The Price of Brimstone

by Allie Gail

“I tend to move around a lot.”

  That wasn't exactly an answer. Why is he so mysterious about his past, I wonder? Is it because of my brother? Maybe he doesn't trust me not to reveal all his personal details to Russ. But that doesn't make a lot of sense. I know where he lives now, and it doesn't get much more personal than that. So I don't know. I don't know what his deal is.

  Unless...

  “Will you be leaving Colorado after I go back home?” The thought just occurred to me. Because surely he's expecting some sort of repercussions for this. Never mind that I was a willing participant – Russ won't care about that. He'll be hellbent on revenge. He's the most hardheaded person I've ever known.

  “Yes.”

  Finally. A simple and direct answer.

  “Will I ever see you again?” I keep my voice nonchalant so he doesn't get the wrong idea. I'm not going to get all emotional over this. Not now, not later. I knew from the start what this was and how it would end. Well, maybe not how it would end, but that it would end. If nothing else, that was the one thing I knew for certain.

  The luminous eyes study me, as if searching for the truth behind my indifference. After a moment, his lips quirk up knowingly. “Why? Would you like to see me again?”

  I hitch my shoulders vaguely. “I'd be lying if I said no,” I confess. What's the point of lying, anyway? He can see right through me.

  “Don't worry, love.” His smile is secretive, as if the future has already been mapped out in advance. “I'm sure our paths will cross again.”

  I'm trying to analyze the meaning behind that when the pint-sized terror decides to make another round. He flings an arm across one of the recently vacated tables as he tears past, swiping a dirty plate to the floor before anyone can stop him. It shatters on the hard tile, and the little turd just keeps galloping along as if the mess doesn't affect him in the slightest.

  Not only that, but he's expanded his repertoire. Now, instead of imitating a horse, he is singing at the top of his lungs, “Fart, fart, you're a big fart! Fart, fart, you're a big fart!”

  Loc and I exchange glances as I mouth the word wow.

  This really is beyond the pale. Why is no one saying anything? Surely the kid can't be roaming around in here by himself. And he can't belong to any of the staff, because they keep giving him dirty looks, for all the good it does. Guess they figure it's not their place to say anything. His parents sure as heck should, though. Where are they?

  Trying to be discreet, I peer over my shoulder in an effort to locate them. They're not hard to pinpoint. Two adults, three meals on the table, the extra one being a half-eaten grilled cheese and a small plastic cup with a lid and straw. Yup, that's got to be them. It's incredible – they're so caught up in conversation they don't even notice or care that their evil spawn is running wild.

  What are they anyway, hard of hearing? How can they tune him out so easily?

  “Great parenting right there,” I comment dryly.

  “Stellar. Wonder what time he's due back at the zoo?”

  “Soon, I hope.”

  We go back to our meal, only to be startled not twenty seconds later by the clatter of silverware hitting the floor.

  For just the briefest moment, Loc glances up with a steely-eyed expression before returning to his steak.

  Then, from out of the blue, a shrill howl pierces the air.

  Now what?

  Swiveling in my seat, I crane my neck to see what's happened. Apparently I missed it. I'm not sure what's going on. All I know is, the little hellion is no longer running wild. But what he is doing, I can't quite figure out.

  He is on the floor, huddled against his mother with both arms wrapped around her legs, eyes round and wide as if he sees something terrifying. Whatever it is, it's scared him out of his wits. In spite of the tears streaming down his cheeks he doesn't blink – it's as if he's afraid to take his eyes off whatever they're fixed on. He barely pauses for a breath between screams. Panicky, ear-piercing, I'm-being-sawed-in-half-by-a-chainsaw-wielding-maniac screams. He literally sounds as if he's being tortured.

  His mother reaches down to pick him up, and he twists wildly in her arms so as not to lose sight of whatever he's staring at.

  “Norman! What's wrong? What's the matter, baby?”

  Norman? Did she just call him Norman? I can only guess at what she's saying by reading her lips. There's no chance of catching her voice over that unearthly wailing.

  Like everyone else in the restaurant, I am gaping at the scene in amazement. We're all scanning the place, following the kid's line of vision, trying to figure out what's got him so freaked out. But there's nothing there. For all we can tell, he is stone cold petrified by the sight of an empty booth.

  “What the hell is wrong with him?” I mutter to no one in particular.

  “I do believe he sees a monster,” Loc offers, grinning as he pops a piece of bread in his mouth. “Mm. Nasty one, too. All green and slimy with bulging eyes and a severed arm dangling from his mouth. You know, just in case there's any question as to whether or not he eats children. Spoiler alert – he does. There are bits of them between his teeth.”

  I stare at him blankly. “What are you talking about?”

  “Ah, don't worry. No one else can see it. Just Damien over there.”

  What?

  Oh, shit...

  The truth dawns on me slowly, more slowly than the situation warrants because part of me doesn't want to believe that Loc is directly responsible for terrorizing a child.

  I should've known better.

  “Locryn Price! What are you doing to that kid?”

  “Just a minor illusion,” he chuckles. “It's a doozy, too. Looks kind of like a giant praying mantis with the head of an octopus. Great big chompers, too. Would you like to see it? My description really doesn't do it justice.”

  I can't believe he finds this entertaining. The poor kid's just wet his pants, and is now sobbing against his mother's shoulder. It's the most pitiful thing I've ever seen.

  “No, I don't want to see it,” I hiss. “Stop it! You're scaring that kid half to death. Look at him!”

  Big surprise, he is less than sympathetic. Can't really blame him, I guess, but still. “Oh, come on. The little fucker had it coming.”

  “Stop it. Please. Please, Loc.” Okay, so the kid was a brat. Nobody's disputing that. But does it mean he has to be scarred for life? He's just a child, for God's sake. I can picture it – fifteen years from now and Norman or whatever-his-name-is will still be sleeping with the lights on. Trying to convince his parents and his therapist that he once saw a hideous monster in a crowded restaurant in Silverton, Colorado.

  “Fine. Far be it from me to possess a sense of humor.” Still smirking at his private joke, Loc returns to his dinner, though he apparently has done away with the monstrous image. Mercifully, the screams diminish to mere crying before eventually tapering off to a series of tired, sniffling whimpers.

  A few minutes later the family pays their check and leaves, much to the relief of the Silver Mill Tavern's staff and patrons. I'm surprised they don't all break out in applause.

  ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  It's grown even colder outside.

  The night is clear, but the temperature feels as if it's dropped by at least twenty degrees since the sun went down. I zip up my coat and stuff my right hand into a pocket to warm it. The left one I tuck in the crook of Loc's arm.

  “How about we go for a walk?” I suggest, reluctant to leave in spite of the cold. I want to look around some first. The sidewalks have been cleared of snow, and the brightly lit storefronts are picture-postcard beautiful.

  “As you wish, m'lady.” He pats my hand with a stoic smile, and I marvel at his patience and civility.

  I am nothing to him, after all. Nothing but a commodity. And yet, for someone so wrapped up in his own narcissistic tendencies, he goes out of his way to pander to me. To ensure my comfort and contentment.

  Why?r />
  Does he feel something for me?

  It isn't the first time I've had the errant thought, but I don't allow it to linger. I can't. I can never let my guard down with him. It's too dangerous. I can never allow myself to wonder...

  What if?

  There is no what if. There can be no happy endings with a man like Price.

  Knowing that, I force myself to focus on the here and now, concentrating instead on the shop windows as we stroll past.

  Most of them seem to be run by local artisans. There are eye-catching displays of handcrafted jewelry, quilts, birdhouses, oil paintings, restored antiques...all sorts of things. Also a bookstore, coffee shop, and an old-fashioned ice cream parlor boasting funnel cakes and homemade fudge. Pretty much everything you'd expect in a mountain town catering to tourists. There's even a place offering jeep rentals and guided ATV tours, though it's shut down for the day.

  Bells tinkle as a door bursts open, and we step aside as five or six teenagers pour into the street, all laughter and smiles, the fresh scent of lavender trailing out behind them. This particular shop, according to the window lettering, specializes in locally made soaps and bath salts. I linger over an exhibit of candles in the window. The labels tout scents such as Rocky Mountain Pine, Storm Clouds, Holly Berry Wreath and Summit Snowfall.

  “Did you want to go inside?” Loc offers.

  Pulling my attention away from the display, I shake my head. “No, that's okay.”

  “Are you sure? If there's something you want, I'd be happy to get it for you.”

  “Thanks, but I don't need anything. I just like to look.”

  He says nothing but gives me a strange look, as if the concept of window shopping is something he's never heard of.

  I guess it must take the pleasure out of browsing when you can have anything you want with a snap of your fingers.

  After we've walked on a little ways, he suddenly mentions, “There's a train depot back in the other direction.”

  “They have a train that comes through here?” I peer behind us, straining to see. If there's a depot, it must be closed because the far end of the road fades into darkness.

  “Only during the summer months. There's a railroad tour out of Durango that stops here, but they don't run this far in the wintertime.”

  “Really? Why not?”

  “I'm not sure. Probably something to do with the threat of landslides.”

  Wow. Landslides, no less. Well, where you have mountains and snow, you'll have the possibility of avalanches. It's amazing how I'm probably only five or six hundred miles from home, and yet there is such a stark difference in the terrain.

  We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto.

  “I assume the skiing must be good around here,” I comment.

  “I didn't realize you were into winter sports.”

  “Me? Ha! I'm not, not even close. I've never been on a pair of skis in my life.” Perish the thought – I'd most assuredly break something. Once, Russ tried to teach me how to snowboard at some place in Missouri that has these man-made slopes. Needless to say, I spent the majority of the day on my butt. Balancing on stuff? Not my strong suit. I have the utmost respect for gymnasts. I don't know how they do it.

  “This wouldn't be the place to start, I'm afraid. These mountains are difficult to navigate, even for the experts.”

  “I figured. They look pretty intimidating.”

  “I can't imagine you being intimidated by much.” His lips curl in a reticent smile.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You're here with me, aren't you?”

  “Oh, please. That's not saying much. You aren't nearly as scary as you pretend to be.”

  “No?” The smile widens, and his eyes flash with restrained laughter.

  “If you wanted to hurt me, you'd have already done it.” I lift my chin, gazing up at him defiantly. “Even if you hadn't promised, I still don't think you would. You don't have it in you. Wanna know what I think?”

  “I'd love to know. Please do enlighten me.”

  “I think deep down you're a very lonely person. That's what I think.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes. That's so.”

  “My, my.”

  “Tell me I'm wrong,” I challenge him.

  “Very well then. You're wrong.”

  “Am I? See now, I don't think so. What I think is that you secretly crave human companionship. Your other half is just too proud to suck it up and admit it.”

  The amusement in his expression never falters. If I thought I was going to offend him or piss him off, I was mistaken. He seems to find humor in my half-baked theory. “I see. And this whole ordeal, all of it, was just an elaborate ruse with the sole intention of acquiring the pleasure of your company for a few scant days?”

  The absurdity of his comment has me flushing in embarrassment. “No, that's not what I meant. I just meant...it just...” I stumble over my words. Oh, blast and damnation. What was I trying to say?

  “That somewhere along the way, it just happened?” he prompts gently. “That in the midst of all the madness, I was fortunate enough to stumble across the most enchanting diversion? That I found her company so enthralling I was compelled to extend our association beyond what was absolutely necessary? Is that what you were trying to say?”

  I bite my lip wordlessly. Shit, now I don't know what to say. Not only that, but I don't know whether I'm supposed to be flattered or insulted. Enchanting diversion? What does that even mean?

  “You're better off not overthinking this,” he advises, weaving his fingers through mine. “Any attempt to decipher my motives constitutes nothing more than an exercise in futility. Don't try to get inside my head, love. First of all, you don't speak the language. And second of all, it's not a place you want to be.”

  I am so mystified by his cryptic warning that I don't notice the figure in my path until we practically collide. I sidestep, mumbling apologies while trying not to stare, but it's hard not to. She's such an odd duck, this woman. A tiny slip of a thing, probably in her late seventies or maybe even older. Her eyes are a shockingly vivid green. She is wrapped in a colorful fringed shawl and there is a mass of silvery-white hair piled in haphazard curls on top of her head.

  Above her, a small wooden sign creaks as it swings back and forth in the wind. Psychic Advisor, it reads.

  Maybe it's just me, but such a thing seems awfully out of place here.

  “You like, I tell your fortune?” Her voice is high and chirpy, like that of a bird.

  “Oh...no, thank you. Some other time, maybe.” I give her a polite smile, but she is not to be deterred.

  “Is free,” she insists, lightly touching the sleeve of my coat. “First reading, always is free. You like, you come back. Yes?” Her smile is shrewd. Also, I'm not sure what kind of accent she's trying to mimic, but whatever it is it's clearly manufactured.

  Still, in spite of myself, I am intrigued. I've never been to a fortuneteller before. Loc hasn't said a word, but I can tell he's stopping just short of rolling his eyes.

  Latching onto our hesitation, the woman opens the door to her shop and gestures with a gnarled hand. The half-dozen bangles on her wrist clink together as she does. “Come inside, where is not so cold! Is free, I tell you. Free for both. No charge. You will see, Sonia knows many things. Then you come back sometime. Visit again.”

  I glance up at Loc, who merely shrugs with a grin. He's leaving it up to me, apparently.

  Well, why not? After all, 'is free'.

  Inside, there is a strong smell of incense. The light is dim, but I think that's on purpose. There are medieval candelabras scattered about, their flickering flames lending to the mystical atmosphere. It's quite charming, actually. She has a wide variety of unique items for sale. Books, crystals, charms, boxes of flavored teas and prepackaged roots and herbs. Most of them I've never heard of. Pennyroyal, buckthorn, yarrow, skullcap, mugwort...I wonder what they're used for? Spells? Spaghetti seasoning? I haven't
got a clue.

  “Sit, sit.” She leads us to a round wooden table situated in the middle of the shop. “What a pretty thing you are, little one! Such expressive eyes. Your name, I think, is not so long. I see four letters. An abbreviation, perhaps?”

  I nod mutely, taken by surprise for about a nanosecond. Before reminding myself that there is an abundance of four-letter names. She's probably just playing the odds.

  “Jude,” I murmur, pulling out a chair and sitting across from her. Loc takes the seat beside me, one hand resting protectively on my thigh.

  “Ah, yes. Yes, it suits you.” Leaning forward, Sonia stares at me intently. “Your aura is strong and vibrant. I notice right away, you know. Much purple, blue and pink. This is all good, very good.” She tilts her head to one side, the emerald eyes narrowing. “But I see an arc of bright yellow over your heart. It tells me you struggle for control. In a relationship, I think?”

  I deliberately avoid looking at Loc, but Sonia turns her attention to him with unabashed frankness. “Yours, I cannot see,” she announces bluntly. “Sometimes aura not so easily visible. I am afraid is case with you.”

  “C'est la vie,” he mutters, smirking.

  “Now. You have question for Sonia?” Blinking, she looks back and forth between us.

  “We're supposed to ask you something?” I didn't know this was going to be a Q&A session. I figured she was just going to read my palm and tell my fortune or something like that.

  “Yes, yes. You ask. I consult Tarot. If you like, we do question reading.” Pulling a large deck of cards from the pocket of her voluminous skirt, she begins to shuffle them. “Or we do relationship reading. You would prefer this instead, I think. Yes?”

  “Um...” I am growing decidedly uncomfortable. This wasn't quite what I had in mind. Discussing my love life? What love life! Ugh, I wonder how rude it would be if I were to suddenly remember an appointment elsewhere.

  Sorry, gotta go, I think I may have left the oven on and wouldn't you know, that's where I store all my gasoline.

  Beside me, Loc seems to be trying very hard to hide a grin.

  She lays seven cards out on the table, face down, in an alternating spread of one card, then two, then one and so forth. I watch skeptically as she taps the first three cards. “These three, they represent you, my child.” Her fingers tap the three on the opposite side. “Your partner.” Lastly, she touches the center card and explains, “Middle is solution card. You see? Now, you touch each one. Just as I have done.”