by Brindi Quinn
“Do stay,” I tell her without hesitation. “This place could use a little refinement.” She flutters her lashes darkly. Mmm. Something tells me that she and I will get along in more ways than one. I offer her my arm. “Might I escort you inside?”
“I’m certain I’ll be fine. Perhaps a raincheck?” Again, she eyes me from top to bottom, ending with a kittenish leer that tells she likes what she sees. I know that look. That’s the look Sil should be giving me.
Speaking of the slob –
“Come with me a sec, demon boy.” She cuts me off as I am about to accompany Young Tally into the building. Bothersome.
“I was under the impression we were to return to class,” I say, tart.
“It’s important. You come too, Keeker.”
Just how important can it be? Not important enough to demand my attention away from her charming cousin.
“It’s fine, I’m sure,” Tally says with a cute drawl. “I was just on my way to the ladies’ room.”
“See, demon? It’s fine.”
While I am reluctant to oblige her, Keek’s reaction to Sil’s invitation is idiotically optimistic. He hustles to her side like a newborn pup. Sil draws us away from the rest of the students, to the side of the building where the wall goes inward, forming a boxy indent.
“She was right!” Sil exclaims.
“What are you on about?” But I do not have to ask. I see it there, painted in white against the depression of red brick wall that would have otherwise been hidden. A new heptagon has been painted.
It is widely like the first – only something is different. The scrawl within . . . Where it was beforehand unreadable, I am now able to make out the last word:
Tenor.
Tenor? Where have I heard that word recently?
“Whoa! Who told you about this?” Keek is perched onto Sil’s shoulder, butting his chubby chest against her back.
“Mantha,” Sil says. To me she adds, “One of my teammates. She said she found it ‘cause her scarf went blowing into here.”
“What luck!” Keek leans ever more into Sil’s backside. “You can’t see this part of the wall unless you actually poke your head in.”
I continue to squint at the wording, hoping I might be able to come to a bit more understanding. I press my mind’s eye to its limit, but still I get nothing but a sharp pain behind the eyes, so I try reading it aloud instead.
“Tenor.”
Sil glances at me. “What?”
“Nothing that concerns you.”
She answers with a, “Hmph.”
“Tenooooor,” I say again, this time dragging it out.
“WHAT?” Sil puts a hand to her hip. “Whaddaya want, demon?!”
“I said it’s nothing that –”
“Then quit saying her name, butthead!” interjects Keek.
Sil’s . . . name? Sil’s name. What is Sil’s full name? Sil . . . Tenor. Yes, now that he mentions it, that does sound right. “Sil Tenor,” I command at the wall, half-expecting to be able to read the rest of the scribble by uttering the needed password. Nothing of the sort happens.
“Wait . . .!” Sil understands at once. “Is this like the book, Wayst? Does it . . . does it say my name?!”
“Well, it says Tenor. I can make out that much. Mind you, that’s ALL I can make out.”
“Why should it say MY name?!” She raises a good point.
“Hell if I know.” Maybe they’re trying to keep me here by binding me to Sil?
Keek shoots me an acute glare. “Thought you couldn’t read it, Tran!”
I shrug at him. “I couldn’t.” But the nonchalance is an act. The minion is noticeably provoked by the thought of me reading the scribble. First the urnk warns me against him trying to ‘steal my power’, and now this? It is incredibly suspicious.
A piece of me – no small one – is beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, the minion was the one to craft the symbol. No matter how unlikely it is, I can’t help but feeling that he is the one responsible. But if that is true, there are a multitude of other questions that must be asked in conjunction with the revelation.
For one, WHAT END IS THE SQUISHY HUMAN TRYING TO REACH? For two, WHERE DID HE GET THE WHITE ASH USED? And for three, WHY WOULD HE EVEN HAVE KNOWLEDGE OF A DAEM’S SPELL?
Both he and Sil are watching me. They can tell I’m mulling over something, and they’re waiting for me to share it with them. Sil is hopeful. Keek is worried. He shoves his hand into his pocket and begins to fiddle with something therein.
Why should he be worried? Because he is the culprit?
I’ll worry about that later. There’s an urgency that arises within me when I look at the white ash. Last time, Sil and I did not think to try again our task while in proximity to the symbol. Perhaps we might be able to borrow any power it possesses and use it to get our own spell to work. It’s worth a shot, anyway. And the best time is now – before it is washed away again or is sabotaged by the untrustworthy person within our midst.
“Sil, we have to do it. Right now.”
She doesn’t object. There is no gripe to deal with. She knows as well as I that we’re running out of time. “Keek, find my cousin and keep her entertained, would ya? Wayst and I gotta do something quick.”
Keek acts as though Sil has just driven a stake through his layers of plush and straight into his heart. “Please, Keeker?” pleads Sil. “Promise I be there in a jiff.”
“You sure, Sil?”
She nods.
“Ack! Fine!” Keek pulls his hand from his pocket and crumples what looks to be a small slip of paper. A page torn from Sil’s diary? Oh, the angst. Then he departs, head downward, stomping a trail of tantrum.
I ignore him and turn to my mark. “Let’s try again.”
For the first time in her life Sil answers the proposal with conviction. “All right, demon boy. Let’s try again.”
Making contact with my flesh, she slides her hand up my stomach to my chest; and as she fastens her eyes on mine, I can’t help but notice: Though the sun shines no light on this day – though overcast is the sky’s diagnosis – Sil’s gray irises are hauntingly sexy.
To kill or not to kill?
The smoke moving through my veins slithers a mite faster than normal.
Chapter 8: Magic of the Mortal World
DAMN. FRUCK. PISS.
My mood is foul. Even I know it to be so. Midweek has come. Less than a week and a half remain. I needn’t mention that the ritual failed, as all times before, even at the site of the newfound heptagon.
It is with the full weight of that truth pressing upon me like Atlas’ celestial sphere, that I am en route to the cemetery. Again. No, I do not seek some mystical reappearance of the original heptagon. I am, in fact, intending to make contact with the one who first warned me of Keek’s treachery. I am intending to speak with the urnk.
That enchanting spirit.
Alone for the first time, I enter the place marked by a dying church and cracking steeple. Yes, please, Urnk. Do share what you know. Of the minion. Of daems. Of the mortal world.
Alas. The cemetery holds nothing but further disappointment. I speak at the spirit with eyes properly closed. I speak at him under my breath, replicating the time before, yet the urnk does not respond. I try for ten minutes or more of dreary dissatisfaction before giving up and kicking the open grave’s stone.
“Curse me all you want, you bugger.”
See if I care.
But cursing does not happen. And reading the book alone with the stains of the dead doesn’t reveal anything new. Home again for me it is.
I pass Sil in the backyard.
“What is that? Some kind of smock?” I ask.
She looks down at her bizarre choice of apparel that looks suspiciously like a pillowcase that’s been made to fit a body by cutting holes for her arms and head. “It’s a shirt.” She shrugs.
Ah, of course. I see now that she is also wearing tan leggings. “You’ll be cold in that, Sil. Grab a jacket.�
��
She looks to her arm for verification. Goosebumps signal that I am not mistaken. She follows me into the house. I wait in the kitchen while she fetches a garment from the heap at the bottom of the hall closet.
“Where are you off to anyway?” I ask.
“Secret,” she says. “You stay here. Tally’ll be bored if we’re both gone too long. I told her you’d probably be around tonight.”
Delightful. Young Tally and I shall participate in civil conversation. And if I’m lucky, something more might be offered. “Take your time,” I tell Sil, preening.
Reentering the kitchen, she buttons the front of a too-large flannel. “Be a good demon while I’m out.”
“Naturally. Demons will be demons.”
She sends a peculiar look my way and leaves me to lean against the side of the counter. I pick an apple with bruised spots from the bowl and begin to toss it into the air. I don’t believe it’s inaccurate to assume that Tally’s been awaiting one-on-one time with me ever since she got here. It’s easy enough to identify when she sends me those concealed, voracious glances from behind Sil’s back whenever we’re in the room together. I, too, have thought about what might happen if left alone with her.
Time to find out.
Now then – wherever might that pleasant creature be?
Almost on cue, Tally enters the kitchen in a belled skirt and fitted shirt. Her ears are adorned with pearls. Her calves and neckline are tactfully exposed. Mmmm.
“Greetings Wayst. Are you enjoying a late-day snack?” she asks.
“Not particularly.” I sniff at the rotting fruit and return it to the bowl. “You caught me as I was just getting in.”
“I know.” She smiles to convey that she’s been aware of my movements. “And where, might I ask, were you?”
I think before answering. Small talk could dangerously become something close to true interest. Tally senses my reservation.
“I don’t mean to pry,” she says. “I’ve simply been starving for cordial company all day. You see, Aunt is scarcely around.”
True. It is a rare occurrence that Sil’s mum is seen. . . . Very well. As long as she isn’t attempting anything so pedestrian as bonding. Airs must be kept. But then, she’s as good at keeping them as I. That much is certain.
“I was at an old church’s graveyard,” I tell her starkly.
“A graveyard? How morbid. Do you make regular practice of entertaining yourself in such places?”
I chuckle. “Not usually. I went there for a task. It’s difficult to explain.”
“I see,” she says. Folding her hands properly, she slides onto one of the breakfast bar’s stools. She crosses and tucks her legs at the ankle.
It is so easy to spot a proper upbringing even in a world apart from my own.
Once situated, Tally continues, “That must be why Silvestra was so anxious while you were away.”
“She was anxious?”
“She certainly was. Frankly, I was concerned for her wellbeing.”
Strange, Sil didn’t seem anxious at all when I crossed her path. “Why should she experience anxiety?” I ask, flummoxed.
Tally looks into her lap. “Oh?” she says. “You aren’t aware?”
“Of?”
“Silvestra’s complex regarding churches.”
What’s she playing at? Ensuring a bit of dominance remain in her hand? If that’s the case, then it is a good sign for me. It means that she’s preparing me for an act that requires distribution of dominance. With that in mind, I play along.
“I’m afraid I’m not aware of any such complex. Enlighten me, would you?”
Staying true to the dominance game, Tally brings a hand to her mouth. “My apologies. It isn’t my place to say.”
Despite the fact that I know it’s all a ploy on Tally’s part, I am intrigued. Sil has a complex regarding churches? If I’m not mistaken, churches, although hollow and daunting, are meant to be places of comfort for mortals. Why should Sil . . .?
Tally intuits the threat that I am now the one dangerously close to true interest. She diffuses, “Your concern for my cousin is sweet. Silvestra is such a darling girl, isn’t she? Even if a bit on the unusual side.”
Unusual is putting it lightly. “She has her moments,” I suppose.
Tally stands from the bar and, hands folded politely behind her back, glides to the side of the kitchen where I yet lean. “So Wayst, if you aren’t making a snack, what other ways will you be spending your evening?” Her lashes bat an extra time. “I fear I am afflicted with boredom, and something tells me you are as well.”
She is good at this – at moving things forward. A vixen, undoubtedly.
“I . . .” Of course I wish to take her up on the offer. It’s just that Sil’s complex remains in my thoughts, and it keeps me from answering immediately.
Tally glides over my hiccup. “Join me in the foyer?” she suggests. “There’s an old movie showing tonight. It’s half over, but if you don’t mind missing the beginning – which I assure you was nothing but tiresome character build – it might make for an interesting relief to our boredom?” Walking her fingers flirtatiously along the countertop, she waits not for me to answer before strolling to the living room.
There is no decision to make. Following her is the only viable option. I was not aware that humans could be so agreeable. Nor so willing.
Not everyone’s a prude like Sil.
In the foyer, the television box is showing a picture in black and white. Tally waits for me to take a seat on the tatty loveseat in the corner before settling into the wooden rocker opposite. She turns her knees to the side and rocks only very gently. The squeak of the chair isn’t as annoying as one might think; rather, it is a welcome intrusion into the tinny sound emitting from the uninteresting movie.
Tally makes small talk with me and I with her, until at some point, she stands to fetch a glass of water for each of us. When she returns, she sits not on the rocker, but next to me on the loveseat.
Mmm. Yes, moving along nicely.
Tally’s dark skin is illuminated in the television’s dim glow. There is a smooth, earthy quality to it that is enticing. I wish to touch her. But that isn’t a bad thing, for she wishes to touch me in return. I can see it in the way her knees are tilted ever so slightly in my direction.
Were we in my kingdom, I’d command her to come to me. I’d tell her what to do from beginning to end, and she’d happily oblige. After all, serving a prince is a noble endeavor. In fact, I’d argue that it’s the noblest. Were we in Dhiant, order her I would. But I’ve been here long enough to know that that sort of thing doesn’t work on earthly women, Lady Libido excluded. There is more to it than issuing commands based on birthright. Within this realm, a prize must be won, and if this is a game – which it indubitably is – it’s my move. I try something else.
Reaching for the water, which is out of range just enough to make for a plausible scenario, I graze her not at all on accident with my elbow. I make contact with her knee that Tally’s so slyly exposed for me.
There it is. I’ve sent an invitation that can only be deciphered by someone housing the same desires as I.
I stop and pretend that the motion has somehow affected me, letting my arm touch her leg noticeably longer than necessary. Then, “Pardon me,” I say, playing roused. I hide my face behind my hand in a gesture of fake embarrassment. If she’s clever, she’ll know that I’m feigning. And if she’s devious, she won’t care.
I’m hoping for both. I wait for her to accept the invitation.
It works like a charm.
Tally’s fingertips softly touch my wrist to bring my hand from my face. “I don’t mind,” she coos, voice sexy. I uncover my face and find her eyes as they look at me through downward lashes. I search them, not to appear too eager.
It is a smart move. The one she wants.
“Truly I don’t,” she says, eyes agleam.
I smile to myself because I have been given free rei
gn. The reins are in my hands.
As a prince of Dhiant, I have loved many women. Few are fairer than Tally. And I have been powerless for far too long.
Flipping my hand upside-down, I slide my palm upwards along her arm. Tally stays still. The movie continues to play. When I reach her elbow, I shift my caress to her back, so that I might have better control over her movements.
It has been too long. There are few things better than holding a submissive woman.
In the dark foyer, I lean towards her, and she obediently tilts backward into the loveseat. Her pretense is coy, but it is a lie. The eyes behind her innocent lashes are hungry – maybe even hungrier than my own. She’s no virgin. In fact, I’d say she’s well practiced in the art of keeping a man’s company.
Wonderful. Then there’s no need to teach her anything.
I bring my mouth to her lips, and as I do, her true nature is awakened. She immediately begins to kiss me back.
I was right. Unlike kissing Sil, Tally knows what she’s doing. She grabs the back of my hair and forces my face into hers. She forces my body against hers. I respond by giving her what she’s after. I hold her with imitation lust.
I stopped experiencing the real thing long ago.
On the loveseat, she’s beneath me. Her kiss is practiced and varying, but at the same time, it’s passionless. Not that that bothers me in the least. Mine’s most certainly that way too. This encounter is purely physical, as she and I are both aware.
While she occupies herself with biting at my bottom lip, I put a hand beneath her skirt, find her pantied hip, and position her waist directly against mine. The true test to see if we are on the same page. Sure enough, she wraps a knee around my hip.
Mmm. Now that that’s settled, I slide my hand beneath her shirt. Her brassiere matches her panties. Trimmed silk.
She was right. This is a grand cure for boredom. The black and white film continues to play. A trite entertainment for trivial people. I ignore it, as I have been all evening. Tally’s body is enjoyable. Soft. Warm. Small. And when she moves her zealous kissing to the side of my ear? I have to admit, that part arouses me a little.
