The Lie Spinners (The Deception Dance) (14 page)

For
some reason, it shocks me for a second that he can even say that
word, ‘Bible’ like it would be off limits too. I recover
with, “I read most of it,” I say, “I know what it
says.”

“
Did
you read the last book? The one that concerns
you
?
The book of Revelation?” Räum asks.

“
The
last book in the New Testament is the Book of Jude!” I say, but
I know that it’s not true: Räum can’t lie. He can’t
lie. If I could, I would sink into this patent leather couch.

“
Why
would they keep a book of
the
Bible
from you, I wonder? Why wouldn’t they want you to read the most
pertinent passages for your existence? The most essential information
that you need for your survival… and they hide it from you.
What don’t they want you to learn?”

I
stand up.

“
Sit
down,” Räum says.

I
don’t have a choice, my body freezes, only allowing downward
motion until I stop struggling and submit to slumping back onto the
couch.

“
You
can live in this bubble, this fragile denial you float in; but a
bubble so fragile always pops. The evidence will prick you at every
turn.” Räum sighs, smoothing his long hair away from his
face.

I
clench my fists and bite my lip. I know better than to let his words
get under my skin. I know better. Insert subject change here: “So,”
I say, “Why all this?” I gesture.

“
You
don’t like the dress?” He says smoothing his hands down
his sides.

“
Yes…but
what I mean is, why all of this?” I gesture around his dressing
room (‘office’) and over at the closed door we had
entered through.

“
When
The Spider summoned me and gave me this body I thought the
opportunity too ideal to pass up. But a ruler is only as powerful as
those that follow him, and unfortunately my legions are imprisoned in
Hell. All these creatures want is a good show: violence, a little
drama, maybe the apocalypse. And I find that putting on a show is a
small enough price to pay.”

“
So
you gathered a nest of… weird thingies, wrote a bunch of
poetry, set a trap for me and got all dressed up; all to bring me
here to invoke me into falling in love with Nicholas? The plot seems
a bit elaborate and brittle. I mean, you only had to kill me to
accomplish your goals. But, for
some
reason
,
you’re not going to kill me.”

Räum
smiles while he asks, “And why do you think that?”

“
Because
if you were going to kill me, you wouldn’t have spent all this
time trying to manipulate me. I get it; I’m evil or something…”
I raise my hands and shake them, “okay. But, that doesn’t
change the stalemate we’re in. You have bodily control over me
and two of my friends and I don’t have the potential to fall in
love. Let’s get to the part where I bargain for our release;
that’s why I’m here with you, isn’t it?”

Räum
steeples his fingers, then says, “No, you are very wrong.”

Räum
doesn’t just laugh, the sound he makes creeps across my skin
like thousands of bugs. It’s a sound designed for only one
purpose, to petrify. This is the second time I’ve heard a
greater demon laugh, the first time was right before I was engulfed
in Hell-fire and nearly dragged into Hell.

And
again, I realize, I’m alone with a greater demon that exerted
months of effort to get me in its grasp, manipulated and murdered, to
have me exactly where I am. And this demon’s burgundy eyes are
brightening to crimson. He could do anything he wanted to me.
Anything. And I am a stupid, stupid little girl. Who do I think I am,
talking tough to a force of nature?

Räum
calls, “Come in,” and the door swings open.

There’s
a flash of movement in the open doorway. I see hands, arms, flailing;
then, a body flies across the room aimed squarely at where I sit
petrified. I just have time to make a scream, holler-like sound when
I’m smacked. All at once: my eyes blear as my head is shoved
back so hard I swear it makes contact with the backboard of the
couch. As the body’s weight crushes against every inch of me,
my arm jerks into an ominous twisted position.

The
body moves immediately, hopping off to crouch over me. “Raven,
are you okay?” I have a hard time focusing on the man, but from
the voice I’m pretty positive it is Richard Jones. His fingers
quickly probe my face.

I
hear Räum say, “You did not have to throw him at her. Oh,
the barbarity.”

But
it doesn’t matter, nothing matters. I reach up to where I think
Jones’ face is, softly touching his cheek, and then I trace my
fingers down to his full lips.

He
kisses my fingers softly.

And
though I can’t see and can barely breathe, I wind my fingers
around the back of Jones’ neck and pull him into me. And for
the second time, we collide; but this time it’s our lips.

Day
Three (continued)

Jones’
hands, which had been probing my arm for injury, slide up and over to
wind with my fingers as they press my arms back over my head.

I
don’t know if I’m injured, I don’t care; all I can
focus on is his mouth, which slowly, gently caresses mine.

A
splitting, splintering pain threatens to separate the two sections of
my brain. Dimly the thought comes to me: I’m cursed to kiss no
one but Andras.

But
the searing pain and bleary thoughts are an inconsequential
background buzz compared to the all-consuming way Jones’ tongue
slowly gently probes into my mouth. It’s as if I exist only in
this kiss, all other sensation, the stabbing-sensation in my head,
aches in my body, complicating emotions, are just noise and I am
deaf. All that exists is Jones’ lips upon mine and the electric
current that streams out from every point he touches.

His
body presses me into the couch and I want to run my fingers over him,
caress what I’ve imagined is a perfectly muscular stomach but
his grip, though gentle, restrains me.

I
shudder, and he continues to slowly caress my mouth. He’s so
gentle. Too gentle. I press my lips onto his, hard. I gasp as a red
hot poker of pain impales my brain, but I don’t pull away from
him.

He
responds immediately, hungrily. He lets go of my hands to grab my
hips and presses himself into me. I exhale with his weight, heavy on
me. But it’s not enough, I want more I want everything. I want
to merge with Jones, sink into one being. I shift so I can stretch
across the couch, and he above me, when Jones’ suddenly,
forcefully jumps away from me.

The
moment we separate the pain extinguishes. “No,” I almost
whine, reaching for where he was. For the first time since he
collided into me, I open my eyes. Jones skitters away from me on the
floor like a caffeinated crab, terror, absolute terror in his
expression.

“
It’s
okay,” I say. Rolling off the couch onto the floor, I crawl
toward him. “It’s okay…come… come here.”
I lick my lips.

Jones
bangs into a mound of something-whatever it is- I couldn’t
care. What is important is that he stops.

I
crawl to him, over him. He doesn’t stop me. Looking into his
eyes, I know he doesn’t want to. “It’s okay,”
I repeat. And I know it’s true, as long as we can kiss,
everything, everything, everything will be okay. I would crawl across
hot coals if his lips would cool me.

“
Stop.
Wait,” He whispers. I raise my hand to his cheek, his perfectly
symmetrical face, movie star face.

I’ve
never seen anyone so beautiful, so incredible in my life. No one else
ever even existed. It’s as if the perfection of his face could
wipe out existence, and I would be happy to just be the lingering
molecules of air breezing across the landscape of his skin. “You’re
perfect,” I whisper, “so perfect.”

He
stares into my eyes, his deep umber meet my golden brown. He shakes
his head, clears his throat. His eyes close and he exhales twice. “We
have to… I have to think. We have… I need… throw
it off.” Though his voice comes out low and melodious, his
words don’t really mean anything to me.

I
crawl over his legs. I settle onto his lap and he doesn’t
resist me. My fingers run over the short stubble of his hair. He
feels
so
good.

Wait
a second. Wait a second! I jump back, toppling off Jones’ lap.

Laughter,
I hear laughter all around me.

I
look back to Jones, whose face pales about three shades lighter. He
grabs me in an entirely different way, coldly, professionally, under
the arms, helping my undignified climb off his legs. In one quick
maneuver he switches our positions, placing himself between me and
the three asuras howling with laughter on the other side of the room.
Räum
isn’t laughing, but a barely-there smile turns up the sides of
his again painted lips. He took the time out to paint his lips while
debasing me, publicly.

I’m
having a hard time regaining air, the indignity, the humiliation
drenches me, drowns me. Not for the first time I thank the universe
for not supplying me with the ability to cry. I thank the universe
that Jones’ back is to me. I thank the universe we somehow woke
from the… (power? evil?) force. I rub my face hoping the
abrasive contact can wake me from my crazy state: wake me into
knowing which of the emotions I’m feeling are real.

I
yell through my fingers, “You failed! You failed! I don’t
love him, I don’t even like him!”

“
Of
course you do not, my dear; I already told you that I could not force
you to.”

I
look up, not because Räum said anything unexpected or
interesting, but because of how casual and disinterested he sounded.

Looking
into his eyes, I understand him, perfectly. This little degrading
experience wasn’t to force me into breaking my deal with
Andras. No. Räum did this because I challenged him. His message:
you are nothing to me. I could crush you at any moment I please, in
any way I please.

“
However,
the potential between you…” Räum smiles and presses
his fingers together into a steeple. “If I lock you two in a
room for the summer, maybe even less…” He nods, smile
splitting up his cheeks.

“
I
know your limitations fiend, and I will under no circumstance consent
to let you put a mark on me,” Jones practically growls, still
crouched in front of me.

“
I
don’t need to mark you if I’m present in the room with
you two; and if that’s what it takes…” Räum
smiles.

Creep
.

Jones
voice stays steady but I see the line of his shoulders bunch with
tension. “Raven is under life debt, she’d die first.”

Ahem?
Hold up.

“
Do
you think that that would matter to me? In the instance of her death,
her deal with Andras would thus be broken,” Räum says,
spreading his hands.

“
You’re
suggesting plans that would go to great lengths to avoid the simple
answer of her death. The only logical explanation is that Andras or
some other force prevents you from killing her.” Jones states,
flatly.

The
same conclusion I was coming to, but Jones obviously sums up the
situation quicker.

“
Ah,
but I would not be killing her. Whoever called in her life debt would
be to blame.” Räum says, “However, you are not the
only man Raven Smith has potential with, I think that locking you two
in a room might not be the most expedient way of accomplishing my
goals. And, as much as our verbal spar entertains, there is a match I
would very much not like to miss hosting.” Räum stands
with a swishing sound as his feathers sweep the floor. He gives me a
wink before passing the asuras, who step into the room to let the
greater demon pass. “If you’ll follow me?” Räum
says, as if we have a choice.