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

by Brindi Quinn

  She already knows the answer.

  Not at all. I do not feel a single, solitary drop of excitement over dressing up in some droll disguise. The only reason I’ve agreed to join their outing is because I plan to confront Keek as soon as I am able to isolate him from Sil. I’ve thus far refrained from telling her my suspicion, and I plan to keep it that way. If Keek is using a daem spell to locate Sil’s lost father . . . well, that’s hardly a bad thing for anyone but me. It’s almost noble of him. And if Sil knew, it would only make her think more of the squidgy scoundrel.

  However, noble or not, that doesn’t mean Keek’s completely innocent. There’s still the matter of him trying to steal my power. I won’t stand for it, even for Sil’s sake.

  The urnk’s warning hangs heavily over me.

  His words are his clout.

  I must find out what he knows. Which daem gave him the white ash. Where he learned the spell. And what he plans to do from here. And when he confesses his plot, I will make known to him that Sil is mine.

  Tomorrow is All Hallow’s Eve. My time in this world is coming to an end.

  It’s been a frustrating week, as weeks often are in the mortal realm. Though Sil and I have tried our task again nightly, it is to no avail. The words won’t work. She hasn’t come to love me yet. My only hope is to use this faceoff with Keek to win her over once and for all.

  “Love me, Sil.”

  “Did you say something, demon?”

  Oops. I meant only to think it, but the words found their way through my teeth on their own. “You imagined it, Sil,” I lie.

  I was lost in my head. I focus now on my surroundings to find that I am lagging behind an enthused pair of morons on the front lawn of the school. Sil and her minion are just about to cross First Main.

  “What you got there, Keeker? A love letter?” says Sil. She paws at his hand.

  Whatever it is, the minion shoves it into his pocket with haste. “Nothing! Just a shopping list.”

  Suspicious.

  “So you already know what you’re gonna be?” Sil pries.

  “Uh . . .” Keek stumbles for an answer. “Yeah, I’m gonna dress as a . . . a . . .” He scans the distance, ultimately settling on, “A tree.”

  Sil raises an unimpressed brow. “A tree?”

  “Treat!” Keek hurries to correct. “I said treat.”

  “Treat?” Sil is no more impressed.

  Keek rubs his neck abashedly. “Yeah . . . like a giant piece . . . of candy?”

  Giant? Shouldn’t be too hard for a boy of his stature.

  “Sorry, but that’s kinda lame, Keeker.”

  “Hah. You’re right. I should probably think of something else,” says Keek.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll think of something.” Sil hooks him round the neck with her elbow. And with that, Keek lets his gaze settle on her face for peevishly longer than necessary.

  All of this I watch from behind with tight curled fists that want nothing more than to strike the mortal in his plushy gut. Argh! If only Sil were a little less dense! It is painfully apparent that her friend is a brute. A golem! A hibagon!

  But Sil adores him. Together they bobble down the sidewalk, laughing and making unbecoming noises while I trail behind bitterly.

  On Second Main, beyond the library, there is a store that sells used goods. A place called ‘The Club’. Displayed out front are several shovels, a rack of rusty bikes, and a strange antique machine with a loose belt hanging from it. When she sees it, Sil squeals, “Look, Keek. A fat jiggler!” and proceeds to make vibrating sounds with her lips. In addition, she stands in place and convulses as though being electrocuted.

  There was once a time I wished for exactly that. Now, however . . .

  “Enough of that, you.” I prod her along.

  A chime signals our arrival. Upon entering, I am surrounded by a strange, stale smell similar to the one Cousin Stache used to secrete. Grand. Heaven forbid I should return to Dhiant without ever smelling THAT again.

  The Club is a mismatched cluster-fruck of odds and ends, coupled with rows and rows of old musty clothing.

  “I do most of my shopping here,” explains Sil, slumping lazily down one of the aisles. “Well, here or our attic,” she adds.

  Explains a lot. Today, she’s chosen to dress in a pair of pants that button at the ribs and continue to grow bigger as they approach the foot. She’s tucked a tiny tank top into the top of them, and she covers it all with a sequined sweater packing quite a bit of panache.

  Sil is an odd bird.

  The bird flies to the opposite end of the store, where a fatigued father and overzealous son are also searching for a last minute costume.

  There it is again. Costume. Even thinking the word is too much.

  Sil is away. The time to act is at hand. I spin to confront Keek, but the plumpy human is not to be found. He’s already waddling off after Sil. Eager lump. He isn’t down the aisle directly before me. He’s gone around another way – one lane over from where I stand. We are separated by a row of clothes.

  The maneuver of a boy terror-stricken at the thought of being left in my proximity? If so, it is wholly warranted.

  Through the hangers, I see his head bobbling – making its way toward the back wall of accessories. I make haste to follow, but I fail to pay attention to where I am going, and end up ramming into a shopper crouched to feel if her ‘new’ shoes allow for adequate toe wriggling room.

  “Hey!” the woman has the gall to yell.

  “Piss off.” I pause only to deride her before carrying on as I was.

  Thanks to the impediment, I’ve lost several feet of gain. I begin a sprint. Criminal Keek senses my intent and responds by speeding his hobble.

  Now we two are racing down the store. The aisles are our parameters. The back wall is our goal. Sil is our prize.

  I will not let him have her.

  Faster. Faster!

  Sil is mine.

  I close the gap and reach the wall!

  Alas, it is no sooner reached by me than by him. A draw? Keek shoots me a foul-looking frown. Sil, on the other hand, gives a hop. She’s taken no notice of our competition. She’s been busy keenly perusing the wall of used wares.

  “Lookie what I found!” She presents a plastic headband that has two plastic horns sticking from the top. Red and shiny, they are hardly an accurate depiction of the horns I once had.

  “I’ve got it all figured out,” continues Sil. “For Halloween you’re gonna be the devil,” she says to me. “I’m pretty sure there’s even a pitchfork in my shed you can use.”

  There isn’t any such suitable weapon in there. I should know. I’ve scoured the place well enough. Not that I’ll correct her. Let her come to that finding on her own. And then her All Hallow’s Eve merriment will be no more.

  How ideal.

  While I am distracted with thoughts of Sil’s costuming plans coming to ruin, the girl in question plops the horned band onto my head, then steps back with chin in hand. “Hmmm. So that’s what you look like with . . .” But Keek is all ears. “A costume,” she finishes.

  Clever, Sil. For once.

  I feel at the horns. The band is annoying, sitting against either temple with just a little too much pressure, but I have to admit it’s better than the unsettling feeling of reaching up only to find nothing there at all. The tips are far blunter than my real horns. And lighter too. When I tap them, Sil shows self-satisfaction.

  “Find anything for us?” asks Keek, butting in. How quick he is to draw her attention from me.

  “Sure did! We’re gonna be . . .” Sil fumbles about on the shelf. “THIS!” She pulls out a fake knife.

  “Chefs?” says Keek.

  “Nope,” says Sil.

  “Murderers?” I suggest.

  “Close,” says Sil. “I’m gonna be – bum ba da dum! – a stir-crazy fifties housewife. And Keek, you’re going to be the milkman, whom I murder one day when my insanity gets the best of me!”

  Sh
e halts to dance an unflattering jig before resuming,

  “What do you think, Keek? I pulled my inspiration from that old fat jiggler out there! I already have most of the things at home for my costume – a dress and duster and stuff, and my mom even has one of those old milk bottle holder dealies, so all we need to find you is a decent milkman’s hat. Sound good?”

  A terrible idea.

  But Sil’s glee is too much for Keek to handle.

  “Great thinkin’, Sil!”

  “And the whole devil thing is entirely unrelated?” I surmise.

  “Oh! Right! Nope, you’re part of the scenario too! Because after I murder Keek, in comes the devil to take me away for my sins.” She claws at her ribs and lets out a shriek of false agony. “No! Get behind me horned one!”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter.

  Sil narrows her eyes. “What’s that, demon boy?”

  “Nothing. Nothing. A wonderful idea, Sil. You trot along to ask the owner of this quaint establishment if they have any such hat. Your minion and I shall in the meantime peruse the shelves to see if we cannot find one ourselves.”

  Sil wants to know why I’m being so helpful. She snuffles at me, like my scent might reveal any ulterior motives I’m hiding. It doesn’t. She gives up after only a brief sniffing. “‘Kay then,” she says. “I’ll be back in a jiffer!”

  Contrary to what you’d think, Keek doesn’t protest. Perhaps he isn’t afraid to be alone with me after all.

  What a humorously uneducated assumption.

  I scan the store. Plastic knife aside, there are plenty of apt slaughtering devices within reach. Knitting needles. Walking canes. And even a bag of marbles brings a creative ‘mode of’ to mind.

  Before starting my accusations, I wait for Sil to trot out of earshot. Keek, however, also has something to say.

  “SO, dumbass.” His demeanor is uncouth when out of the presence of his master. “Your time’s about up here, isn’t it?”

  Ah, yes. What Tally let slip before.

  “That isn’t something that concerns you,” I tell him curtly.

  “Hmph.” Keek folds his arms. “Shouldn’t you be packing or something? I mean, I’ll help you if it means you’ll get outta here faster. Why wait ‘til tomorrow? You could just leave tonight. Save Sil’s mom another meal. Don’t get me wrong – we’ll all be SO devastated to see you go. All of us but Sil, that is. It seems to me like she’ll be happy to be rid of the freeloader. Better luck in your next town. I’m assuming you’re going to find a new girl to leech off of?”

  “Enough.”

  Sil won’t be gone for long. Reasoning demands I cut right to the chase. So I do what ought to be done. In one fell swoop, I take the minion by the neck and easily push my fingers into the squishy flesh.

  Only . . . it isn’t so squishy. Keek only looks plump. He’s actually quite solid.

  Not matter. I am fueled by angry adrenaline. Taking him on will be no challenge at all.

  At first Keek is overtaken by surprise and does not fight back, but I know better. The weak often squirm when placed in compromising positions. I wait for it to come. Sure enough, he struggles. I ram him against the section of belts.

  “Tell me now, and tell me quick,” I hiss into his face, “or so Odin help me I will choke the life out of you and leave your body in a tubby pile! What do you know of Dhiant?! Why were you trying to steal my power?!”

  Keek sputters something, but whatever it is it is choked away by my hold. I have no choice but to loosen enough to allow him speech. “Try that again, mortal,” I say sardonically.

  But given free reign, the minion is fresh.

  “C . . . crazy!” he sputters. “You’re frucking crazy!”

  Wrong answer. He is punished by a knee to the stomach. Again, it is more solid than expected. What a dense being! Surely there is not hidden muscle beneath that soft looking skin?! Annoyed, I demand,

  “How did you learn to siphon power?”

  Keek looks up from his doubled-over recoup with cluelessness. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

  Wrong again. And again he is punished. I take a brief moment to make sure Sil remains preoccupied. She is entertaining the clerk with a jig similar to the one she just preformed for us. Keek glances that way too. I’m not worried that he’ll call for her, though. He is too worried of appearing a wuss.

  I resume my clench on his neck. “Spit it out, kid,” I order. “You know of Dhiant, do you not? And you are also conspiring to steal my power.” I force him into the wall. “Admit it!”

  “I . . .” He coughs. “Crazy . . . fruck!”

  “Damn.” I am suddenly panicked for I see Sil through the racks of clothes. It appears she is just finishing with the clerk. “Tell me NOW!” I put all of my aggression into the hold on Keek’s neck. “I know you know!”

  “I – do – know – but – I – don’t – know!” he pants.

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  I let him go with great reluctance, and he thumps to the floor. So close. And yet I can’t chance Sil witnessing the encounter.

  Coughing, Keek rubs his throat and seethes at me. “You’re a lunatic! You could’ve killed me!”

  “Better tell me what you know, lest I finish the job.”

  Keek glowers. “I don’t know anything about your stinkin’ power, okay?! Geez! Frucking loon!”

  “Still playing dumb?” Not a wise decision. I lurch at him. He throws his hands up in defense, crying,

  “Stop! Listen, would you?! Fruck! I don’t know anything about your ‘power’, but I do know about that place called Dhiant. Though I don’t know what the heck it has to do with you!”

  “That’s a moronic untruth,” I say. “If you were going to lie, the least you could do is deny it completely.”

  “I’m telling you the truth! I don’t know anything about you, except that you’re a freeloading creep trying to get it on with my girl!”

  “Your girl?” I release a dry snicker. “Your delusion is laughable, really.”

  Keek grinds his teeth because he knows it is true. “Shut your facehole!”

  “You mean to tell me that you supposedly know nothing of me or my power, but you do know of Dhiant? Pray tell, O squishy one, how is that possible?”

  “I just do, okay?” Keek feels his pocket insecurely.

  Although he attempts to do so in discretion, I notice it anyway. “What exactly do you hold in your po-” I start.

  He cuts me off. “She’s back!”

  A glance over my shoulder confirms it. Ugh. Sil’s picked an annoying time to return.

  “Sorry,” she says. “I got distracted on the way back ‘cause I thought I saw a . . . a . . .” She is diverted, as Keek yet holds his neck. “Whoa! What’s wrong, Keeker?”

  “He choked on a fly,” I tell her. “Isn’t that right, Keeker?”

  ‘Keeker’ sends me his heartiest glare yet. Even so, he nods. Sil buys it with hesitation.

  “Ur, ‘kay . . .” she says.

  Just leave it alone, Sil. Leave it alone.

  Taking my unspoken advice, she goes on, “Sad to say we’re out of luck on your hat. I’m sure I can piece most of the rest of your costume together with stuff I’ve got at home, but I know I don’t have a hat like what we need, and Ms. Aakhus said she hasn’t seen one come through here either.”

  “Pity. I suppose we’ll just have to call off –”

  “Now hold on a sec, demon boy. Even though she doesn’t have one here, Ms. A did suggest we try the theater department at school. Her granddaughter’s part of it. Don’t know why I didn’t think of that before. Sure they’d be fine letting us borrow one, being as it is for a school related event.”

  “School related?” This is the first I’ve heard of anything like that.

  “Yeah, you know, the community party? We’re supposed to hang out and help the seniors run the games and stuff.”

  Still not ringing any bells.

  “Co
me on, demon boy! How have you not heard any of this? It’s for the kids of Count’s? They do it every year? Aw man, don’t you pay ANY attention in class?”

  No. I’m usually just watching Sil. Not that it matters. Tomorrow night I won’t be in Count’s Fieldbo. I’ll be in Dhiant. At the Galtia. Ripe for sentencing.

  “Anyhow, Keek, I want you to run and check with the dramies.” She turns to me. “That’s what we call the drama kids.”

  “How crafty.” My words have never been drier.

  Keek puts up a bumbling protest, “Why just me?! What are you two gonna do?”

  “We gotta go scrounge around in the attic for the rest. Let’s convene back at my house tomorrow afternoon. Sound good?”

  The minion is obviously disappointed to be separated from his master. And it’s also clear he doesn’t like the idea of Sil and I ‘scrounging’ around together in a small dark attic.

  “Unless you’d like to come along with me, Keeker,” I propose. “Send Sil to the dramies? I’m sure you and I will have loads to talk about.”

  “OR,” says Keek. “You go to the school, and Sil and me’ll look for the other stuff.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Sil shakes her head. “That won’t work because none of them even know Wayst. They won’t just hand off a perfectly good hat to a stranger.”

  Stranger? Gee thanks, Sil. But her logic is undeniable, and eventually Keek agrees.

  Damned prat. He admits that he knows of Dhiant, yet claims to know nothing of me. And what’s worse, his confusion on the matter sounded genuine.

  I hate to say it, but I believe him.

  ><

  “Yup! This’ll do it!” Sil models a full-skirted dress around her bedroom. “Now alls I gotta do is dig out the imitation blood, and we’re golden.” She looks to the pile of clothes at my feet. “Aren’t you gonna try yours on, demon boy?”

  I’m lean against her dresser watching, arms crossed and mouth skeptical. “Clarify something for me, Sil.”

  “Hm?”

  “This is an event for children?”

  She smoothes a wrinkled pleat. “Yeah, why?”