The Deception Dance (26 page)

A little confused at the rush, I pull my dress together and zip it up
my body. The slit in the side has lengthened, but besides that and
the torn strap it is not all that worse-for-wear.

Andras stands. “Cover your ears,” he says over his
shoulder.

Then as he faces the hill beside our rock outcropping Andras’s
mouth opens wide… something happens to is mouth, it stretches…
changes… in an inhuman way. His skin stretches and pulls
forward, impossibly long, forming a sharp point that hooks down.
Protruding from his face is a razor sharp beak made of skin. A
blackness spreads from his beak point, up his face, as the blackness
spreads large ebony feathers slide from his taut skin. The feathers
seem to slip out of the skin, as if they were just below the surface,
but they stop at his neck; leaving his torso as perfect as it’s
always been. The eye I can see expands, rounding into a large
iridescent green globe.

Oh, my God. He is a demon.

I place my hands over my ears but my fingers do little to block out
the shriek that screeches out of his sharp open bill. The sound would
shatter every glass in a crystal shop, every mirror in a department
store. It is the kind of sound that is not just heard; I feel it tear
into my pores, ooze down my spine and prickle to the tips of my toes.

Immediately the earth shakes. I spin to peer out at the land that
leads to this oceanic cliff. On the hill high above, a car is parked
next to my scooter. That’s bad. I look around for any other
human but can't see anyone.

With a crack, a deep fissure splits through the earth. The fissure
snaps open more with every quake.

I think I'm screaming but it’s not even audible to me over
Andras’s new bout of cries.

The hill darkens and I look up to see black clouds rolling in from
every direction and converging directly above the fissure. The
gathered cloud holds no form, it is an indistinct thick black mist.
As the mist drops to the ground, forms solidify. Some figures are
human, most are not even remotely humanoid.

It’s hard to differentiate them at this distance but I know
what they are. Demons, he’s called his demons.

I curl into myself, trying to control my shaking, as I watch one
after the other drop from the sky.

The fissure in the earth also erupts with forms but none of these
creatures are remotely human-like. Many are black, shining with
gleaming ebony skin and others are a sallow pigment-less white or
gray, but they all have red eyes.

They surge forward like a tide of terror consuming the earth around
them. Soon the hill looks like a demonic mockery of the ocean itself,
a shifting mass of cruelly conceived bodies.

And their red eyes are all staring at Andras.

In a quick, sliding, fluttering movement Andras’s back springs
black feathery wings. They spread from his body as if they could
pierce the sky. He looks like the opposite of an angel with giant
bird wings, a razor sharp beak and a human body. He caws again making
my whole body tremble.

His beak snaps back into his face and he screams something not even
remotely recognizable. His words sound whispery, ancient.

The demonic horde screeches, cackles and cries. They shift, dance,
pant, shriek, and fight but Andras’s voice is louder than their
collective rabble.

“I am the sixty third! The Grand Marquis! I am dissention, I am
death, I am war!” His voice is raw with unrestrained power.

I more than hear it, it is inside me.

“I am the sower of discord. I am the inciter of rage. My will
upon my legions, is absolute. Follow my orders or disintegrate into
the ashes of Hell: thou shalt not bleed or wound my woman, Raven
Smith. Her death will be by no servant of mine. While her heart beats
not another soul will be bought or traded for...”

This… does not go over well. The demons hiss, growl and roar.
A dog-like beast lunges toward our cliff. I scurry back. Before the
dog-beast can sink his claws into the rock, Andras closes his fist
and the dog implodes into a cloud of dust that drifts away in the
ocean breeze.

Andras spreads his arms so they line up with his outstretched
gleaming wings. “This is my word. These are the laws that bind
you. Now crawl back to where you came from, be it Earth or Hell.”

They do, receding like murky water being sucked into a drain. Those
with wings take to the sky and roll out like thunderous storm clouds.
After a few earsplitting minutes Andras and I are again alone. Where
the fissure in the earth had been a moment ago only craggy rocks and
trampled wild grass remain.

He's a demon. A friggin’ demon.

I laugh, a strange crazed sound then cover my mouth with my hand.

But, all I had to do was ask and he turned his back on Satan. Could
there be such thing as a
good
demon?

I stand and approach him.

His face is turned up with an expression of ecstasy. “The
power,” he says then moans.

I hesitantly touch a feather on one of his wings, it’s so soft,
and real.

His eyes open and he smiles over. “I am glad you saw me like
this, Raven. I’m glad you can see my magnificence.”

My head shakes back and forth as I huff out another laugh; I wonder
if demons understand the concept of ‘egotistical.’

I don’t think he does, because he asks me, “Why are you
laughing?”

“Well...” I don’t complete my thought because a
shout from the cliff below us announces we are still not alone.

“Andras!” The man’s voice bellows in a thick
Swedish accent, “come down here and fight me!”

Before I can even turn my head Andras’s face explodes into the
giant head of a raven. I only get my hands up just in time to muffle
his deafening screech. The wind from his beating wings throws me to
the rock. I whip around to see who issued the challenge.

The man’s accent was so thick I have a hard time believing who
I’m seeing, but Nicholas stands where the fissure had been.

The shrieking screeching noise coming from Andras drowns out my
scream, “No, Nicholas. Run!”

Please Nicholas, run. I don’t want you to die.

Nicholas is armed with a gleaming silver pistol in one hand and a
long one-handed sword in the other.

Andras launches himself off the rock with so much force, it groans,
threatening to split.

I throw my hands over my head to block the gale emanating from
Andras’s immense wings. He soars into the air and dives at
Nicholas

Nicholas doesn’t dodge him; he raises his arm, aims and unloads
his pistol with six booming (but quick) gunshot sounds. I try to see
if Andras is hit but his movements are so fast it’s hard to
focus on him.

Andras misses Nicholas by a yard and drives into the ground skidding
and creating a crater. Lightning quick he’s on his feet and
leaping forward with a black sword held above him (which must have
been conjured from Hell, it just appears). Andras snaps his bird beak
at Nicholas, but Nicholas dodges.

Nicholas tosses his pistol and swings his sword with precision; but,
Andras also dodges.

I just stand here, a helpless spectator at a macabre ballet. Two men
I care about are battling to the death and there’s nothing I
can do about it.

They circle each other lunging and dodging but neither landing a
blow. As Andras turns to block, the moonlight illuminates his body
and the three bleeding bullet holes in his chest. He pounces, beak
stabbing at Nicholas’s eyes, but Nicholas parries and stabs
through Andras’s wing; feathers and blood spray as Nicholas
slashes through.

I try not to scream, I don’t want to give either of them the
advantage, but Nicholas clearly already has it when he swipes the
side of Andras’s chest.

Raising my hands to cover my mouth, I know that Andras doesn’t
really have a chance; he is fighting with three bullets in his chest,
a torn wing and a slice out of his ribs. Andras must realize this
too, because his beak recedes and he turns his human head to me right
before Nicholas chops it off.

Day Twenty-Nine
(again)

The first thing I’m aware of is breaking Nicholas’s nose.
I have never punched a person before, never wanted to, but I pack a
world of pain into my swing. He doesn’t move, doesn’t
stop me, and doesn’t even staunch the blood flow that pours
down his face. I keep punching him, hitting him, kicking him. My nose
is running, I don’t care.

“You killed him,” I belligerently shout, “He
promised me no more souls...and you killed him.”

“Raven,” He gurgles through the blood that is pouring
into his mouth. He lifts his hands to my shoulders, as he did only a
couple hours ago when the world was a different place. I fight to get
out of his grasp but his hands clamp down. “He’s the
demon Grand Marquis, Raven, he’s not dead.”

I halt my squirming. Standing motionless makes me teeter back and
forth; Nicholas’s restraining grip is the only thing that keeps
me vertical.

“He’s a demon Grand Marquis,” he repeats. “All
I did was kill his body,
or
the body that he stole.” He
lifts his hands from my shoulders and lets me fall. I collapse to the
ground and try to stop hyperventilating.

I see Nicholas’s boots as he looms over me. He backs away and
retrieves his sword. He crouches down and wipes his blade on the
grass, leaving two streaks of blood. I watch him through my eyelashes
in my crumpled position.

I assume he has wiped the blood from his face because his words come
through clear. “We have at best a few years until you have your
precious
Andras again, probably less. Andras has to be called
forth by a magician and steal the magician’s body to stay
longer than a few weeks in this world.” He pauses wiping his
sword to say, “Chauncey. Is. Dying.” He bites the words
out. “I came to find you… to tell you… and you
were…you were… with him!” His voice is thick with
his Swedish accent. I don’t look up to see his face but emotion
drips from his voice when he says, “I would have loved you,
cared for you, anything, anything, Raven...” He trails off.
When he speaks again he’s angry, “but you chose him, you
gave your body to him,” his voice brakes, “a demon.”

He thinks I slept with Andras, I don't correct him. My face is
pressed to the dirt, I’m afraid if I raise my head I’ll
see Andras’s body. I don’t think I could handle seeing
his decapitated form even from the corner of my eye.

I hear Nicholas get up and cross over to me. He’s above me,
when he speaks his accent is gone, “You need to go back, find
Linnie. When I left she wouldn’t leave Chauncey’s side, I
could not pry her from Chauncey. When a soul-bound person dies, their
body can be possessed and become a puppet of a demon.”

We are both silent for a few moments.

“Do you hear me?” He touches me gently on my arm. “Get
up, Raven, Linnie isn’t safe.”

I stand, careful to keep my head turned from Andras’s body in
two parts. I wipe my face off on Andras’s jacket sleeve, which
I don’t remember grabbing but is on me. I turn toward my
scooter. “I was wrong, Nicholas; I could never love you.”

He’s right behind me when he laughs bitterly and says, “The
jokes is on me, I already love you.” He exhales, I can feel his
breath. He says, “At least now no souls will be taken while
you’re alive. Now I can protect you, even from yourself. Call
Linnie, tell her that I’m heading to the hospital to pick her
up and do your best to convince her to go with me. You go straight to
the house; I will pick up Linnie and meet you there.”

But, I don’t go to the house or waste time calling my sister.
Again I test the limits of my scooter as I race to the hospital. It
takes me only twenty minutes by my watch to get to Hoganas.

The frenzied thoughts and moments whiz by me in a blur as I reach the
hospital and race inside. A middle-aged nurse stops me before I can
reach Chauncey’s room; she thinks I am injured because of the
blood that I didn’t realize is on my dress. Honestly, I don’t
know whose blood it is. I tell her I was the unfortunate tissue for a
friends nose bleed. From her expression I don’t think she
believes me.

When I ask about Chauncey, she tells me in heavily accented English
that she made a remarkable recovery. I don’t have the reaction
she must expect because she is a little tart when she informs me that
she is not allowed to give me information about when Chauncey will be
released. I let her usher me to the waiting room and I quickly exit
the hospital.

Pacing in front of the parking lot I pat down the pockets in the
jacket I’m wearing and discover through all the events of the
evening I still have my cell phone. At least the nurse seemed to
think that Chauncey is in her room. Maybe someone picked up Linnie
and Nicholas didn’t know about it.

Still pacing I tap my hand on my side while the phone rings. “Please
be there, please be there, please be there,” I chant as the
rings seem to crash over me, like waves.

“Hello,” A cheery voice sings. Time slows down.

I stare at the phone; acid burns through my stomach and up my throat
making words impossible.

When I don’t say anything the thing with Chauncey’s voice
giggles and asks in a conspiratorial tone, “Oh my, is this the
famous Raven Smith? I just need to meet you. I have heard so many
things about you.”

I swallow the bile in my mouth. “Where’s Linnie?”
My tone is steadier than I feel.

“Oh don’t worry,
Birdie
...”

I shudder as I hear her say my nickname.

“...she’s here with me.”

In the background I hear a muffled scream, a thud, a sob.

“Don’t you hurt her!” My voice is rough.

Chauncey’s voice scoffs as if I just said the silliest thing,
“Of course I will. I already have. Oh please come play with me
little bird. You’re only a few blocks away; I have a room at
the Hotell Trädgård Visa...” She tells me the room
number and starts to tell directions and in perfectly pronounced
Swedish but I interrupt.