The Deception Dance

by Rita Stradling

  Andras spreads his arms so they line up with his outstretched gleaming wings. “This is my word. These are the laws that bind you. Now crawl back to where you came from, be it Earth or Hell.”

  They do, receding like murky water being sucked into a drain. Those with wings take to the sky and roll out like thunderous storm clouds. After a few earsplitting minutes Andras and I are again alone. Where the fissure in the earth had been a moment ago only craggy rocks and trampled wild grass remain.

  He's a demon. A friggin’ demon.

  I laugh, a strange crazed sound then cover my mouth with my hand.

  But, all I had to do was ask and he turned his back on Satan. Could there be such thing as a good demon?

  I stand and approach him.

  His face is turned up with an expression of ecstasy. “The power,” he says then moans.

  I hesitantly touch a feather on one of his wings, it’s so soft, and real.

  His eyes open and he smiles over. “I am glad you saw me like this, Raven. I’m glad you can see my magnificence.”

  My head shakes back and forth as I huff out another laugh; I wonder if demons understand the concept of ‘egotistical.’

  I don’t think he does, because he asks me, “Why are you laughing?”

  “Well...” I don’t complete my thought because a shout from the cliff below us announces we are still not alone.

  “Andras!” The man’s voice bellows in a thick Swedish accent, “come down here and fight me!”

  Before I can even turn my head Andras’s face explodes into the giant head of a raven. I only get my hands up just in time to muffle his deafening screech. The wind from his beating wings throws me to the rock. I whip around to see who issued the challenge.

  The man’s accent was so thick I have a hard time believing who I’m seeing, but Nicholas stands where the fissure had been.

  The shrieking screeching noise coming from Andras drowns out my scream, “No, Nicholas. Run!”

  Please Nicholas, run. I don’t want you to die.

  Nicholas is armed with a gleaming silver pistol in one hand and a long one-handed sword in the other.

  Andras launches himself off the rock with so much force, it groans, threatening to split.

  I throw my hands over my head to block the gale emanating from Andras’s immense wings. He soars into the air and dives at Nicholas

  Nicholas doesn’t dodge him; he raises his arm, aims and unloads his pistol with six booming (but quick) gunshot sounds. I try to see if Andras is hit but his movements are so fast it’s hard to focus on him.

  Andras misses Nicholas by a yard and drives into the ground skidding and creating a crater. Lightning quick he’s on his feet and leaping forward with a black sword held above him (which must have been conjured from Hell, it just appears). Andras snaps his bird beak at Nicholas, but Nicholas dodges.

  Nicholas tosses his pistol and swings his sword with precision; but, Andras also dodges.

  I just stand here, a helpless spectator at a macabre ballet. Two men I care about are battling to the death and there’s nothing I can do about it.

  They circle each other lunging and dodging but neither landing a blow. As Andras turns to block, the moonlight illuminates his body and the three bleeding bullet holes in his chest. He pounces, beak stabbing at Nicholas’s eyes, but Nicholas parries and stabs through Andras’s wing; feathers and blood spray as Nicholas slashes through.

  I try not to scream, I don’t want to give either of them the advantage, but Nicholas clearly already has it when he swipes the side of Andras’s chest.

  Raising my hands to cover my mouth, I know that Andras doesn’t really have a chance; he is fighting with three bullets in his chest, a torn wing and a slice out of his ribs. Andras must realize this too, because his beak recedes and he turns his human head to me right before Nicholas chops it off.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Day Twenty-Nine (again)

  The first thing I’m aware of is breaking Nicholas’s nose. I have never punched a person before, never wanted to, but I pack a world of pain into my swing. He doesn’t move, doesn’t stop me, and doesn’t even staunch the blood flow that pours down his face. I keep punching him, hitting him, kicking him. My nose is running, I don’t care.

  “You killed him,” I belligerently shout, “He promised me no more souls...and you killed him.”

  “Raven,” He gurgles through the blood that is pouring into his mouth. He lifts his hands to my shoulders, as he did only a couple hours ago when the world was a different place. I fight to get out of his grasp but his hands clamp down. “He’s the demon Grand Marquis, Raven, he’s not dead.”

  I halt my squirming. Standing motionless makes me teeter back and forth; Nicholas’s restraining grip is the only thing that keeps me vertical.

  “He’s a demon Grand Marquis,” he repeats. “All I did was kill his body, or the body that he stole.” He lifts his hands from my shoulders and lets me fall. I collapse to the ground and try to stop hyperventilating.

  I see Nicholas’s boots as he looms over me. He backs away and retrieves his sword. He crouches down and wipes his blade on the grass, leaving two streaks of blood. I watch him through my eyelashes in my crumpled position.

  I assume he has wiped the blood from his face because his words come through clear. “We have at best a few years until you have your precious Andras again, probably less. Andras has to be called forth by a magician and steal the magician’s body to stay longer than a few weeks in this world.” He pauses wiping his sword to say, “Chauncey. Is. Dying.” He bites the words out. “I came to find you… to tell you… and you were…you were… with him!” His voice is thick with his Swedish accent. I don’t look up to see his face but emotion drips from his voice when he says, “I would have loved you, cared for you, anything, anything, Raven...” He trails off. When he speaks again he’s angry, “but you chose him, you gave your body to him,” his voice brakes, “a demon.”

  He thinks I slept with Andras, I don't correct him. My face is pressed to the dirt, I’m afraid if I raise my head I’ll see Andras’s body. I don’t think I could handle seeing his decapitated form even from the corner of my eye.

  I hear Nicholas get up and cross over to me. He’s above me, when he speaks his accent is gone, “You need to go back, find Linnie. When I left she wouldn’t leave Chauncey’s side, I could not pry her from Chauncey. When a soul-bound person dies, their body can be possessed and become a puppet of a demon.”

  We are both silent for a few moments.

  “Do you hear me?” He touches me gently on my arm. “Get up, Raven, Linnie isn’t safe.”

  I stand, careful to keep my head turned from Andras’s body in two parts. I wipe my face off on Andras’s jacket sleeve, which I don’t remember grabbing but is on me. I turn toward my scooter. “I was wrong, Nicholas; I could never love you.”

  He’s right behind me when he laughs bitterly and says, “The jokes is on me, I already love you.” He exhales, I can feel his breath. He says, “At least now no souls will be taken while you’re alive. Now I can protect you, even from yourself. Call Linnie, tell her that I’m heading to the hospital to pick her up and do your best to convince her to go with me. You go straight to the house; I will pick up Linnie and meet you there.”

  But, I don’t go to the house or waste time calling my sister. Again I test the limits of my scooter as I race to the hospital. It takes me only twenty minutes by my watch to get to Hoganas.

  The frenzied thoughts and moments whiz by me in a blur as I reach the hospital and race inside. A middle-aged nurse stops me before I can reach Chauncey’s room; she thinks I am injured because of the blood that I didn’t realize is on my dress. Honestly, I don’t know whose blood it is. I tell her I was the unfortunate tissue for a friends nose bleed. From her expression I don’t think she believes me.

  When I ask about Chauncey, she tells me in heavily accented English that she made a remarkable recovery. I don’t have the reaction she must
expect because she is a little tart when she informs me that she is not allowed to give me information about when Chauncey will be released. I let her usher me to the waiting room and I quickly exit the hospital.

  Pacing in front of the parking lot I pat down the pockets in the jacket I’m wearing and discover through all the events of the evening I still have my cell phone. At least the nurse seemed to think that Chauncey is in her room. Maybe someone picked up Linnie and Nicholas didn’t know about it.

  Still pacing I tap my hand on my side while the phone rings. “Please be there, please be there, please be there,” I chant as the rings seem to crash over me, like waves.

  “Hello,” A cheery voice sings. Time slows down.

  I stare at the phone; acid burns through my stomach and up my throat making words impossible.

  When I don’t say anything the thing with Chauncey’s voice giggles and asks in a conspiratorial tone, “Oh my, is this the famous Raven Smith? I just need to meet you. I have heard so many things about you.”

  I swallow the bile in my mouth. “Where’s Linnie?” My tone is steadier than I feel.

  “Oh don’t worry, Birdie...”

  I shudder as I hear her say my nickname.

  “...she’s here with me.”

  In the background I hear a muffled scream, a thud, a sob.

  “Don’t you hurt her!” My voice is rough.

  Chauncey’s voice scoffs as if I just said the silliest thing, “Of course I will. I already have. Oh please come play with me little bird. You’re only a few blocks away; I have a room at the Hotell Trädgård Visa...” She tells me the room number and starts to tell directions and in perfectly pronounced Swedish but I interrupt.

  “I know it.”

  “Goody, I got it here so it would be convenient for you. Fly, Little Bird, fly.”

  I am on my scooter speeding out of the parking lot before I snap closed my phone. I weave through the streets so fast the houses beside me merge together and I reach the hotel in less than two minutes.

  Even at night the hotel looks open and airy; its appearance is so opposite to everything I am feeling that I hesitate before I climb off my scooter.

  My heart accelerates faster and faster as I enter the hotel and pass a vacant front desk to the curving dark wood stair beyond. At the top of the stair I spot Chauncey’s room number.

  I take a deep breath and raise my hand to knock on the door but before I can bring my fist down the door swings open and Chauncey sings in pleasure, “You came. Oh, you’ve made me so happy. Please,” she says, stepping aside, “Come in.”

  I try to slow my breathing as I step through the threshold and peer around the room for my sister. The beds and walls are clean and white; the whole room looks white except for a few pictures on the wall and a couple wood furnishings. The roof slopes at a severe angle on one side, white and trimmed with a light colored wood. At first I see no sign of Linnie, but I hear a muffled cry and run to find her on the floor at the side of one of the two twin beds. She is tied and gagged, I fight with her ropes but the demon plops on the bed beside me and scolds, “uh, uh, uh, that’s not how you play, Raven. This is my game, my rules. Now step away from your sister.”

  After I whisper, “I’m going to get you out of this,” I step away, reluctantly.

  “Oh, how sweet, I could just regurgitate. You humans are so easy to have fun with.” She shakes her pretty blonde hair. She lies on her stomach with her face propped up by her hands and her elbows pressing into the comforter. The demon seems to think that acting like a bubbly fifties house-wife is the best way to puppet Chauncey’s body, the effect is nothing like sultry (moody) Chauncey had been in her life. “I got an interesting call a few minutes ago, from a friend of mine.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me, “It seems Andras has found another body already.” As she smiles at me, her teeth elongate into long ivory spikes. She reminds me of one of those deep sea fish, her fangs are too big to fit in her mouth. “You must be so excited!” Her voice whistles through her now protruding jaw.

  She sits up and when she speaks her hissy voice sounds irritated, “I was there when he announced that I can’t bleed or kill you, well fiddlesticks.” Then she snarls. “I was pretty unhappy to hear that I can’t buy another soul while your heart beats.” Her eyes shine red and I take an involuntary step back.

  Her pupils smolder back to black and the tension in her shoulders seems to ease. She reaches down and pets Linnie’s head like a dog. “But, thank Satan, I already took the souls I need before I showed up for his little exposé. In fact, I had this body for a full hour before the demon-conference. This little lady...” she says, then coos at Linnie while stroking her hair, “Was here tied up, waiting for me, when I got back.”

  Linnie whimpers and shakes, she’s curled into a fetal position.

  “I had so much fun!” Demon Chauncey snaps her attention to me, bending her neck in an inhuman way. “You see, I work fast, the hour between my, let us call it: possession, and Andras’s orders was more than enough time to send a soul-bound to your Victorian-style two story in Arcata. Did you know that your house is on hallowed ground?”

  She looks at me, as if for a response, but I can’t even seem to shrug my shoulders.

  She continues, “Well, it is. But that does not keep out the soul-bound. It was easy as pie, all the soul-bound needed to do was put a knife to your father’s throat and a phone to his ear and your father...” Her lips thin as she bares even more of her sharp teeth. “Barry Smith, by the way a charming man, was willing to trade his soul for Linnie’s life.” Her fingers muss Linnie’s already tousled hair. “And she thought he preferred you. Linnie was willing to do the same.” She pushes Linnie over, toppling her to the side and giving me an unobstructed view of her inner arm.

  A spirally twisty knot of lines is tattooed on Linnie’s wrist exactly where Chauncey’s mark had been.

  Demon Chauncey leaves Linnie lying on her side and continues, “Pity for the soul-bound, that once they promised their souls to me, I don’t even care how long their lives are. But I won’t end your father or your sister’s life...” Chauncey pulls Linnie’s face from the floor by her hair, “... she might want her life to end when I’m done with her….”

  My gaze meets Linnie’s sideward face for the first time to see her mouth and eyes are masked with thick tape. She shakes her head at me as much as she can with the demon’s hand in her messy brown hair.

  “I’ll do it,” I breathe.

  As if perplexed, Chauncey says, “Excuse me?”

  “I’ll trade my soul, that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  “Your soul?” She laughs, shakes her head and stands. “Your soul? Satan doesn’t want to buy your soul for Hell.” She shakes her finger at me as if I’m a naughty child. “He wants your father’s soul, and your sisters, your Uncle Freddy’s and your best friend Zack’s. He even wants, what is her name…?” she taps her chin, “…your dorky friend with the glasses? Oh yes, Mary Deegan’s soul. He wants everyone you have ever cared for, and everyone you will ever care for’s soul. And if not their souls, their lives will do.” She leans in close to me, making me shudder. For an instant, I’m sure she’s going to bite me; but, she leans away.

  “I get your point,” I say, speaking loudly to hide that my voice is shaking, “What can I trade so my friends and family’s souls and lives will be safe?”

  She plops back on the bed. “What a charming idea, what can you trade?” She wiggles her head and shoulders as if pondering.

  I know it’s all for show, she invited me over to play didn’t she? This is all part of her game.

  “So, your sweetie Andras: the oh, so, suave, will be here by dawn. He’s flying right now.” She moves her fingers in the air like a bird. “Look at your watch. The sun rises at about five a.m., give or take a few minutes, you have until then; in these next three hours you must drink this.” She opens the drawer of the small desk between the beds and tosses me a gold vile.

  I miss it and
it makes a tinkling sound on the hard wood.

  She points to it, “You’re going to need that.”

  I lean over and pick up the vile. It looks as if the vile is truly made out of gold, and I can’t see whatever is inside.

  “Satan will trade your life, or more-over your death, for all previous claims on your sister and father’s souls to be relinquished, no more, no less.”

  “And they’re not going to be harmed in any way, by demons, ever?” I ask.

  She rolls her eyes with obvious disappointment. “Well fine, no...” she glances down at Linnie, “...more physical harm done to them.”

  “And, I’ll go to heaven?”

  She grinds her sharp teeth together, “If you commit suicide you’ll go to purgatory. Especially with your...” she pauses glancing down at the blood stain on my dress, “...spotty record.”

  I stare at the vile in my hand. Purgatory again...

  “Oh, you’re so pitiful!” she exclaims. She crosses her legs and smoothes out the material covering her legs. “Okay, here’s the deal: if you walk to a church, walk...” she reiterates, “and drink the poison, before the poison closes your throat you can confess your sins to a priest and be absolved.” She rolls her eyes again, “If you really care that much.”

  Linnie shakes her head furiously while she makes muffled sounds through the tape, drawing Chauncey’s attention.

  Knowing that I have to draw Chauncey’s attention back to me and not give her the opportunity to ‘further motivate’ me, I say, “Yeah, I’ll do it.” I close my eyes and grip my fingers around the vile.

  “Of course you will, Birdie. That’s what you humans do; martyr yourselves for your cherished ones,” She laughs. “How noble. Now, fly away.”

  I prompt, “The church?”

  “Do you really need me to spell everything out for you?” But she gives me directions. The moment she stops, Linnie starts screaming. The sound is muffled by the tape, but I can tell she’s screaming.

  “Stop, Linnie,” I call, desperately, “Shut up!”