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

by Brindi Quinn

  “And you’re going as a murderer?”

  “Uh . . . yup!”

  “Just checking.”

  She shrugs and continues to twirl about. I watch her for several more minutes. She is gleeful and strange, and hums a made-up song that is out of pitch. She is relaxed around me. More so than when I first arrived. She’s been that way ever since I showed her the smoke of my veins. That smoke’s been acting up lately. At unexpected times. When Sil is at her most moronic. Or when I am trying to sleep.

  It slithers about even now.

  “Sil?” I break through her humming.

  She stops.

  “Are you worried?” I ask, reflective. “Or rather, do you care at all that our task has failed? There was, after all, ‘something important’ in this for you, correct?”

  Sil stares out the darkened sky through her window. “I’m not worried. And you shouldn’t be, either.”

  Her insouciance catches me off guard. “And why is that?”

  She shrugs again. “Because none of it matters.”

  “None of it matters?” I repeat.

  “Because your dad didn’t keep his end of the deal.”

  I am at a loss. For many reasons, I am unable to speak. Surely she is jesting. Surely she KNOWS how important the rules of the deal are.

  “Come again?” I say, struggling to keep composure.

  Sil digs her toe into the floor. “He promised me the means to accomplish my deepest desire, and he didn’t follow through. So I figure, when you go before him or whatevs, you just tell him that we decided not to go through with it.”

  I stare at her and say nothing. A minute crawls by. And then –

  “ARE YOU INSANE?! Have you any idea what you’re suggesting?! Dare you claim that my father went back on his word, there WILL be hell to pay!”

  “Ha! Hell to pay.”

  “This is no laughing matter, Sil!” I cannot fend off my panic. It comes streaming out of me, flooding the air of Sil’s bedroom. “I am not aware of what delusions you have regarding this ordeal, but that is a heavy claim to make! And there will be consequences!”

  Sil turns defensive. “Well what do you want me to say?!” she lashes. “He DID go back on his word! He said he’d deliver the means to make my desire happen, and when the means finally showed themselves, they were no help at all! Granted, someone’s been trying in my place, but that isn’t what the agreement was! So your dad’s a big, stinking LIAR!”

  “SIL!” I heave from my lean on the wall and take her by the wrists. “Stop speaking this instant! Those allegations are . . .”

  Unspeakable. Utterly unspeakable. A penchant for deals. A thing daems have fatally in common with demons.

  I release her so that I might rub my temples. “You need to tell me exactly what you’re speaking of. NOW.”

  Sil’s eyes flee to the ground.

  “NOW, SIL! We have only a night left, and one thing is clear to me! You have been gravely mistaken. These means you speak of? They are surely here. And they will surely do what you need them to do!” Something occurs to me. Something that makes me resume my hold of her wrists. “Is this why you’ve refused to cooperate with me?! Why you won’t love me?! Because you’ve simply given up?!”

  Sil meets my eyes. “Even if I hadn’t given up. It’s hopeless. It isn’t about cooperating or refusing. I can’t force myself to love you. And the fact that you don’t understand why, makes it clear that you’re incapable of love yourself. So it’s hopeless.”

  Why? We’d been making progress. Sil was attracted to me. . . . She still IS attracted to me – I’m sure of it. And I’ve got a strange affinity for her as well, so . . . What am I not getting?

  But there are other matters to deal with.

  “I need you to tell me: What terms did you and my father agree to? It is irrevocably important.”

  Sil is incredulous. She chews on the things I’ve told her.

  “You must tell me, Sil.” I give her a shake. “I command you to tell me!”

  She rips herself from my clasp. “I’m not one of your subjects!”

  I think about it. I must calm down. This is too important to let slip. “Please, then,” I say through my teeth.

  Sil responds with one of her evil glares. “Fine. I don’t really want to, but fine.” She slumps onto the ground and her dress’ bottom encompasses her. She puts her elbows to the floor and makes a pouting face.

  “Well?”

  “It’s that book.” She nods to her bed, where I’ve placed the plum tome.

  “What about it?”

  “Your dad tricked me. He said that after you got settled, he’d send my means. He said that with them I’d be able to do a spell that would get me what I wanted. He didn’t tell me what they would be specifically, just that they would be something ‘out of place’. That was why I was so excited when I saw the octagon in the cemetery. I thought it was the ‘means’ he was talking about.”

  “Heptagon.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Whatevs. Thing is, it wasn’t the symbol, ‘cause I could never figure out what it was for or anything. Then Keek found that book at the library, and I was like, oh THIS is what papa demon was talking about. Except . . . I couldn’t read it! It was so frustrating because I had this feeling in my gut that that was the key, but I couldn’t read the darned thing! Even though your dad said that everything would be clear! And your head was broken so you couldn’t read it either!”

  Broken? That’s a mite unfair.

  Sil continues, “I kept waiting and waiting but nothing else revealed itself. And then I figured it out: It was all some mean trick. Your dad’s probably floating on a piece of brimstone down a river of lava laughing his tush off at us right now!”

  Brimstone? Lava? “You’re incredibly racist. You do know that, don’t you, Sil?”

  She says nothing in her defense.

  “My dad sent the book to you, and you couldn’t read it. And someone else beat you to the spell.”

  I think through these things. A spell of searching. Galvin Tenor. The conclusion is obvious.

  “Your deepest desire is to find your father.”

  She winces.

  Sil’s ‘something important’ – the thing important enough to make her enter a deal with an otherworldly being – is her father?

  Strange. I’d be so grateful to be rid of mine.

  Sil brings her knees into her chest and hugs them. And her confession begins. “I always worried, you know?” she says. “That he just left me and Mom. But . . .” Her voice cracks. She hides her face in her skirt. “When your dad said that my dad was taken away by the spirits, I got hope for the first time since I was a kid, thinking maybe he didn’t abandon us. Maybe he didn’t have a choice, you know? And when I realized that it was all just a game or something . . .” She can say no more.

  “You’re wrong, Sil,” I tell her. “It is a capital offense to go back on a deal. Something else went wrong.”

  And I’m beginning to piece together just what it was. But something warns me not to say it just yet. Sil is in a ball, like she was that time in her bed. She’s broken. Vulnerable. Fragile. And she’s never smelled more delicious.

  Before I realize it, I’ve crouched to her level and placed a hand atop her head.

  “It’s a real thing, Sil. It happens more than you’d think.”

  She sniffles into her knees. “What is?”

  “If your dad was spirited away, it means he was of some value. They only take them if they need them for something. He would have had no say in the matter.” I feel her stiffen beneath my hand. “And,” I go on, “if my father told you he’d send the means to get him back, then the answer is in that book. There’s still time for you.”

  Sil unburies herself and reveals that the corners of her eyes have been moistened. Eyes that are gray and sad stare through their tears into mine. Damn, she looks good. Good enough to consume. But I hate it. I hate that she has such power over me. I hate that it’s one-sided.

/>   Regardless, I cannot stop myself.

  Taking a long draw of mint, I wrap my arms around her ballish frame.

  “Love me, Sil. Stop resisting, and love me.”

  But Sil reacts to the charge with anger. She pushes me from herself and flares her nose at me crossly. “You’re the same! Just the same as your lying dad! It’s all just a ruse to get me to follow your impossible demands!”

  “You’re wrong, Sil.”

  “What is it, demon boy? An annual sport? Let’s see how much we can make the lowly mortals suffer!?”

  That does sound appealing. But for some reason, her allegations are cutting.

  “It isn’t like that at all!” And now I, too, am angry. Furious, even, at the thought of being rejected.

  “Don’t shout at me!” says Sil, shouting herself.

  “Why not, Sil?! If you’d just come to me sooner, I could have helped you! Instead, you’ve been bitterly holding back all this time, all paranoid thinking the whole underworld’s out to get you!”

  Sil shows disbelief. “Holding back? You think I’ve been holding BACK?! You psycho! You act like I should be able to love you on a whim! I told you before that it isn’t how it works!”

  “It is! Plenty of women have loved me! What’s more, you practically admitted that you were attracted to me and no one else! So why, Sil?! I’ll tell you why! Because you’re a bitter old crone! And if you keep this up, you’ll never get a man!”

  “If it’s so easy, then let me ask you this, demon boy! Do you LOVE me? Well? Huh? Do you?!”

  Her words hit me squarely in the jaw. Oh. Of course I can’t answer something like that. We haven’t even had sex.

  “SEE?!” she yelps triumphantly.

  The fact that she’s caught me answerless is more infuriating than anything else that’s happened tonight. Thus, I respond with . . . unpleasantness.

  “Don’t act all high and mighty, Sil! You’re nothing more than a commoner. And a complete moron at that! You can’t even see what’s SO obviously before you! That your little minion sabotaged your ‘means’! That he got his grubby hands on that book before you somehow and has been trying to find your father all for the sake of getting into your pants! HE is the one who ruined everything, not me!”

  Sil looks at me dumbfounded. “Keek? What’s he got to do with this?”

  “Think about it, Sil! Someone’s been using the spell from the tome to try and locate your father! Who else would want to? Hm? YOUR MINION selfishly took the means my father sent you in order to play hero! He’s been deceiving you! How else would he happen to ‘find’ that book in the library? You said yourself that it hardly belonged there! And spouting off that nonsense about the symbol being made with candy or whatever he claimed. Just ridiculous! All to throw you off, no doubt. White ash can only be made by shadow-brought fire, and the only beings capable of producing shadow-brought fire are daems. My father sent that book AND that ash for you, Sil! Ask yourself how it ended up in that brute’s grubby hands!”

  “You’re . . .” Sil’s eyes dart about as her mind races. “You’re lying!”

  “I’m not! You’re simply too stupid to realize!”

  “ARGH! JUST GET THE HECK OUT OF MY ROOM, SLIMY DEMON!”

  Slimy demon? Slimy DEMON?! “FOR THE LAST TIME, I’M A DAEM!”

  “If it looks like a demon. Talks like a demon. It’s probably a . . . What is it, Wayst? You tell me.” Sil is snide, of all things.

  “I’m finished with you.” I grab the tome and stomp from her annoying presence. It isn’t my fault if she never finds her father. She deserves to be left all alone for being a complete, intolerable twit!

  In the hall, I find that Curious Tally is halfway up the stairs, listening in on our argument.

  “My,” she starts, “whatever was that abou-”

  I answer her with a door slam.

  I’ll kill them all. All of the mortals will die by my hand. If my father won’t listen – as he surely won’t – I’ll begin my killing rampage. Sil. Her minion. Her vixen cousin and garbling teacher. All of their bones will turn to ash under the fury of my shadow-brought flame.

  I am fuming. Livid. Thinking of Sil and her idiocy. And her naivety. And her rejection. And it is with those thoughts that I am finally able to read all of the tome:

  A Chant of Searching:

  Shan’t be never,

  Vanished or mislaid,

  A piece of them,

  Seven corners of Dhiant.

  Chapter 11: Time to Die, Sil

  “YOU’D BETTER OPEN UP IN THERE OR SO HELP ME!”

  Satisfying. Sil’s anger is satisfying.

  I am pleased with myself, for my revenge was well plotted; although, some credit must also be given to vacant Sil. My scheme wouldn’t have worked had she not, in her ire, forgotten to lock her bedroom door.

  Lucky me.

  In the morning, while she slept, I stole into her bathroom and sealed myself in. And then I waited. Waited for her to roll out of bed and trudge to the door. Waited for her to lazily fondle at the knob, find it locked, and retort a hoarse bellow.

  Heh.

  It is not as though I’m doing anything of importance – merely sitting on the vanity and examining my teeth in her soiled mirror – but getting under her skin has never been better.

  She continues to rap on the door, as she has been for some time now, and when that doesn’t work, she resorts to kicking. Kicking, kicking on the base. It goes on this way for several minutes, and when I still won’t budge, she throws her entire body into the wood.

  The frame gives a shake.

  Uh-oh. Sil’s home is so rundown that a strong enough plow might be enough to send it all crashing.

  Then Sil would be homeless. Oh well.

  “Go away,” I tell her coolly. “I’m busy. We slimy demons simply must scrub and scrub to remove the filth, you know.”

  “UGH! YOU’RE THE WORST PERSON I’VE EVER MET! I CAN’T WAIT UNTIL YOU’RE GONE!”

  “Likewise, Sil. Likewise.”

  Bam! The frame gives another shake.

  “Careful, Sil. Wouldn’t want you to knock yourself senseless. Oh? You’ve no sense to lose? My mistake.”

  “ARGH! DUMMY DEMON! WITH YOUR DUMMY SHADOW BLOOD!”

  “It’s smoke Sil.”

  She gives a shriek and then I hear her stomp away. Probably gone to use the downstairs bathroom. There is no further sound from beyond the door. I gloat to myself. Revenge is sweet.

  But in her absence I grow bored. She is gone for ten minutes or more when I decide I must do something to relieve myself. I won’t give up my post, but . . .

  The costume she picked out for me is in a pile just outside the door. Very cautiously I undo the lock, and checking first to make certain Sil is not around, I snatch up the pile and retreat again into the bathroom. I refuse to try on the rest of the attire, but the horns . . .

  I slip them on.

  The mirror’s grime distorts my reflection, making them to look semi-normal.

  My horns. If Sil hadn’t sabotaged our chances, I’d get to see them again tonight. No, if Keek hadn’t sabotaged Sil’s chances. It is all that pudge’s fault.

  Speaking of whom –

  Sil’s doorbell, which works only a third of the time, buzzes to signal the arrival of a visitor. Since it can’t be another wanderlust family member – Tally isn’t due to leave for another week – that leaves only one person.

  Sure enough, after a few minutes I hear them both bumbling up the stairs.

  “In there,” says Sil’s voice, muffled.

  Ah. She’s just instructed her servant to fish me out. I prepare for another ram. But the ram does not come. Instead, there is a peculiar clicking noise coming from the lock. In addition, the knob is jiggling.

  “Almost got it,” says the minion, and I understand. He is picking the lock. I’ll be damned if I let him go through with it.

  Can’t have him feeling superior, now can we?

  I casually walk t
o the door and open it myself. Better me than him.

  “So, you’ve finally decided to come out.” Sil is cross. With folded arms and slitted eyes, she beams me with disapproval. But there’s something more. Impossible to ignore.

  She’s in costume. A full dress. Hair that is pushed to the side and curled at the bottom. And lips red to match the fake bloodstained handprints wiped upon her skirt. It is a bizarre thing to see Sil with makeup – even if her lipstick’s been made to look like she was interrupted in the middle of application, trailing off at one corner – and I find myself paying too much mind to the phenomenon. Even her eyes are lined and winged.

  “What are you staring at, demon?”

  I shake my head and fumble for a smart response, which does not come.

  “Nice horns, by the way,” Sil sneers. “We’ve decided to make you a bovine instead.”

  I cough to stall, and next, “Splendid for you. Then you can drink right from the tap, milk-sucker.”

  “Hear that, Keek? Seems demon boy’s feeling threatened. His last line of defense is insecure sarcasm, don’t you know?”

  “Are you aware, dear Sil, that you are using just as much sarcasm as I?”

  She grinds her teeth.

  Keek is also in full garb, complete with milkman’s hat and fake stab wound through the middle. If only it were real.

  He watches us with wonder, for the mood between us is stormier than ever. “What happened to you guys?” he says in awe, before snapping to, “Er – yeah! I see it, Sil! Tran’s got no good comebacks or anything!”

  Good one, minion. Really smooth. The delay is a nice touch.

  “Now then, Keek.” I mosey around him. “Since we’re all gathered, how about you confess your sins. Sil is dying to know where you got the book meant for her.”

  Keek gives a start. He is noticeably uncomfortable. He is left without answer.

  I’ve surely caught him.

  But Sil spoils everything by whapping him on the back. “Ignore him, Keeker. Demon boy’s got all of these paranoid conspiracy theories.”

  “R-right.” Upon meeting my accusing stare, Keek lets his eyes fall. The guilty are quick to collapse.