The reminder that Chris isn’t used to driving on these roads doesn’t give me the greatest confidence. But then if something bad does happen, at least I am close to one of the world’s more talented clerical healers.
Assuming, of course, that he survives the wreck.
After we settle into I-10 and Christophe’s nerves return to normal, I break the ice.
“Any idea what the curse was trying to change me into?”
I get a serious glance. “Not really. I am sure it would be something less than desirable, though. Your body was producing Dzemondic fluids—but that could be anything. I have heard of things where the victim of the curse is turned into a creature that seeks out that which the host loved. It is a torture for the spirit of the cursed to watch what was once its flesh destroy those it loved.”
Great. He tried to turn me into an undead demon beast that would go after my family. That thought takes my breath away.
“We do not know that for sure, Arthur,” he continues. “It is best we never know for sure, if you follow my thinking.”
I nod, fervently muttering, “Uh-huh.”
“Now, Arthur, since we have privacy, there is something else you need to know. Monsieur Znuul did not kill Grandmaster Hiro—our Mademoiselle Karen did.”
That I didn’t expect. He glances over at me and smiles at my shocked face.
“Yes, it was Ahtsag’s idea to take the blame. He did not wish for her to become seen as an enemy of the Protectorate. Let me tell you, Arthur, I have never seen such a sudden response from a spellcaster. When Hiro struck at Ahtsag, she responded without incantation, without shaping, and with frightening power. I have never seen such a thing from a human mage, and I have assisted some very talented ones.”
I let that sink in. Hiro attacked Znuul? He was there? Why didn’t he try to help us? Karen killed him? “For Christ’s sake, Chris,” I mutter. “What else did I miss?”
“That was about it,” he says in a nonchalant way. “But I cannot emphasize enough that what Karen did was...frightening. Hiro stood no chance. His life ended before he could even think of defending himself. And it ended terribly—first by lightning, then by fire.”
I try to fathom that event. While Karen is quite the general in the field, I’ve always thought of her as the woman I saw with the children at Grey’s Manor: a teacher, a friend, a playmate—that is the real Karen I know.
“I have no words, Master Christophe.”
“The bond is strong between her and the beast. What else is to say?” Christophe replies with a shrug, as if it is just what it is. “I just hope the bond is the same for the beast to her.”
There is that. I’ve always felt that Znuul had a soft spot for Karen, if anyone other than Grey. I nod back to Chris.
“Me too.”
We spend a fair amount of the ride after that revelation catching up. I ask Chris of his family, who I found out he flew into Houston. For me, that makes this time together all that more special. After all, he is taking even more time away from them on my behalf.
But there’s a question. One I need help with. It is a question I would trust Christophe’s input on implicitly. I try to think how to tactfully ask it, but there is no way. I squirm for a bit and then just finally blurt it out.
“What if I gave Silithes what she wants?”
The car veers slightly. Then he looks at me with an expression that screams, “What did you just say?” He says, “I cannot believe what I just heard. You are actually considering such a thing?”
I take a deep breath, because I really don’t know if I am. The thought has been circulating strongly for the last week, sure, but this is the first time it’s taken voice.
“I don’t know, Chris. Maybe.”
“Well, Arthur, if you are asking my opinion, I would think it akin to bestiality. Humans are meant to be with humans in the natural order.”
That brings some perspective. It also makes me think about Sheyliene. She’s not quite human either.
“Arthur, I have had many talks with our large, dark friend. The subject of the Cubati came up a few times, as apparently he was very proud of a little harem of them he kept. He had a taste for them, you see,” Chris says with a smile. “Did you know that many of them don’t even enjoy the act itself other than the feeding, or except amongst themselves? Your creature, she may just seek control of you and little else. They are, after all, consummate actors.”
I nod, then share with him about me being an endless buffet and the whole reflectivity that occurs when my summonlings cause me physical pleasure or pain. That, and I share the fact that for years Sil has been quite the slutty, pleasure-seeking creature.
At least in my opinion.
“So you want this?” he asks. “I know kings, queens, and the like have paid fortunes in cash and with the lives of others just to experience one safe night with a Cubati, from just a brief summoning. I understand the curiosity, somewhat. But you know, these kind of things—they always come at a price.”
That’s true. There’s always something. I thank Chris for his opinion on the matter and then change the subject, not being sure why I shared it to begin with.
“So, where is Karen?”
Christophe’s face becomes serious. “We do not know. She disappeared with Ahtsag. I presume they are together. As I said, their bond is strong. Too strong, maybe. Few know of this, but at one time Grey had to separate them. He did for over a year, by taking her on a tour of the world. I never asked of the details. It was...not of my business.”
Crap a brick. If Karen became Kitten number two, Znuul would have one potent weapon at his fingertips.
“You don’t think . . .”
Chris looks at me briefly, not wanting to take his eyes from the wrong side of the road. “The Dzemond, they do not see the world as we do. They have much different perspective of right and wrong and of what is acceptable. I have come to know this from our friend Ahtsag, both directly and from just being in his presence for over twenty-five years.”
Silence follows. The reality is there. No matter how much we think we know of them, there’s always something we didn’t figure.
“You know, if anyone was to stand against the will of Ahtsag Znuul, it would be none other than Mademoiselle Karen Redditch,” Christophe says with a smile.
That makes me smile too. But still, what if?
Chapter 94
We make it to New Orleans in good time. Christophe refuses to spend the night, instead opting to turn around and join his family. A good choice, in my book.
He drops me off at the front of my building, as requested. We say our goodbyes and I head into my hybrid shop/restaurant/entertainment area. At least that’s what it’s supposed to be since I reimagined it. There’s no telling what happened since it’s left my watchful eye.
I step inside and am pleased to see that all is good. We’re still doing live entertainment. I see by the sign that we are cross-promoting other attractions now—the voodoo museum particularly.
I approve.
I look around and see that things are going well. Tables have customers. There’s a reader doing readings. Activity. Sales. This is good.
My reverie is broken by the sound of Robert, one of my managers. “Well, look what the cat dragged in,” he says, beckoning me to follow him. We walk back behind the counter to his tiny office.
Once inside, he closes the door and looks at me with a very serious face. “I have to know something, cause it’s been bothering me something bad. You’ve seen all that devil shit, Rome burning, that preacher, that YouTube video thing—all that stuff?”
I look him dead in the eyes as seriously as I can.
“Of course.”
He looks away from me, then back. “Are you one of those things? Dammit, you look like some snot-nosed kid, but you sure as hell don’t act your age. You’re walking around in daylight—so you ain’t no vampire.”
Well doodle me diddled.
Robert is a smart one, and I woul
d prefer to have a smart manager over a stupid one. So, knowing I can’t lie to save myself, I just tell him the truth.
“No, Robert, I’m not one of those things.”
He scrutinizes me and my answer. “You sure as hell ain’t no kid.”
“Never said I was, Robert. But I’m no devil, demon, vampire, or evil thing. If you have an issue managing my business, feel free to do what’s best for you. Personally, I’ve been dragged through some bad crap the last few years, not to mention just recently.” I sit down on the corner of the manager’s desk. “I’m tired, man. I don’t need more drama in my life now.”
“So what are you, then?”
“Robert,” I say, fixing on his eyes. “Let’s just say this...I’m human, and I am not too bad a guy. Just a pathetic Joe cursed to outlive everyone he loves.”
“How old are you, if you don’t mind my asking?” Robert’s tone and posture change; I think he’s feeling some sympathy for me. I hope so.
“I’m ninety-eight years old, Robert. And if you tell anyone that, I will piss in your Wheaties, trust me.”
He nods, letting me know he understands. “Won’t say a thing, Mr. MacInerny. Just good to know that my people skills aren’t off. And that I’m not working for the devil.”
That behind us, I pepper him with questions about the business and find that we are actually pulling a profit—for the first time in whenever. We leave each other with smiles and I make my way to the garage to take the lift up.
Pffif is in the garage, apparently sweeping the Suburban for devices.
“Master Arthur, they’re tryin’ to be sneaky on us, but they didn’t count on Mr. Pffiferil and his bag o’ tricks.” He’s wanding the vehicle with some electronic device and has his suitcase of bug-tracing devices out. I know our fine vehicle will be clean in no time.
I head to the lift and go up to our living area. I look at the common area that is our living space and wonder if I’m really considering what I’m considering. Then Sil comes barreling out of the hall, almost bypassing me, except to state her intentions.
“I’ll be out on the hunt tonight, if you don’t mind. Usual rules. No one gets hurt, blah, blah.”
She almost makes it into the lift before I say something.
“Rather you didn’t.”
That of course stops her in her tracks. She turns and looks at me with curiosity. “We’ve been through this before. No one gets hurt...permanently. Everyone ends up happy.”
I take in her gaze and nod.
She cocks her head to the side. She’s asking me what’s up.
“I was thinking maybe you and I would do something this evening, but I can’t be sure it’s going to happen. Can you at least keep your calendar open?”
That changes things totally—her posture softens.
“I’m always willing to make time for you, you know that.”
“Good. There are things I have to check into.”
She tells me to let her know and heads downstairs, no doubt to mess with Robert and the customers at The Hidden Eye.
Am I going to do this? I look around the living room. The easy thing would be to say no. I stand there in paralysis. Is she worth it?
Then another thought percolates—aren’t I worth it? Am I not worth receiving what kings have paid fortunes for? They, my group, are all mine. I can do as I damn well please. I shake that thought off.
This is about keeping my word and giving someone their due. At least that’s what I tell myself.
I break from my paralysis, walk down to Sheyliene’s room, and knock on the door. At her singsong “Come in,” I clench my teeth.
I’m greeted by the obligatory running hug, which is always nice.
“Shey, sit down, please. There’s something we need to talk about,” I say in as calm a voice as I can.
While Sheyliene may be a little emotionally unbalanced, she is not in any way unperceptive. She fixes on my eyes and asks, “What’s wrong?”
“Just sit down. And please don’t interrupt me. Let me get this out.”
“Did I do something bad?”
I hold out my hands and take a breath. “No. Let me explain.” This requires another deep breath. “It wasn’t Sil’s place to let me out of my promise. It was my promise made and only mine to break.”
Shey gets it immediately and starts to come out of her seat. I hold out my finger quickly to try to silence her. “I asked you not to interrupt.” She sits back down.
“Sil’s come a long way. Even you have to see that. She wants one thing, and as best I can tell, it’s more as some kind of affirmation or proof of worth thing. So I’m going to make good on my promise to her. It’s not fair she goes unhappy.”
There’s a long, silent pause. I think Shey wants to make sure I am done. Then she lets me know her thoughts.
“You are a fucking idiot if you buy into that whole ‘I just want to prove myself to you crap. Don’t you see she just wants to control you? That’s what they do. That’s what she did—to Maldgorath. Even General Znuul says she’s bad news. She’s a soul eater, Arthur, a fucking demon soul eater, and you’re going to just go serve yourself right up.”
Her eyes are burning holes through me. I return the gaze without the attitude.
“Shey, she’s my summonling. She can’t hurt me. There’s no soul eating.”
“You know what I mean,” she shouts. “You’re going to end up addicted and under her control. Yeah—addicted. Then she’ll be the boss of all of us again. Do you want that? I don’t. I am not sucking that bitch’s toes—not ever again.”
I am totally stupefied after that bit of oversharing. I think my expression gives it away.
“It wasn’t me, You know that, Arthur.”
Not her. Best to just let that go. “I don’t think I’ll be addicted from a one-nighter, Shey. And I don’t think she wants to be the boss of us either.”
“It won’t stop at one night,” she growls. “And Dorothy hated her. No, hates her. And she’ll hate you too if you feed yourself to that succu-bitch.”
She went there—she played the Dorothy card. And truth is, she makes a point. Dorothy had no kind words or feelings for Silithes. I close my eyes and try to process all this. Would I be forever out of my love’s favor for this?
“It’s okay, Arthur.” I feel Shey’s hand lightly on my arm. “You don’t have to. Sil’s not expecting it of you. And it’s not like you really want to.”
Not like I really want to...I open my eyes and look at Shey.
Her face goes pale and she takes two stumbling steps backwards.
Damn my poker face.
Shey’s face is one of horror. “You want that,” she says in almost a whisper.
“I don’t know,” I say, thinking aloud. “Maybe. I am curious and—”
“Oh, God,” she blurts, and turns away. She reaches up to her hair, and in a cascade of yellow dust, transforms to her true pixie form. She turns slightly and walks to the open patio door off her living room.
“Sheyliene, I don’t know why I’m—”
“She’s going to hurt you, Arthur. She’s going to hurt us all.”
I close my eyes again. Who is this pixie to be questioning me, her Wielder? They are my servants—beholden to me! Anger surges, and turns to rage. Then I choke it back. What the Sam Hill was that about? I open my eyes to see Shey looking at me.
“Oh,” she says quietly, having obviously felt my anger. “If she doesn’t hurt us, there is one thing for certain.”
“What, Shey?”
“You won’t want me anymore. All you’ll want is her. I won’t be good enough. No one will.”
There it is.
“Shey, that’s not true.”
Before I can say another word she shakes her head, and in a cascade of silver glittering dust, turns very tiny and buzzes out the patio door.
My head races. What did I just do? What was that anger? That wasn’t like me. I don’t think that way—but I sure did for that moment. I bury my fac
e in my hands. Do I want Sil? I must. I just basically broke Sheyliene’s heart, but—for what?
God bless, maybe I should have let her destroy all the dishes—life would be simpler.
I pull my hands from my face, take a deep breath, and try to center myself. It’s time for calm, rational thinking. No self-deceptions, just truth. I search myself and ask the question—am I doing this out of a sense of honor, or is it because I want to experience what she has to offer?
The honest answer is both. I can’t deny my curiosity. I can’t deny that making Sil happy would make me happy too. I take another deep breath.
This is going to happen.
I leave Shey’s room and quietly close the door. I walk down the hall to Sil’s apartment and knock on the door. A short while later she answers.
“Yeessss?”
“We have a date tonight.”
That perks her up. “Ooo...a show? A restaurant? Another walking tour?”
I smile at her—she has no idea. “We’re making good on my promise to you tonight. You have me from sundown to sunup as agreed.”
Rather than the squeals of delight I expected, I instead get a very serious look. “That’s very nice, Arthur,” she says in a neutral tone. “But I don’t need a pity screwing. I mean, thank you. Your sense of obligation is very admirable.” Her face lightens to a half smile. “I do want you, hon, but it would be so much better if you really wanted me too. I can wait.”
Knock me over with a feather.
“Okay,” I say, almost stammering on the one-syllable word, hoping to collect my thoughts. “I’ve had to consider this, honestly, and Sil, I do want this night with you too. I can’t promise you that it will turn into anything, or for that matter that it will ever happen again. But tonight I do want to be with you. Not just to be freaky, but to share some intimacy. You all right with that?”
Knock her over with a feather...she’s stunned.
“Yes . . .” she says, with a smile forming. “I am quite all right with that.”
“Good,” I tell her, my own smile renewed. “Then it’s a date. Step over to my apartment at dark. Wear something nice that comes off real easy.”
Mid-Arc Page 67
