Vaughn R. Demont's Blog, page 26

From Twitter 12-18-2010

12:48:21: I have received Canadian candies for Xmas. They are strange and intriguing to look at, as well as inviting. Aero bars look quite tasty. :)

Tweets copied by twittinesis.com

From Twitter 12-17-2010

01:16:07: The King's Confidante - Part 30 http://t.co/r1QTm6F
11:56:49: Note to self: When rocking out to AC/DC's "Shoot To Thrill", make sure the house is empty first. You will not live it down if seen.

Tweets copied by twittinesis.com

Free Fiction Friday: The King's Confidante - Part 31

x-posted to freeficfriday

Welcome back to Free Fiction Friday!

This week's chapter is above average length, coming in at 3800 words, and I've completed the first draft of Spence's story, the rest of the chapters will be posted as I empty out the buffer. :)

The archive for the freeficfriday community is up to date, so if you've been looking for where you can read all of the FFF material from all of the participating authors in one place, you're set. :)

Everything's tagged according to author, title, and genre for easier reading, but if you prefer to stick with Spence on my blog, just click the "free fiction fridays" tag if you need to catch up.

This week's posting roster consists of: Vaughn R. Demont vaughn_r_demont , Cassandra Gold cassandra_gold , Michael Mandrake desiresdd and I.D. Locke id_locke .

Interested in joining the Free Fictioneers? We have weekly and bi-weekly slots open for interested authors. For more information, please send any inquiries to the moderators vaughn_r_demont and/or id_locke

As an additional note, "The King's Confidante" will not be updated again until Friday, December 31st.

Anyway, without further ado, please enjoy this week's chapter of "The King's Confidante". :)


Okay, people I've seen in action movies have been in far worse situations than this. Granted, most of those people had espionage training or were MacGyver, and I don't have any paper clips on me. Jesus, the tropes were right. The genre savvy guy does always die.
That's right, Spence, make jokes even as your double-crossing half-brother prepares to kill you. You gotta laugh, right?
But seriously, what the fuck?
What happened to me being Fate's chosen one?
I don't know, maybe it was too easy with Thornton. He just happens to be at the same club as me, gets to know me, keeps an eye on me. Jesus, I spilled almost everything to him. I trusted him, and it was all…
Well, at least it makes sense why Shiko didn't see him during her recon if he was in on the whole thing.
Wait, Thornton made sure to mention that Rourke had been captured, but he never mentioned Shiko, and catching a Fox would definitely be something to brag about. She's still out there, somewhere, though why she'd come and rescue me when the trick's gone to Hell is beyond—
"Sora." It's the barest whisper of wind in my ear, but there's a soft pop of smoke, and when it clears, I'm still there, bound on the slab, Thornton advancing on me a long knife in his hand.
He stands over me, and raises the blade high. "I'm sorry, little brother." Oh fuck, he's really going to… The blade comes down in slow motion, and I want to scream, and I swear I'm outside myself in that moment, watching the scene from a disembodied state as the knife penetrates cleanly into my chest with a soft "thunk", much like it had hit wood.
Or the trunk of a log that is now on the slab. Thornton pulls the knife free, confused, a playing card impaled on the blade, illuminated by the nearby firelight.
The Joker.
His eyes are wide with disbelief as I'm carried away from the scene, profanities starting to escape him, desperate rage coloring his voice. While he raves, I chance a whisper.
"Shiko?"
"I can vanish into shadow on a cloudless day, Coyote, hiding in the dark in the dead of night is kit's play." She sets me down behind a crypt fifty yards from the scene, and sets to cutting me free with a knife of her own. "What do you want to do?" Shiko glances toward the ritual, and softly hisses. "Kuso."
"What?"
"We don't have a lot of time. Are you running or—"
"Get Rourke out of here, Shiko."
She looks at me incredulously. "This is beyond a trick now, Spencer, I have to stop that ritual. Give me the cards." Her eyes grow fierce, authoritative, I see a glimpse of how many years she's logged on the job, and that she's not going to put up with any shit. "Now."
I reach into my pocket, and remove the cards and then fan them in a flourish before handing them to her. "Get Rourke free, but stay close." I meet her eyes, and try to match her intensity. "Fate has something planned, and it has to be me." I smile weakly. "I'm the hero, remember?"
"This goes badly, I end it, do you understand?" I nod, and she kisses me quickly. "For luck."
She vanishes a second later, and I slip out from behind the crypt, the firelight and the sound of Thornton leading me back to the open space among the graves. Now that I'm not tied up anymore, I can see the small mausoleum where the urn had been kept all day, Dad and Hank starting sentry outside, so I'm guessing that's where Rourke is being kept.
I advance toward them. I'm free, I can curse them, see just how nasty I can get with these. Thornton sees me suddenly, his voice guttural, animal as he curses me, but it's just profanity, I don't feel like Fate is about to give me the finger. I'm on her side, after all.
Selah stands at his side, her hand dipping into the urn, fingers dredging up ash as she glances at the sky, concern in her eyes.
My brother starts to vault over the slab, his leg kicking the log and making it roll off the stone, but an alabaster hand grabs his shoulder in mid-jump, slamming him downward. Selah holds him down, drawing the ash across his forehead, chanting…
Oh fuck.
I run, I swear I run as fast as I can. Please God, believe me, I try to get there in time.
But Fate has already decided how this story goes. Thornton apologized to me, told me it had to be him or me. Every time it's been brought up, it's always had to be him or me. And Fate made it quite clear that someone to die tonight. Him or me.
Selah's holding the knife.
And I got away.
It comes down.
The world seems to blur as I extend my hand.
Most of my tricks, I'll admit, I learned from my Dad. A few are from Bank, some from movies, and some from one of my personal idols, Mr. Ricky Jay. I learned a lot from his books and the acts that ended up on TV, like sleight of hand, palming cards, and one other little skill. Card throwing.
I trust Fate, and let the Ace of Clubs fly.
Please.
It strikes her in the wrist, and knocks her backward as it explodes in a burst of blue flame, the knife dropping from her grasp. I rush toward her to kick the knife away, and she shrieks, mouth opened wide in a rictus grin, needle teeth dripping bile. The sound brings me to my knees with agony, my hands clutching tight over my ears. Thornton isn't as lucky, and he rolls off the slab, whimpering, weakly trying to shield himself from the noise.
She stops a few seconds later, my ears ringing as she retrieves the blade in her free hand, seeing as I apparently blew the other hand off. Ew.
Dad and Hank are starting to advance toward me as well, but Selah raises a hand to stop them.
"Any last words?"
I cough slightly, and try to get to my feet. "Yeah, I can see why all your relationships fail. You're so damned fat every time you fall in love you break it." I stagger backward, trying to get steady as my balance is off, and she keeps coming toward me, holding the knife. I move away from Thornton, trying to lock her focus on me. "You're so ugly when you go to the beach even the ocean won't wave at you." It works.
Now what?
"This is all you can offer? Words? Out of tricks, little one?" Still though, she looks pissed.
"You, uh, haven't even begun to see my powers." No response from her, other than a step closer to me. "What's that? What powers, you ask? Uh… How about the power of flight?"
Still nothing.
"That do anything for you? How about the power to, uh, kill a yak? From two hundred yards away? With mind bullets."
Yes, I'm using "Wonderboy" by Tenacious D. I'm going with what I know, okay?
I scale the Ace of Hearts at her (I said I learned to palm cards, plural), and she anticipates, tilting her head to the side. The card floats through the air, toward the slab, and into the open urn. Beyond Selah, I see Dad and Hank's head suddenly knocked into each other quite forcefully. They gone down in a heap, and I catch the eyes of a Fox. I smile my grandfather's smile. "How about the power… to Mizu."
The urn bursts with an explosion of water, the ashes scattering over the earth, the conjured liquid carrying them into the soil.
The scream that follows from her I'm certain is heard even in Destry Bay.
I would expect her to rush to the slab, try to salvage what's left of the ashes as what's left of her son rejoins the ecosystem, instead, she comes after me.
Understandably, I sprint like Hell in the opposite direction. This is probably a bad idea, and if I stop to examine it later on, I'd probably remind myself that I'm playing into the death trope of running off alone into a cemetery while a crazy person with a knife is chasing me. I am literally asking to die right now, but you know what? Survival instincts don't give a damn about pragmatism, so I'm going to scream and run, thank you very much.
Considering how banged up I am, I'm not moving all that fast, even with the aid of adrenaline, but Selah's only keeping up with me. Apparently having part of your arm blown off can slow your gait, so yay for me. I'm also a bit concerned that she's not bleeding. I mean, that's not normal. The only time someone doesn't bleed after a partial amputation and still remains ambulatory with no reaction of pain is when…
"Oh fuck, Selah's a zombie!"
I make it to the path and my body feels eighty pounds lighter from sheer panic. I will run forever if it means I won't get bitten and turned into the shambling undead. I need a shotgun! Where can I get a shotgun? Damn it, this is a cemetery, ground zero for the zombie apocalypse, there should be a fucking shotgun dispensary!
Think, think, think!
What are some of those curses Rourke would yell in traffic?
I force my mind to see the words, and even as I push them out breathlessly, straining, they emerge in Lorus. "May you be afflicted with the itch and have no nails to scratch with!"
Really? I start with that?
I chance a glance over my shoulder, and see that she has indeed slowed down slightly, a determined grimace on his face, teeth showing, eyes hard and enraged. Still, despite my previous comment I don't think I can run forever. Fuck, what am I going to do?
"May you always stub your toe so I'll know you from your limp!" With that I cut to my right, into the field of headstones, and pray that it sticks. A few seconds later I her a shriek of pain and what sounds like a small explosion followed by crumbling rock. That was her stubbing her toe? I am so going to die.
Cursing is not going to work.
Clotho told me I could defeat her, that I had everything I needed, but… I'm out of cards, I'm getting exhausted, I'm unarmed, she's looking at me so I can't become a coyote and run away all the faster, the curses are just going to inconvenience her rather than stop her cold and if I keep running through the gravestones then I'm probably going to stub my toe so she'll—
Or I'll just trip over one headlong and land flat on my face.
She's on me a few seconds later, tackling me as I try to scramble to my feet. She straddles my waist, her strength unfathomable, but clearly enough to keep me in place as she raises the knife over my chest.
"Your fate is sealed, half-blood." The knife comes down, and this time there's no illusion to save me.
Fate… There's something important about that.
I wrench my body to the right, the blade punching cleanly into my arm, going in one side of my bicep, the point emerging from the other. I'm rather proud that I manage to hold it together long enough to get out the words. "May Fate watch and keep you."
Then I scream in agony as Selah pulls the knife free and presses my body to the earth, my blood flowing freely into the soil as she brings the knife down again.
And a hand grabs her wrist tightly, halting the point of the blade just above my chest. I'd sigh in relief, but I'm still a bit busy whimpering.
Both Selah's and my eyes follow the hand to the slender waifish arm of a young woman, of Clotho. "We are quite displeased with you, Selah of the Burning Lakes. Me, most especially."
Selah's eyes show pure terror now, her voice small, horrified. "How… You aren't supposed to be able to find—"
"You should count yourself fortunate, Selah, you've had the honor of being blessed by a Bard. Even as you prepared to end his life he asked only that we, the Fates themselves, watch and keep you." Clotho produces a long thread from the air in her free hand, and then plunges it into Selah's heart, the Fate's visage both vicious and vengeful. "And we will. Mother will be so happy that you've rejoined her tapestry. Grandmother is overjoyed as well." Selah's arm wound begins to bleed.
Selah trembles, beginning to babble in a language I don't understand, but I can get the context of fear. I would have to guess that one of the things that would terrify someone who's as long-lived as her is the prospect of that long life ending. Also, I would have to guess that I'm probably going to bleed out, seeing as I'm starting to feel light-headed, and cold.
"In fact, Selah, we're all so pleased we've granted you a boon. We will wait until the dawn to come for you." Clotho leans forward and kisses Selah gently on the lips. "I would suggest you start running now."
Selah doesn't need any more prompting, and she bolts into the darkness the moment Clotho releases her. The goddess watches her depart with a knowing but eager smile on her face, and then looks down to me. "You've done well, and avenged me, despite your fear, the betrayal of your brother. Mother and Grandmother are still disappointed, but…" Her lips press to mine, and I kiss her back. Hell, if I'm going to die anyway, might as well go for it. She only allows me a few seconds, but it's one of those kisses you see in the movies, definitely third act worthy. "I forgive you."
"Help me?" It comes out of an almost squeak, born of fear, desperation. God, I really don't want to go.
She smiles, and runs her fingers along my face. "It's been taken care of." No sooner does she finish the sentence than I hear the pounding of hoof beats…
Wait, what?
A black stallion clomps over to me, whinnying gently, and nudges my head to the side, away from it. What the Hell is it do—
You don't know what a Phouka is?
Rourke.
I could've become the stallion but I don't want to muss up my furniture, you understand.
I take the hint, and close my eyes tightly, though I'm afraid they might not open again. Tearing sounds fill my ears not long afterward, and when I open my eyes, Rourke is kneeling over me, his shirt off.
"I know we pulled off a trick, Rourke, but it's not a good time."
Instead of retorting, or chiding me, his shirt is tied tightly around my arm several times. Shortly after that he pulls me up against him, his arms wrapping gently about me. "Stay with me."
"I'll try." I swallow, my throat feeling rough and dry. "Y'know, on TV all the supernatural people heal freakishly quick. I got any of that going for me?"
"It's not as bad as it looks." I really don't know who he's trying to convince there. He squeezes me closer to him. "What happened?"
"She stabbed me in the arm. Then a pissed off goddess of Fate intervened and gave her until sunrise to get out of town. I was here for the whole thing and I'm still having trouble believing it. Where's Shiko?" I just lean against him, concentrate on breathing. My face is wet, I don't think anyone will fault me for crying here, the pain really is that bad.
"Binding your father and brothers." Rourke starts to rock me softly in his embrace.
"How'd they get you?"
"Your brother came to me, acting as if he'd escaped, frantic, shortly after you were taken. Suddenly I was bound in…" A growl escapes him. "He was rather smug about it, how he expected me."
"He's a Bard too. That's why the trick didn't work, he knew the rules and saw it coming, went for the turnabout." I press myself against his warm body, the wooziness starting to ebb. "So it was going to be death by genre savviness for me." I smile weakly. "I saved his life though. Goodie points for me, right? No one died." I then remember the urn. "Oh shit, the ashes…"
"Don't worry yourself, Spencer."
"You're taking it awfully well."
"My son died centuries ago."
"But it still riled you up plenty not even twenty-four hours ago." I arch a brow. Now that I think of it, for an urn that had lasted as long as it did, it was odd that a burst of water made it shatter. "Where's the real one?"
"I wouldn't know, probably better that way." He starts to get up, cradling me in his arms. "From what I understand, while the smoke was clearing from the altar and Shiko was rescuing you, another Kitsune did the switch, apparently from across the sea."
Mr. Kazuhiro.
"You let them take it?"
"They'll keep it safer than I, and in exchange their honor is restored. As far as they're concerned you never won the urn from them. Not in a public fashion at least, I would suppose there will always be whispers."
"Oh, be certain that Kazuhiro-kun will never live that down." Shiko emerges from the shadows, and tchs at Rourke's improvised bandage. "Your father and siblings have been sent away for now, they'll be your clan's problem when they return."
"Where are they?" I wince as she peels away the bloodied remains of Rourke's T-shirt, and begins to rebind the wound.
She shrugs. "Some potato farm in the Ukraine, I think. If Justin's anything like he used to be he'll be back in less than a day, provided the three of them don't kill each other." She finishes tying off the bandage. "There. Now, we need to talk about what happened." She looks at Rourke. "I know you want to play the strong protector right now but he's perfectly capable of walking and I think we should go."
Grudgingly, Rourke sets me down, and while I'm not really steady, I'm able to walk as long as I lean on him. He doesn't seem to mind. The three of us make our way back to the path, and then start back to the main gate.
"So, you wanted to talk, Shiko?"
"That was by far the sloppiest work I've seen in years. You had no contingencies, you let yourself get captured, it was blind stupid luck that the Fire card went off when it did. You had me dispose of two idiot Coyotes so you could face a former sorcerer alone." She gives me a haughty glare. "And song lyrics? Obscure ones at that? It amazes me that you survived. This is precisely why your clan will never win the Feud, and how the Coyotes ever accomplished an Emerald in the Snow will baffle me until I draw my final breath."
I shrug slightly. "We still won?"
Shiko growls softly.
Rourke chuckles. "I think that's her biggest issue, Spencer."
We continue on in silence for a bit longer, the car coming into view. Still though, I can't let this go.
"Shiko, we still defeated Selah, that's something to brag about."
She steps in front of us, and chuckles in surprise. "You believe I would boast about this? One aspect I'm sworn to secrecy on, the rest can be attributed to the pity of the Shichifukujin, not good planning, certainly not good execution, and definitely not the quotation of song lyrics." Shiko takes a breath, and rubs her face slowly. "Just… Do me a favor and never mention my involvement in this."
I shrug. "Sure. That's one."
Shiko blinks at me. "One what?"
"One favor." I then reach into my jacket pocket, and remove the silk handkerchief, showing it to her. "We agreed. 'I hereby owe Shiko three favors.' That's one."
Rourke laughs, but tones it down enough to speak. "You did ask him to do you a favor, Fox."
Shiko grumbles, but I see a hint of her natural smile in there, anger in her eyes masking a bit of respect. She exits to the gate, and moves around Rourke's Range Rover. At first, I'm thinking she's offering to drive, but instead as Rourke and I draw closer, we find another car parked behind it.
Specifically, a 1967 Corvette.
I stare at it. "Where the Hell did that come from?"
Grinning widely, Shiko gets into the 'Vette. "I had Kazuhiro-kun bring it over. Unless you're asking where I got it, in which case the answer is: some dumbass Coyote who's not allowed to press charges now."
'67 Vette, gets all the girls wet, and that mister sister fucking drove off in it.
I blink. "You're a guy?"
She, or uh, he grins even wider. "Never figured it out?"
"So uh, do you identify as feminine then?" Shiko gives me a head tilt, and I elaborate. "One of my teachers is trans, she hasn't had the operation yet but we were asked to refer to her as a her, so…" I look Shiko over again. "Well, I'll stick with thinking of you as a 'her', you certainly put a lot of effort into it, so…"
"You're not shocked?"
"A little, but takes all kinds to make a world, right? Hell, you're looking at a bisexual half-Coyote small-time grifter, and in the last week I've stolen, committed fraud and assault, and nearly killed someone, who the Hell am I to pass judgment?" I lean against the car so Rourke can get the door for me. "But if you'll excuse me, I think I need additional medical attention."
She starts up her car, the engine roaring, and she calls over to me. "You still owe me, Spencer Crain."
"Yep. Two favors, Shiko-kun!"
She returns a glare, but it's cracked by her natural smile, and she shakes her head gently before putting the 'Vette in gear. "Damn Coyotes."
Shiko drives off seconds later, and Rourke helps me into the Rover, taking care when buckling me in. Once he's in the driver's seat, he looks over to me. "Are you still working for me this summer at the lot?"
"You're asking me this now?" He just keeps looking at me, waiting. "Fine, sure. You can show me how to sell a car before you try your hand at academia."
"Good." He starts the car, and pulls back onto the road, and we start back into the City.
"Any reason why you asked?"
"Indeed." He gives me his easy smile. "I make sure all of my employees have excellent medical coverage."


To be concluded on December 31st!


And that's it. I'm going to bed. :)

Free Fiction Friday: The King's Confidante - Part 30

x-posted to freeficfriday

Welcome back to Free Fiction Friday!

This week's chapter is above average length, coming in at 3800 words, and I've completed the first draft of Spence's story, the rest of the chapters will be posted as I empty out the buffer. :)

The archive for the freeficfriday community is up to date, so if you've been looking for where you can read all of the FFF material from all of the participating authors in one place, you're set. :)

Everything's tagged according to author, title, and genre for easier reading, but if you prefer to stick with Spence on my blog, just click the "free fiction fridays" tag if you need to catch up.

This week's posting roster consists of: Vaughn R. Demont vaughn_r_demont , Cassandra Gold cassandra_gold , Michael Mandrake desiresdd and I.D. Locke id_locke .

Interested in joining the Free Fictioneers? We have weekly and bi-weekly slots open for interested authors. For more information, please send any inquiries to the moderators vaughn_r_demont and/or id_locke

As an additional note, "The King's Confidante" will not be updated again until Friday, December 31st.

Anyway, without further ado, please enjoy this week's chapter of "The King's Confidante". :)


Okay, people I've seen in action movies have been in far worse situations than this. Granted, most of those people had espionage training or were MacGyver, and I don't have any paper clips on me. Jesus, the tropes were right. The genre savvy guy does always die.
That's right, Spence, make jokes even as your double-crossing half-brother prepares to kill you. You gotta laugh, right?
But seriously, what the fuck?
What happened to me being Fate's chosen one?
I don't know, maybe it was too easy with Thornton. He just happens to be at the same club as me, gets to know me, keeps an eye on me. Jesus, I spilled almost everything to him. I trusted him, and it was all…
Well, at least it makes sense why Shiko didn't see him during her recon if he was in on the whole thing.
Wait, Thornton made sure to mention that Rourke had been captured, but he never mentioned Shiko, and catching a Fox would definitely be something to brag about. She's still out there, somewhere, though why she'd come and rescue me when the trick's gone to Hell is beyond—
"Sora." It's the barest whisper of wind in my ear, but there's a soft pop of smoke, and when it clears, I'm still there, bound on the slab, Thornton advancing on me a long knife in his hand.
He stands over me, and raises the blade high. "I'm sorry, little brother." Oh fuck, he's really going to… The blade comes down in slow motion, and I want to scream, and I swear I'm outside myself in that moment, watching the scene from a disembodied state as the knife penetrates cleanly into my chest with a soft "thunk", much like it had hit wood.
Or the trunk of a log that is now on the slab. Thornton pulls the knife free, confused, a playing card impaled on the blade, illuminated by the nearby firelight.
The Joker.
His eyes are wide with disbelief as I'm carried away from the scene, profanities starting to escape him, desperate rage coloring his voice. While he raves, I chance a whisper.
"Shiko?"
"I can vanish into shadow on a cloudless day, Coyote, hiding in the dark in the dead of night is kit's play." She sets me down behind a crypt fifty yards from the scene, and sets to cutting me free with a knife of her own. "What do you want to do?" Shiko glances toward the ritual, and softly hisses. "Kuso."
"What?"
"We don't have a lot of time. Are you running or—"
"Get Rourke out of here, Shiko."
She looks at me incredulously. "This is beyond a trick now, Spencer, I have to stop that ritual. Give me the cards." Her eyes grow fierce, authoritative, I see a glimpse of how many years she's logged on the job, and that she's not going to put up with any shit. "Now."
I reach into my pocket, and remove the cards and then fan them in a flourish before handing them to her. "Get Rourke free, but stay close." I meet her eyes, and try to match her intensity. "Fate has something planned, and it has to be me." I smile weakly. "I'm the hero, remember?"
"This goes badly, I end it, do you understand?" I nod, and she kisses me quickly. "For luck."
She vanishes a second later, and I slip out from behind the crypt, the firelight and the sound of Thornton leading me back to the open space among the graves. Now that I'm not tied up anymore, I can see the small mausoleum where the urn had been kept all day, Dad and Hank starting sentry outside, so I'm guessing that's where Rourke is being kept.
I advance toward them. I'm free, I can curse them, see just how nasty I can get with these. Thornton sees me suddenly, his voice guttural, animal as he curses me, but it's just profanity, I don't feel like Fate is about to give me the finger. I'm on her side, after all.
Selah stands at his side, her hand dipping into the urn, fingers dredging up ash as she glances at the sky, concern in her eyes.
My brother starts to vault over the slab, his leg kicking the log and making it roll off the stone, but an alabaster hand grabs his shoulder in mid-jump, slamming him downward. Selah holds him down, drawing the ash across his forehead, chanting…
Oh fuck.
I run, I swear I run as fast as I can. Please God, believe me, I try to get there in time.
But Fate has already decided how this story goes. Thornton apologized to me, told me it had to be him or me. Every time it's been brought up, it's always had to be him or me. And Fate made it quite clear that someone to die tonight. Him or me.
Selah's holding the knife.
And I got away.
It comes down.
The world seems to blur as I extend my hand.
Most of my tricks, I'll admit, I learned from my Dad. A few are from Bank, some from movies, and some from one of my personal idols, Mr. Ricky Jay. I learned a lot from his books and the acts that ended up on TV, like sleight of hand, palming cards, and one other little skill. Card throwing.
I trust Fate, and let the Ace of Clubs fly.
Please.
It strikes her in the wrist, and knocks her backward as it explodes in a burst of blue flame, the knife dropping from her grasp. I rush toward her to kick the knife away, and she shrieks, mouth opened wide in a rictus grin, needle teeth dripping bile. The sound brings me to my knees with agony, my hands clutching tight over my ears. Thornton isn't as lucky, and he rolls off the slab, whimpering, weakly trying to shield himself from the noise.
She stops a few seconds later, my ears ringing as she retrieves the blade in her free hand, seeing as I apparently blew the other hand off. Ew.
Dad and Hank are starting to advance toward me as well, but Selah raises a hand to stop them.
"Any last words?"
I cough slightly, and try to get to my feet. "Yeah, I can see why all your relationships fail. You're so damned fat every time you fall in love you break it." I stagger backward, trying to get steady as my balance is off, and she keeps coming toward me, holding the knife. I move away from Thornton, trying to lock her focus on me. "You're so ugly when you go to the beach even the ocean won't wave at you." It works.
Now what?
"This is all you can offer? Words? Out of tricks, little one?" Still though, she looks pissed.
"You, uh, haven't even begun to see my powers." No response from her, other than a step closer to me. "What's that? What powers, you ask? Uh… How about the power of flight?"
Still nothing.
"That do anything for you? How about the power to, uh, kill a yak? From two hundred yards away? With mind bullets."
Yes, I'm using "Wonderboy" by Tenacious D. I'm going with what I know, okay?
I scale the Ace of Hearts at her (I said I learned to palm cards, plural), and she anticipates, tilting her head to the side. The card floats through the air, toward the slab, and into the open urn. Beyond Selah, I see Dad and Hank's head suddenly knocked into each other quite forcefully. They gone down in a heap, and I catch the eyes of a Fox. I smile my grandfather's smile. "How about the power… to Mizu."
The urn bursts with an explosion of water, the ashes scattering over the earth, the conjured liquid carrying them into the soil.
The scream that follows from her I'm certain is heard even in Destry Bay.
I would expect her to rush to the slab, try to salvage what's left of the ashes as what's left of her son rejoins the ecosystem, instead, she comes after me.
Understandably, I sprint like Hell in the opposite direction. This is probably a bad idea, and if I stop to examine it later on, I'd probably remind myself that I'm playing into the death trope of running off alone into a cemetery while a crazy person with a knife is chasing me. I am literally asking to die right now, but you know what? Survival instincts don't give a damn about pragmatism, so I'm going to scream and run, thank you very much.
Considering how banged up I am, I'm not moving all that fast, even with the aid of adrenaline, but Selah's only keeping up with me. Apparently having part of your arm blown off can slow your gait, so yay for me. I'm also a bit concerned that she's not bleeding. I mean, that's not normal. The only time someone doesn't bleed after a partial amputation and still remains ambulatory with no reaction of pain is when…
"Oh fuck, Selah's a zombie!"
I make it to the path and my body feels eighty pounds lighter from sheer panic. I will run forever if it means I won't get bitten and turned into the shambling undead. I need a shotgun! Where can I get a shotgun? Damn it, this is a cemetery, ground zero for the zombie apocalypse, there should be a fucking shotgun dispensary!
Think, think, think!
What are some of those curses Rourke would yell in traffic?
I force my mind to see the words, and even as I push them out breathlessly, straining, they emerge in Lorus. "May you be afflicted with the itch and have no nails to scratch with!"
Really? I start with that?
I chance a glance over my shoulder, and see that she has indeed slowed down slightly, a determined grimace on his face, teeth showing, eyes hard and enraged. Still, despite my previous comment I don't think I can run forever. Fuck, what am I going to do?
"May you always stub your toe so I'll know you from your limp!" With that I cut to my right, into the field of headstones, and pray that it sticks. A few seconds later I her a shriek of pain and what sounds like a small explosion followed by crumbling rock. That was her stubbing her toe? I am so going to die.
Cursing is not going to work.
Clotho told me I could defeat her, that I had everything I needed, but… I'm out of cards, I'm getting exhausted, I'm unarmed, she's looking at me so I can't become a coyote and run away all the faster, the curses are just going to inconvenience her rather than stop her cold and if I keep running through the gravestones then I'm probably going to stub my toe so she'll—
Or I'll just trip over one headlong and land flat on my face.
She's on me a few seconds later, tackling me as I try to scramble to my feet. She straddles my waist, her strength unfathomable, but clearly enough to keep me in place as she raises the knife over my chest.
"Your fate is sealed, half-blood." The knife comes down, and this time there's no illusion to save me.
Fate… There's something important about that.
I wrench my body to the right, the blade punching cleanly into my arm, going in one side of my bicep, the point emerging from the other. I'm rather proud that I manage to hold it together long enough to get out the words. "May Fate watch and keep you."
Then I scream in agony as Selah pulls the knife free and presses my body to the earth, my blood flowing freely into the soil as she brings the knife down again.
And a hand grabs her wrist tightly, halting the point of the blade just above my chest. I'd sigh in relief, but I'm still a bit busy whimpering.
Both Selah's and my eyes follow the hand to the slender waifish arm of a young woman, of Clotho. "We are quite displeased with you, Selah of the Burning Lakes. Me, most especially."
Selah's eyes show pure terror now, her voice small, horrified. "How… You aren't supposed to be able to find—"
"You should count yourself fortunate, Selah, you've had the honor of being blessed by a Bard. Even as you prepared to end his life he asked only that we, the Fates themselves, watch and keep you." Clotho produces a long thread from the air in her free hand, and then plunges it into Selah's heart, the Fate's visage both vicious and vengeful. "And we will. Mother will be so happy that you've rejoined her tapestry. Grandmother is overjoyed as well." Selah's arm wound begins to bleed.
Selah trembles, beginning to babble in a language I don't understand, but I can get the context of fear. I would have to guess that one of the things that would terrify someone who's as long-lived as her is the prospect of that long life ending. Also, I would have to guess that I'm probably going to bleed out, seeing as I'm starting to feel light-headed, and cold.
"In fact, Selah, we're all so pleased we've granted you a boon. We will wait until the dawn to come for you." Clotho leans forward and kisses Selah gently on the lips. "I would suggest you start running now."
Selah doesn't need any more prompting, and she bolts into the darkness the moment Clotho releases her. The goddess watches her depart with a knowing but eager smile on her face, and then looks down to me. "You've done well, and avenged me, despite your fear, the betrayal of your brother. Mother and Grandmother are still disappointed, but…" Her lips press to mine, and I kiss her back. Hell, if I'm going to die anyway, might as well go for it. She only allows me a few seconds, but it's one of those kisses you see in the movies, definitely third act worthy. "I forgive you."
"Help me?" It comes out of an almost squeak, born of fear, desperation. God, I really don't want to go.
She smiles, and runs her fingers along my face. "It's been taken care of." No sooner does she finish the sentence than I hear the pounding of hoof beats…
Wait, what?
A black stallion clomps over to me, whinnying gently, and nudges my head to the side, away from it. What the Hell is it do—
You don't know what a Phouka is?
Rourke.
I could've become the stallion but I don't want to muss up my furniture, you understand.
I take the hint, and close my eyes tightly, though I'm afraid they might not open again. Tearing sounds fill my ears not long afterward, and when I open my eyes, Rourke is kneeling over me, his shirt off.
"I know we pulled off a trick, Rourke, but it's not a good time."
Instead of retorting, or chiding me, his shirt is tied tightly around my arm several times. Shortly after that he pulls me up against him, his arms wrapping gently about me. "Stay with me."
"I'll try." I swallow, my throat feeling rough and dry. "Y'know, on TV all the supernatural people heal freakishly quick. I got any of that going for me?"
"It's not as bad as it looks." I really don't know who he's trying to convince there. He squeezes me closer to him. "What happened?"
"She stabbed me in the arm. Then a pissed off goddess of Fate intervened and gave her until sunrise to get out of town. I was here for the whole thing and I'm still having trouble believing it. Where's Shiko?" I just lean against him, concentrate on breathing. My face is wet, I don't think anyone will fault me for crying here, the pain really is that bad.
"Binding your father and brothers." Rourke starts to rock me softly in his embrace.
"How'd they get you?"
"Your brother came to me, acting as if he'd escaped, frantic, shortly after you were taken. Suddenly I was bound in…" A growl escapes him. "He was rather smug about it, how he expected me."
"He's a Bard too. That's why the trick didn't work, he knew the rules and saw it coming, went for the turnabout." I press myself against his warm body, the wooziness starting to ebb. "So it was going to be death by genre savviness for me." I smile weakly. "I saved his life though. Goodie points for me, right? No one died." I then remember the urn. "Oh shit, the ashes…"
"Don't worry yourself, Spencer."
"You're taking it awfully well."
"My son died centuries ago."
"But it still riled you up plenty not even twenty-four hours ago." I arch a brow. Now that I think of it, for an urn that had lasted as long as it did, it was odd that a burst of water made it shatter. "Where's the real one?"
"I wouldn't know, probably better that way." He starts to get up, cradling me in his arms. "From what I understand, while the smoke was clearing from the altar and Shiko was rescuing you, another Kitsune did the switch, apparently from across the sea."
Mr. Kazuhiro.
"You let them take it?"
"They'll keep it safer than I, and in exchange their honor is restored. As far as they're concerned you never won the urn from them. Not in a public fashion at least, I would suppose there will always be whispers."
"Oh, be certain that Kazuhiro-kun will never live that down." Shiko emerges from the shadows, and tchs at Rourke's improvised bandage. "Your father and siblings have been sent away for now, they'll be your clan's problem when they return."
"Where are they?" I wince as she peels away the bloodied remains of Rourke's T-shirt, and begins to rebind the wound.
She shrugs. "Some potato farm in the Ukraine, I think. If Justin's anything like he used to be he'll be back in less than a day, provided the three of them don't kill each other." She finishes tying off the bandage. "There. Now, we need to talk about what happened." She looks at Rourke. "I know you want to play the strong protector right now but he's perfectly capable of walking and I think we should go."
Grudgingly, Rourke sets me down, and while I'm not really steady, I'm able to walk as long as I lean on him. He doesn't seem to mind. The three of us make our way back to the path, and then start back to the main gate.
"So, you wanted to talk, Shiko?"
"That was by far the sloppiest work I've seen in years. You had no contingencies, you let yourself get captured, it was blind stupid luck that the Fire card went off when it did. You had me dispose of two idiot Coyotes so you could face a former sorcerer alone." She gives me a haughty glare. "And song lyrics? Obscure ones at that? It amazes me that you survived. This is precisely why your clan will never win the Feud, and how the Coyotes ever accomplished an Emerald in the Snow will baffle me until I draw my final breath."
I shrug slightly. "We still won?"
Shiko growls softly.
Rourke chuckles. "I think that's her biggest issue, Spencer."
We continue on in silence for a bit longer, the car coming into view. Still though, I can't let this go.
"Shiko, we still defeated Selah, that's something to brag about."
She steps in front of us, and chuckles in surprise. "You believe I would boast about this? One aspect I'm sworn to secrecy on, the rest can be attributed to the pity of the Shichifukujin, not good planning, certainly not good execution, and definitely not the quotation of song lyrics." Shiko takes a breath, and rubs her face slowly. "Just… Do me a favor and never mention my involvement in this."
I shrug. "Sure. That's one."
Shiko blinks at me. "One what?"
"One favor." I then reach into my jacket pocket, and remove the silk handkerchief, showing it to her. "We agreed. 'I hereby owe Shiko three favors.' That's one."
Rourke laughs, but tones it down enough to speak. "You did ask him to do you a favor, Fox."
Shiko grumbles, but I see a hint of her natural smile in there, anger in her eyes masking a bit of respect. She exits to the gate, and moves around Rourke's Range Rover. At first, I'm thinking she's offering to drive, but instead as Rourke and I draw closer, we find another car parked behind it.
Specifically, a 1967 Corvette.
I stare at it. "Where the Hell did that come from?"
Grinning widely, Shiko gets into the 'Vette. "I had Kazuhiro-kun bring it over. Unless you're asking where I got it, in which case the answer is: some dumbass Coyote who's not allowed to press charges now."
'67 Vette, gets all the girls wet, and that mister sister fucking drove off in it.
I blink. "You're a guy?"
She, or uh, he grins even wider. "Never figured it out?"
"So uh, do you identify as feminine then?" Shiko gives me a head tilt, and I elaborate. "One of my teachers is trans, she hasn't had the operation yet but we were asked to refer to her as a her, so…" I look Shiko over again. "Well, I'll stick with thinking of you as a 'her', you certainly put a lot of effort into it, so…"
"You're not shocked?"
"A little, but takes all kinds to make a world, right? Hell, you're looking at a bisexual half-Coyote small-time grifter, and in the last week I've stolen, committed fraud and assault, and nearly killed someone, who the Hell am I to pass judgment?" I lean against the car so Rourke can get the door for me. "But if you'll excuse me, I think I need additional medical attention."
She starts up her car, the engine roaring, and she calls over to me. "You still owe me, Spencer Crain."
"Yep. Two favors, Shiko-kun!"
She returns a glare, but it's cracked by her natural smile, and she shakes her head gently before putting the 'Vette in gear. "Damn Coyotes."
Shiko drives off seconds later, and Rourke helps me into the Rover, taking care when buckling me in. Once he's in the driver's seat, he looks over to me. "Are you still working for me this summer at the lot?"
"You're asking me this now?" He just keeps looking at me, waiting. "Fine, sure. You can show me how to sell a car before you try your hand at academia."
"Good." He starts the car, and pulls back onto the road, and we start back into the City.
"Any reason why you asked?"
"Indeed." He gives me his easy smile. "I make sure all of my employees have excellent medical coverage."


To be concluded on December 31st!


And that's it. I'm going to bed. :)

From Twitter 12-14-2010

11:28:29: So glad it's laundry day. I wouldn't want anyone to see me dressed in these clothes.

Tweets copied by twittinesis.com

From Twitter 12-12-2010

14:17:06: It's so weird to not be working on a project right now. I need a little time off, but still, I feel guilty for not writing.

Tweets copied by twittinesis.com

From Twitter 12-11-2010

10:56:21: @editorannescott Season 2 is where Chuck really gets its legs, and yes, Devon is indeed Awesome. :)

Tweets copied by twittinesis.com

From Twitter 12-10-2010

01:02:53: The King's Confidante - Part 30 http://j.mp/ge8SeU
11:17:46: RT @dave_demar: Free Fiction Friday: Silvanus & Empire Chapters 3 & 4 http://j.mp/eryRQf

Tweets copied by twittinesis.com

From Twitter 12-09-2010

16:28:23: Woot! House of Stone wins an Honorable Mention for 2010 Rainbow Awards: Best Gay Paranormal / Horror http://t.co/LzMRxh7

Tweets copied by twittinesis.com

Free Fiction Friday: The King's Confidante - Part 30

x-posted to freeficfriday

Welcome back to Free Fiction Friday!

This week's chapter is above average length, coming in at 3800 words, and I've completed the first draft of Spence's story, the rest of the chapters will be posted as I empty out the buffer. :)

The archive for the freeficfriday community is up to date, so if you've been looking for where you can read all of the FFF material from all of the participating authors in one place, you're set. :)

Everything's tagged according to author, title, and genre for easier reading, but if you prefer to stick with Spence on my blog, just click the "free fiction fridays" tag if you need to catch up.

This week's posting roster consists of: Vaughn R. Demont vaughn_r_demont and David M. Demar david_m_demar , with I.D. Locke posting later this weekend.

Interested in joining the Free Fictioneers? We have weekly and bi-weekly slots open for interested authors. For more information, please send any inquiries to the moderators vaughn_r_demont and/or id_locke

Anyway, without further ado, please enjoy this week's chapter of "The King's Confidante". :)




Right before a con, I usually run through the worst case scenarios, or the consequences of them, at least. Bank said it's a good way to keep from getting too greedy, but I haven't quite mastered that trick yet, hence why I've spent a few nights in jail (not prison, jail, there's a huge difference). Thing is, if this one goes south, I'm not going to the local lockup, I'm going to die.
Yeah, sure. There clearly wasn't enough pressure.
"Is he going to keep staring off into space like that?"
I'm vaguely aware of motion, I kind of remember getting into an SUV shortly after exiting the taxi. I can still taste her lips on mine, hear her words in my ear.
"You believe I would know?"
I'm pretty sure I told them where Mom was, and I remember being asked why I bothered to hail a cab when there were two cars in the parking garage. I don't think they get Fate.
"I would think so, considering even a Dog could smell the, ah, rapport you two have developed? Especially in this car."
Rourke sounds unimpressed. "You can smell our rapport, you say?"
"Why else would I be sitting in the front seat? I just bought this skirt." Shiko leans over, looking between the front seats, back at me. "You still with us?"
I blink a couple times, coming out of it. "Sorry, just uh, processing." I roll my shoulders and rest my head against the seat. "Let's run through this one more time?"
"For our benefit?" Shiko smirks. "Or yours?" When she sees me give her a look she sighs and continues. "I take up position at one of the spots I scouted earlier today." She then hands me a deck of cards. "Aces and the joker are marked, I only had time to do five, matched up according to the elements."
"You mean four."
"No, five." She looks at me incredulously. "Tsuchi, Hi, Kaze, Mizu, Sora?" Shiko covers her face with her palm. "Right, you're American. Fine. Earth, Fire, Wind, Water, and… Well, save Sora for an emergency. I'm going to have to be able to hear you, so remember to project and use a bit of theatrics so I'll know when to trigger the cards and which one you want. Mizu going off while it's still in your pants is just embarrassing. Hi… Well…" She looks to Rourke. "If that one goes off by accident I hope his mouth is adequate."
He doesn't miss a beat, doesn't take his eyes off the road. "He needs practice, but I have faith he'd become proficient."
I lean forward between the seats now. "Wait, by accident? These things might just go off at random? And how do I know which is which?"
"I told you, they're matched up according to element." So matter-of-fact.
"You just want me to admit I have no idea what you're talking about, don't you?"
She pouts slightly. "Not if you're going to take all the fun out it. Don't you read at all?"
"Shiko." I pat my jacket pocket gently, and with an exasperated sigh, she nods.
"Spades are Air, Clubs are Fire, Diamonds are Earth, Hearts are Water, and the Joker is Sora. And they won't go off at random, I do know what I'm doing. I'm saying you should be very clear about which ace you're using." She glances to Rourke. "Now that he's paying attention, want to run through your bit again?"
Rourke reaches between the seats and tousles my hair, making it more disheveled and hanging over my ears, which I usually can't stand because it tickles like that. "Better. Now they won't see the headset. It's in the bag under your seat." As I retrieve the bag, which contains, as I guessed earlier, a cell phone and a Bluetooth headset, Rourke continues his part of the plan. "Keep the phone out of sight, and say everything I tell you, exactly as I tell you. And make sure it's in Lorus."
"Rourke, I still have no idea how this Bard thing works, so I guess we'll just have to hope for the best on that. You're getting Thornton, right?"
He nods gently. "I will try my best, Spencer. Remember to not use her name. Say it, even in English, and she will know you're not Ra'keth."
"Uh…" I wince. "We might be screwed already, then. I said it to her not long after I learned it, it's why I stopped being so moon-eyed over her."
"Ah, but that was before you 'came into your power as a Ra'keth', yes? Sorcerers are born, not made, yes, but most of them never awaken to their magic until later in life. Often they're limited to being ignorant their whole lives, or worse mere usurpers to the throne who only bring bloodshed wherever they go."
"I hate to be the one to bring this up, but…" Shiko looks between us. "There's a very real possibility of bloodshed wherever we go. If this falls apart, I need to know if I'm fighting or running." She then looks at me. "Because fighting will require a deeper commitment."
"Will it? I would think your honor would demand it."
Shiko glares at me a moment. "You had best not be mocking me, Coyote."
"Far from it. Justin Crain asked you to kill me, didn't he? And didn't he tell you that you wouldn't be violating the Feud by doing so? Well that was a big fat lie, wasn't it? So think about it, he tried to trick you into breaking the rules of the Feud, which would be a humiliation for the Kitsune, and make you look very bad and—"
"And even though I saw through it from the start, the fact that he would even think me foolish enough to fall for it…" The natural smile graces her face again. "I do have to keep an eye on you, Spencer Crain. All right, but I'm not killing him, my honor doesn't demand that much. Besides, I'd much rather he live with his embarrassment. Still, though, the mark will likely not succumb to physical combat."
I nod once. "I've got that covered." I shrug as they both glance at me in disbelief. "What? I'm a Coyote, I'm on the job, Fate loves my ass right now and as long as I stick to her plan she'll provide. What's wrong with trusting my clan's pièce de résistance?" I look to Rourke. "Did I use that term right?"
Rourke reaches to gently pat my face, his tone warm. "Indeed, my chevalier d'Industrie." I blink at the term, and Shiko rolls her eyes at me.
"Its someone who lives by their wits alone. A swindler."
I cock an eyebrow. "You know French?"
She smiles cryptically. "I know enough."
I look outside and see that the sun's going down, which I'm able to see because we've apparently left the City during my spacing out. My stomach starts to jump and flutter and twist, because this is a Big Con, and I don't do those. Rourke and Shiko do, more than likely, but I'm the pointman. I'm the face. I set the hook in the mark and reel her in. I've got my convincers in my pocket, I won't need stalls. It's a good plan, I have to tell myself that, there's enough room to improvise and I'm playing to everyone's strengths.
Shiko points off toward a small stretch of dirt that serves as a parking lot for Sunset Grove. "Kill the lights, and pull over right up here." After Rourke does so, she gets out of the car, and looks to the two of us. "All right, wait three minutes for me to get set."
"Showtime, huh?" I let slip a lot more anxiety than I intended.
"Just stick to the plan, Spencer, no improvising." I see her natural smile again. "And if you make me look bad, Coyote, your constant humiliation will become one of my personal hobbies. Do we understand each other?" I only have time to nod once before she vanishes into the night, and I hear Rourke shut off the engine.
"Three minutes, then." He motions to the front seat, and I climb into it. His hand is squeezing mine a couple of seconds after I'm situated. "I'm taking a risk, coming here."
"I'd imagine the mark won't be too happy to see you out and about, yeah." I look down at his hand, and squeeze it back. "I'm really glad you're here, even after everything I've dragged you into."
"Well, whether you intended it or not, you played to matters of honor. This involves my son, an attack on my chosen consort, and…" His eyes are on me exclusively now. "Perhaps I'd grown too complacent, too settled. I've had more excitement in the last few days than I have in the previous… Well, a while. Whether you meant to or not, you've helped me remember that my throne is more than just a title. You've gotten me itching to dip back into the Feud, match my tricks against the other clans." He laughs softly. "I suppose it's only appropriate a Coyote roused me from my stupor."
"You are aware if we pull this off and escape with our lives, then we'll both have pulled a Hell of a trick on a former Ra'keth." I can already feel my body responding merely to the possibility.
Rourke treats me to his easy smile. "Why do you think I brought the Rover?"
"Rourke?"
He leans closer to me. "Yes, Spencer?"
I drift closer to him. "Does this ever calm down? The libido?"
"If you were a Phouk, I'd tell you it becomes manageable in a few decades. Granted, if you were a Phouk, we wouldn't be sleeping together." His lips brush against mine. "Now let me properly kiss you for good luck."
"One condition." He arches a brow, but I give a lecher's grin. "If we win, well, there's something I really want to do. You won't have to give up anything, no secrets, no stories, no one gets hurt, you have my word, but I'm aching to do this one thing, and I'd really like to do it with you. But if I tell you what it is, you'll just say no. I think you might like it though, so…"
"And you feel massaging my cock through my jeans will help your case?" I glance down, not even realizing I'd been doing that, but there's my hand, rubbing and tenderly squeezing the bulge in his crotch. "I'll reserve judgment until the time comes." His eyes dart to the clock in the dashboard. "Now let go, it's been four minutes, and the Fox is likely wondering what's keeping us."
I do so, with a little reluctance, but once he kisses me soon afterward my eyes close and for a moment I forget what I'm supposed to be doing. Even when he breaks the kiss I remain there, eyes still shut, vaguely kissing the air until I hear his door close and realize that I'm alone in the car, and Rourke's nowhere in sight. Sneaky, but let's face it, it was probably necessary. I'm just thankful I don't get off on being tricked, otherwise Shiko would have even more evidence of Rourke and I's, uh, rapport as she put it.
Okay, let's do this.
"Please God, don't let there be any zombies." I exit the car and follow the main path through the wrought iron gate which, of course, creaks and squeaks. "Shit, I'm the funny guy, and I'm half-human which would definitely make me part of a minority group, I've had more than my share of sexual contact in the last twenty-four hours, and I'm walking alone through a cemetery, at night, during a full moon."
Almost on cue, I hear the bloodcurdling scream of a screech owl, and I'm not proud to admit that I discover that I apparently have a twenty inch vertical and can hit falsetto with zero difficulty.
It takes me a few seconds to catch my breath and shame myself back into work-mode. "Nice, Spence. Way to establish that you're an almighty and fearless Ra'keth. You might as well just put on a bleach blonde wig and stiletto heels so you can twist your ankle and get it over with." I sigh audibly. "Christ, I am so going to die."
I stop for a second, take a deep breath, and then continue along the path.
And then a leprous hand of the undead shoots out of the earth behind me and proceeds to grab my ass, which shocks me not only for its suddenness, and its undeniable proof that the zombie apocalypse is imminent, but also that it apparently Rourke has been taken by the undead legion and that I'm his first appetizer.
That, or uh, my cell phone vibrated and the headset immediately picked up the call.
Regardless, Rourke is treated to a heaping helping of my panicked shrieks.
Once again, I collect myself. "Damn it, I've just lost all of my credibility as a hero, haven't I?"
"Every hero needs flaws, but I wouldn't lead with them, but if you ever want to trick someone into thinking you're a wee girl who found spiders in her hair you'll be quite convincing."
"I don't know if I can do this, I'm not used to being the face. I've only worked on a big con a couple times, and I was the guy who delayed the mark for a couple seconds so the grifters could get set." I start walking forward again, though, despite my misconceptions, considering that Thornton's life is hanging in the balance, and the curtain's up and there's no way to shut it down without letting Shiko know.
"I'd start by not responding to me, otherwise anyone watching you might suspect something's off. And now is hardly the time for this, Spencer. You are to act like a Ra'keth, as you did when you tricked your father." A few seconds pass and I start reply, but stop myself. "If it helps, Spencer, I believe you can do this."
It does.
Okay, if I walk any slower I'm going to lose any resolve I might have, and I don't have time to risk here.
"Hey!" I walk a little faster along the path, my voice carrying. "I'm not in the mood to stumble around in the dark so how about you show yourself so we can finish this? Not that I'm in any hurry to see an ugly bitch."
I drop my voice to a small whisper. "To all the women of the world, I apologize for what I'm about to do."
Rourke speaks up in my ear. "What are you doing?"
"Rattling her. Anyone who'd force a whole clan to think she's pretty must have serious self-esteem issues." I speak up louder again. "Hell, if the Silver Lady went to a strip joint I'd toss her three Jacksons to put her clothes back on! She's so ugly the Elephant Man paid fifty cents to see her! That bitch is so ugly if I took her to the zoo they'd thank me for bringing her back! She's so ugly if I took her to a haunted house she'd come out with a paycheck! She's so ugly her true name is 'Damn!' Don't even ask me how fat she is!"
Rourke sounds a bit concerned. "Spencer, tone it back, she's heading your way. Shiko won't be able to see or hear you unless you get closer."
I take the hint and run along the path, the dark silhouettes of gravestones passing through my peripheral vision. See, Spence? No zombies, and even if there were, your brains are hardly nom-worthy unless the undead are into Scrabble.
"What's taking you so long, huh? Winded already? I can feel you coming, lady. Hell, New Zealand can probably feel you coming. You're so fat when you go jogging you can make an iPod skip. You're so fat if you jumped for joy you'd get stuck. You're so fat if you stepped on a scale it'd say 'Fuck this, I quit!' You're so fat your blood type is Ragu—"
There's a few seconds of black, and when my eyes open the back of my head really fucking hurts. I'm lashed with itchy rope to something cold and hard, the urn next to my head, on my right, opened. The full moon is far above me, shining down. There are eyes on me, I can feel that. I guess they won't be falling for the same trick twice. The headset is also gone from my ear, so Rourke won't be feeding me words, and the cards are still on my pocket, so trying to signal Shiko to trigger them would only end badly.
"Damn it, I forgot about the Simple Plan trope." Ugh, I sound groggy. And drunk. "This is what I get for being genre savvy."
I try to look around, but with the severity of the bindings I don't see all that much, but what I do see isn't good.
The Silver Lady stands off in the shadows, nude, her skin now an alabaster white in stark contrast to her ebon hair, which discreetly covers her breasts. I'd question the point of that seeing as I can still see her goodies, but now doesn't seem the time.
Mostly because right now I'm trying not to scream and whine and beg for mercy. It won't be manly at all, you'd lose any respect had left for me.
"A pity Ra'keth are so weak in this world." She walks toward me, her words honeyed, seductive, but her eyes are two black orbs, and when she smiles at me I see needle teeth. If I went bound so tightly I'd shudder in revulsion. Her fingers trail along my face. "No matter, you'll still serve a purpose."
"You're going to kill me, aren't you?"
She laughs, musically, but ugh, those teeth, and God only knows what the greenish shit dripping off them is but I don't want any of it getting on me. "I could never kill you, Spencer. I told the truth in that."
"So Dad's killing me? He already tried, you know. I had to put down his assassin. Pity too, she was way hotter than—"
Her hand grips my jaw tightly, shoots of pain wrapping through my skull. "He tried what?" She doesn't let me answer, not that I could without sounding ridiculous. "Is this true, Justin?" Her eyes dart behind my head.
I don't hear an answer, but the look on her face implies he responded in the affirmative. I think for a second, she really shows her true face, not just to me. When she returns her gaze to me, she quickly adopts a beatific smile. "It appears you are just full of surprises, aren't you?"
"You've got me, okay? Obviously you're going to use me instead of Thornton, so let him go."
And she laughs, and it's a terrifying one, because I can read the context. It's the laugh the evil genius uses when the hero still hasn't quite figured it out yet, even when it's staring him in the face.
Thornton comes into my view, smirking, his eyes steady, but amused. "God damn, little brother, you are easy." The Silver Lady slips her arm around him, and they share a long deep kiss. Once they break, Thornton looks back down at me. "Y'know, Dad didn't think you'd really come here, but he actually bought that line of bullshit about you being a Ra'keth." He rolls his eyes. "If that's true, then I just pulled an Emerald in the Snow, and that fucking deadbeat Father Coyote hasn't appeared to congratulate me and tell me what I've won."
"Thornton, no, she's fucking with your head, man! Her name is—"
"Selah?" He smiles knowingly. "Yeah, I know. She told me the story herself, and I know every word, being a Bard and all." He chuckles darkly. "C'mon, little brother, do you really think you were the first time she tried this?"
Selah slips around toward the urn, and dips her fingers inside while he continues. "You see, I know that little story too, the one that Dog you're fucking told you. Only Selah told me." He taps his head lightly. "Every word of it. And it turns out that to pull off the resurrection, you need someone connected to the deceased, like a mother, or father, or someone intimately familiar with their story, from their life to their name. Someone like a Bard." He tics his head backward. "First try, well, didn't go so well. They got a violent idiot. After that, they got me, and I'm perfect for the job. Only problem is that the ashes are kinda needed too and the Foxes would see me coming from a mile away. So, they try again, and get a half-blood."
"How can you do this? I'm your brother!" I keep my eyes on Selah, who drags some of the ashes across my forehead, chanting in a language that makes my ears hurt.
"It's you or me, Spence, and it sure as fuck ain't gonna be me." His smile is a bit weaker. "Sorry it had to turn out like this, but I'm not dying for you, little brother. I appreciate you going through so much for me though. Always nice to know someone cares."
So I spit in his face. What the Hell else can I do? Wait…
"May you always—"
His hand covers my mouth. "Uh uh. None of that." Selah moves away while he leans down toward my ears. "I knew you'd bring your boyfriend too, and trust me, you don't want to know what's going to happen to him if you start shit." Oh fuck, they got Rourke. "You ever seen what cold iron does to a Fae? It ain't pretty, little brother, and you won't have to hear it if you just do what you're told. You going to be quiet?"
I know he can see the rage in my eyes, but I nod once, and he removes his hand. I spit on it. "Fuck you."
Thornton shakes it off his hand with a sigh. "I deserve that, yeah, but you know nothing would change if our places were switched."
"Really? Let's test that. Hop on the slab, I'll smear some dead guy on your forehead and we'll see if anything changes."
"Well, I'd love to keep this banter up, but it's just about time to do this thing, so you sit tight while I get the knife, and then we can get to sacrificing you, okay?" He vanishes from my sight, my ears still stinging as Selah continues her chanting, the skin she'd painted with the ashes starting to tingle and burn.
Christ, this went straight south, didn't it? No other options but wait and die.
Fuck, I hate waiting.

To be continued next Friday!


And that's it. I'm going to bed. :)