Vaughn R. Demont's Blog, page 33
October 9, 2010
From Twitter 10-08-2010
11:19:39: The King's Confidante - Part 22 http://t.co/qRvq42u
18:02:07: RT @reech_me: > http://amzn.to/af4BB0 < Yes, it's a gay fairy (!) ebook, but it's a damn good one, and supports a talented young w ...
18:02:44: @RachaelWashin It's a little difficult at first, but trust me, it gets a lot easier. :)
18:35:33: @RachaelWashin It's like exercise, you know? So yeah, if you stick to it, it will get easier. :)
Tweets copied by twittinesis.com
October 8, 2010
From Twitter 10-07-2010
10:20:32: Almost to 70,000, but I don't really want to pad the chapter to hit the mark. #kingsconfidante
12:13:57: And the 70,000 word barrier has fallen! Woot! :)
Tweets copied by twittinesis.com
October 7, 2010
Free Fiction Friday: The King's Confidante - Part 22
x-posted to
![[info]](https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/hostedimages/1380438191i/890855.gif)
freeficfriday
Welcome back to Free Fiction Friday!
This week's chapter is above average length, coming in at 4000 words, and Spence has hit a new milestone, having crossed the 70k mark.
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:![[info]](https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/hostedimages/1380438177i/889613.gif)
vaughn_r_demont
,
cassandra_gold
and
id_locke
. Also, the Free Fictioneers would like to welcome a new member, Elana Hawk (
elanahawk
), who will start posting her fiction next Friday. Please make sure to check her out! :)
Interested in joining the Free Fictioneers? We have weekly and bi-weekly slots open for interested authors. 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". :)
I believe I've mentioned before that I have never stolen a car, nor been party to grand theft auto, simply because of my personal problems with the crime. I have, however, driven without a license (well, a real one, that is), committed at least eighteen moving violations, and have taken four joyrides (though in each instance I brought the car back within half an hour and the owners were pricks who had it coming for egregious offenses against my person, like not taking a math assignment just because it was four days late). As a result, I know how to drive, and in the case of my English teacher's Buick, I learned what "egregious" means.
Still, there's a difference between driving a Buick from the previous decade and driving a Lexus that's only four months old. Probably about fifty grand's difference, so it's difficult for me to drive as fast as I should be going.
"So, obviously you need my help." Shiko is dressed in a cocktail dress, strapless, snazzy, and really bringing out her hair. I picked her up as she was heading into a rather nice restaurant in Destry Bay. "How did you know where I was?"
I playfully shrug, forcing my eyes to look at hers instead of her cleavage before turning my attention back to the road. "I said that you were the last person I needed to see in the world, out loud. Don't you watch TV?"
She rolls her eyes. "Someday we'll figure out your luck, Coyote."
"Any reason you're dressed as arm candy?"
She practically glares at me. "I do not look like a heroin addict."
"No, no, arm—Don't you ever watch those red carpet event shows? High society stuff?" When I look at her, I'm getting a 'sweet god, how gay are you?' look. "What? Sometimes nothing's on. And the people tend to be hot." I sigh. "But anyway, yes, I need your help."
"In the beginning this was a bit of a coup, a Coyote asking a Kitsune for help makes your clan look bad, not mine, but if you keep asking for help and I keep giving it to you…"
Then her side looks like they're just around to help us, making them, and her look bad.
"What if I said it's bigger than the Feud?"
"You're not a Phouka, Spencer, so there's no guarantee I can trust anything you say." She smirks. "Besides, for our kind, not many things take precedence over the Feud."
"What if I said a crazy wannabe moon-goddess was masterminding an evil plot to raise her son from the dead?"
She covers her mouth politely while she giggles.
"And what if I said that dead son was a Ra'keth?"
That shut her up.
"You have my attention. Make sure it's not wasted." Her eyes are serious, and the casual way in which she draped herself over the leather seat is gone.
"I heard a story that your clan once stole names from the Sorcerer Kings. Is it true?" A soft growl is my reply, but I pull over the car. "I don't want you to show me how to do whatever that taught you, I just need to know if it's true." I try an easy smile. "What, don't you want to lord your clan's advantage over me? I heard you guys can…" I lower my voice. "I heard you know magic."
A few seconds pass, her eyes hard, but I can see the wheels turning in there. "Why do you ask?" Might as well be a yes.
I lean closer to her, and feel the corners of my mouth lift. "How would you like to trick a sorceress? Well, not really a sorceress, not like an Emerald in the Snow, more like a Cubic Zirconia in the Frost."
"I'm listening."
"If we pull this off, she won't raise her son, she'll be powerless, and not only do you get to take some credit for stopping it, Justin Crain will have to admit you saved his life."
Her hand gently brushes my face, and she smiles warmly. "That is a very tempting offer, but if you believe I'll help a Coyote with Coyote problems just to show up a rival, you're mistaken."
Shit. "Even if a Ra'keth returns?"
"There's already a few out there, and they tend to take care of their own. He'll probably be so preoccupied with culture shock he'd make an excellent mark. Why prevent an opportunity for my clan to achieve another Emerald in the Snow? Even though we did it long before any of the other clans, no clan has ever done it twice."
"Fine, what do you want?" I place a finger on her vulpine mouth before she speaks. "You aren't getting any of the stories I've been told."
"What makes you think I want anything?"
"Because you figure you can shake me down for plenty. I know you want to help, how often does the opportunity come along to trick the Silver Lady, and prevent a Ra'keth from being raised?" I bite my lower lip a second. "That is a bad thing, right? And uh, he won't be a zombie, will he?"
With a soft snort, she opens up her purse, a tiny little thing, a clutch I think it's called, and removes a silk handkerchief. She proceeds to then take out a pen, and scribe some characters that look Japanese on the white silk, and then hands it to me, along with the pen. "Sign here, and we'll talk."
"What is this?"
"Essentially? 'I hereby owe Shiko three favors.' I told you this is Coyote business, and as embarrassing as it might be for a Coyote to need the help of a Kitsune, it is humiliating for a Coyote to acknowledge that he owes his success to a Kitsune. Even more so if he willingly agreed to favors."
"You want me to just sign that? I don't even know what you can do, even you can even hold up your end." She places the handkerchief on the dashboard, letting the pen rest atop it. Shortly afterward, she gets out of the car, and starts walking down the street, in the direction of Grunstadt.
After a few seconds I exit, and follow after her. "Shiko!"
She slows, hugging her arms to her chest, glancing over her shoulder at me.
"You must be cold." I drape my jacket over her shoulders, Mom raised me right in those regards, at least.
"Thank you." She looks somewhat to the side, demurely.
"There's always going to be a Feud, isn't there? I mean, I think you're a pretty cool lady, but it'll always be like this between us, won't it?" I stuff my hands in my pockets, out of the night air, cast my eyes down and away.
She leans her head into my view. "You were hoping for something more?" A gentle smirk from her. "And here I thought your heart belonged to the Dogs, or at least other part of you." Her mouth is then against mine, her tongue smooth, delicate, gentle against my own. I'll admit I close my eyes, lean into it, let my hands slip around her waist to pull her closer to me. There aren't any moans, it's more like the third act kiss you see in a movie, where the orchestra or pop song du jour suddenly swells in the background. It's nice, the kind of kiss you wish you could come home to.
"Shiko?" I hold her close to me, sharing warmth in the cool late Spring night. "You're right. I do want something more."
Her eyes meet mine, God, like an autumn night with two shining stars. "Yes, Spencer?"Her voice is soft, sweet.
"I just don't think I can go on without…" I kiss her again, embracing her close, and pull back for a second. "My wallet."
She smiles again, but it's natural, and I mean I get the feeling that I'm seeing her really smile, the one she saves when no one's around. I feel the ever so slight pressure of her hand brushing against my pocket, and she steps back from me. "I'll have to keep an eye on you, Spencer Crain."
"And I'll have to watch out for you, Shiko… What is your last name anyway?"
She covers her mouth again, giggling, the front already back up before she nods politely. "I'll stop dealing on the Ace of Clubs? An odd code, but there's no puzzle a Coyote can imagine a Fox can't figure out first."
Oh, shit, I forgot I left that little card in there from the trick I showed Miss Scott, but hey, if she wants to burn time on it, she can go ahead. Besides, I'm just happy that I've got my wallet back and that I'm not grinning like a moron.
She walks away, into the night, and I guess I have to close out that part of my idea. Nothing much left to do but move on to the endgame.
I return to the car and remember that my jacket is still on Shiko, who has now vanished from sight. I shake my head gently, muttering as I get into the car. "Damn Foxes."
Of course, by now it's getting more than a little late, so I call Rourke from his car phone to let him know I'm heading back, and that I'll need a ride home, and then it's another drive out to Grunstadt.
"Going to let me in on the trick?"
I wish I could say I respond coolly, but I almost swerve into oncoming traffic and shriek like a little girl as Father Coyote appears in the passenger seat.
"Holy shit, what the fuck is wrong with you?" My knuckles go white on the steering wheel. "Jesus, you can't just… Just… How the Hell did you do that, anyway?"
"My grandson is driving the King of the Phouka's Lexus. I'm intrigued. As for how I did it, must I reiterate that I'm a god? Still though…" He tchs softly, glancing out the window. "Fucking Dogs, stealing kisses from Foxes, are you sure you want out? Seems like you're working the Feud well enough on your own." I then feel his eyes on me. I try to keep my mind off the fact that my eyes are his as well. "So what's the trick?"
"It's not a trick." I am telling the truth, you know, because recent events have insured a trick just isn't possible now. "I'm going to have to go all the way here, okay?" I flick my gaze over at him a second. "Is it true, what she said? That I was made for a specific purpose?"
"Why do you think I didn't approve? As much as I love Sel, I wish she'd stop screwing with my boys. My family is not a eugenics program."
"She's done this before? There've been others… like me?"
"No, no, but she still tricks the lot of you plenty." He grumbles softly, muttering under his breath.
"What?"
"I said I'll be paying for that one night for the rest of eternity, it seems." He grins, but it's fake. God, it's fake.
"You stole her from Rourke." I sigh, and pull over the car. "Dad was telling me that the best way to get back at a Dog or Fox was to steal their girlfriend. That's twice you guys have done that to him."
"And you aren't doing the same?" His fake smile has receded into a knowing smirk. "You're using him, stringing him along to get what you want because you don't have the balls to just tell him you don't love him." Coyote shrugs once. "But hey, if you want to prank the King of the Phouka, it'll carry you far in the Feud… Oh right, you want out." He leans close to me. "So I guess you're just a prick, or a bitch. So don't you judge me, pup. I stole her from him because Fate didn't want them squeezing out any more damned Ra'keth."
"I'm just trying to figure out how to tell him."
He chuckles, and it does not, unlike before, put me at ease. "No, you're trying to trick your way into either getting out of it without him hating you, or trick yourself into thinking you can make it work. It doesn't happen like that, kid. Ask your father about that."
"Or you." When I look at him he's glaring at me, and I shrug. "Please, we all learn this shit from our parents, don't you watch TV? That how it happened with you and her? You snatch her from Rourke and try to make it work?"
"Look at me, kid, I look like the type to settle down?" He motions to himself, his clothes, that easy smile that's his, Dad's, and God, probably mine too.
"No, you don't. So who was the girl or guy you cheated with? Must've been someone to risk pissing off a sorceress." I switch off the engine and turn in the seat toward him. "C'mon, I've got a knack for people telling me stories, it seems, so out with it. I want to know how she went from a Ra'keth to what she is today. I want to know why all of us lose our minds whenever we see her. Tell me the story of How Coyote Loved and Lost."
"It was a trick, that was all."
I want to tell him that this is a Hell of a lot more than a trick, but he reaches into his pocket and removes a pack of cigarettes, and lights one. Great, my grandfather has a penchant for the dramatic. "This used to be our land, you know, before we all had to change, before all of them…" He motions dismissively out the window at the passing pedestrians. The passing humans. "Before they changed us. Sure, I know the stories, I was clever in some and an idiot in others, but damn it, those people learned something from me. And now what? Now people hear my name and think of what, a cartoon? Some scavenger nosing through their garbage? But back then, oh, back then…" He takes a pull off his cigarette. "Me, Raven, Fox, Bear, Deer, all of them, we meant something. And then the gods from other places started showing up. Nipponese, Olympians, Loas, Celts… It wasn't a war, not really, we just got smaller. Get smaller every time the world ends."
I just let him talk, smoke, whatever he wants.
"Sel and I, this was worlds ago, you understand, she knew what I was, she'd heard the stories about how I tricked men and gods and mountains and the moon, and just as many about me falling on my ass, it was part of the appeal, you know? I was a little more dangerous than the Dog, it didn't take much to sway her, I can be damned sweet when I need to be. She was… willful. Ra'keth can be that when they need to be, too. Sel was a challenge, that was the allure, you know?"
"And that's why it ended? No more challenge?"
Coyote takes another drag, and then stubs out the cig in the ashtray. "She knew full well going in what I was, there are countless stories about me running off with brides and a few secret ones about me running off with grooms. And there was… One of the Olympians had a very pretty wife." He then grits his teeth, crackles his knuckles, his face a mix of emotions until he looks at me, knowing in his eyes. "Damn it, you are a bard."
I just shrug, but he smiles, nothing sinister, there's almost pride there.
"I'm no fool, pup. Well, I am, but my family's the best kind, and Fate does right by us, but you get what I'm saying. The Dog told you his story, didn't he? That's what bards do, get stories and tell them, no matter who's they are, no matter how well-guarded they are. You learned the Phouka's Emerald in the Snow, didn't you?"
I swallow hard, because if the saying's true that you can't bullshit a bullshitter, then I don't want to know the difficulty involved with the self-proclaimed god of bullshitters. "I swore I wouldn't tell. I didn't even know I'd learn how to—"
"Shh." He holds up a hand. "Tricked a Fox and a Dog and you learned a damned Emerald in the Snow." A bit of mirth returns to his eyes. "You boys just love to prove me wrong."
"So who was the girl? The god's wife? What happened there?" I try to get back on topic and away from possibly having to compromise my promise to Rourke. I don't think there's any mystical bond keeping those words safe, just the weight of my word, and I want that to mean something, you know?
"Finest looking woman I'd ever seen, legs here to there, pure and dangerous all at the same time, anything you needed her to be, anything she wanted to be, that was her. Should've done my research a little better, but…" He's sigh, but with the edge of a smile. "I'm a fool, not a human, and my path doesn't change. I figured I'd make this all-powerful forest god rethink his coming to our land by seducing his wife. Didn't take."
"She rejected you?" I wince slightly.
"Oh no, she went for it, was an amazing night, but it turns out her husband was a god of lust and virility as well." He smirks at me. "Difficult to make a husband angry about some guy fucking his wife if said husband is fucking the guy at the same time. After a while it was like I wasn't even there, but at least my boys are welcome at his nightclub."
I blink. "The Palace of Wisdom?"
"Got it in one."
"But I take it that Sel—" He covers my mouth.
"Don't say it. But yeah, she wasn't as understanding or open-minded. So, she swore revenge on me, and all of my boys have had to pay for it."
"That's why when she's around we only have eyes for her?" He nods once, and I remember something that Thornton said back at the Palace when he first mentioned the Silver Lady. "So that's why we all have relationship issues?"
He grins. "Oh no, you don't get to put that on me. Not all of it, but sometimes… I told you she's not really a god, not really a sorcerer, right?" I nod once in reply, and he fishes out another cigarette to light. "So she's not immortal, not really, not the way that I am, or the way a lot of those mythics are, or the other clans. She had to find a way to supplement her life, her youth, and if it pisses me off, all the better." He lights his cig and takes a long pull. "I should be pissed about it, at least, at the very least she's messing with Fate, and Fate is one lady you never want to mess with, kid, trust me."
"You're not making any sense." I turn the car back on so I can crack a window to let some of the smoke out. To his credit, he blow his smoke out the small gap.
"You remember meeting a were at the Palace? Tiger? French-Canadian?" He shrugs off my look of confusion, because I don't really remember anything like that. "You probably got his number, which Sel took."
"Okay, so she goes off and hooks up with guys who are interested in us to get back at you for cheating on her?" I arch a brow. "That's her grand plan for vengeance?"
"No, kid, she devours everything you might've had with that guy, or girl, or combinations or whatever, anything that might've made you happy, anything that had a shot, she consumes that." I still look confused, so he continues. "Let's say you called that guy, and you hit it off, you meet his parents, you have a long passionate affair that might even go the distance, which, with a were, is a possibility, since they're all about fidelity. Imagine all of those future years of bliss and happiness as a thread, and now imagine someone yanking that thread out of you and eating it, destroying it."
"That's… disturbing. And kind of sick. How long has this been going on?"
"Through so many worlds I've lost count, and that's a lot considering it used to be my job to end them." He shrugs. "You get over not being the Destroyer anymore, gives you time to work on your masse and bank shots." Coyote chuckles at me, lightly. "You know how long it's been since I've been able to talk about this shit?" A finger is waved in my face. "No sharing, though." He then checks his watch. "Looks like it's just about time for you to get home."
"I have to get the car back to Rourke, then I'll go home." Coyote laughs at that, and I look at him warily. "What's so funny?"
"Pup, do you trust Fate?"
"I trust Fate to screw me over at the worst possible time, usually, but I'm a big believer, yeah."
"So get out of the car, and let her lead you, kid. And to answer the question you're about the have? I told you. I'm a god, I get what I want."
And just like that, Coyote vanishes in a literal blink of the eye. So, no knowing what else to do, I open the door and get out, finding myself parked perfectly in front of my building. In Beckettsville. Even though I was in Destry Bay when I parked.
"How the Hell did I get…"
Oh. Right.
Well, it would appear that Fate doesn't want me to return the car right at this moment. Normally, when you see people on TV told their fate, they do everything they can to rebel against, which always works out so well, so I'm just going to do whatever the lady has in mind for me, thanks very much.
After an uneventful elevator ride, I find an empty hallway, but it is pretty late, so I expect I'll be read the riot act, as my mom puts it, the moment I open the door. Given everything that's happened tonight, I'm kind of looking forward to getting good and grounded by, well, getting grounded.
And as I open the door, it occurs to me that I really shouldn't have thought that just now, seeing as I just threw Fate the softball she needed, just what she needed to knock one out of the park, which happens to coincide perfectly with the punch I take in the face the moment I step inside the apartment.
I stare up, blearily, through a lot of sparkling lights and pain at the visage of my oldest brother, who picks me up off the floor roughly before putting me back down on it with another punch. I curl into a ball, whimpering, covering my face, shielding my chest with my knees.
Henry drags me into the living room, where I see Thornton against the wall, his hands behind his back, his face bruised as mine probably looks. My mother is seated on the futon, staring straight ahead, unblinking, off in her space. Seated directly next to her is my father, a tumbler of whiskey in front of him on the coffee table, sitting on a pile of my yet-to-be-looked-at homework.
"Spencer." Dad smiles grandly, and motions to Henry, who lets go of me and proceeds to sit on the other side of Mom, looking at her and then at me with a menacing rictus grin.
I manage to pull out of the fetal position, feeling something warm dripping down my chin. A box of tissues is tossed at me from the couch, and Dad takes a sip of his whiskey before looking at me.
"Let's have a little chat."
To be continued next Friday!
And that's it. I'm going to bed. :)
freeficfriday
Welcome back to Free Fiction Friday!
This week's chapter is above average length, coming in at 4000 words, and Spence has hit a new milestone, having crossed the 70k mark.
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
,
cassandra_gold
and
id_locke
. Also, the Free Fictioneers would like to welcome a new member, Elana Hawk (
elanahawk
), who will start posting her fiction next Friday. Please make sure to check her out! :) Interested in joining the Free Fictioneers? We have weekly and bi-weekly slots open for interested authors. 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". :)
I believe I've mentioned before that I have never stolen a car, nor been party to grand theft auto, simply because of my personal problems with the crime. I have, however, driven without a license (well, a real one, that is), committed at least eighteen moving violations, and have taken four joyrides (though in each instance I brought the car back within half an hour and the owners were pricks who had it coming for egregious offenses against my person, like not taking a math assignment just because it was four days late). As a result, I know how to drive, and in the case of my English teacher's Buick, I learned what "egregious" means.
Still, there's a difference between driving a Buick from the previous decade and driving a Lexus that's only four months old. Probably about fifty grand's difference, so it's difficult for me to drive as fast as I should be going.
"So, obviously you need my help." Shiko is dressed in a cocktail dress, strapless, snazzy, and really bringing out her hair. I picked her up as she was heading into a rather nice restaurant in Destry Bay. "How did you know where I was?"
I playfully shrug, forcing my eyes to look at hers instead of her cleavage before turning my attention back to the road. "I said that you were the last person I needed to see in the world, out loud. Don't you watch TV?"
She rolls her eyes. "Someday we'll figure out your luck, Coyote."
"Any reason you're dressed as arm candy?"
She practically glares at me. "I do not look like a heroin addict."
"No, no, arm—Don't you ever watch those red carpet event shows? High society stuff?" When I look at her, I'm getting a 'sweet god, how gay are you?' look. "What? Sometimes nothing's on. And the people tend to be hot." I sigh. "But anyway, yes, I need your help."
"In the beginning this was a bit of a coup, a Coyote asking a Kitsune for help makes your clan look bad, not mine, but if you keep asking for help and I keep giving it to you…"
Then her side looks like they're just around to help us, making them, and her look bad.
"What if I said it's bigger than the Feud?"
"You're not a Phouka, Spencer, so there's no guarantee I can trust anything you say." She smirks. "Besides, for our kind, not many things take precedence over the Feud."
"What if I said a crazy wannabe moon-goddess was masterminding an evil plot to raise her son from the dead?"
She covers her mouth politely while she giggles.
"And what if I said that dead son was a Ra'keth?"
That shut her up.
"You have my attention. Make sure it's not wasted." Her eyes are serious, and the casual way in which she draped herself over the leather seat is gone.
"I heard a story that your clan once stole names from the Sorcerer Kings. Is it true?" A soft growl is my reply, but I pull over the car. "I don't want you to show me how to do whatever that taught you, I just need to know if it's true." I try an easy smile. "What, don't you want to lord your clan's advantage over me? I heard you guys can…" I lower my voice. "I heard you know magic."
A few seconds pass, her eyes hard, but I can see the wheels turning in there. "Why do you ask?" Might as well be a yes.
I lean closer to her, and feel the corners of my mouth lift. "How would you like to trick a sorceress? Well, not really a sorceress, not like an Emerald in the Snow, more like a Cubic Zirconia in the Frost."
"I'm listening."
"If we pull this off, she won't raise her son, she'll be powerless, and not only do you get to take some credit for stopping it, Justin Crain will have to admit you saved his life."
Her hand gently brushes my face, and she smiles warmly. "That is a very tempting offer, but if you believe I'll help a Coyote with Coyote problems just to show up a rival, you're mistaken."
Shit. "Even if a Ra'keth returns?"
"There's already a few out there, and they tend to take care of their own. He'll probably be so preoccupied with culture shock he'd make an excellent mark. Why prevent an opportunity for my clan to achieve another Emerald in the Snow? Even though we did it long before any of the other clans, no clan has ever done it twice."
"Fine, what do you want?" I place a finger on her vulpine mouth before she speaks. "You aren't getting any of the stories I've been told."
"What makes you think I want anything?"
"Because you figure you can shake me down for plenty. I know you want to help, how often does the opportunity come along to trick the Silver Lady, and prevent a Ra'keth from being raised?" I bite my lower lip a second. "That is a bad thing, right? And uh, he won't be a zombie, will he?"
With a soft snort, she opens up her purse, a tiny little thing, a clutch I think it's called, and removes a silk handkerchief. She proceeds to then take out a pen, and scribe some characters that look Japanese on the white silk, and then hands it to me, along with the pen. "Sign here, and we'll talk."
"What is this?"
"Essentially? 'I hereby owe Shiko three favors.' I told you this is Coyote business, and as embarrassing as it might be for a Coyote to need the help of a Kitsune, it is humiliating for a Coyote to acknowledge that he owes his success to a Kitsune. Even more so if he willingly agreed to favors."
"You want me to just sign that? I don't even know what you can do, even you can even hold up your end." She places the handkerchief on the dashboard, letting the pen rest atop it. Shortly afterward, she gets out of the car, and starts walking down the street, in the direction of Grunstadt.
After a few seconds I exit, and follow after her. "Shiko!"
She slows, hugging her arms to her chest, glancing over her shoulder at me.
"You must be cold." I drape my jacket over her shoulders, Mom raised me right in those regards, at least.
"Thank you." She looks somewhat to the side, demurely.
"There's always going to be a Feud, isn't there? I mean, I think you're a pretty cool lady, but it'll always be like this between us, won't it?" I stuff my hands in my pockets, out of the night air, cast my eyes down and away.
She leans her head into my view. "You were hoping for something more?" A gentle smirk from her. "And here I thought your heart belonged to the Dogs, or at least other part of you." Her mouth is then against mine, her tongue smooth, delicate, gentle against my own. I'll admit I close my eyes, lean into it, let my hands slip around her waist to pull her closer to me. There aren't any moans, it's more like the third act kiss you see in a movie, where the orchestra or pop song du jour suddenly swells in the background. It's nice, the kind of kiss you wish you could come home to.
"Shiko?" I hold her close to me, sharing warmth in the cool late Spring night. "You're right. I do want something more."
Her eyes meet mine, God, like an autumn night with two shining stars. "Yes, Spencer?"Her voice is soft, sweet.
"I just don't think I can go on without…" I kiss her again, embracing her close, and pull back for a second. "My wallet."
She smiles again, but it's natural, and I mean I get the feeling that I'm seeing her really smile, the one she saves when no one's around. I feel the ever so slight pressure of her hand brushing against my pocket, and she steps back from me. "I'll have to keep an eye on you, Spencer Crain."
"And I'll have to watch out for you, Shiko… What is your last name anyway?"
She covers her mouth again, giggling, the front already back up before she nods politely. "I'll stop dealing on the Ace of Clubs? An odd code, but there's no puzzle a Coyote can imagine a Fox can't figure out first."
Oh, shit, I forgot I left that little card in there from the trick I showed Miss Scott, but hey, if she wants to burn time on it, she can go ahead. Besides, I'm just happy that I've got my wallet back and that I'm not grinning like a moron.
She walks away, into the night, and I guess I have to close out that part of my idea. Nothing much left to do but move on to the endgame.
I return to the car and remember that my jacket is still on Shiko, who has now vanished from sight. I shake my head gently, muttering as I get into the car. "Damn Foxes."
Of course, by now it's getting more than a little late, so I call Rourke from his car phone to let him know I'm heading back, and that I'll need a ride home, and then it's another drive out to Grunstadt.
"Going to let me in on the trick?"
I wish I could say I respond coolly, but I almost swerve into oncoming traffic and shriek like a little girl as Father Coyote appears in the passenger seat.
"Holy shit, what the fuck is wrong with you?" My knuckles go white on the steering wheel. "Jesus, you can't just… Just… How the Hell did you do that, anyway?"
"My grandson is driving the King of the Phouka's Lexus. I'm intrigued. As for how I did it, must I reiterate that I'm a god? Still though…" He tchs softly, glancing out the window. "Fucking Dogs, stealing kisses from Foxes, are you sure you want out? Seems like you're working the Feud well enough on your own." I then feel his eyes on me. I try to keep my mind off the fact that my eyes are his as well. "So what's the trick?"
"It's not a trick." I am telling the truth, you know, because recent events have insured a trick just isn't possible now. "I'm going to have to go all the way here, okay?" I flick my gaze over at him a second. "Is it true, what she said? That I was made for a specific purpose?"
"Why do you think I didn't approve? As much as I love Sel, I wish she'd stop screwing with my boys. My family is not a eugenics program."
"She's done this before? There've been others… like me?"
"No, no, but she still tricks the lot of you plenty." He grumbles softly, muttering under his breath.
"What?"
"I said I'll be paying for that one night for the rest of eternity, it seems." He grins, but it's fake. God, it's fake.
"You stole her from Rourke." I sigh, and pull over the car. "Dad was telling me that the best way to get back at a Dog or Fox was to steal their girlfriend. That's twice you guys have done that to him."
"And you aren't doing the same?" His fake smile has receded into a knowing smirk. "You're using him, stringing him along to get what you want because you don't have the balls to just tell him you don't love him." Coyote shrugs once. "But hey, if you want to prank the King of the Phouka, it'll carry you far in the Feud… Oh right, you want out." He leans close to me. "So I guess you're just a prick, or a bitch. So don't you judge me, pup. I stole her from him because Fate didn't want them squeezing out any more damned Ra'keth."
"I'm just trying to figure out how to tell him."
He chuckles, and it does not, unlike before, put me at ease. "No, you're trying to trick your way into either getting out of it without him hating you, or trick yourself into thinking you can make it work. It doesn't happen like that, kid. Ask your father about that."
"Or you." When I look at him he's glaring at me, and I shrug. "Please, we all learn this shit from our parents, don't you watch TV? That how it happened with you and her? You snatch her from Rourke and try to make it work?"
"Look at me, kid, I look like the type to settle down?" He motions to himself, his clothes, that easy smile that's his, Dad's, and God, probably mine too.
"No, you don't. So who was the girl or guy you cheated with? Must've been someone to risk pissing off a sorceress." I switch off the engine and turn in the seat toward him. "C'mon, I've got a knack for people telling me stories, it seems, so out with it. I want to know how she went from a Ra'keth to what she is today. I want to know why all of us lose our minds whenever we see her. Tell me the story of How Coyote Loved and Lost."
"It was a trick, that was all."
I want to tell him that this is a Hell of a lot more than a trick, but he reaches into his pocket and removes a pack of cigarettes, and lights one. Great, my grandfather has a penchant for the dramatic. "This used to be our land, you know, before we all had to change, before all of them…" He motions dismissively out the window at the passing pedestrians. The passing humans. "Before they changed us. Sure, I know the stories, I was clever in some and an idiot in others, but damn it, those people learned something from me. And now what? Now people hear my name and think of what, a cartoon? Some scavenger nosing through their garbage? But back then, oh, back then…" He takes a pull off his cigarette. "Me, Raven, Fox, Bear, Deer, all of them, we meant something. And then the gods from other places started showing up. Nipponese, Olympians, Loas, Celts… It wasn't a war, not really, we just got smaller. Get smaller every time the world ends."
I just let him talk, smoke, whatever he wants.
"Sel and I, this was worlds ago, you understand, she knew what I was, she'd heard the stories about how I tricked men and gods and mountains and the moon, and just as many about me falling on my ass, it was part of the appeal, you know? I was a little more dangerous than the Dog, it didn't take much to sway her, I can be damned sweet when I need to be. She was… willful. Ra'keth can be that when they need to be, too. Sel was a challenge, that was the allure, you know?"
"And that's why it ended? No more challenge?"
Coyote takes another drag, and then stubs out the cig in the ashtray. "She knew full well going in what I was, there are countless stories about me running off with brides and a few secret ones about me running off with grooms. And there was… One of the Olympians had a very pretty wife." He then grits his teeth, crackles his knuckles, his face a mix of emotions until he looks at me, knowing in his eyes. "Damn it, you are a bard."
I just shrug, but he smiles, nothing sinister, there's almost pride there.
"I'm no fool, pup. Well, I am, but my family's the best kind, and Fate does right by us, but you get what I'm saying. The Dog told you his story, didn't he? That's what bards do, get stories and tell them, no matter who's they are, no matter how well-guarded they are. You learned the Phouka's Emerald in the Snow, didn't you?"
I swallow hard, because if the saying's true that you can't bullshit a bullshitter, then I don't want to know the difficulty involved with the self-proclaimed god of bullshitters. "I swore I wouldn't tell. I didn't even know I'd learn how to—"
"Shh." He holds up a hand. "Tricked a Fox and a Dog and you learned a damned Emerald in the Snow." A bit of mirth returns to his eyes. "You boys just love to prove me wrong."
"So who was the girl? The god's wife? What happened there?" I try to get back on topic and away from possibly having to compromise my promise to Rourke. I don't think there's any mystical bond keeping those words safe, just the weight of my word, and I want that to mean something, you know?
"Finest looking woman I'd ever seen, legs here to there, pure and dangerous all at the same time, anything you needed her to be, anything she wanted to be, that was her. Should've done my research a little better, but…" He's sigh, but with the edge of a smile. "I'm a fool, not a human, and my path doesn't change. I figured I'd make this all-powerful forest god rethink his coming to our land by seducing his wife. Didn't take."
"She rejected you?" I wince slightly.
"Oh no, she went for it, was an amazing night, but it turns out her husband was a god of lust and virility as well." He smirks at me. "Difficult to make a husband angry about some guy fucking his wife if said husband is fucking the guy at the same time. After a while it was like I wasn't even there, but at least my boys are welcome at his nightclub."
I blink. "The Palace of Wisdom?"
"Got it in one."
"But I take it that Sel—" He covers my mouth.
"Don't say it. But yeah, she wasn't as understanding or open-minded. So, she swore revenge on me, and all of my boys have had to pay for it."
"That's why when she's around we only have eyes for her?" He nods once, and I remember something that Thornton said back at the Palace when he first mentioned the Silver Lady. "So that's why we all have relationship issues?"
He grins. "Oh no, you don't get to put that on me. Not all of it, but sometimes… I told you she's not really a god, not really a sorcerer, right?" I nod once in reply, and he fishes out another cigarette to light. "So she's not immortal, not really, not the way that I am, or the way a lot of those mythics are, or the other clans. She had to find a way to supplement her life, her youth, and if it pisses me off, all the better." He lights his cig and takes a long pull. "I should be pissed about it, at least, at the very least she's messing with Fate, and Fate is one lady you never want to mess with, kid, trust me."
"You're not making any sense." I turn the car back on so I can crack a window to let some of the smoke out. To his credit, he blow his smoke out the small gap.
"You remember meeting a were at the Palace? Tiger? French-Canadian?" He shrugs off my look of confusion, because I don't really remember anything like that. "You probably got his number, which Sel took."
"Okay, so she goes off and hooks up with guys who are interested in us to get back at you for cheating on her?" I arch a brow. "That's her grand plan for vengeance?"
"No, kid, she devours everything you might've had with that guy, or girl, or combinations or whatever, anything that might've made you happy, anything that had a shot, she consumes that." I still look confused, so he continues. "Let's say you called that guy, and you hit it off, you meet his parents, you have a long passionate affair that might even go the distance, which, with a were, is a possibility, since they're all about fidelity. Imagine all of those future years of bliss and happiness as a thread, and now imagine someone yanking that thread out of you and eating it, destroying it."
"That's… disturbing. And kind of sick. How long has this been going on?"
"Through so many worlds I've lost count, and that's a lot considering it used to be my job to end them." He shrugs. "You get over not being the Destroyer anymore, gives you time to work on your masse and bank shots." Coyote chuckles at me, lightly. "You know how long it's been since I've been able to talk about this shit?" A finger is waved in my face. "No sharing, though." He then checks his watch. "Looks like it's just about time for you to get home."
"I have to get the car back to Rourke, then I'll go home." Coyote laughs at that, and I look at him warily. "What's so funny?"
"Pup, do you trust Fate?"
"I trust Fate to screw me over at the worst possible time, usually, but I'm a big believer, yeah."
"So get out of the car, and let her lead you, kid. And to answer the question you're about the have? I told you. I'm a god, I get what I want."
And just like that, Coyote vanishes in a literal blink of the eye. So, no knowing what else to do, I open the door and get out, finding myself parked perfectly in front of my building. In Beckettsville. Even though I was in Destry Bay when I parked.
"How the Hell did I get…"
Oh. Right.
Well, it would appear that Fate doesn't want me to return the car right at this moment. Normally, when you see people on TV told their fate, they do everything they can to rebel against, which always works out so well, so I'm just going to do whatever the lady has in mind for me, thanks very much.
After an uneventful elevator ride, I find an empty hallway, but it is pretty late, so I expect I'll be read the riot act, as my mom puts it, the moment I open the door. Given everything that's happened tonight, I'm kind of looking forward to getting good and grounded by, well, getting grounded.
And as I open the door, it occurs to me that I really shouldn't have thought that just now, seeing as I just threw Fate the softball she needed, just what she needed to knock one out of the park, which happens to coincide perfectly with the punch I take in the face the moment I step inside the apartment.
I stare up, blearily, through a lot of sparkling lights and pain at the visage of my oldest brother, who picks me up off the floor roughly before putting me back down on it with another punch. I curl into a ball, whimpering, covering my face, shielding my chest with my knees.
Henry drags me into the living room, where I see Thornton against the wall, his hands behind his back, his face bruised as mine probably looks. My mother is seated on the futon, staring straight ahead, unblinking, off in her space. Seated directly next to her is my father, a tumbler of whiskey in front of him on the coffee table, sitting on a pile of my yet-to-be-looked-at homework.
"Spencer." Dad smiles grandly, and motions to Henry, who lets go of me and proceeds to sit on the other side of Mom, looking at her and then at me with a menacing rictus grin.
I manage to pull out of the fetal position, feeling something warm dripping down my chin. A box of tissues is tossed at me from the couch, and Dad takes a sip of his whiskey before looking at me.
"Let's have a little chat."
To be continued next Friday!
And that's it. I'm going to bed. :)
From Twitter 10-06-2010
07:41:52: RT @Phoenix165: [Rising up] House of Stone http://ow.ly/19iUOD
10:18:29: Cool thing about being gay #156: Singing along with "At Last" by Etta James and not having to give a crap about what anyone thinks.
Tweets copied by twittinesis.com
October 6, 2010
From Twitter 10-05-2010
13:47:05: Gloomy weather outside. Time to break out the Nina Simone.
Tweets copied by twittinesis.com
October 4, 2010
From Twitter 10-03-2010
08:32:25: @mythicfox Ugh, that sucks, but, you DID go to a grocery store during the 1st through 3rd of the month "hot zone". Those days were hell. :(
Tweets copied by twittinesis.com
October 2, 2010
From Twitter 10-01-2010
00:01:47: Free Fiction Friday: The King's Confidante - Part 21 http://t.co/IySyeY3
07:49:45: @mythicfox Don't you live on the second floor?
Tweets copied by twittinesis.com
September 30, 2010
Free Fiction Friday: The King's Confidante - Part 21
x-posted to
freeficfriday
Welcome back to Free Fiction Friday!
This week's chapter is below average length, coming in at 2600 words, and Spence is over the 66k mark.
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
and
id_locke
.
Interested in joining the Free Fictioneers? We have a bi-weekly slot open for interested authors. 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". :)
By the time I make it to Grunstadt I'm flirting with curfew, so I try to imagine myself looking a bit older, maybe college years, with a goatee or a thin beard or something, clothes that are thrift-store chic, and a general expression of having it all figured out. I manage to check myself in a car's side-view mirror, and see that the illusion has taken, my hair looking fashionably dyed with highlights, just on the rebellious side. Goatee doesn't look too bad, either, and here I thought I'd look evil, or like a douche. I guess my twenties are going to be good to me.
But like I said, curfew's in effect now, so it's best that I don't look like a high school kid. Also, that I don't look as beat to Hell as I still feel.
Good thing, because I do pass by a couple of beat cops sitting safely in their parked cars. They only patrol on foot over in Destry Bay, which strangely has less crime. Doesn't make sense to me, I mean, how do you chase crooks without a car? You can outrun anyone if you know the neighborhood.
So I'm not outrunning anyone in this neighborhood. Despite having been here a few times, that was during the day, and I took cabs or was driven here. Plus, I'm sort of stalling because I don't want to get in any deeper with who I'm going to see. Also, getting into the building is going to be a little bit of a problem, but…
I duck into an alley, behind some Dumpsters, and once I feel that no one's watching me, I drop into coyote, which still feels weird, but I'm not finished yet. So I know the big trick of the Phouka, and I also now can apparently do the big coyote trick as well, so…
I think back on when Rourke brought me back to his apartment, and outed himself as a Phouka. Kept changing into that dog to mess with me, but I have to think that I'm not the only person who's seen him looking like that. So I imagine him in his dog-form, the big Irish wolfhound with the shaggy ebon coat, bright golden eyes, only this time I imagine something extra around the neck.
I exit the alley and head to the front entrance of the building, following another tenant into the lobby. There is no way that Rourke is going to let me up, not after what he thinks I did, but maybe if I can talk to him face-to-face, I can work this out. The key is getting in. So, pathetically, I paw gently at the glass door keeping me from the elevators, and whine, then look up at the tenant checking her mail with big soulful eyes.
"How'd you get in here, big guy?" She kneels down in front of me, her face smooth and pretty, long brown hair braided to pull forward and lay across her, well, she's got a nice rack, okay? Her hand pats my hand, and I play it up, lolling my tongue out and smiling, and then look toward the doors, then back at her, whining again.
Her eyes fall downward, at the illusion of the collar around my neck, along with an ID tag in shiny brass. "Oh! Your owner's upstairs. How'd you get out, then?"
I decide to answer with another doggy grin, and then look toward the door, and paw at it.
"Well, I'd better take you back up to your owner then." She then opens the door and motions for me to follow, which I readily do, and sit patiently in front of the elevators, waiting for her, and a car to show up.
The ride up is quiet, though she scratches behind my ears, which feels kinda nice, and proceeds to tell me about the puppies she had when she was seven or something. I don't really listen, I'm checking her out from the underside and damn, I gotta look her up sometime.
Hey, I know the world could very well be coming to an end in the next few hours, but I'm still a guy, and just because I've been plunging in the male end of the pool lately, I still appreciate a fine pair of breasts that proudly give the middle finger to gravity.
I follow her obediently out of the elevator and then trot down the hall, the carpet much more forgiving to paws than accursed linoleum, and sit in front of Rourke's door. She knocks politely, and a few seconds later Rourke opens the door partway, blocking entrance, and looking angry, betrayed, his shirt half-open, eyes smoldering, but it quickly fades once he sees the woman.
"I, uh, I found your dog downstairs, Mr. Rourke. I don't know how he got out, but…"
"I don't have a…" Rourke then looks down at me, and I pray that the illusion holds, because if he sees me as I am, there's no way I'm getting in. "Ah, yes. He's one of mine, yes, like a family member, actually. Thank you for bringing him here." He pats my head gently. "He's a clever one."
Rourke then proceeds to spend the next minute flirting with the, well, gifted tenant, and by the end of it has her apartment number and probably a standing date. And what drives another nail in the coffin for me isn't that I feel jealous, it's that I don't. I mean, if I really loved him, I would care that he's flirting so casually so soon after being allegedly betrayed by me.
Rourke finally steps aside from the door and lets me in, so I do so. He closes his front door and then he's into the kitchen, the clink of glasses being set on the counter.
"I take it you've heard something, to come directly to my home. Is it about the boy? Have you seen him?" There's a harder edge near the end there. I don't answer, though. Rourke comes into the living room, sitting down on the couch with a full tumbler of whiskey. "He claimed he had nothing to do with it, that Justin Crain is responsible. Told me he was going to get the urn back for me." I can see that he's conflicted there. I think he wants to believe that, but there's evidence to the contrary, thanks to Dad. Asshole.
I just sit there, silently. I really do want to know where I stand with him. I cock my head to the side, and he takes a swallow of his whiskey.
"You must be a pup, eh?" He smiles warmly. "Waiting for your king to allow you out of his presence so you can change back?" Rourke shakes his head with a chuckle, and grandly waves his hand off toward his bedroom. "You may change in there."
Damn it. If I don't go in there he'll know that something's up. But if I do go in there I'm going to have to change, and then comes the confrontation that I really don't want to have. I've got an idea, though, and I want to run it past him, but I need to know that he'll actually listen to it first.
Reluctantly, I pad into his bedroom, breaking his line of sight, and I feel the eyes of the world off me for a moment. I let go of the shape, of the illusion, feeling very tired all of the sudden, and I need to sit on the floor, my back against the wall while I catch my breath. All of my muscles feel sore now, my face feels hot, my chest tight. I hug my knees to my chest, trying to just breathe.
After a minute the tightness starts to go away, but I still feel like crap. I also notice a pair of legs next to me, and I raise my head to look up at Rourke, who glares down at me.
"You…" He looks back out into the living room, and then strides into his bathroom for a second, and then returns to me. "How…"
"I didn't do it to trick you, I just had to talk to you." Despite how pissed off he is at me, if Rourke believes he was tricked, well, him and I will lose a few precious hours. "I don't know why I can do it. I just remember parts of the story you told me, and then boom, I'm a coyote."
"But you were…" He sighs. "You can do that even when doing my trick." Rourke pulls me to my feet and is about to shove me toward the front door when his eyes glance over my bruises, the black eye I might be getting. "Who did this to you?"
I shrug, trying to smile weakly. "Who didn't? My brother, my Dad, Sel—" His hand immediately covers my mouth.
"Never say her name. Don't want her knowing where you are." His finger traces along the small nick from the blade on my neck. "This was done while you were trying to retrieve the urn?"
"Well, not exactly. I was trying to find Dad, and I wanted to get to him before he took the urn to Father Coyote, who, by the way, is kind of a dick. And then the Silver Lady shows up and everything's a blur until I'm in the park and she's rather pissed at me for sleeping with her husband." I give him a look. "You could've told me you were married to that crazy bitch."
"Oh, now she's crazy? You should've seen yourself when I described her for you in the story. You were enrapt, as well as interested."
"Well, you're a good storyteller. Of course I was enrapt and interested."
His hand runs over my crotch. "No, you were enrapt." He then squeezes my stiffening erection. "And interested."
"Does this mean you're not mad at me anymore?" I still remember that flurry of Irish swearing from the phone call earlier.
"I'm still angry enough with you, but we have greater problems. What do you remember from your time with her?" He lets go of my groin and sits down on the bed.
"Dad brought her the urn." I hear him growl softly, but hopefully it's not directed at me. "And she said that I was made specifically to retrieve it from the Foxes, which makes no sense."
"Your clan does not breed with humans, Spencer, and even when they do, the children are always human. You are… a special case, it would seem." I'd ask how he knows this, but he looks downward. "There are many traditions, forgotten, but not gone, that deal with the conception of children on specific days, times, under certain conditions to produce desired traits, or to withhold others. The Ra'keth introduced them, to produce any sort of offspring they desired."
"That's disgusting. And insane." I sit down on the bed, on the opposite side of Rourke. "God, is that the whole reason Dad stole Mom from you?" I turn to look at him. "Oh God, Rourke, was I supposed to be your son?" Considering everything that him and I have done, I shudder at that thought, and to Hell with those stories on the internet. Hot in theory does not equal hot in practice.
"If your father had not taken your mother from me, you would not even be born, or at least you would be much younger. I believe in taking my time with a woman, she must be courted properly, and shown the respect she deserves."
I cock a brow at him. "But guys you'll bone on the first date?"
He smirks slightly. "Males won't bear any bastard progeny, so why not?" I can tell he's returning to the matter at hand, though, because the mirth fades from his face. "What else happened? What else did she say?"
"She wanted to bring her son back to life or something, and she wanted Dad to kill me. He was really going to do it, too. I just barely got away. What's up with that, anyway? How come I don't get all googly-eyed over mentions of her anymore?"
"You know her name now, obviously, did you say it?" He watches me nod. "She's lost power over you then. Your clan isn't supposed to know her as she is, only as this Silver Lady you've raised her up to be. Names have power, Spencer, why else would I have so many?"
"She'd kill me just for knowing her name? I mean, is it really that important to her that I think she's hot? She'd already got the damned urn, what do I still matter to her? Or is it because you and I…"
Rourke shakes his head. "Spencer, if I ever told you my true name, I wouldn't let you out of my sight, honestly. You don't know what a Ra'keth could do with a name, or what they would do to know one."
I think a moment. "The sorcerers, right? What sort of things could they do?"
His eyes meet mine. "Everything. Anything."
"Then how did you learn hers?"
He just gives me a look. Right. That way. "Okay, Rourke, what do I do? I mean, she wants to bring her son back to life, how do I—"
His hands are now on my shoulders. He moved so quickly I didn't see. Holy shit, he looks really intense right now. "She's going to do what?"
"She said she wants to bring him back from the dead, that's why she needs the ashes. She, uh… That's not possible, right?" I chuckle nervously, remembering earlier. "There's not going to be, like, zombies, are there?"
After giving me an odd look, he resumes the intensity. "It is very possible. With the correct rituals, a willing sacrifice, she could raise anyone from the dead. She's bound by more rules now, since she gave up some of her power to live forever, but it should be enough."
A willing sacrifice.
"She's going to kill Dad." I get off the bed, heading toward the door. "I have to stop her."
"It won't be tonight, Spencer." When I turn to look at him, he's standing near the bed, the distance evident. "The time must be very precise, it wouldn't be a night like tonight."
I sigh with relief. "So, what, the planets have to be aligned correctly?"
"The rituals that she'll be using were created before those worlds were known of. This will be more constant. There is a reason she chose your people as her servants, because there is a certain kind of goddess you are all susceptible to."
I arch a brow. "Crazy and hot?" I see him motion upward with his finger. "What, the moon?" That would be make sense, I've always thought the moon was pretty. No wonder Father Coyote went after her. So the moon probably has to be full for her to pull it off. And it'll be full tomorrow night. Shit. "She's a moon goddess?"
"Close enough to fool you. It would amaze you how well that can work some— Spencer, are you listening to me?"
A whole lot of things just clicked in my head. It's crazy, but it could actually…
"What were you saying before? That whole thing about conceiving kids at certain times?"
Rourke tilts his head at me, I suppose a bit of the hound peeking its way through. "Sorcerers would do this, yes, to insure certain traits."
"And she did it with you, didn't she? When she had your son? That's how you know about this stuff, right?"
He nods once. "Yes, but what does it matter?" Rourke meets me by the bedroom door. "What are you plotting?"
I just grin. "Let me borrow your car."
To be continued next Friday!
And that's it. I'm going to bed. :)
freeficfriday
Welcome back to Free Fiction Friday!
This week's chapter is below average length, coming in at 2600 words, and Spence is over the 66k mark.
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
and
id_locke
.Interested in joining the Free Fictioneers? We have a bi-weekly slot open for interested authors. 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". :)
By the time I make it to Grunstadt I'm flirting with curfew, so I try to imagine myself looking a bit older, maybe college years, with a goatee or a thin beard or something, clothes that are thrift-store chic, and a general expression of having it all figured out. I manage to check myself in a car's side-view mirror, and see that the illusion has taken, my hair looking fashionably dyed with highlights, just on the rebellious side. Goatee doesn't look too bad, either, and here I thought I'd look evil, or like a douche. I guess my twenties are going to be good to me.
But like I said, curfew's in effect now, so it's best that I don't look like a high school kid. Also, that I don't look as beat to Hell as I still feel.
Good thing, because I do pass by a couple of beat cops sitting safely in their parked cars. They only patrol on foot over in Destry Bay, which strangely has less crime. Doesn't make sense to me, I mean, how do you chase crooks without a car? You can outrun anyone if you know the neighborhood.
So I'm not outrunning anyone in this neighborhood. Despite having been here a few times, that was during the day, and I took cabs or was driven here. Plus, I'm sort of stalling because I don't want to get in any deeper with who I'm going to see. Also, getting into the building is going to be a little bit of a problem, but…
I duck into an alley, behind some Dumpsters, and once I feel that no one's watching me, I drop into coyote, which still feels weird, but I'm not finished yet. So I know the big trick of the Phouka, and I also now can apparently do the big coyote trick as well, so…
I think back on when Rourke brought me back to his apartment, and outed himself as a Phouka. Kept changing into that dog to mess with me, but I have to think that I'm not the only person who's seen him looking like that. So I imagine him in his dog-form, the big Irish wolfhound with the shaggy ebon coat, bright golden eyes, only this time I imagine something extra around the neck.
I exit the alley and head to the front entrance of the building, following another tenant into the lobby. There is no way that Rourke is going to let me up, not after what he thinks I did, but maybe if I can talk to him face-to-face, I can work this out. The key is getting in. So, pathetically, I paw gently at the glass door keeping me from the elevators, and whine, then look up at the tenant checking her mail with big soulful eyes.
"How'd you get in here, big guy?" She kneels down in front of me, her face smooth and pretty, long brown hair braided to pull forward and lay across her, well, she's got a nice rack, okay? Her hand pats my hand, and I play it up, lolling my tongue out and smiling, and then look toward the doors, then back at her, whining again.
Her eyes fall downward, at the illusion of the collar around my neck, along with an ID tag in shiny brass. "Oh! Your owner's upstairs. How'd you get out, then?"
I decide to answer with another doggy grin, and then look toward the door, and paw at it.
"Well, I'd better take you back up to your owner then." She then opens the door and motions for me to follow, which I readily do, and sit patiently in front of the elevators, waiting for her, and a car to show up.
The ride up is quiet, though she scratches behind my ears, which feels kinda nice, and proceeds to tell me about the puppies she had when she was seven or something. I don't really listen, I'm checking her out from the underside and damn, I gotta look her up sometime.
Hey, I know the world could very well be coming to an end in the next few hours, but I'm still a guy, and just because I've been plunging in the male end of the pool lately, I still appreciate a fine pair of breasts that proudly give the middle finger to gravity.
I follow her obediently out of the elevator and then trot down the hall, the carpet much more forgiving to paws than accursed linoleum, and sit in front of Rourke's door. She knocks politely, and a few seconds later Rourke opens the door partway, blocking entrance, and looking angry, betrayed, his shirt half-open, eyes smoldering, but it quickly fades once he sees the woman.
"I, uh, I found your dog downstairs, Mr. Rourke. I don't know how he got out, but…"
"I don't have a…" Rourke then looks down at me, and I pray that the illusion holds, because if he sees me as I am, there's no way I'm getting in. "Ah, yes. He's one of mine, yes, like a family member, actually. Thank you for bringing him here." He pats my head gently. "He's a clever one."
Rourke then proceeds to spend the next minute flirting with the, well, gifted tenant, and by the end of it has her apartment number and probably a standing date. And what drives another nail in the coffin for me isn't that I feel jealous, it's that I don't. I mean, if I really loved him, I would care that he's flirting so casually so soon after being allegedly betrayed by me.
Rourke finally steps aside from the door and lets me in, so I do so. He closes his front door and then he's into the kitchen, the clink of glasses being set on the counter.
"I take it you've heard something, to come directly to my home. Is it about the boy? Have you seen him?" There's a harder edge near the end there. I don't answer, though. Rourke comes into the living room, sitting down on the couch with a full tumbler of whiskey. "He claimed he had nothing to do with it, that Justin Crain is responsible. Told me he was going to get the urn back for me." I can see that he's conflicted there. I think he wants to believe that, but there's evidence to the contrary, thanks to Dad. Asshole.
I just sit there, silently. I really do want to know where I stand with him. I cock my head to the side, and he takes a swallow of his whiskey.
"You must be a pup, eh?" He smiles warmly. "Waiting for your king to allow you out of his presence so you can change back?" Rourke shakes his head with a chuckle, and grandly waves his hand off toward his bedroom. "You may change in there."
Damn it. If I don't go in there he'll know that something's up. But if I do go in there I'm going to have to change, and then comes the confrontation that I really don't want to have. I've got an idea, though, and I want to run it past him, but I need to know that he'll actually listen to it first.
Reluctantly, I pad into his bedroom, breaking his line of sight, and I feel the eyes of the world off me for a moment. I let go of the shape, of the illusion, feeling very tired all of the sudden, and I need to sit on the floor, my back against the wall while I catch my breath. All of my muscles feel sore now, my face feels hot, my chest tight. I hug my knees to my chest, trying to just breathe.
After a minute the tightness starts to go away, but I still feel like crap. I also notice a pair of legs next to me, and I raise my head to look up at Rourke, who glares down at me.
"You…" He looks back out into the living room, and then strides into his bathroom for a second, and then returns to me. "How…"
"I didn't do it to trick you, I just had to talk to you." Despite how pissed off he is at me, if Rourke believes he was tricked, well, him and I will lose a few precious hours. "I don't know why I can do it. I just remember parts of the story you told me, and then boom, I'm a coyote."
"But you were…" He sighs. "You can do that even when doing my trick." Rourke pulls me to my feet and is about to shove me toward the front door when his eyes glance over my bruises, the black eye I might be getting. "Who did this to you?"
I shrug, trying to smile weakly. "Who didn't? My brother, my Dad, Sel—" His hand immediately covers my mouth.
"Never say her name. Don't want her knowing where you are." His finger traces along the small nick from the blade on my neck. "This was done while you were trying to retrieve the urn?"
"Well, not exactly. I was trying to find Dad, and I wanted to get to him before he took the urn to Father Coyote, who, by the way, is kind of a dick. And then the Silver Lady shows up and everything's a blur until I'm in the park and she's rather pissed at me for sleeping with her husband." I give him a look. "You could've told me you were married to that crazy bitch."
"Oh, now she's crazy? You should've seen yourself when I described her for you in the story. You were enrapt, as well as interested."
"Well, you're a good storyteller. Of course I was enrapt and interested."
His hand runs over my crotch. "No, you were enrapt." He then squeezes my stiffening erection. "And interested."
"Does this mean you're not mad at me anymore?" I still remember that flurry of Irish swearing from the phone call earlier.
"I'm still angry enough with you, but we have greater problems. What do you remember from your time with her?" He lets go of my groin and sits down on the bed.
"Dad brought her the urn." I hear him growl softly, but hopefully it's not directed at me. "And she said that I was made specifically to retrieve it from the Foxes, which makes no sense."
"Your clan does not breed with humans, Spencer, and even when they do, the children are always human. You are… a special case, it would seem." I'd ask how he knows this, but he looks downward. "There are many traditions, forgotten, but not gone, that deal with the conception of children on specific days, times, under certain conditions to produce desired traits, or to withhold others. The Ra'keth introduced them, to produce any sort of offspring they desired."
"That's disgusting. And insane." I sit down on the bed, on the opposite side of Rourke. "God, is that the whole reason Dad stole Mom from you?" I turn to look at him. "Oh God, Rourke, was I supposed to be your son?" Considering everything that him and I have done, I shudder at that thought, and to Hell with those stories on the internet. Hot in theory does not equal hot in practice.
"If your father had not taken your mother from me, you would not even be born, or at least you would be much younger. I believe in taking my time with a woman, she must be courted properly, and shown the respect she deserves."
I cock a brow at him. "But guys you'll bone on the first date?"
He smirks slightly. "Males won't bear any bastard progeny, so why not?" I can tell he's returning to the matter at hand, though, because the mirth fades from his face. "What else happened? What else did she say?"
"She wanted to bring her son back to life or something, and she wanted Dad to kill me. He was really going to do it, too. I just barely got away. What's up with that, anyway? How come I don't get all googly-eyed over mentions of her anymore?"
"You know her name now, obviously, did you say it?" He watches me nod. "She's lost power over you then. Your clan isn't supposed to know her as she is, only as this Silver Lady you've raised her up to be. Names have power, Spencer, why else would I have so many?"
"She'd kill me just for knowing her name? I mean, is it really that important to her that I think she's hot? She'd already got the damned urn, what do I still matter to her? Or is it because you and I…"
Rourke shakes his head. "Spencer, if I ever told you my true name, I wouldn't let you out of my sight, honestly. You don't know what a Ra'keth could do with a name, or what they would do to know one."
I think a moment. "The sorcerers, right? What sort of things could they do?"
His eyes meet mine. "Everything. Anything."
"Then how did you learn hers?"
He just gives me a look. Right. That way. "Okay, Rourke, what do I do? I mean, she wants to bring her son back to life, how do I—"
His hands are now on my shoulders. He moved so quickly I didn't see. Holy shit, he looks really intense right now. "She's going to do what?"
"She said she wants to bring him back from the dead, that's why she needs the ashes. She, uh… That's not possible, right?" I chuckle nervously, remembering earlier. "There's not going to be, like, zombies, are there?"
After giving me an odd look, he resumes the intensity. "It is very possible. With the correct rituals, a willing sacrifice, she could raise anyone from the dead. She's bound by more rules now, since she gave up some of her power to live forever, but it should be enough."
A willing sacrifice.
"She's going to kill Dad." I get off the bed, heading toward the door. "I have to stop her."
"It won't be tonight, Spencer." When I turn to look at him, he's standing near the bed, the distance evident. "The time must be very precise, it wouldn't be a night like tonight."
I sigh with relief. "So, what, the planets have to be aligned correctly?"
"The rituals that she'll be using were created before those worlds were known of. This will be more constant. There is a reason she chose your people as her servants, because there is a certain kind of goddess you are all susceptible to."
I arch a brow. "Crazy and hot?" I see him motion upward with his finger. "What, the moon?" That would be make sense, I've always thought the moon was pretty. No wonder Father Coyote went after her. So the moon probably has to be full for her to pull it off. And it'll be full tomorrow night. Shit. "She's a moon goddess?"
"Close enough to fool you. It would amaze you how well that can work some— Spencer, are you listening to me?"
A whole lot of things just clicked in my head. It's crazy, but it could actually…
"What were you saying before? That whole thing about conceiving kids at certain times?"
Rourke tilts his head at me, I suppose a bit of the hound peeking its way through. "Sorcerers would do this, yes, to insure certain traits."
"And she did it with you, didn't she? When she had your son? That's how you know about this stuff, right?"
He nods once. "Yes, but what does it matter?" Rourke meets me by the bedroom door. "What are you plotting?"
I just grin. "Let me borrow your car."
To be continued next Friday!
And that's it. I'm going to bed. :)
From Twitter 09-29-2010
09:47:18: Apparently, Spence has an irrational fear of the zombie apocalypse. I wonder if there's a proper term for that? #kingsconfidante
Tweets copied by twittinesis.com
September 29, 2010
From Twitter 09-28-2010
09:19:10: I play WoW so as to not burn out on writing, but I write so I won't burn out on WoW. Is the Buddha in a Catch-22? Hmmmmm...
Tweets copied by twittinesis.com
