Madeline’s magic refreshed me, restarted me; I look the same as when I came here. My hair might be a little longer and healthier, but otherwise, I look the same. It’s strange to look so unchanged after what I’ve been through in the last month. The only dramatic difference is that my hair didn’t grow into a perfect haircut, more a jumbled mess cascading unevenly down my back. I run my fingers through the back of my hair.
Good, I’m glad it’s choppy, it wouldn’t be right if I wasn’t changed by… well… by the inferno.
Then, with my neck turned, I see the cut; there are two black marks, like a black kiss, on my neck. He marked me again. I don’t know if it was intentional or not, but it is a new mark...just possibly the mark of our new deal. A black kiss.
Yeah, a kiss of death. Fitting.
After I’ve stared so long at my reflection that I can no longer really make sense of my reflected features, I return to my room to look for Stephen’s note.
But there is no note, not on the dresser or the end table, not behind or underneath them. Nothing new is in any of my drawers, the closet or on Linnie’s side of the room. I even push out every piece of furniture, but there is no note, no letter, nothing.
Maybe, Stephen said something to Dina, it’s possible she just forgot. I decide to recheck with her. I retrieve a clean T-shirt and stretch pants from where I dumped the contents of my drawer on the ground, and head for the kitchen.
Dina, not surprisingly, stirs a big pot on the massive stove. But the pot isn’t filled with food, she’s boiling bandages.
Her eyes rove over me when I enter. “That magic was fast… fast... too fast.” She mutters shaking her head.
My teeth scrape over my lower lip. “Dina,” I say, then hesitate, “um… are you sure Stephen didn’t have a message for me? Or, I mean...did he say anything to you?”
Dina turns back to her pot. She says, “Nothing about you, but what I already told you. I am not the right person for answers, Raven. If you have questions you should find Albert.”
“Yeah, good idea. I’ll do that...” I spin on my heel.
“But not now,” She calls after me, “He’s in the training center. You find him tonight.”
But there’s no way I’m waiting until tonight, I navigate my way through the guesthouse out the door and across the parking lot to the “gentlemen’s club” (training center? secret base? whatever they want to call it).
Two guards stand sentry outside the club; when I step up to the door, without even looking at me, one barks out, “Sorry, Miss Smith, you are not permitted in here.”
I’m a little surprised that he knows my name, but I probably shouldn’t be. I say, “I’ve entered here before. And, I need to speak with Albert.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Smith,” he repeats with a tinge of annoyance in his voice, “You are not permitted in...”
I don’t know what makes me do it (as I’m sure it won’t work), but I reach past the guard and press my thumb to the scanner. The door immediately slides open.
The guard, for the first time, looks at me. I don’t let him stop me; I lunge into the door, dash down the hall past the mirrors and portraits, and stop at the door that leads to the elevator.
The scanner next to the elevator is made to scan the whole hand and wrist. I know mine won’t work; they never took a scan of my whole hand, only my thumb. But I figure, I’ve come this far, so I press my hand to the pad and wait while a blue light traces around it.
When I pull my hand away, my print is still there. I’m sure a blaring alarm is going to go off and red lights flash every which way, but no, the door just slides open.
I step in. The wall contains the same four buttons; I press the second button down, remembering that that is where the training space is.
As the car smoothly descends, my heart races and stomach does back-flips. Then, the elevator stops.
The door slides open and I am face-to-face with a group of five men in matching black uniforms who are laughing just outside the elevator. They silence the moment they see me.
We just stare at each other for a few seconds. They gape as if this is the first time they’ve ever seen a girl.
I say, “Um, hi. I’m looking for Albert. Could you tell me where he is?”
The shortest man of the group clears his throat, and says, “He’s in the training center, that way,” He points to a corridor branching to the left. “Miss Smith, who...who gave you clearance to be in here?”
I don’t answer; I push past the men and run by a couple more. Every head turns as I pass, but I don’t stop for directions again. The training center is not hard to find; it’s on the other side of two massive sliding doors.
I find Albert alone. The room he is in is enormous; weapons line the far wall, and the floor is a big blue matt. Albert stands by the far wall, hefting a heavy-looking two handed sword to its stand. After he places the sword, he swings around to pick up a long stick lying behind him, but he sees me and freezes.
Albert is all the way across the room but I can see his brow furrow. He stands to his full height narrowing his eyes and asking, “How did you get in...? Ah!” He throws up his hands, “Stephen!” He makes a few more annoyed sounding comments, all in Swedish. And then continues picking up sticks and placing them on a stand, he then crosses the room to face me. “You should not be in here.”
I cross my arms over my chest, “Where is Stephen?” I ask before he can forcibly remove me.
“He is gone.”
“And Nicholas, too?”
“Yes.” He stops a pace ahead of me; he’s wearing a loose black jumpsuit. Albert’s giant, and hairy, and he looms over me, but he doesn’t intimidate me (not anymore).
“When are they coming back?”
“They’re not,” He matches my crossed-armed pose, “Not while you’re here.”
“Oh,” I bite my lip, “You debriefed Stephen.”
He nods his large shaggy head.
“What exactly did he tell you?” And suddenly, I’m terrified; terrified that Albert will know what happened when I was in the fire. Even though I don’t know what happened, not really, I just know that it was bad...that it could mean something I don’t even want to begin to understand. I swallow, “So you know everything that happened with Andras?”
“We know the deal you struck with him. We are assuming that he’s following it, as: you are still alive, and Andras has not opened the gates of Hell, yet. So we...” He rolls his shoulders back and I can see his tongue lick the outside of his teeth under his lips. He clears his throat. “We decided that it would be better if Nicholas and Stephen left before you woke.”
“I understand why you sent Nicholas away; the whole falling in love thing.” I hold my hands out, and ask, “But why Stephen?”
“Raven, your actions right now just proves to me that our choice was the right one.”
I lean back re-crossing my arms. “I think you underestimate me.”
Albert sways his head back-and-forth. “Probably,” he concedes with a nod and a sigh. “But with the world at stake, Raven, I’d rather underestimate you, than underestimate love.”
I swallow and let my hands slip to my side. I can’t think of any reply to that. And ... He’s right. Of course he is, and I’m being stupid. My shoulders slump and I focus on the scuffs at the toes of my shoes.
“Tobias might avoid you too,” Albert grins, “He’s convinced he’s a risk and I didn’t think you’d appreciate it if I told him otherwise.”
I huff out a laugh and tuck my hair behind my ear.
Albert blinks at my head, as if he is just now noticing there is something different about me. “You look better,” He examines me, “Much better. Is that a wig? I thought you were bald...”
I shake my head not wanting to give him an explanation. I peer over the room again, the training room. I'm the first girl in here... Well, except one. I ask, "The girl, who was allowed in here, then kicked out, what did she do?"
"Cassidy Dixon?" Albert s
ays with a low huff. "Yes, Cassidy Dixon was allowed to train here. She was... is… one of the best demon killers out there. Comes from a long line of demon killers, and priests; you actually met her uncle ..." he looks at me, then closes his eyes and shakes his head. "Cassidy was exiled because she chose to protect her ten year old brother, and in doing so, let eighteen innocent people be killed, horribly. And, the boy died anyway."
Sounds familiar. But I don't say anything, I only stare.
"Yeah, I know what you are thinking," Albert says. "But, Cassidy knew better, took an oath, and was trained."
“I should have been.” I say, “Trained, I mean. I’ve been here all summer; and you sent me in to fight demons not knowing how to shoot a gun. Stephen was right; Nicholas should have walked up to me right off the plane and told me what I was facing.”
“You’re right,” Albert says.
My eyes widen. But then I narrow my eyes at Albert, I say, “You kidnapped me.”
He snaps back his head as if I just seriously startled him.
“You gagged me, tied me up and threw me around.”
“I’m...I am sorry...”
“I’m not finished.” I hold up a hand. “Then, after you kidnapped me, I helped save your wife.”
“I know...”
“Where I come from, that means you owe me one, a big one.”
He narrows eyelids over his stormy sky-colored eyes.
I lean back, “So, when do we start training?”
He tilts his head up. “Training?”
“Andras is coming back for me; and my guess is: it’ll be sooner rather than later. I want weapons training...” I list off on my fingers, “Hand-to-hand combat, I want to know everything there is to know about demons: what kinds there are and how to kill each kind. And we have to start soon, because the moment the government lifts the quarantine, I’m going home.”
He smiles at me, a big smile, “Oh, time won’t be a problem...”
“Yes it will,” I insist, “I want to know everything there...”
“No, it won’t,” He interrupts back. “We’ll have all the time in the world.” He bobs his eyebrows. “I’m moving to Arcata, California.” He gives me a wide grin. “Hayvee, the baby and I are going to be your college roommates.”
Epilogue
About A Month Later
“You like?” Hayvee runs her fingers through my hair. Similar to most Europeans I’ve met this trip, Hayvee knows about thirty languages, but unfortunately, English isn’t really one of them. When Albert told me his wife was Muslim, I had envisioned a rather-large Iranian woman (I know... I know...assumptions make me an ass), but Hayvee is neither large nor middle-eastern. Her skin is the color of milk chocolate and her eyes light brown and as stormy as her husband’s. Albert tells me they met while he was on assignment in Morocco.
She smiles into the mirror at my reflection. Even though her skin is still blotchy and swollen from old bruises, when she smiles, I can easily see why Albert defied his grandfather.
I run my hand over the back of my head, the one place where my hair is still unevenly cut. “Yes, thank you,” I say. But not for the first time, I strangely wish I was still bald. Madeline’s potion fixed me before I even glanced in the mirror. I regret that now; I should have taken a good look. Examined exactly what the Hell fire did to me...it doesn’t feel real now. I keep thinking that maybe what happened in the fire... didn’t happen; maybe I just went temporarily insane. It’s a very plausible explanation.
I turn from the sink to smile down at Hayvee’s big belly. Ultrasounds and doctors say that even after all the beatings, the baby is still healthy. If quarantine had lasted any longer, Albert would have forced me to wait until Hayvee delivered the baby to fly home.
Even though we raced to the airport the moment Sweden’s borders opened, we did not fulfill my final goal. I had hoped that we could take my original return flight, but the lady at the Brussels’ International Airport ticket counter told us we could not get two additional tickets because our plane was sold out.
We only need to take the next flight, but it really feels as if I missed the only remaining thing on my itinerary. My itinerary was a joke; I took a good look at it before we drove to the airport, and the only plan we had stuck to was flying to Rome. But, I guess all-in-all the trip would have to be called a successful one; even if out of the two companions I arrived with, one left early and the other...
…is in this bathroom.
Chauncey’s face peeks out from behind the stall at the end of the long line of white doors.
“Hayvee,” my voice comes out a little squeaky, “You know, I think I have to use the restroom again. Could you meet me outside?”
She points to the door in question.
I force a smile on my lips and nod.
I know that I should follow Hayvee out, that I should leave, but I don’t. I find myself spinning to where Chauncey has just stepped outside the white metal stall. She’s not covered in blood, that’s an improvement. The Chauncey puppeteer actually managed to do a pretty decent impression of the old Chauncey. Her blonde ringlets are perfectly groomed and her black skirt and pink tank-top are trendy, if not runway stylish. Her high heels clack across the tiles as she steps to the sink closest to me.
“Oh, pooh!” She whines sticking her lower lip out, “Why did you send Hayvee out? She had the most beautiful scream. I would so like to hear it again.”
“What are you doing here?” I say, not stepping back even though she’s washing her hands inches from me.
“Catching my plane, of course!” She shakes her head (as if I asked the most obtuse question ever).
I have to moisten my mouth with my tongue before words will form, “to Arcata?”
Chauncey turns to me, her perfect curls bobbing. “You don’t actually think that Albert Tapper is the only one who’s going to be watching your every move? Or, do you? I’ll be around, waiting for you to trip, to fall...”
“The next time I see you,” I lean in to say, “I’ll chop off your head.”
A woman (I didn’t realize was in the restroom) runs out of a stall without flushing the toilet or washing her hands and flees out the door.
Chauncey laughs so hard she has to support herself on the sink.
I can feel heat creeping up my cheeks.
“I see...” she manages after a minute, “that you don’t play it old school Leijonskjöld.”
The first rule Albert hammered into me (so to speak) when I forced him to train me, is ‘discretion, discretion, discretion!’ And… I really intended to follow that. But, I’d rather be set on fire again than let Chauncey see my embarrassment. I glare at her. “With you, there are no rules. I’d behead you in the produce isle of a supermarket.”
She winks at me through the mirror. “I’ll keep that in mind, sugarplum. But, don’t hold your breath.” She spins to tap my cheek. “You only see me right now because I want you to; you’ve only ever seen me when I’ve wanted you to.” Her teeth elongate into spikes to give me a shark-ish smile.
Without a moment’s hesitation I thrust my hand toward her mouth.
Chauncey’s hand snaps out lightning quick and grabs hold of my wrist while her teeth shrink back. “Uh, uh, uh...” She shakes her head. Her eyes examine my face while the corners of her painted lips point to the bathroom ceiling. “You know, Birdie...”
I cringe.
“…you entertain me.” She firmly guides my wrist to my side. “If you weren’t the only thing standing between me and a promotion, I might not even want to destroy you and everyone you care about, utterly and completely.”
I narrow my eyes to glare. “The feeling isn’t mutual.”
“Well, I’m delighted that we had time for our little tête-à-tête.” She steps away from the sink. “But, I have a plane to catch.” She waves her fingers at me. “Ta, ta.”
If Hayvee weren’t right outside the door waiting for me, I probably would wait a minute before following Chauncey out. But as i
t is, I chase after the demon, hoping I can do some damage control. Hayvee and Albert wait outside the restroom, a wall of windows as their backdrop. I’m too late to prevent Hayvee seeing Chauncey. Chauncey is unabashedly skipping up to the couple.
I can’t think fast enough to know what to do to stop the confrontation. I run toward Hayvee, but before I can get there, Hayvee is rushing forward. I stand there amazed, wondering if she is going to...? Is she really going to attack Chauncey?
Albert thankfully grabs his wife around the shoulders before she can attack the demon.
“Well, hello,” Chauncey says, giving them the sweetest smile, “Fancy meeting you here.” To Hayvee, “How’s the baby?”
“Get the Hell out of here!” Albert thunders, now struggling to hold Hayvee; I can see her scratching him.
“That’s not very courteous,” Chauncey whines. “Well pooh, pooh. I guess I’ll just hurry off to my plane.” She does just that, but before she’s ten paces away she calls over her shoulder, “Oh Albert, I owe you for last time. No one can give me a pounding quite like you.” She scampers off.
Nasty.
Albert waits until Chauncey is out of sight until he releases Hayvee. The screaming, fighting match that follows between them is, thankfully, in some other language.
I cross to the window wall and watch the people on the ground scurry around the giant planes. I guess it was too much to hope that Chauncey would just crawl into some hole and succumb to her wounds. But, I never imagined she’d go home. The old Chauncey had nothing there for her really, except Linnie. I wonder if demons keep any of a soul-bounds traits or memories when they steal their bodies. They must.
“Raven,” Albert calls.
I turn to look at Hayvee and Albert. They are no longer fighting but Hayvee is stomping away.
“We still have an hour left until our flight. Are you hungry? Stay with us. We are going to eat.” He doesn’t wait for my answer, but follows after his wife. Albert running is a pretty funny sight...from the back, from the front I bet it’s closer to terrifying.
The Deception Dance Page 32
