Sil in a Dark World: A Paranormal Love-Hate Story

by Brindi Quinn

  With my mouth still on her ear, I tell her, “I think I have to kill you now, Sil.” And, like the time before, I take her throat in my hand.

  The skin of a neck is perhaps more welcoming than all other flesh. The bone and sinew beneath – the throbbing beneath – they beg to be dealt with.

  “That isn’t funny, demon boy. It’s morbid, even by your standards.”

  I have nothing to say to that. “Your neck is warm, Sil.”

  “I’m sure yours is cold,” she says smartly.

  Misconceptions galore. “I assure you it isn’t. Feel.” I offer to her my throat, and when she doesn’t budge, I use my loose hand to pry hers away from her tucked knees. “Feel,” I command again.

  This time she obliges. She places no more than three fingertips against my Adam’s apple. “Would ya look at that?” Her voice rings of fake surprise. “Demon boy’s got a pulse after all.”

  Play all you like, Siiiil, and I’ll do the same. I slide my hand up and down her neck. It fits perfectly in my clutch – as if it were made to be squashed at my will.

  She isn’t resisting. Either she doesn’t believe that I’ll kill her, or she welcomes death. I search her eyes. Though they refuse to look at me directly, I am able to read them where they hide. In contrast to the other time I tried to kill her, her pupils show no fear.

  Because I did not follow through last time, I have lost my merit? Because last time was a failure? That’s right. Last time I ended up unintentionally kissing her. And all she said was,

  Huh. I just thought kissing would be . . . never mind.

  I’d yet like to know what that meant. I’d like to know why she found no pleasure in my contact, when I unpredictably found pleasure in hers. Before I end her lifeforce, I’ll ask.

  “Sil. Do you recall when we kissed?”

  She meets my eye after all this time only to send a look that expresses exactly how much concern she holds for my sanity. “Uh, it wasn’t all that long ago, demon boy.”

  My hand remains on her neck, though it slacks ever so slightly. “What were your thoughts?” I want to know. “Regarding the kiss?”

  Her expression doesn’t get any better. “Hah? For reals? Why are you asking something like that?”

  “Curiosity.”

  She pushes my hand from her neck, thereafter returning to her ball. She contemplates it a moment – sincerely attempting to remember the way my kiss felt. When she answers, she chews her lip. “To tell you the truth, I thought it’d be different.”

  I cringe and manage to spit out, “Better?”

  She shakes her head. “Grosser.”

  And I am henceforth stupefied.

  Sil goes on, “I mean, one time Keek tried to kiss me, but the thought of it was just so nasty, you know? I never really saw the appeal of it before. Guess I’m broken that way or something. It’s like, people used to try to hook me up with Keeker all the time, and you’d think that’d make the most sense since we’ve been close for so long – he’s practically my brother – but the thought of kissing and stuff like that has always been . . . puke, so I was like, what’s the point?”

  I cannot believe what I’m hearing.

  To make matters worse, Sil concludes with, “I just assumed it’d be that way with everyone. That’s why it was weird when we kissed. Wasn’t it weird? That it wasn’t gross?” Her browline furrows. She is sincerely pondering this as a dilemma.

  Good God! I knew Sil was stupid. But I didn’t know she was this stupid! All I can do is shake my head at her. “Truly? Are you truly brooding over this?” But there’s no need to ask. It’s obvious she is. “You numbskull!” I cry. “You felt that way because you weren’t attracted to your minion! Of course it would be repugnant to think of kissing someone that is alike a sibling!” To myself, I insert, “Not to mention, I don’t think any woman would be interested in a worm like him.”

  “OH.” It dawns on her. “Is that what it is?”

  I want to pull out my hair. “Of course that’s what it is! Surely you’ve felt as though it might be pleasurable to kiss someone else?”

  She shakes her head. “No, not really. I never thought about it before.”

  I don’t know how to properly react. What can be done with a scatterbrained person like her? She is unbelievable! An utter fool! And yet, for some reason, it is like the time she checked out the children’s book. It is a moment filled with humor.

  I laugh. Quite a few times, actually, and when I finish, Sil is still reflecting on what I’ve just told her.

  “So if that’s true, does that mean I’m attracted to you?” She asks this of me with a straight face.

  “How am I to know, Sil? Recall you were the one lecturing me on the difference between loving someone and making love to someone – a concept I still don’t understand, by the way.”

  “True . . .” She rubs her face in concentration. “But I was sorta thinking of love apart from attraction. It’s possible to love someone without that, right? I’d even say I love Keeker to a degree.”

  It doesn’t make me understand any further. Sil notices and expands,

  “For instance, when my dad told the story about falling in love with my mom? It sounds like something that transcends physical stuff. So I never really thought love and attraction had to go together.”

  “Your dad?” It is a rare occasion when Sil speaks of him.

  She clams up at the mention. I will get nowhere again. Not on that subject, at least.

  I defer to, “You’ve never felt as though you wanted to . . .” I refrain from using have sex with in consideration of Sil’s ignorant state of mind. “As though you wanted to kiss any men before?”

  “Not a one,” she says.

  “Sil . . .” How shall I phrase this? The situation forces I try my hand at tact. “Do you enjoy the company of females?” I ask. Sil is vacant. Was I too vague? I rethink the question. “Sil, do you ever think about girls naked?” She cocks her head. Still too vague? Damn. I go for the direct hit:

  “Sil, are you gay?”

  “Huh? No, I don’t think so.”

  She doesn’t think so? How can she not know!? It’s downright baffling. But at the same time entirely funny. Before I know it, I am overcome with laughter again. Sil responds by being perturbed. Clearly she is not appreciative of the amusement I’m taking at her expense.

  “You can leave now,” she says, cross.

  “Very well. I won’t kill you tonight.” I’m interested to know more about the slobbish girl’s fancies. Fancies? Weren’t those precisely what the tick had been inquiring about? I won’t be revealing anything to him, however. Anything I discover is for myself and myself alone.

  “Great. I’m SO sarcastically relieved that the little demon price hath shown mercy.”

  “Watch it, Sil. There is yet time for me to change my mind.” My sight settles on her neck, which is curved forward in an attempt to be included in her ball. “Would you like a goodnight kiss?”

  “That’s the last thing I want,” she declares.

  I give her one anyway – at the glossy end of her siren’s hair – before turning in for the night and leaving her to roost in her nest.

  It’s possible my mark is reachable after all.

  ><

  Lady Libido stands eating yogurt and looking illegal in the kitchen. “I heard you up there last night. Messing around,” she says to me. There is a forlorn aura about her. “If you want company . . .”

  I shake the cereal box in my hand vigorously, so as to block out any propositions the aged thing may be making. Sil comes to the rescue, trotting down the stairs, wide-eyed and rabbity. “I’ve got to get to morning practice, Wayst. You ready?”

  Ready to get away from the matron succubus. As we pass, said succubus licks the end of her spoon much more erotically than necessary. Shudder.

  “When’s she leaving anyway?” I ask once we are safely outside into the overcast morn.

  “Actually tonight, I think. My cousin Tally’s coming
this week.”

  Another traveller? “Why is your family in constant motion?” I ask tiredly. “Are all human households like that?”

  “Nope. Just ours. My family likes to roam.” And faraway Sil goes. What’s she ruminating on in that undersized brain of hers, I wonder.

  She doesn’t say. Not on the way to morning practice, nor after. I meet her at the door of the blocky school and together we make strides to the classroom.

  “What do you think of him, Sil?” I ask while pointing to a clean-shaven mortal ahead of us in the hall.

  “Think of him?”

  “Would you like to taste him?”

  “As in kiss?”

  Sure. If that’s what she takes it as.

  “Nope.” Sil is sure of it. Her mouth curls downward at the thought.

  “What about him?” I gesture to an angst-ridden boy with long hair and patched jeans.

  “Naw.”

  We make a game out of it.

  “Him?”

  “Nope.”

  “Her?”

  “Nope.”

  “Just me?”

  At this point, Sil stops to scrutinize my lips. After a sincere moment – “Guess so,” she says with a shrug.

  “Really?”

  “What do you want me to say, demon boy? If I had to take my pick, I’d pick no one. But if I was forced to make a decision, I guess kissing you wasn’t so bad.”

  I’ll take it. My lips curve upward at the thought. Any daydreaming is halted abruptly, though, when Chif the tick comes pestering. “Tran-a-lan! Last time I saw you, we were conjuring spirits!”

  “That was last night, Chif.”

  “So it was.” He rubs his jaw with leisure. “So I was thinking if you aren’t doing anything after school, my buddy and I are gonna head to –”

  I put up a hand. “I’m going to have to stop you right there. I assure you that anything you offer will be turned down.”

  “Harsh, man.”

  Sil pushes on ahead. Her fat teammate is flagging her over. Chif catches me as I watch her go. “Ah,” he says. “I gotcha. Right on. You’re gonna kick it with Sil tonight, aren’t you?” He doesn’t stall for long enough for me to answer. “No, no. I understand. Just remember our agreement. You can play the outcast as long as you share your findings with the masses.”

  That won’t be happening.

  He takes his seat behind me. “Godspeed, Tran.”

  The teacher at the front begins his garble. I do not hear him. My train of thought is a loud humming that flushes out everything. Neither do I see him. Resting my cheek against my fist, I am staring at Sil. The odd creature that is my mark. She pokes the person in front of her in the neck with a pencil and whispers something silly. The person reacts with shoddily-stifled giggles. The teacher clears his throat.

  I cannot look away. I have two weeks left with this person. Two weeks to crack her, as the tick says. Siiiil. She feels my drilling eyes on her neck. She tells me to piss off with a vulgar hand gesture. Classy, Sil. First and foremost, Sil is a gentleman. The gesture isn’t offensive or threatening enough to make me shy away. I continue to stare at her. I am aware that it makes me appear as a lurker, but I don’t give a damn. I want to watch her. Today and until the day this is over, I want to watch her.

  Sil notices that I won’t look away. Trying another solution, she openly challenges me to a staring contest. Eyes locked, she begins to make grotesque facial expressions that result in her resembling someone suffering a neurological ailment.

  Still, I do not falter.

  There is a thin string of existence between us. I cannot see it, but I can feel it there, stretching across the room. I wish to pull the sting and draw her in. I wish to seize her body and push it under, into the darkness that is the ground beneath our feet.

  Siiiil.

  I’m sucked from the moment by a shrill shrieking clamor. A banshee has entered the room.

  Oh, it isn’t a banshee at all – but rather an alarm to signal fire? Very well.

  The shrieking sound that isn’t a banshee fills the room. The teacher instructs something of the students in his usual gibberish, and the students rise and begin to file from the place. The tick lobbies for my attention, but I dismiss him with a rude flick of the wrist and begin the all-important mission of seeking out Sil. Alas, before I can locate her, she disappears into the crowd of exiting students.

  Sil is lost to me. I am forced to return to Chif.

  “Why is this unholy noise sounding at this time?”

  “It’s a drill,” he explains. “No reason to worry, even if it does sound like dying seagull. They do it every couple of months ‘round here.”

  I observe the horde of students that are alike a flock of animals dumber than swine or bison or any other land mammal. They are mindless fish. Or maybe mudskippers. “To where are they relocating?” I ask with distaste.

  “Outside through the cafeteria.”

  “Sil will go there as well?”

  Chif croons at me. “You’re really into her, yeah?”

  “I haven’t gotten into her, no.”

  “Not what I meant, but okay if you wanna go there.”

  I see the swaying of Sil’s ponytail through the sea of chittering teenage humans. “There!” She is there, being pushed from behind by her two tall female friends. The fat one is between us. She blocks my view. So do a great many more of our classmates. I maneuver through, without softening my blows, and throw aside any who are in my way.

  Exerting careless force against the mortals is a pleasing release all on its own. They protest and whine, but I don’t care. Sil’s ponytail bobs before me. It swings and jumps and it is all I see through the throng. My sight is locked on it. Sil is my goal.

  I’ll stop at nothing to catch her. I shove aside a skinny boy in my way, and a red-shirted girl after that. Sil’s ponytail disappears around the corner. I’m practically swimming now, pressing through the sticky bodies in the way. The cafeteria – a place reeking of stale bread and unclaimed stink – is in view. There Sil goes into that place. I run after her, but am caught behind a sluggish toad. The toad moves slower than piss through sand. I slip round the side of its bulky frame in time to see Sil disappear out the door.

  A few seconds later, I join her into the dreary exterior. She stands in the parking lot, surrounded by admirers. Keek is there, along with her two teammates. And there’s someone else. The someone else makes me abandon my original goal completely.

  Tall. Thin. Full-chested. With hair that is straight and chestnut and held in place by a horizontal band around her forehead. The girl at Sil’s side is dripping with girlish charm. Her lips are glossed with a pink sticky substance. Her skin is even and dark. She wears a neat, muted dress that shows off her legs – which, even without venturing to feel, I’m willing to bet are cleanly shaven.

  “There he is,” Sil says when she sees me. “There’s our demon boy.”

  The lovely, dainty stranger looks me from top to bottom and purses her lips. A reserved reaction. I like it.

  “And who is this fine creature?” I ask.

  “That’s my cousin – the one I told you about. I didn’t realize she’d be here so soon,” Sil says.

  “You may call me Tally,” says the girl. Young Tally. By far the most appealing of Sil’s wanderlust relatives. She extends her hand to me, though she does not extend it so that I might shake it. She holds it with a more regal expectation. I take her hand, which is neatly groomed, and kiss the top.

  “Wayst,” I tell her. “There is pleasure in our meeting.”

  “So you have a proper name after all? I was beginning to wonder.” The way she speaks is articulate. This is a girl who’s obviously been raised with proper etiquette. This is a girl who would fit in with the women of my kingdom.

  “Yes, your cousin has an uncanny penchant for nicknames,” I tell her.

  “You’re one to talk,” mumbles Sil slyly.

  “She has always been that way, I’m sure,�
� says Tally, folding her hands. “And she also has a tendency to exaggerate. My, she had me thinking you were some barbarian.” Tally’s voice is even. A woman of composure.

  “I can imagine,” I say.

  Keek lingers peevishly around Sil’s left side. For a moment I think about telling him off. I refrain, however, under the circumstances. Tally holds my interest for now.

  “Silvestra tells me you are leaving soon?” she asks. This is news to Keek. He gives a hop of what I can only assume is petty glee. Tally stops to look at him sideways with evident annoyance. Ah. A woman after my own heart. “How much longer may we expect your company, Wayst?” she goes on to say.

  “A mere two weeks or less,” I tell her.

  She smiles. “Grand. Then perhaps our acquaintance shall be made.”

  Yes, perhaps it shall be made indeed.

  “You see, I am on break from university for the greater part of a month,” she explains.

  “A university student?” In addition to our sophistication, we share something else in common. “I am also of higher education,” I tell her. The minion flares his nostrils. Oops. My statement – while true of my life in Dhiant – does not match up with my North Carolinian exchange student story. Sil covers for me:

  “Through post secondary, right Wayst?”

  I haven’t a clue what that means, but Sil is urging me to agree, so I nod.

  “Is that so?” says Tally. She sets her eyes firmly on mine. “That must be why you are of such mature bearing.”

  I give her the grace of a smile. “I suppose that could be said.”

  Hearing her speak is refreshing. A conversationalist of royal likeness.

  “You comin’ or what?” Keek brutishly calls me from Tally’s company. During our conversation, the other students have begun to recede into the schoolhouse.

  “It was nice of you to swing by. Be seeing you at home, Tal?” says Sil.

  Tally sends her answer not to Sil but to me. “I have a visitor’s pass. I may stay, if it would be to you liking.”