“Don’t want to push my luck, but this means we’re back together, right?”
“Yes, King Henry . . . provided you can actually say the words without a mountainside.”
I did as so ordered, it was easy. “I love you, Val.”
Guess it’s fitting she’s the one who threw me into the dirt.
It’s where I belong.
In the dirt and with her.
[CLICK]
Here’s the thing . . . sex ain’t romantic.
All the shit leading up to the sex? Break-up, six months apart, declaring our love for each other? Deciding to have sex then and there? That’s romantic. But the sex itself? Wasn’t romantic. Don’t think I’ve ever had romantic sex in my entire life. Please, if you have, tell me about it. Cuz the shit I’m gonna tell you about . . . not romantic.
Each of you trying to get your jeans down around your ankles or at least your knees?
Not romantic.
Pulling tennis shoes off her feet and saying ‘fuck it’ to your hiking boots?
Not romantic.
Lichen grass rubbing my ass raw as it hit the ground?
Not romantic.
Five-foot-eight, square-shaped King Henry being ridden by five-foot-eleven, perfectly proportioned Valentine Ward?
Not romantic.
Geo Realm dirt getting in my ass crack?
Not romantic.
Penis going into a vagina?
My balls flapping underneath all the action?
Need I go on?
Okay . . . so Val’s a looker. Even with her shirt only off one arm and her jeans around her ankles. Just enough curves, just enough muscle . . . nothing obscene about her, just the kind of woman you die for. Me? I mean, I have been so busy I fought off any roundness my body might have dared to develop. Still look like some dwarf or thug in need of either a battleaxe or a knife to put into your kidney, but . . . I’m not ugly . . . not pretty, but not ugly. Still . . . those flapping balls. At least I couldn’t see them down there where they were thudding into my taint like clockwork.
We won’t even get into some of the smells, noises, and fluids the two of us were producing.
At least most of the noises came from Val’s mouth . . .
What?
Think I proved my point?
I’m not totally heartless. Being with her again, knowing it was the start of something . . . another chance, another spark of epiphany between us, a joining of our fates . . . maybe for good this time.
That was nice. Even a tiny bit romantic.
Wrapping my arms around her waist, callused and knuckled hands stretched out to touch instead of clasped in a fist. Feeling her hands on my shoulders, nails digging in just painfully enough for me to be aware of them. The smell of her shampoo as her hair tickled my nose, the stubble on my face returning the gesture by rubbing against her chin. The joy and abandon in her eyes as we finished; no fear of me or of her power, just acceptance in a choice and that with that choice nothing bad could happen to either of us.
Could’ve been a moment . . .
Might have even gone for Round Two with all of our clothes off.
Might have . . . cuz . . .
“Does the silence indicate that the two of you are finally finished?” a voice asked us from over by a mushroom. I could just see Poug’s weapons poking out the side of the stalk where he leaned against it. Wasn’t so easy seeing anything when your ass is in the dirt like that, but Poug’s got himself a pretty big spear.
Still on top of me, Val blushed something furiously. Don’t think I’ve ever seen her go so red. “Please tell me you haven’t been there the whole time!” she called to the Sawaephim.
“Not the whole time, no,” Poug responded, working hard to keep the mirth out of his voice. “And I took extra care not to catch any sight of you, Fire Queen. However, I did hear much of it. Even the moving pictures on the Dirt King’s electronic device could not prepare me for the sounds you humans make . . .”
“Did get a little loud,” I admitted.
Val glared down at me.
“You can be a screamer is all I’m saying . . . not saying I don’t like it either. Lets a fellow know he’s hitting all the good bits.”
The glare did not stop.
“Stop digging your own grave, King of Dirt,” Poug advised from behind his mushroom.
“Hey! You don’t get to help after the peek show you got!” I yelled at him.
“I do get to chastise you for what you have done to the mountain however,” Poug pointed out.
“I’m not taking it down!”
“You have to take it down,” Val told me, if not smirking then at least no longer glaring. Not that she’s ever been much of a glarer, usually manages it with that look of hers, like she expects better of you. Kind of like the one she’s using right now . . . oh, damn it!
“It’s pure gold lettering a good fifty feet tall. It’s fucking amazing. Even Donald Trump would be jealous of that shit. Way more impressive than one of his golden toilets, ain’t it?”
“Still . . .”
“It’s my declaration of love for you!”
Her hand brushed my cheek with a fond gesture gentler than I ever could have managed. “It’s very you—as we already discussed—but all I needed were the words.”
Expectant silence.
“She wants you to say them right now!” Poug called.
“Stop helping!”
“I’m simply relieved that the pair of you have returned to each other’s arms,” Poug explained at length. “The Great One was quite worried when you told me about your separation. He also was positive that you had done something to push her away, but were too stupid to even comprehend your transgression.”
“If Meteyos is happy then it’s all good, ain’t it?” I grumbled. I think Poug can talk to him, just like I could with Mini when I was on the monk mojo juice. Surprise he’s so composed, I’d go insane if I had a dragon in my head all day long. Especially if said dragon was around for what Val and me had just done. Meteyos giving me tips on my love life . . . never gonna happen.
“If you’re using your nudity and your knowledge of my culture’s conservatism when it comes to matrimony and sexual relations as a shield, you should remember our conversation on my sexual prowess,” Poug called.
“Banging whores ain’t prowess!” I told him.
“Priestesses!”
I gave Val a shrug. “Well . . . at least I wasn’t the one who walked in on someone this time.”
Shaking her head at me, Val slid off to try to get her clothes back on. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you planned this too.”
“Prude,” I accused.
“Undignified lout,” she accused back, a smile at least forming on her lips.
I wiggled an eyebrow at her. “Think he peeked? Be the first time he’s seen a white woman.”
“Well, he saw quite a bit of her if he did!”
“More of me, I think.”
“I was covering your tiny ass.”
“No, the lichen and the dirt are covering my tiny ass; you don’t want to know what’s going on down there . . .”
More proof of how unromantic sex is came in the form of a handkerchief as Val wiped herself down before pulling up her panties and jeans. Putting clothes back on after sex might be more absurd than the rush to take them off. “If I was a prude,” Val pointed out, “I would’ve shrieked and covered myself with my hands.”
I raised an eyebrow. “If I was an undignified lout I wouldn’t care about him standing there and I’d ask you to go again.”
She snorted. “No time. We have thieving to do, remember? The whole reason you got yourself arrested? Ring a bell?”
“You’re all I can think about right now,” I said through a predator’s grin.
Her shirt was righted and her peacoat picked up off the lichen floor. The handkerchief dropped down onto Prince Henry, who I’m happy to announce was perking up for another go. Who’s got sexual stami
na? This fucking guy! “Poug doesn’t want to see you in the flesh either. Clean up and get your clothes on.”
“Well,” I decided as I stretched a little bit, “at least you weren’t a virgin this time.”
“And you didn’t throw up, how about that?”
Val found her tennis shoes and worked to put them on while I finally stood to get the dirt out of my ass-crack. Clothes went on after that. Tighty-whities, jeans, belt, white cotton shirt, then my geomancer’s coat from where it had fallen next to Val’s. Try not to think about the fact you discarded your only way back to Earth with about half a second of thought, you dumbass fucktard.
Val and me both stunk like each other, but nothing we could do about that. Getting the dirt out of my ass-crack notwithstanding, something primal about being a little dirty after sex. Pheromones and all that shit working on each other, marking a mate, wild caveman type crap. The bit of civilization in me craved a shower, but I don’t think they had any of those in the Geo Realm. Civilization would just have to live with being all naughty and foul for the rest of the night.
I did throw out a blast of geo-anima to dig a quick ten-foot deep hole, which became the home for the handkerchief that after those two wipe jobs smelled just wrong. Another blast of geo-anima closed the hole. Not as hard as reworking a mountainside, but a job well done.
I turned to see Val shaking her head at me again.
“What? Wasn’t like your grandma’s or something was it?”
She started chuckling. “Yup, I cleaned up our leftovers with my grandmother’s antique handkerchief.”
“Then what?”
Her eyes sparkled. “It’s just weird to see you being the showoff for once.”
“Should we tell him to come over?”
Eyes-without-irises went so bright I couldn’t see anything inside of them but a shining star. “Or we could geo-surf away before he can catch us . . .”
Hard to tell if her grin or mine was the larger of the two.
[CLICK]
I was undoubtedly getting my holy King of Dirt ass chewed out once we traveled back into the Geo Realm a few hours later, but the sight of Poug running after us with his hands thrown up in frustration was worth it. So was feeling Val shaking behind me as she almost choked herself to death from laughing so hard.
What can I say?
Sometimes Val’s a good influence on me.
Sometimes I’m a bad influence on her.
Usually it evens out in the end.
Other times we jump right in and the Mound gets burned down.
Her fault.
Still ain’t taking the blame on that one.
Here’s hoping we don’t burn down the room we’re in at the moment.
Not the Guild Vault.
Decided to give the Guild Library a try. Guild Library ain’t so different from the one back at the Asylum in that it’s big, multi-roomed, and has many levels of access. Journeymen are only allowed in the foyer, which houses copies of the design documents pertaining to the one-hundred classical artifacts needed to become a Member in Artifice. Through there was a checkpoint, usually guarded by one of the librarians—all of whom are at least Master Craftsmen; yes, yes, I know, I just used ‘whom,’ try not to get too distracted by it—to the main library floor. On that main floor you’ll find everything you expect, most of it pertaining to artifacts and Geomancy. Fuck, just used ‘pertaining’ too . . . must be all the books ripping those five dolla’ words out of my foul mouth.
A stairwell heads downwards—everything in the supernatural world heads downwards, more important it is, farther it is under the ground—to a second floor, accessible only to Master Craftsmen. A gate halfway through this floor again blocks off an area, this time only for Head Craftsmen. Thankfully there’s nothing specifically for Counselors or for the Guild Master himself, unless you count what’s in the Vault, or what they might have in their offices. Massey’s office ain’t on the itinerary, but if I don’t find what I need in the next few days, might get desperate enough to search for it.
So far, so good with all the thieving.
Had names on the Divines, had photos of even more pages describing various vampires that Val and me hadn’t taken the time to read through beside getting the general gist of it all, and then the photos and my personal recollections of the prized artifacts. I did want to go back to the Guild Vault at least once more to finish off the remaining artifacts, but with the Divines marked off the list, finding out what exactly a Maximus was ranked higher than the deeper mystery about the Realms. Wouldn’t find anything about the Realms in the Guild Library. Realms, Divines, all that shit is burn-after-reading type classified, Maximus ain’t quite that.
Lots of rumors floating about now that I knew to listen for the word.
Tsar even offered rumors on who might be one, but the price was too high with all the rest of what I had planned. Besides, why pay for what you’re about to steal?
“Four hours,” I told Val when we crossed over into a dark room. I handed her the backup Magic Wand T-Bone’s paranoia had provided us and clicked it on for her. “Have fun.”
“Are we on a table?” she asked, looking down.
“So my dismounts ain’t perfect. I got us to the right place, didn’t I”
“We could have killed ourselves falling off of it,” she complained as she slid down.
“Well, some of us don’t have as far to fall as others.”
“Plus your head is surely much harder,” she teased me. “This atmosphere makes me feel like a cat burglar. If only there were more diamonds around . . .”
“If only you were wearing a latex cat suit,” I couldn’t help myself.
She shined the light from the Magic Wand in my eyes, making me squint. “No more time for that.”
“Probably won’t be time for it until I’m out of jail . . .”
“You’ll survive,” she told me with a smirk, the light moving in the other direction as she headed off into the darkness of the room.
I’ll survive? I wasn’t the one who jumped the other person, Val. Suppose we had gotten back together, but now that we’re together we’d have to figure out all the rest. Make some sacrifices to keep it going. Who knows how this week would play out. Three days into it and I still didn’t. Might be two weeks, not one. Trial would start tomorrow. Ceinwyn would be here, so would Plutarch apparently. Plutarch as witness . . . but the rest of them, or how many of them, I couldn’t anticipate.
Could fuck this all up and end up getting censured. Even as successful as it had been, how bad could this whole plan turn out? Pretty fucking bad. I could be drafted into the Guild. That’s bad. Massey would own my career then. T-Bone and Vicky and Prunella would be left alone and vulnerable in Fresno for Vega or Paine or any Vampire Duke to come along and attack them.
Could have my independence ripped away from me by the Lady, maybe not forced into the Guild, but have my whole career deep-sixed. No more artifacts, King Henry, back to your backup plan of joining the Recruiters or ESLED, maybe even replacing Plutarch as the Artificer teacher. Liked to say I’d rather die than join the Guild, but there’s another part of me that would rather join the Guild than completely give up on creating artifacts.
This plan of mine . . .
Wasn’t just the price I might pay. Pocket and Jesus could be killed or captured by the Three Queens. Or Paine. Or Isabel. Or just by one of Paine’s many unknown, Anima Mad flunkies. Seattle was no go for Recruiters, Weres, or the Vamps nowadays. Hard to tell if Ceinwyn or the Vampire Embassies were more pissed off about that. Dangerous sending Pocket and Jesus up there, but someone had to find Paine’s hiding spot if we ever wanted to take the fight to him.
Sooner rather than later.
Ceinwyn . . . cost could come from her too. She might never talk to me again after I finally told her about Paine. Only time I had talked to her since my last visit to the Guild was at Jason Jackson’s funeral. In the last six months I’ve thought about that moment a fair bit. The look on
her face when T-Bone showed her the picture of the Three Queens Reunion Tour. Thought about picking up the phone and just calling her. Maybe not even to talk . . . just . . . so we could hear each other’s silence across the phone or something.
Guild of Artificers Member No. 62523 for life. Dead friends. No mentor. Val at my side and the two of us just waiting for Paine to attack me for the World-Breaker . . . yeah, that sounds like it could be pretty fucking bad.
Pretty fucking bleak too.
About as bleak as that dark library room, only two rays of light for us to find our way. I went the opposite direction from Val, still able to see her despite all that darkness. Even behind a bookshelf I could see the general luminescence of her direction. Even better, if she was out in the open I could see the entire outline of her body.
Prince Henry really likes that outline.
Down, you beast! We have shit to steal!
No need to worry about visitors or librarians barging in. Whole floor was pitch black, the Head Craftsmen section blocked off by a lowered security gate. With the Mancy—just the normal Mancy, no God-King or helpless prisoner here—I could feel a pair of security golems above us, at the main entrance to the Library, but nothing on either floor.
All alone again. I glanced at Val as she picked out a book and shined her light at it to read the title. I said ‘no,’ Prince Henry, control yourself!
It’s been so long!
No!
You’ve been treating me horrible; no one but you to touch me and you’ve been torturing me at least twice a day! Twice a day for six months! I’m even worse at math than you are, but even I know that’s a lot!
No!
Ignoring my bodily complaints, I focused in on checking a massive row of filing cabinets the Guild had set up. Not information like with a book, but they did contain files and readouts. Sale figures. Accounting data. Customer names. Each product line has its own cabinet . . . each product line has its own banking account and . . . really, they run each one separate from the whole? Odd way of doing things, but perhaps it helped explain why the Guild did so little development. If a product line had to be in the black from the beginning and if an older line went out of favor . . . that’s not a way to run a business.
The Pit of No Return (The King Henry Tapes Book 6) Page 28
