by Dianna Hardy
Flames broke through the barrier of his dark coloured skin and leapt about half a metre from him. He had become a human fireball.
Elena squealed in surprise and jumped back.
He couldn't help but smirk a little. About time she realised that power did not begin and end with her.
However, just as quickly, she had her right arm extended, a spell flying out of her mouth, or at least it had started to, but Karl was there, catching her wrists and spinning her around.
"Chill out, honey," he heard him say.
"What? Karl…"
"Look at him. No, don't do anything. Just look at him. He's not moved. Elena he's just showing us something. Nothing is on fire." Then he turned to Pueblo, "Nothing's on fire, right?"
Pueblo smiled, but shook his head. "I control the flames and the heat. Nothing is burning."
He felt pressure on his arm. Mary had reached forward and placed a hand through the fire and onto his wrist, where she now gripped him.
Brave girl.
She was staring at him with a haunted expression on her face. He logged it to memory, thinking he'd ask her about it later. Amy was more important right now.
"When one shifter drinks the blood of another, he or she acquires the ability to shift into the same guises as the other," he explained, addressing his audience. "Amy now has the ability to turn into fire, and into a cat – a panther. Those are my only two guises – most shifters have more, but my demon-half is limiting in this way to my shifting abilities. What Amy's own guises are, I cannot know unless I drink her blood, or unless she tells me. Neither has happened. But I suspect there was a cat in her already, because my own has been deliriously happy since we bonded, and permanently restless since she's gone missing, as if it's lost a mate." He turned back to Mary. "So you were right in a sense. But it is only because of my demon-half that I feel the personality of my two guises so strongly. Shifters are usually human, with human senses. I doubt Amy would feel the calling of an animal mate."
There was that sadness again, heavily sitting on his chest. He pushed it away. His shifter half would not rule over him.
"Your family hate you, don't they?" asked Mary, her voice sounding as heavy as his heart felt.
"It is unusual to find a Dessec demon, who is half-human. I am the only one who is also a shifter. The Dessec have the ability to bend time, to change history if they have to, which they almost never do as it makes the future so unpredictable. But they do all this from afar, as Gatekeepers of Time. They cannot travel within it. I am the only Dessec demon born who can time travel, as well as bend time – some strange consequence of being both Dessec and shifter I assume. My father was a rogue shaman from a far off land; he had long since turned away from serving his own people. He used shapeshifting as a way to trick my tribe, and take what did not belong to him. I was the product of that trickery … and my very presence reminds them of it every day."
There. He'd said it. Everything he was going to, anyway. Funny how the fire element always had him loosening up, throwing caution to the wind. Then he remembered that he had been all flames just before he'd offered Amy his blood.
Elena's words came back to him: why didn't you just ask her?
Self-loathing coursed through him. He was no better than his father. Why hadn't he just asked her? Because the flames had mushed his brain that's why … and ignited another more basic part of his anatomy. Yes, the elegant-looking, blonde, fiery-tempered witch had pushed all the right buttons in that respect.
Like father, like son, then.
Suddenly feeling deflated, he extinguished his fire and sat back down on his chair.
"So, there you are. Shall we go pay the Brujii a visit now?"
Chapter Two
Paul's fingers drummed on the dining table as he put another fork of steak and kidney pie into his mouth, his eyes firmly glued to the newspaper that lay on his right. Elizabeth sat to his left – in silence.
Well, isn't this just peachy. And who the hell eats steak and kidney pie for lunch?
She swore the thurump, thurump of his fingertips was getting louder.
I'm going to go insane. I need other people around me – now.
"Paul?"
"Hmmm?" He looked up from his paper and smiled. It reached his soft, brown eyes. She instantly felt guilty.
"Erm…"
Jump right in, sweetie, let's see how far you can push this…
"I need to get out."
Blunt. Well done.
"I mean … I need more. People. I need to talk to people, and integrate. Surely, integrating with others would be good for me right now?"
His smile didn't budge. "Of course."
Relief rushed through her and she reached across the table and took his left hand in hers. "Thank you. I haven't seen anyone else for a week now, and I need help to remember things, about me, about us." She ignored the way her stomach curled a little at the mention of 'us'. It wasn't his fault she couldn't remember anything about him. He'd been nothing but kind and helpful. He'd saved her from suicide for God's sake. "You know, if there's a way I can remember how I felt about you…"
The sentence trailed off, revealing so much more than words could. He was her husband, and she didn't remember him, she didn't love him – or at least, she didn't remember if she did or not – and she didn't want him. But she was willing to try, because this must be awful for him. To be honest, at this stage, she was willing to agree to anything to get the hell away from these four walls – she was starting to know every crack and stain by heart.
"The bus comes by tomorrow. It's Wednesday – market day. We can spend the day in town, and I'll show you around. It'll be a nice thing for us to do before I go back to work next week." He was actually starting to sound a little excited and she found herself getting caught up in it, although she baulked slightly at the thought of him away at work, and her left alone … here … trapped all by herself with no one to talk to. Not that Paul was much of a talker.
"Yes, that would be great!" she smiled. "Do you think we could get me some new clothes?"
He frowned. "What's wrong with the clothes you've got?"
"Er … all the clothes are just a little…" ugly… "uncomfortable. I was hoping, maybe, a nice pair of jeans?"
"Jeans?" Good lord, he sounded appalled. "Cotton slacks would be cheaper."
Slacks were trousers, right? "Okay, then, slacks – that would be great. Warmer then the dresses and skirts," she threw in, hoping that fact might appeal to his practical side.
"All right then, yes." He leaned over and pecked her on the lips. "Whatever makes you happy, Elizabeth." And he sounded like he meant that.
"Paul … did I have a nickname?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, was I always Elizabeth? I'm thinking 'Liz' would feel more comfortable."
"But Elizabeth is a beautiful name – so feminine…"
"How about, Lizzie, then. I like Lizzie." To-the-point, fun and bouncy – for some reason that sounded more like her.
"You never had a nickname…"
"Please, could you try to call me Lizzie? It sounds so much better in my head, and anything that helps me to feel more relaxed may help me remember…"
He sighed.
She wondered if she was breaking his heart with her amnesia. Fuck it.
"All right … Lizzie."
Okay, so it did sound strange on his tongue, but still better in her head. She beamed at him her gratitude and leaned in to return his earlier kiss. This time, however, he cupped her face, keeping her from moving back again, and deepened their kiss.
She froze, not knowing quite what else to do.
His hand trailed down the side of her neck, so lightly it was almost a tickle. His tongue parted her lips and slipped between them.
Stunned, she let it. This was the most intimate they had been, and the most forward he had been since he'd brought her back here. They hadn't even shared a bedroom – he'd been understanding enough to let her have her own s
pace.
So give a little back, Lizzie, said the traitorous voice in her head. Guilt. She knew it was borne of guilt for the position she'd landed him in, but she gave in to it none the less, and let him invade her mouth.
Relaxing into the kiss, she tried to grasp at any familiarity that she could – there was none. It wasn't an unpleasant kiss – quite nice, actually – but it was cool and soft. Something in her wished it was hot and hard. Still, it was better than she'd imagined it would be … maybe there was hope for them after all.
She couldn't ignore the little sigh of pleasure that came from him, and reverberated through her. Despite her reservations, she tingled a little with delight. It felt good to know that there was something she could contribute, something she could give back for all his help, something that could heal the sadness he was no doubt feeling … not that she had any intention of having pity sex, but it signalled the beginning of a needed trust that had been missing: if she could feel this, then there was something between them after all, and her life wasn't one big lie.
Finally, he released her and pulled back. His eyes shone with happiness and it almost tore her apart. Her cheeks felt wet – she realised it was from her own tears. "I wish—"
"Shhhh," said Paul, running a thumb along her bottom lip. "I know, and it's all right. We're going to be fine, Lizzie, you'll see. You'll remember. It's all going to work out."
He sounded so sure. Her heart flared with hope … even as somewhere deep inside her, an insistent growling warned her to run for her life.
~*~
"Oh. My. God," complained Elena, as she slapped her arm yet again. "Why couldn't the Brujii have picked a less swampy place to live? I'm getting bitten alive."
Pueblo and Elena had just teleported themselves and Karl to the Amazon Rainforest.
"Because the Brujii are masters of magic, and this is the most magical place on the planet. Just conjure yourself some kind of mosquito shield."
"We've just teleported halfway around the world – I'll be magically useless for hours."
"It didn't take Amy long to regain her abilities after coming to find me."
"Well," muttered Elena, "teleportation is not my strong point."
"What is your strong point?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"If you could both retract your claws I'd be grateful – I'm not sure angels are immune to migraines."
The three of them fell into a heavy silence.
It was pitch black here – sometime before dawn, at a guess. Luckily, Pueblo's fiery shifting self was lighting the way for them all.
And keeping those bloodsuckers away from my own skin, he thought with a little smile of triumph.
"So, how do you know where to find the Brujii?" asked Karl.
Pueblo shrugged. "I'm a demon. Demons can track other demons' territories, sometimes by instinct, sometimes by scent, and," he pulled out a folded piece of paper from his pocket, "sometimes by following directions."
Karl laughed. "Glad to hear it."
"We're not far."
"What are you going to tell them?" asked Elena.
"The truth. For the most part, demons actually like the truth – it's humans that get all worked up over it." He stole a glance at the witch. "Humans have trouble processing truth, because they can't accept that there can be both one ultimate truth, as well as individual truths that are different to each person."
"And demons can?"
"Yes. Demons have no conscience, they just are as they are. Acceptance is easy when you have no conscience."
"But you do have a conscience?"
He didn't miss the attack in her question. He stared at her, hard, through his own flames and lowered his voice. His tone rumbled over bass notes. "My human half does; how about yours?"
"Which way now?" cut in Karl, exasperation tingeing his words.
"Left here. A few more paces and we should hit a sinking in the ground. I assume that means a ditch – the directions don't elaborate."
"You assume a lot, don't you?"
"Elena," said Karl, more curt than usual. "Let it go."
Pueblo moved to the front, allowing the other two to continue in hushed voices behind him. Clearly Elena was pissed off at what he'd done to Amy. He supposed she was relating, what with all the secrets and lies that had been kept from her. Whatever – he didn't need her help to feel bad. He tuned their voices out. Now where the hell was this ditc—
"Ooumgh," he grunted as he pitched forward, the shock of it dimming his flames a little. Then his hands hit something sloppy. With some effort, he freed them and managed to pull himself up, only to discover his legs wouldn't move. "What the—"
"You okay?" called out Karl.
"Stop! Don't move!"
"What?! Why?"
"Quicksand!"
"Shit!"
Shit indeed. Maybe it was his weight, but he was already waist deep in the stuff and sinking fast. "I need to get out, now!"
"Wait, calm down! I seem to remember reading that total submergence in quicksand is a myth."
"What?! Angel, you and I are a myth. Now help me out!"
"Elena—"
"I can't – no magic right now, remember?"
Karl cursed behind him – he couldn't quite turn around to see. Any movement seemed to drag him further down. The liquid sand was almost at his chest now, and the last of his flames disappeared, pitching them all into total darkness.
"Pueblo!"
"I'm here! Chest deep. I can't shift, I need all my energy to stay up!"
Oh, God! Not that he'd ever prayed to God. Well, maybe once when he was a boy, but he'd quickly learnt that God didn't listen to the prayers of demons … but maybe angels did after all. A gust of wind came at him from behind, coupled with a low ruffling noise, and Karl was there, clasping his arms under his. The man was glowing gold.
He looked up, and in the light of his glow he could see his wings – enormous things – stretched wide open above them. He must be flying horizontal with his legs out behind.
"Tense up – I need you as light as possible, and you're not a small man."
Pueblo nodded. "I'm ready."
The wings moved up, then down. He felt the draft they made.
Christ! Being under them like this, he was actually humbled. The desert was the only other thing on the planet with the ability to reach his humility.
He moved upwards a few inches, the sand now level with his navel, but Karl was straining.
"I'm flying at the wrong angle. Wait…" He swung forwards and piggy backed him, his legs taking the place of his arms, and gripping him under his armpits and across his chest. He locked his feet together.
"Arrrrgggggh!" Karl lifted and pulled.
He had to hand it to the angel, those were some iron thighs he had.
Flying backwards, Karl dragged Pueblo out of the quicksand and back onto solid ground, where they both tumbled and lay, trying to catch their breath.
Elena ran up to them, placing a hand on each of their arms. "Are you all right?" There was genuine concern in her voice.
Pueblo nodded.
"Never better," panted Karl.
Pueblo turned to look at him. "Thank you."
He managed a bob of his head.
"I guess that was the sinking in the ground," voiced Elena, in a soft tone. It was non-accusatory; just a statement of fact.
"Yeah – shouldn't have assumed," he offered by way of peace.
She took it with a lopsided smile, and held out an open palm to each of them to help them up. The waif of a witch hauled the men to their feet without too much effort. "Demon strength comes in handy sometimes," she grinned. "So, where to next?"
"Er … that was it. The directions stop after we find the sinking in the ground."
"Oh. Oh, no…"
"What is it?"
"Any chance that we have to actually 'sink' in order to get to the Brujii dimension?"
"Oh, God…"
"Am I missing something?" pip
ed Karl.
Pueblo sighed. "I can't believe I missed it. The quicksand is the portal. I – we – are supposed to sink."
"You mean, I just pulled you out for nothing?"
"I didn't know," he groaned.
"Okay," said Elena, "so we're going in. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can get back home."
The three of them stood at the edge of the silica death trap, the half-angel between the two half-demons.
"And, what if this isn't the portal?" asked Karl.
"I'm ninety percent sure it is," confirmed Pueblo.
Karl raised his eyebrows. "I'm gambling my life on ninety percent?"
"Hey, those are good odds."
"For horse racing, yes. For my life—"
"We should hold hands," cut in Elena.
"What? I'm grateful he pulled me out and all, but I ain't holding his hand."
"Portals suck you in quick. If we don't hold onto each other, there's a chance we'll get separated and end up God knows where – don't be such a girl."
Karl held out his hand to him.
"For Christ's sake…" But he took his hand.
Elena pinched her nose.
"Honey, what are you doing?" asked Karl.
"I don't want gooey sand up my nose," she shrugged.
"Alrighty then … ready?"
Pueblo looked back down at the mass of gunge he'd just been hauled out of. "I'd rather be jumping into a pavement with Mary Poppins."
Elena leaned around Karl and stared at him. "You've watched Mary Poppins?"
He flashed her a grin. "I do have a TV, you know."
"On three then," said Karl. "One … two … three."
They jumped.
~*~
She had fallen asleep sitting on the sofa in front of the fire, still satisfactorily full from lunch, a hot cup of tea warming her insides. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she was aware of this. She waited for the cat – he always came when she slept. Always. But this time, she had been waiting quite a while.
"There you are. I've been looking for you."
She whirled around in surprise. "Paul?" She frowned, standing up. "What are you doing here?"
