Avalon Revamped (25 page)

CONSTANCE

Jeffries arrived just after sunrise, mistletoe on his head. Under the guise of Polly Pooter, I hopped up and flipped my curly brown hair to and fro and acted as silly as I could muster, remembering how childlike the nymph was. “Roddy!” I cried. “Mistletoe! Do I get a kiss, Roddy? Please! Please can I have a kiss? It’s mistletoe after all! Even if it’s after Christmas! I WANNA KIIIIIISSSSSSS!”

I hopped up on the bed and jumped up and down. My, I felt ridiculous behaving so, but I had to give the performance of my existence today. That demon inside him couldn’t feel me before, but he sensed something was off. I had to put up extra barriers to block that sense from him, and I had to be flawless as Miss Pooter. So I would dance around and beg for scraps like a good little poodle. The alternative, I didn’t know if I could survive it. I did know that I wouldn’t want to.

Jeffries slithered up to the bed, slimy smile on his smug face. With the height of the bed, I was eye to eye with him. “Ready for this, Polly?” he said, sliding his arms around my tiny body. “It’s been awhile. Can you stop at a kiss? You know we have to stop at a kiss, don’t you?”

“I know, Roddy. I know.” I pouted. “Just one, pleeeeeaaaaaase!”

“Just one?” With a condescending lilt, he mocked Polly with the power he held over her, humiliating her further, as if making her plead with him for affection wasn’t embarrassing enough. Being inside Polly—being Polly—was horrible. Worse than Bedlam, imprisoned by a toxic love that forced her to perform like a circus dog for her very survival. I felt it. The noxious bond with Jeffries had become her life line. If he shunned her, discarded her, she would die from a broken heart, and her demise wouldn’t be quick. It would linger as her mind left her, piece by piece. Until she was insane. Well, more insane.

I couldn’t wait to get out of this body.

“Just one. I know. Just one!” I stuck Polly’s bottom lip out and pouted, rocking side to side, as childlike as I could stomach.

He came in for a kiss, and her eager lips parted to meet him in joy. Mmmmm. So very tender and sweet, full of love. His tongue swept across mine, then went deeper. His lips lingered, sliding the bottom one over mine, causing me to catch my breath.

It was no act.

As he pulled back, I teetered, weak from such a powerful kiss. His hands were still around my waist, and once my eyes regained focus, his smug smile reminded me what was happening once again.

That was a kiss a man gives to his lover, and not just any lover, a serious this-is-real-and-forever lover. The bastard was going to manipulate her feelings for him even further, as if she wasn’t already completely his slave. She had accepted their new arrangement, but now he was going to lead her to believe they would be together. Then destroy her, because somehow, that extra little bit of betrayal would be delicious to him.

A few moments of triumph to shatter another forever.

“Oh,” I whispered through Polly’s lips, still moist with him. “You haven’t kissed me like that since…”

“I’ve been thinking.” The intensity of his stare unsettled me, shook me to my core. He looked into my soul and I into his, but I saw no demon crouching there. Even though I knew this man was soulless, he had such skill as to make even me believe it. Insidious. “We’ve been so close these past months, and I know it’s been hard on you to watch me with others, still wanting me for yourself. Still yearning for all of this.” He swept his hand down his body to indicate all that Polly had been missing. “Yesterday, I realized something. As I watched you perform and dance—how I love to watch you dance—my heart felt such an overwhelming sadness. I watched you and saw my future, my life. Without you, Polly, I—I just couldn’t survive.” Tears formed in those grass green eyes, his face somber—yet so full of love. Along with the weight of his words, I was almost convinced. With all my experience and wisdom, such words spoken with such tenderness, coupled with the sexual ecstasy this man had mastered, would’ve swayed any woman’s heart.

And he knew it.

It worked for him time and again, not often satisfied with quick romps or commonplace exploitation. No. Like Nicholas Stanton, he had to make them fall in love. The betrayal must taste like ambrosia to their blackened hearts.

Polly was his masterpiece, and now, at the will of the demon inside, he would get to relish her demise, savoring every second of this day, for a betrayal of this magnitude would keep him fed for months, perhaps even years.

I reacted as Polly would. Elation washed over me, and the entire room brightened around him. Not because of the dawn, for he was her only sun.“Oh, Roddy! Is it true? Can we be together again?”

“Yes,” he whispered the word with such profound weight, emphasizing its significance. That one beautiful word carried the entire universe within it when it came to love. A tear slithered down his cheek. In another moment, his face filled with the bliss Polly felt, and he said it again, this time through a smile. “Yes,” he whispered into my lips and kissed me again, lifting me off the bed and twirling me around.

I kissed him frantically, over and over, devouring his lips then placing tiny kisses all over his face before settling on his lips again. He laughed with me, and then we fell back on the bed together.

“I want you inside me, Roddy. Please. It has been so long!” It was a risk to say this, but it was also abundantly clear that he was in control. It would happen when he wanted it to, whether it was now or later. I held my breath as I waited for his response, looking up at him looming over me. Hoping beyond hope he wanted to milk this all day, otherwise, it might be the last words I ever spoke.

The skin on his face, normally so smooth, albeit deeply lined, fell forward in folds of flesh. Only his eyes, so full of love and desire, feigned yet convincing, made him recognizable in this position. My legs wrapped around him, inviting him, and I could already feel him growing against me.

Maybe it would be now. I swallowed hard.

Maybe this was the end, as Arthur and Avalon weren’t set to come until after the Snake Oil Show.

It would be a relief, after all these centuries. Death was always a relief.

Perhaps I even hoped it would be now. Then, peace. At last. Time for someone else to protect.

Please, give me my respite.

He sat up and moved back, leaving me cold on the bed alone. Hands on hips. Face devoid of affect. Derisive snuffle. Then, after all that love and longing magically reappeared and glowed from every pore, he said, “I want to feel this longing for you all day. Let it charge me from the inside, and then tonight, devour you. For hours. Tonight will be all about you. Your desires. Your pleasure. All for you, my love.”

“But—but—Roddy! I want you now! NNNOOOWWWW” I whined in my best impression of petulant child, extending every vowel in the most annoying way imaginable.

“Now, Polly,” he said, getting that parental scolding gleam in his eye. “You know we have work to do today. You do know that, right? I mean, you do know we have things to do?”

“All right.” I pouted, crossing my legs and arms at the same time.

“Get dressed,” he said, patting my thigh. “Then tonight: wine, candlelight, you.” As his lips brushed mine again with such tenderness, that spark of femininity deep inside me hoped it was all a misunderstanding. Hoped this was real. Not the demon inside. Not the cruelty. Not what all the evidence shows. Not what I’d seen with my own eyes. But this. This kiss. This love. This desire.

The cold air stung my lips, moist with his, as he withdrew. Before I could even open my eyes, he was at the door, arrogant stance and a taunting expression. “Right ho, Polly! Get dressed! I’ll buy you a sticky bun…”

“Ooooh! Really? Really, Roddy? Splendid! Yes, a sticky bun is a great start. But—but then, later? You and me together again. Like it should be. You promise? You promise, Roddy?” I felt ridiculous speaking in the inflections of a child, but since I had been watching and testing Jeffries these past months, I got a clear impression of Polly’s mannerisms and her intense attachment and agony. This was what she would do, and although I had to fight back the nausea with every word and absurd action and farcical flip of her long mousy brown hair, it was essential to stop this monster from not only destroying me and Polly, but dozens or hundreds of others. In the mean time, I must appear to play his game. If he suspects I’m not Polly, Arthur and Avalon won’t have time to get her to safety and I’ll be annihilated, even with my considerable power. I had better not try to defeat him alone. We only have one chance to get it right, and if he gets away, he might never be stopped.

“Of course, I promise. Didn’t I already tell you? In fact, how about dinner first. Just me and you at the patisserie down on Fleet Street?”

“Oh! Yes! Yes! Yes!” I said, now jumping up and down on the bed. Dinner, too? He’s going to draw this out all day as part of his game. It would make his betrayal and violation all that more succulent for him.

“Wear a nice dress today, Polly. I’m taking you out, doing this properly.” He stood and thrust out his chest, grabbing his lapels, mocking the English with his fake, over-annunciated accent. “Don’t you know, Polly. We must all be
propa
and sort it out. Perhaps after a cup of tea. Yes. Splendid, indeed.” He tipped his bowler and smiled. So charming. Even though I knew what was underneath, I still laughed along with his antics.

§

I performed Polly’s part during the Snake Oil Show flawlessly. I had mastered the craft of impersonation long ago, but then, I’d had so much practice over the years. Arthur and Avalon had strolled by, precisely on time, as planned, and nodded to me while Jeffries was taking the money from those he had conned. I nodded back, then barked that horrendous braying of a laugh and twirled and danced some more.

Now I felt safe. They’d be just on the outside, looking in. They’d be there, unseen by Jeffries, until the time came, and then, goodbye Roddy. Forever.

Once all the people cleared away, Jeffries came over to me and slid his hand into mine, interlocking fingers. The softness of his hands revealed a man who had never done a day’s hard labor in his privileged life. I obediently looked up at him with all the adoration I could muster, imagining starlight gleaming from my eyes upon all his glory and perfection.

I might be sick.

He danced with me in the street, and our eyes never left the other’s. We spun around and showed the entire world just how much we were in love, just how very fortunate we were to have found each other.

Repulsive.

Then he took my hand and placed it in the crook of his arm. In all these months, I didn’t think I had ever seen Jeffries look quite this smug. He was salivating in anticipation of ripping this little body in two with his big blue scepter, and he was going to milk this evening with everything he had, convincing Polly of the love and the desire he felt for her. Convincing her that he wanted her and only her. Then, destroy her.

How delicious that would be for him. His pièce de résistance, demolished. Built up and then shattered by the almighty him.

“Don’t I look pretty today, Roddy? You haven’t said anything about my dress.” I held the bright blue skirt out from under the tattered overcoat and curtsied like a proper lady, then brayed again.

“Quite lovely, sweetheart. You are a vision. You’re right, I had been so busy with work I hadn’t really looked. You look stunning, sweetheart! Simply stunning.”

I cupped and bounced the brown ringlets hanging down from my coiffed hair, braying anew.

So glad this night would be over soon. This act was ever so tiresome.

The patisserie of Fleet Street, a place called Mrs. Mooney’s Pie Shop, was full of people, savoring the different flavors of pastries, pies, and cakes. Although meat pies were Mrs. Mooney’s specialty, it had the reputation of containing unsavory sorts of meat. Having stopped eating animals long ago, I didn’t understand the difference people saw in one dead animal from another. Another one of those cultural anomalies. Why was it all right to slaughter and eat a pig but not a dog or cat? It was all abominable.

For me, I did what I could to protect innocent life, regardless of species. Although it wasn’t much, as my focus was elsewhere, I did not partake in the flesh of tortured and slaughtered animals, socially accepted cuisine or not. I had taken quite a bit of pleasure, more than usual, in setting that blasted butcher straight. Perhaps it would be him hanging from a meat hook before long.

I smiled at the thought.

Blokes like him rarely changed their behavior for long.

When he violated his wife or his daughter again, I’d be there.

We took a seat near the center where it was warm, as it was situated near the hearth and stoves. A large stone encasement had been built up in the center of the shop, and fires roared within the stone walls, beneath the iron grate on top where copper pots filled with savory foods. Four different chefs, dressed in white aprons and puffy white hats simmered and boiled and sautéd, each taking a section of the iron grate. More copper pots hung overhead along with bundles of drying herbs, all around the center pit. Just to one side, against the back wall, an archway of brick outlined the bread and pie oven. Cooks thrust in flat wooden paddles on the ends of long wooden poles, removing the bubbling pies and pastries.