Stork Naked (16 page)

He reached for her again. “Now that that's decided, we can have some fun.”

She drew away again. “It's not decided. I want to see Prize safely out of this house, after I hear Surprise agree to let her go.” Actually she was not at all sure she could do what he wanted even then, because it was wrong. It was bad enough having a passion for Che Centaur, who was a fully decent souled creature, but this soulless version of her husband was too much. She was really looking for some other way to rescue Prize. She liked the name, despite its nasty interpretation he had given. To her, the baby girl was a perfect prize, and possession had nothing to do with it.

“Maybe some other deal,” he suggested.

“Maybe.” That was what she wanted, but she didn't trust this. He surely had something devious in mind.

“Something we could give you, to make you go away.”

“Without my baby? No way.”

“Why are you so het up about a squalling baby, anyway? All she'll do is take up all your time.”

Surprise refused to be baited. “That's my problem. I will be happy to take her off your hands. Why do you want her so much, anyway?”

He evaded the issue. “We have a collection of items of interest. Maybe you would like one of them instead of the brat.”

“I doubt it.” She was understating the case. What was he up to?

He reached down to haul a chest from under the bed. He opened it with a whispered spell. It was filled with slugs and snails and puppy-dogs' tails, as well as sugar and spice and all things nice. Evidently the Umlaut and Surprise of this reality shared it for oddments of interest. What could she possibly want from such a collection, in lieu of her baby?

Then she realized that to a soulless person, everything was negotiable. If he wanted a baby, but was offered something he wanted more, he would trade the baby for it. He expected her to react similarly. Those without souls could never truly appreciate their nature. That was why the Demons had been so dismayed in the instant they got halves of her soul that they had immediately rejected them.

He lifted out a shoe. Not a pair of shoes, just a single one, with a rather nutty surface. In fact it looked as if it had been fashioned from a large nut. “How about this Cash Shoe?” he asked. “Wear it, and it leaves cash behind.”

She had to laugh at the incongruity of it. “That's a pun: cashew. Who needs cash in Xanth?”

“But with enough cash you'll be rich.”

“The riches of Xanth are not in money. You have it confused with Mundania.”

He didn't argue. He set the shoe aside and brought out another item. “Here is a Tooth Brush.”

“That's a brush made out of teeth!” she exclaimed. “Another pun. What good would that do anyone?”

“Well, it bites bad children. It's a good way to keep them under control.”

For a fleeting half instant she imagined using that to subdue the rambunctious half-demon children. Then her niceness reasserted itself, banishing the wisp of nastiness as if it had never been. “I wouldn't use anything like that! Children need to be raised with understanding and love.”

He shook his head. “Weird.” He delved into the chest again. “How about this?” He held up a small white ball.

Despite her aversion to this whole scene, she was curious. “What is it?”

“A Goof Ball. Play with it and you will goof things up.”

“What use is that?”

“Give it to the children. They will soon be in no condition to oppose you.”

What did he know about the children? Bringing them had been mostly a matter of accident. He knew entirely too much about her, for one supposedly surprised by her visit. “No.”

He brought out a small rag doll with a long pin through its hair. “This should really help manage children, even part demons. It's a VooDoo doll.”

Again, curiosity overcame revulsion. “I don't understand.”

“Merely orient the doll on a person with a spot verbal spell. Thereafter whenever you stick the pin in it, the person feels the same stick, though nothing shows. It is a marvelously safe yet effective way of delivering pain.” He withdrew the pin from the doll's hair and oriented on the doll's belly.

“No!” Surprise cried, almost feeling a stab through her own belly. “Put it back!”

“You are difficult to satisfy.” Somehow he conveyed a nuance that had a sexual connection.

“Don't you have anything that doesn't hurt people?”

He fished around. “This, maybe.” He held up a compact squarish construction. “A Soap Box.”

“Isn't that a box for soap?”

“It is a box made out of soap stone. Stand on it and vent your opinions, however obnoxious they may be. It washes you clean of them, leaving a foul taste.”

Surprise had a vision of the pet peeve perching on the box and opening its beak—and choking on the taste of soap. But again she rallied. “No.”

He studied her, evidently perplexed. “Is there no greed or meanness in your body?”

“None,” she said, hoping it was true.

“Let's see.” He brought out a bottle of pills. “This should interest you.”

“Pills? Why?”

“These are magic pills, compressed from the dust near the Magic Dust Village. They have very strong magic, enough to enable a person to perform some magic in Mundania, or to greatly enhance individual talents. Whatever you do, you could do with greater effect, swallowing one of these. Pop! Twice the power. Make your talents truly effective.”

That was interesting. She could use each talent only once, and if once wasn't enough, she could not call it back for another try. Greater power of talents could be very nice. “I don't know.”

“Ha! You waver.”

That stiffened her softening backbone. “No! I'll never be a pill-popper.”

He tossed the bottle aside and brought out a hank of shiny gray yarn. “Steel Wool, shorn from metallic sheep. It will make very fine protective garments that still readily flex and look nice.” He held it up, measuring it against her body with his eye. “You would look spectacular in a close-fitting gown woven of this.”

He was getting closer. A truly flexible but impervious cloth that enhanced her figure. But not at the expense of her baby. “No.”

“Won't you at least try it on?” He shook the yarn, and it dropped down into a slinky garment. “It would be a shame to waste it on a figure inferior to yours.”

She fought hard and won. “No.”

“Surprise wears it when we go out. She looks great.”

That did not have the effect he intended. He was referring to the soulless creature of this reality. Surprise did not want any dress that had touched that flesh to touch her own. “Forget it.”

He considered a disturbing moment. She didn't like it when he thought, knowing his thoughts were not healthy for her mission. Then he brought out a packet of something. “Rows Seeds.”

“Roses?”

“Rows. Plant these seeds and their flowers will grow only in neat rows. Excellent for decorating walks and around houses; nothing grows out of line.”

Surprise thought of that around the Golem house, whose surrounding plants were somewhat sloppily arranged. But again, it was hardly enough to sacrifice her baby for. “No.”

“Then what about this?” He grasped one of the dog's tails projecting from the chest and hauled it out. The entire dog came out: a Mundane German Shepherd and Samoyed mix, white and light tan with a white nose, white brows, and freckles. “This is Spunky, looking for a good home.”

The dog blinked. “He's alive!” she exclaimed, astonished. “And you had him buried in the chest?”

As she spoke, Spunky cocked his head to look at her. His left ear flopped over. Her knees dissolved. She loved animals, and knew that Mundane pets were in special need of homes, as it took them time to get used to the magic and monsters of Xanth.

But instead of her baby? She couldn't. “No,” she whispered, heartbroken.

“Wrong dog?” Umlaut pulled on another tail, bringing out another Mundane crossbreed dog, a combination of black lab and American bull, with long silky hair, black with a white flame pattern on his chest. “This is Hercules. He saved a girl from a rattlesnake, but he's very gentle. You couldn't have a better guard dog.”

The dog gazed soulfully at her, in sharp contrast to the gaze of the man.

Surprise struggled. The soulless Umlaut must have done it deliberately, plying her with minor inanimate things before suddenly springing the warm live creatures on her. If the price had been anything other than her baby—

“No. Stop with these things. I don't want any of them.” At least, not considering his asking price.

Umlaut shrugged. He jammed the unprotesting dogs back into the chest, slammed shut the lid, and shoved it under the bed. Surprise winced to think of the poor dogs trapped in there, but there had to be some sort of spell to keep them alive. “Then it is time to return to our tryst, You never said whether you preferred to undress yourself or have me do it for you. At least you're halfway there.” He eyeballed her bare top again.

“Why should I express a preference?” she asked, flustered.

“So I can have the pleasure of ignoring it.”

“I don't trust you. I told you, I need to see my baby—Prize—taken out of this house with Che Centaur.” She grabbed her loose shirt and put it back on. Fortunately she didn't need an undergarment.

“That is not convenient at the moment.”

There was same additional nuance of annoyance. “At the moment?”

“See.” He touched the bedroom door, and it became a glassy window showing the other room.

She looked through the pane. There was Che with Surprise Seven. He was standing on the floor. She was standing on the chair, naked, and plastered to his front, kissing him avidly as her hands stroked his back. There was no sign of Stymy Stork; he must have gone outside.

Surprise hauled her slack jaw up. “What is going on?”

“We call it seduction. Maybe it has another name in your reality.”

“But he has no interest in her!”

“That seems to be in question. I agree, however, that he does not seem to be responding. Yet.”

“How can you watch your wife do that with another male?”

“Oh, it turns me on. Assuming it does the same for you, shall we proceed with our own liaison?”

“No!” But her eyes remained fastened to the awful scene. Every time she thought she had the measure of the horror of this situation, some new ugly twist developed. How could Che tolerate the efforts of that soulless creature?

Unfortunately, she had an answer. In Reality Three Che was married to Surprise Three, so obviously they were compatible. In Reality One the two of them had waded through the love elixir and suffered greater effect than anticipated. Here was Surprise Seven, looking exactly like her, catering to that passion. How could he resist?

Yet resist he did. His arms did not enclose her, and his lips did not respond to her ardent kisses. He merely stood there despite maneuvers that should have driven him to distraction.

At last Seven gave it up. “Bleep! You win.”

Che did not respond to that either.

“I should have tortured the baby. Just a few pinches would have made her scream.”

Now the peeve spoke. “You agreed not to, shrew, provided he allowed you to exercise your dubious wiles on him. Face it: you gambled and lost.”

So that was it! The witch had threatened the baby, and Che had acted to prevent that. He had been noble rather than dissolute. She owed him for his loyalty.

But why had Seven wanted to tempt Che? There, too, she might have an answer: she was turned on by him, and her soulless condition allowed her to do whatever suited her whim of the moment. So she had chosen to pass the time in her own unscrupulous fashion.

Umlaut's questing hand touched her hip. She shook it off. “We're done here,” she said sharply. Part of her mind wondered why he was being so careful to obtain her consent before acting; surely he would try to force her if he thought he could get away with it. Of course if he tried force she would smite him with her magic; maybe that was the reason. But she suspected there was something else. She had not yet fathomed the complete depths of this ugly situation.

She pushed open the door and entered the other room. She was ready to kill someone, even if it was her other self. “You want to torture my baby?” she demanded dangerously.

Seven, naked, shrugged. “Why not? She's a pain to take care of.”

That had to be deliberate baiting. Did Seven want to fight her? What would it be like, to struggle magically against one who could match any talent, once? “What's going on?”

“You are trying to take our baby, that's what's going on,” Seven said arrogantly. “Why don't you simply get your pushy little butt out of here and leave us alone?”

“Because you have my baby,” she retorted. “And you are mistreating her. She can't remain with you.”

“She can and will,” Seven said. “What are you going to do about it?” She remained naked, the view compelling Che's unwilling attention. In fact she was flaunting her body to distract the centaur, making aspects move or jiggle. Surprise had to admit it was a good body, well managed.

It was definitely a challenge, to both of them, with different facets. Surprise had never been a violent person, but she had been driven to the verge of her limit. “I'm going to—”

“Surprise,” the peeve said from its perch on the crib.

That made her pause. The peeve never called her by name, only by some insult, though they understood each other and got along well enough, considering. “What?”

“I have something to tell you that you need to know.”

“Stay out of it, bird-dropping!” Seven snapped.

The peeve did not respond with another insult, oddly. It focused only on Surprise. “That woman is dangerous. She is not what she seems.”

“I'm going to fry you for dinner, if you don't shut your lying beak,” Seven said fiercely.

That, too, was odd. The peeve could lie with the best of them, but had never done so to Surprise or her family. What did it want to tell her, and why was Seven so dead set against it? “I already know she has no soul.”

“Not exactly,” the peeve said.

Seven strode toward the bird. Surprise conjured a pane of hard plastic to bar her way, knowing Seven would immediately dissolve it with another spell, but not thinking of anything better on the spur of the moment. She didn't like spurs; they were likely to get her into trouble.