goblins’ secret, but did not.

  “Speak freely, Princess, and do not toy with this old goblin.”

  “I have spoken as freely as I intend to, Kurag, Goblin King.”

  He blew out a loud breath. “Merry girl, you are too much your father’s daughter. Essus was my favorite of all the sidhe. His loss was great to all the courts of the Unseelie, for he was true friend to many.”

  “That means a great deal coming from you, Kurag.” I didn’t thank him, because you never thank an older fey. Some of the younger ones are cool with it now, but it’s an old prohibition among us, almost a taboo.

  “Do you honor all the oaths your father gave?”

  “No, some I did not agree with, and some I know nothing of.”

  “I thought he told you everything,” Kurag said.

  “I am not a baby anymore, Kurag. I know that even my father kept his secrets. I was young when he died. Some things I wasn’t ready to know.”

  “You are wise as well as luscious; how sad. Sometimes I’d have liked you better if you’d been just a little more stupid. I like my women less bright than I am.”

  “Kurag, you old charmer.”

  He laughed then, a true laugh, and it was contagious. I laughed with him, and as the eyes began to fade out of the blade, he spoke. “I will think on what your Darkness has said, and what you have said, and even what your father said. But you must give true sustenance to my goblin or in three months I will be free of you.”

  “You’ll never be free of me, Kurag, not until you’ve fucked me. Or that’s what you told me when I was sixteen.”

  He laughed; but at the end, he said, “I used to think things would have been safer if you’d agreed to be my queen, but I’m beginning to think you’re just too dangerous to be allowed that close to any throne.”

  Chapter 25

  KITTO LAY AGAINST THE DARK BURGUNDY SHEETS LIKE A GHOST. His black curls made him seem paler. His eyes kept fluttering open, flashing blue, then shutting, leaving his blue eyes like gleaming bruises behind the thin skin of his closed lids.

  I touched his bare shoulder. “He still looks … almost translucent.”

  “The lesser fey fade in truth,” Doyle said. He stood beside me in front of the mirrored dresser.

  Rhys stood at the foot of the bed and stared down at the goblin. “He’s not up to sex, no pun intended.”

  I looked at him. He looked unhappy, maybe even worried, but that was all. “You’re not going to protest about me sharing my body with a goblin?”

  “Would it do me any good?” he asked.

  “No,” I said.

  He gave a weak version of his grin. “Then I might as well start making the best of it. Besides, I don’t think we have to worry about you doing the bump and grind with him tonight. There’s not enough of him left.”

  “Merry must s
hare flesh with Kitto to bring him back to himself,” Doyle said.

  I sat down on the edge of the bed, and Kitto rolled toward me like the sea pulled by the moon. He cuddled against me with a sigh that was almost a whimper.

  “He can’t take a bite out of me if he’s not conscious.”

  “Put power into him as you did the sword,” Doyle said. “Make him aware of you, as you made Kurag aware of you.”

  I looked down at the tiny man. He seemed asleep, but his skin still had that awful thin quality like it was wearing away. I stroked my hand down his shoulder. He wiggled closer to me, but did not wake.

  I leaned over him, putting my mouth just above the skin of his shoulder. I had raised my shields automatically when I’d finished using the magic to contact Kurag. Shielding was like breathing for me. It was dropping them that took concentration. I’d learned to shield about the same time I learned to read.

  But this wasn’t a spell; this was less, and more than that. The human witches call it natural magic, which means a natural ability you can perform without much training or effort.

  I drew magic, energy, into my breath and blew it across his skin. I willed him to wake, to see me.

  Kitto’s eyes fluttered open, and this time he did see me. His voice came hoarse, “Merry.”

  I smiled at him, touching the curls on the side of his pale face. “Yes, Kitto, it’s me.”

  He frowned, and grimaced as if something hurt. “What’s happening?”

  “You need to take flesh from me.”

  He continued to frown up at me as if he hadn’t understood.

  I took off my jacket and began unbuttoning my blouse. I probably could have pushed the sleeve up enough to expose my shoulder, but I didn’t want to get blood on the white material. The bra underneath was white, as well, but I was pretty sure I could keep it from getting stained if I was careful.

  Kitto’s eyes had widened. “Flesh?” He made it a question.

  “Leave your mark on my body, Kitto.”

  “We contacted Kurag,” Doyle said. “He said that the reason you are ailing is that your mark with Meredith has healed. Her energy must sustain you away from faerie, and for that you need a new sharing of flesh.”