Inn on the Edge (30 page)

“Ha. Feels like it, doesn’t it? Maybe we’re clueless. But we
can’t let that stop us.”

“No. We can’t.” She squeezed my shoulder. “We aren’t. Thanks
to
you
.”

I tilted my head and rubbed my check against her hand,
nuzzling her, wishing we had time to make love one last time. Of the four
Guides, I’d spent the least amount of time with Zora. She must have been
thinking along the same lines, because she sighed. “You have no idea how sweet
you are, Angie. No wonder Mr. Abiba is crazy about you.” She kissed the top of
my head.

“We don’t know what will happen,” I said softly. “All we can
do is try. We’re committed. And thanks. You’re sweet too.”

She held my hair in both hands, turning and turning it into
a thick roll. “A French twist. That’ll be the thing.” She deftly tucked the
roll up onto my head and held it there, studying it, her lips pursed. “Yes. So
pretty. It shows off your cheekbones.”

“You know how to make a French twist?”

She stuck pins all over my head to keep the twist in place.
Then she plucked a cluster of yellow flowers from the bridal arbor and tucked
it behind my ear. “I’m a woman of many talents.”

“Thank you for this…” I looked up at her. “Anne.”

“You’re welcome…Zenobia.” She laughed softly. And I felt
better.

Through the arbor, in glimpses framed with ivy and roses, I
saw Josh and Zenith and Vane, fully suited up and ready to go, the men all
black and white and Zenith in flashing red. I craned my neck, trying to see
Zenith better. She was practicing a move, doing the same thing over and over
again. A quick stomp of her foot, then another, then she threw her arm into the
air and twirled in a dazzling circle, her skirt flaring, her back arched and
her hair billowing.

She took my breath away.

If Zenith could do this—Zenith who’d
had her finger cut
off the night before
—then so could I.

So could I.

Six o’clock.

It was time. Our audience was in attendance—everyone save
Mr. Abiba and Zettia—sitting in a long row of chairs on the left side of the
room. They’d been whispering among themselves but had fallen quiet when the flamenco
performers took their places. Did Nikki and Geoffrey and Logan and the rest
have any idea what was about to happen? How could they? I only hoped that when
this was all over and Mr. Abiba was gone, our friends would understand why we’d
put an end to the fun and games. Assuming our plan worked.

We were in position. White-faced. Quiet, watchful, afraid.
And excited too. Zora and Valerian stood to either side of the double doors.
Vane and Zenith waited in the spotlight. Josh, seated off to their side,
quietly tuned his guitar one last time. I huddled under the bridal arbor behind
a decorative fall of ivy, holding a bouquet of white lilies tied with a satin
sash. For now I was hidden from sight. For now.

Ready or not, here I come.

Him. In my head. And he wasn’t even in the room yet.

Hello, Angela my love.

I jerked in shock and dismay. My left shoulder bumped into
the arbor, making the entire structure wobble. Ivy waved back and forth in
front of my face. I swallowed and swallowed again.

Have you quite prepared yourself for me?

“You have no idea,” I whispered.

Ah, but perhaps I have. Perhaps…I…have!

Had he? Or was he just saying that to make me squirm? I
clutched the bouquet, my breath coming in shallow bursts. A pearl button popped
open in the small of my back, making me shiver. What if Mr. Abiba knew exactly
what was going on here? What if he was just toying with us? Humoring us? I bit
my lip. No. I couldn’t let myself think like that—I had to be strong. I had to
play my part, and play it well. There was no going back. I peered through the
vines of the bridal arbor, waiting for Valerian to make the pre-arranged
signal, an up-and-down motion of his arm. It came. In the next instant, Josh
played a rousing flourish of chords on his guitar and Zenith leaped into
motion, a flurry of twirling red skirts. Vane began to sing. Then finally,
Valerian and Zora each took a door and swung it inward to rest against the
wall. Between them, resplendent in his flowing robes, stood Mr. Abiba.

He was…beautiful.

In the prime of life. Virile and strong. Radiating
exuberance. Confident. The sexiest man I’d ever seen in my life.

I sucked in my breath. How on God’s green Earth could I
still want him? How?

He took two steps into the room and stopped. He regarded the
flamenco performance for a long moment, taking it in, appreciating the artistry
behind it, nodding in time to Zenith’s stomping heels and Josh’s strumming
hands. His gaze lingered on Vane in surprise. So Zenith was right. Mr. Abiba
hadn’tknown Vane could accompany her. Mr. Abiba didn’t know everything,
and that gave me hope. But then his eyes narrowed. His head turned from side to
side. He was looking for me.

Angela! Oh Angela…

I took a deep breath, fortifying myself.

Did you think this show would distract me? My dear. We
are in the middle of a grand lover’s battle, you and I. It would take more than
a flamenco alegría to distract me, breathtaking as it is.

A bead of sweat made its way down my forehead and into the
corner of my eye. This had to work—I had to
make
it work!

I shall play along. For you. Only for you.

Mr. Abiba crossed his arms and tapped his foot, watching
Zenith finish her dance in a flourish of red skirts. He bowed extravagantly
from the waist, clapping. “Well done! I am most impressed. Carry on! Carry on!”

The performers launched into a second song but Mr. Abiba was
no longer watching. He was studying the paintings lining the walls. He turned
in a slow circle, taking them in. The large beach mural, with its waving
grasses and clouds and lighthouse. The view from the top of the North Tower at
sunset. And then the people-pile painting I’d been so proud of, so full of arms
and legs and genitals and giddy sexual energy. He spent extra time studying that
one, just as I’d known he would, his head dipped in appreciation, his hand
coming up as if to caress bare skin. “Sublime,” he said at last, shaking his
head. Moving on, he gazed at the long row of portraits, all connected by
painted leafy vines. My father, my mother, my sister. Vane. Zenith. Geoffrey,
Logan, Nikki, Rhonda-Lynne, Josh. I saw a flicker cross his face as he realized
my portrait wasn’t there, nor his own.

Interesting choice. A message, perhaps?

He completed his perusal of the room. Nodded toward the
seated guests. And then, finally, he looked at the bridal arbor.

Goodness gracious. What have we here?

From my hiding place, I saw Valerian and Zora grab hold of
the double doors and swing them away from the wall, bringing them toward each
other.

I was going to faint.

Come out, come out, wherever you are.

He knew exactly where I was.

Josh played a solo. Vane and Zenith stood to the side,
clapping in time, never losing the rhythm, their eyes glued to Mr. Abiba.

I squeezed the bouquet so hard that sticky, fragrant sap ran
down my arm.

Why do you hide from me, love of mine?

It was time.

Are you so very frightened?

I took another deep breath, realizing that I’d been taking
fortifying breaths from the moment he’d crossed into the room. Time seemed to
contract and expand. The world around me became bright and hard-edged,
hyper-focused. I was ready. I straightened my shoulders. I held the bouquet in
front of my bosom, like the bride I was.

I stepped from my hiding place, revealing myself.

“I’m ready,” I said.

He saw me. His willing, beautiful bride. A look of pure,
unadulterated joy spread across his face. I saw. It was real.

Mr. Abiba, demon, was capable of joy, of love, of happiness.
It transformed him.

It took my breath away.

“Hello, Adi,” I said.

Time stopped. It was just the two of us, as if it had never
been otherwise. Perhaps it hadn’t. Music still played in the background, and
the singing too, and the thumping and swirling of Zenith’s dancing and the
shocked gasps of our small audience, but the sounds came from somewhere far
away, somewhere that had nothing to do with us. Background noise, nothing more.
I stood there in front of my enemy, resplendent in my wedding dress, offering
myself. He stared at me, his eyes traveling up and down the length of my body.
Twice.

Angela, my love! You make me so very happy!

“You’ve made me happy too. In ways I never expected,” I said
out loud. There was no need for telepathy—not any more. Not that I could do it
without falling to the floor in a writhing mass. I held out my hand. “Marry me,
Adi Abiba.”

Delighted laughter filled my head.
Then I have won.

“Marriage? Really? Is that what you call winning?”

It was always so, my dear.

“With a bride as your prize?”

Of course.

The song ended and another began. From the corner of my eye,
I saw the double doors swing closer together, almost but not quite touching,
revealing the paintings of the bride and groom and their reaching, yearning
hands, the glint of a golden ring and its diamonds. Zora waved at me—
do it,
do it now!

The game is hereby over, Zenobia my love! May I call you
Zenobia? Ah…but it was a grand ride, wasn’t it?

I studied his handsome face. “For you, perhaps. It was never
a game for me. And no. I prefer Angela.”

Beside the point. Are you willing to accept me? Of your
own free will?

“I…am. Yes.”

Now it was his turn to study me. I steeled myself. Could he
tell my lies from my truths? Because some of what I was saying
was
the
truth. Some small part of me did love him, would have taken him as husband,
would have been thrilled to have white-hot demon sex with him, would have spent
the rest of my life learning from him. I latched on to those small truths—
his
truths—letting them grow, shine, fill me. I let him study me, let him see
them.

I opened myself to him.

Some of myself, that is. For
I
was still playing the
game. I’d erected the biggest, strongest mental barrier the world had ever seen
to keep my own truths secret.

And he was too dazzled to see them.

“You
do
love me,” the Amorous Demon whispered.

He took my hand then and held it in his own as if it were a
fragile bird.

“I have something for you,” I said after a moment, taking my
hand away. “A gift. Turn around.”

He did. He saw the bride and groom painted on the doors—the
missing portraits—and gasped. He spun around again to face me, his robes
flaring, his eyes tearing.

“It’s beautiful!” he cried.

“Close the doors, Adi. Bring me the ring. Make us whole.”

But it didn’t happen that way.

Why would it? While everyone in the room held their breath,
Mr. Abiba hurried to the doors. He reached for them with both hands, pushing
them together…closing them…closing them…

I thought my heart would stop.

The painted hand of the bride so close to the groom’s, so
close, so close,
so close
… And then…and then…a scream of rage that made
my hair stand on end.

“Imbecile!”

Zettia.

I thought I would faint.

The doors flung open, smacking Mr. Abiba in the face with a
sickening wet
thud
. He lurched backward, howling, his hands to his
cheeks.

“You brainless
moron
!” Zettia screamed.

Stunned silence filled the room.

“
Idiot!
” shrieked Zettia, stalking into the Fine Arts
Room, “Four hundred and eighty years old, and you
still
think they love
you!”

I stared at her in shock. We all did. Even Mr. Abiba.

Zettia? This was
Zettia
? Sweet, accommodating Zettia
who made our wonderful meals? Solemn, calm Zettia who talked Mr. Abiba down
from his crying jags? Self-possessed, no-nonsense Zettia who made everyone wait
for gifts while she cleared the table of dishes? What had happened to
her
?
This new Zettia who’d just stormed through the double doors was someone we’d
never seen before. She was bigger, taller, fiercer—someone to be feared. Josh
and I shared an alarmed glance from our positions across the room. Zettia had
changed everything. What would happen now? Mr. Abiba hadn’t closed the doors—the
circle hadn’t been completed!

Our plan had failed.

Zettia stepped right up to Mr. Abiba and skewered him with
her steely gaze. She was almost as tall as he was. “Adi Abiba, you are
colossally
stupid
! Did you really think she was going tomarry
you?” She drew herself up to her full height, made an ugly hawking noise deep
in her throat and spat loudly at Mr. Abiba’s feet—a gesture so perfectly full
of contempt that it was almost beautiful. “Their kind
never
marry our
kind of their own free will!”

I gasped. Zettia was a demon too. How had I not seen it?

Mr. Abiba growled low in his throat. It was a horrible,
wrenching sound that started as pain and ended as fury. He took his hands from
his face and pointed a long finger at Zettia. Blood flowed freely from his
nose. “How
dare
you upset my plans, woman? How dare you?”

A part of me thought,
So demons can bleed
.

“Your
plans
?” Zettia batted his finger away. “You
call thisa
plan
?” She flung her arm toward the paintings ringing
the room. She turned her gaze on Valerian and Zora, who looked as if they
wanted to wriggle their way into the brush marks of the landscape they were
cowering against. “Clever little Guides, aren’t you? Nice try. The ringing
spell.” She cast her gaze on Mr. Abiba again, her face red with fury. “But you,
my dear Adi—
you
are a cretin. How could you let the Guides anywhere near
our precious books? What were you
thinking
?”

Mr. Abiba stomped his foot, and I could have sworn the floor
trembled with the impact. “You slovenly
sow
!” he thundered. “Yes, I had
plans—and you ruined them!” His voice rose to a register that made my ears
ring. “I had my Zenobia right where I wanted her! How stupid do you think I am?
I didn’t believe their little charade for a single moment!” He leaned toward
her, his voice suddenly lowering in very threatening way. “Zettia, I was
never going to shut that door
.”

A horrified gasp came from my right. It was Josh.

I tore my eyes from the arguing demons for long enough to
gesture for him to join me where I was huddling under the arbor. He scuttled
over to me and we clung to each other behind the ivy vines. Valerian and Zora
were backed up against the wall, trembling. Zenith and Vane were crouched
behind the erstwhile audience members, who were frozen with shock and terror.
My head was spinning—everything had gone so wrong, so quickly! Mr. Abiba had
been following our every move, the bastard. He’d promised not to! Our plan
never had a chance because he’d known all along.

But… If he wasn’t going to shut the doors and complete the
circle, what
had
he been planning to do? Had those plans included me?
Was I still in danger? Were the others? Were we in worse danger now than
before? I squeezed Josh’s hand so hard it must have hurt him. He put his arm
around me and pulled me close. Our eyes never left the demons.

They were moving closer to our arbor.

“Did you not hear me, woman?” screamed Mr. Abiba. “I had
everything under control!”

“Perhaps.” Zettia’s voice grew cold. “Perhaps not. You were
playing a game of wits with her. Toying with her. Like a lion with his prey. I
quite understand that. But this time you’ve gone too far.”

Mr. Abiba’s eyes darted in my direction, then back again. He
didn’t say anything. But his left hand twitched and he quickly, smoothly moved
between me and Zettia.

Shielding me.

Zettia watched, a disgusted look on her face. “Swine!You
think you love her.” she sneered, her upper lip curled in a snarl. “You can’t
help yourself, can you? She’s only the latest in a long string of conquests, yet
you think you’re in love! Just like you loved all the others. One after
another. For four hundred years! You’re pathetic, Adi Abiba. Pathetic!” She
spat the word. And then she moved to his side, directly in my line of sight
again. “You’re a silly, self-indulgent little man who specializes in creating
silly, self-indulgent little girls! Girls you train to adore youabove
all others! Girls who fawn over you and hang on your every word. Girls who
believe you actually care about them. Girls like
her
!” She pointed
directly to where I was hiding in the arbor.

A small, thin sound escaped my lips. I almost wet my pants.

“I
do
care!” Mr. Abiba took a step to the left,
blocking her from me.

She ignored him. “And you’ve led this most recent example to
believe she’s something
extra
special, haven’t you? You made her believe
she has powers, isn’t that right? Of course it’s right. It’s what you always
do!”

“My Zenobia
is
special! She’s a telepath!”

“You stupid
cock monkey
,” Zettia said in a scathing
voice, pointing a long finger at Mr. Abiba and then at the row of terrified
guests. “You know they can all do it if they try hard enough. If they can
withstand the pain. Most can’t. Your little strumpet couldn’t! At best all she
did was hurl a few words in your direction. Like I said, she’s nothing special.”

Mr. Abiba lunged at her, a tight ball of pent-up fury, but
she deftly moved away.

“When is it going to stop, Adi? How much longer do I have to
put up with these insufferable infatuations of yours?”

Again he threw himself at her but all he managed to do was
tear her robe.

She let out a sharp, scornful laugh. “How many ‘loves’ have
you had, anyway? Do you keep track of them? Because
I
do! Do you
remember Gloria? And Imelda? How about Prudence? That was such a long time ago,
wasn’t it? Do you still have Prudence’s embroidered kerchief to remember her
by? Ah yes, I see by your expression that you do. You must remember sweet
Maureen? Oh, and Rebecca too! How could I not mention Rebecca? She was the one
you cried for the other day, if I’m not mistaken? She of the lovely soprano
voice.”

Mr. Abiba howled in enraged indignation. Droplets of blood
splattered the polished wooden floor. “Shut your mouth, woman!”

“Well I’m
done
with it!” Zettia shrieked. “I’m
putting an end to this. Right now.”

Josh’s hand tightened around my waist. My knees threatened
to give way.

Zettia whipped a piece of heavy paper from her robes. She
fluttered it in front of Mr. Abiba’s face, taunting him. A flame appeared out
of nowhere and began to singe the bottom left corner. The smoke was acrid,
sour, permeating the room in seconds. It made my eyes water. “Our agreement,
Adi. You must remember? Signed in blood on January the first of the year 1604?
It was your idea.”

His face went white. “You can’t do that.”

“Watch me.”

“How dare you! That contract is
mine
! It was hidden!”

“Ha!” She stomped her foot. “You weren’t paying attention. I
found it, Adi. I broke the guarding spells. You’ve been busy lately, haven’t
you? You’ve been occupied with watching your little darling over there getting
herself fucked! Over and over and over. Well I’ve been busy too. Searching!
And…see?” She waved the contract back and forth, fanning the flames. “I finally
found it.”

Mr. Abiba and Zettia stared at each other as pale flames
flickered. The air shimmered with their fury. I was afraid to breathe, afraid
to move, afraid to be in the same room with them.

“Zettia, I’m warning you…”

She wasn’t listening. “I agreed to keep your little friends
fed and watered and sexed up while you underwent rejuvenation every four years,”
yelled Zettia. “I threw glamour after glamour! I did my part!” The flame was
spreading. “You siphoned off their sexual energy and you thrived! All you had
to do was be true to me. Give
me
the apexes you would have squandered on
them. Love
me
above all others! You signed in blood. You
promised!
”

Mr. Abiba’s eyes never left the burning contract. The lower
quarter had already turned to ash and drifted to the floor. “I
was
true
to you,” he said.

“Like hell you were.” Zettia moved her fingers away from the
grasping flames.

“You are my only lover, Zettia. You! You always have been.
What kind of monster do you think I am? Nothing’s changed.” Mr. Abiba jabbed a
finger at her, then made a shockingly fast move for the contract. He missed.
Zettia was quicker.

They moved so fast, these demons.

The contract was half gone. Zettia waved it back and forth
again, baiting him.

“You try me, woman, with your petty jealousies. I’ve not
sampled Angela’s delights, no matter what you think. You
know
that.” Mr.
Abiba’s voice lowered, grew cold and threatening. “Zettia, you do not want to
do this.”

He’d said “sampled Angela’s delights”.

The three ugliest words in the English language. Right up
there with “silly, self-indulgent little girl”. I felt like throwing up.

“Oh, but I
do
want to do this. I have had quite
enough, Adi Abiba.”

They were circling each other now, right in front of me,
moving opposite each other, their flowing robes making them seem bigger than
they were. Their cinnamon scent filled the room, growing stronger with their
rising fury. How was it possible that I could be trapped in a room with two
warring demons? With these two monstrous beings who were about to burst into
full-fledged combat? Keeping each other at arm’s length, they snarled and
snapped and hissed at each other like animals, getting nearer and nearer to my
hiding place.

“You mock me!” Zettia screamed. “All the years I’ve given to
you and you
mock
me!”

Mr. Abiba slapped her hard across the face.

She slapped him back with her free hand. Harder. Blood from
Mr. Abiba’s dripping nose splattered the floor around them. Somehow they struck
me as absurd, those slaps. I suppressed a horrified laugh. Demons
slapping
each other? Why bother hitting and slapping and name-calling when they had so
much power, so much magic at their disposal?

It was so…human.

Zettia threw the contract onto the floor.

Mr. Abiba, glaring at her, stomped on it, holding his robes
up around his knees. His legs were muscular and striking, as beautiful as the
rest of him, but as white as the paper Zettia had set on fire. His foot rose
and fell, trampling on the flames, a frantic dance of desperation. Bits of ash
and smoke rose around him but still the paper burned.

Zettia laughed at him. “Oh Adi. Have you forgotten that I’m
every bit your equal? Did it never occur to you that
I
might have had a
stake in all this? That
I
might have wished to set myself free? That I
couldn’t do it for myself because of your damned contract, so I let your little
friends do it for me? Did it ever enter your useless, love-addled mind that
I
might have been watching all along, waiting for my moment to pounce? No, of
course not! Why would it? You’re so full of yourself that you never even
thought of
me
.” She took a single step toward the double doors. “Now say
goodbye, Adi Abiba.”

“No!” he screamed too late. “Zettia—no!”

But Zettia had seized her chance. She’d already sprung into
motion, crossing the floor faster than anything had a right to. Before I’d even
registered movement she was at the doors. Mr. Abiba arrived a fraction of a
second later, screaming in rage, but Zettia had a firm grasp on the handles…and
the doors were mere inches apart. She threw herself against them, snarling.
“I’ve had enough, Adi! It’s over! I’m completing the circle! I’m going back.
And I’m taking
you
with me.”

Mr. Abiba fought her. The doors didn’t close. Instead they
quivered with opposing forces, with the push and pull of the two enraged
demons. But they didn’t come together. They didn’t complete the circle.

I fell against Josh, my vision threatening to go black.

Mr. Abiba screamed and howled. As desperately as I wished to
look away, I couldn’t take my eyes from him. He was wild—a savage, horrible
beast of a man. He was morphing from something beautiful into something
hideous, his dual natures at war with one another. Was this the real Mr. Abiba?
Was this what he really looked like? I shuddered so hard that my teeth rattled.
This, then, was what I was escaping—a grotesque, unnatural being. A demon! And
a gruesome fate that could have been mine.