by Mike Truk
“But Emma’s right,” I said. “If they kill me, Bastion falls. What could be more important to Lilith than that?”
Little Meow could only shrug and look across the pool to Valeria. “How are you feeling?”
“Spent,” said the warrior, eyes still closed. Somehow, even just lying there, she looked powerful; her limber, muscled frame conveyed her strength, even when on the verge of sleep. “That injury took a lot out of me. I feel like I could rest for a week.”
“Then rest,” I said. “We’ve got a little time before we have to do anything, it seems. But maybe we can find you a bed?”
“I couldn’t get up if you offered my weight in gold,” said Valeria, voice growing drowsier. “This is… just fine.”
I moved to her side, sat on the chair’s edge, and curled her thick, golden hair away from her face. She turned toward me, wrestling her eyes open to give me a vague smile before closing them again. I reached down, cupping her cheek, and for a moment her smile remained; then she sighed, and the last of the tension left her body.
“That was close,” said Little Meow quietly. “Her wound was mortal. If I’d not been by her side…”
“Thank you,” I said, studying Valeria’s face. Her stern features were softened by sleep, and she looked younger, vulnerable. It made me realize how grim her expression had been of late, how self-controlled.
“Imogen,” said Brielle. “How dangerous would it be to get into that pool?”
“No dangers that I could detect,” said Imogen. “But you have to ask why we were put in such comfortable quarters. What dangers the comforts pose.”
“Death by relaxation?” asked Brielle, quirking an eyebrow. “I jest. But yes, I understand what you’re saying.”
“I’m sorry if this sounds weird,” said Little Meow, “but one of Lilith’s favorite methods is corruption through seduction. Getting us to relax is the first step on that road.”
“But I feel so filthy,” said Brielle, frowning down at the steaming water. “I’m covered in dried blood, sweat, and the Source knows what else. I’m sorry. If getting clean is the first step in falling to Lilith, then I’ll risk it.”
“Careful,” said Imogen. “Don’t even joke about that.”
“I’m serious,” said Brielle, reaching to the first of her armor’s buckles. “The need to wash is as sudden as it is undeniable.”
“I should probably join her to make sure it’s safe,” said Emma with a lopsided smile. “Would be rude to let a friend face such danger alone, wouldn’t it?
I snorted. “So brave. So selfless. You bring your bathing suit?”
“I think we’re past that,” said Emma, unbuckling her belt.
“So we are,” I agreed, sitting next to Imogen to watch both women undress. Emma moved to help Brielle with the last of her armor until both were down to their underwear.
Together they moved to the shallow end of the pool, there descending the stone steps into the heated water. The sound of gentle splashing echoed from the ceiling above.
“By the Source,” moaned Brielle, wading deeper so she was soon thigh-deep.
Emma let out a groan and sank until the water rose to her shoulders.
“Not the worst thing you’ve ever experienced?” I asked.
“After spending months in your company,” said Brielle, moving deeper, “I can assure you it’s not.”
Then she glanced over at me and flashed me the most brilliant smile, a smile in whose depths I read affection and teasing, amusement and delight. I felt some quiet part of my soul thrill to share such intimacy with her, to feel so connected, so in love.
“Ah,” sighed Brielle, falling forward to swim the final few yards to the far edge. There she turned to grip the stone behind her head and floated her body out just under the surface, pale and half-hidden beneath the steaming water. “I’m afraid this is where you must all leave me. Good luck on your further adventures.”
Imogen snorted and shook her head, removing her glasses to rub them with the cloth of her skirt.
“How are you doing?” I asked, pitching my voice low.
“Have you noticed Neveah’s not with us?”
I startled, sitting up straight and looking around. “You’re right. When did you last see her?”
“I’m here,” said Neveah, and there she was, leaning against the wall by the vestibule’s entrance, black hair sweeping down like a curtain about her frame. Her massive demon-blade was sheathed and inverted by her side so its hilt pointed down her thigh; its tip reared a good couple of feet above her head.
“You weren’t a second ago,” I said.
“And I didn’t pick you up with my Geomancy,” said Imogen, sounding shaken.
Neveah shrugged one shoulder. “My powers are returning to me. Especially since my time in the Manifold with Noah.”
“So, you were there all along and we simply didn’t see you?” I asked.
Her answer was the slightest upturning of the corner of her mouth.
“Damn,” I said, then hesitated. “This is going to sound crude, but - you feeling in control?”
There was no need to elaborate. Her smile faded away, and I knew she was recalling the same things as I.
Memories revealed by Victor - of herself bound to a dark altar, surrounded by the worst and most terrible of Lilith’s servants, of her body changing, growing demonic, wings extending behind her back -
“Yes,” she said, voice soft.
“Good,” I said, feeling shaky, unsure of myself. Would she tell me if she wasn’t?
Neveah pushed off the wall, one hand still steadying Morghothilim. “I’m going to look around.”
We watched her disappear through one of the archways. Emma had waded out to join Brielle, and both women were resting the back of their heads on the pool’s edge, slowly kicking their legs to remain floating. Little Meow had just said something I’d missed which made them both laugh.
“What about you?” I asked. “How’s that corrupted healing going?”
“It’s not,” said Imogen, staring at the water with a conflicted look; it took me a moment to realize it was one of envy. Of course. Covered as she was with Harmiel’s swarming tattoo, she couldn’t simply strip and get into the water. She wouldn’t even take off her glove before the others.
“How do you know?” I asked. “When I got hit with it back in Peruthros, I lost the ability to tell.”
“I told you before,” said Imogen. “Years of holding Harmiel at bay. If something so trifling as corrupted healing could undo me, what chance would I have at controlling Harmiel? No. I can sense it, like thick, noxious perfume cloying my sanctum, but remain apart from it.”
“Good to hear,” I said. “I’d hate to see you lose your shit.”
“Oh, you’ve seen that before,” said Imogen, smiling wryly. “But usually when it’s just the two of us.”
I reached out and squeezed her gloved hand with a grin.
For a moment it was enough to just sit there, holding her hand, watching Emma and Brielle delectate in the water. Valeria slumbered beside me like a resting lioness, and I admired Little Meow’s lithe, gamine form where she remained crouched, girlish, mysterious, and alluring all at the same time.
“You need to rest,” said Imogen. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard.”
“We need a plan,” I said. “We need to figure out our next steps.”
“Noah.” Imogen slipped her glasses back on. “Each of us went through our own private hells back in Tagimron, but you went through all of them. The fabric of your soul must be frayed to the point of tearing.”
Her words summoned a dense knot of emotion from my core, which rose to fill my throat. I kept my features carefully schooled to betray nothing.
“You’re proving to be the strongest person I’ve ever met,” said Imogen, voice soft. “I don’t know anyone who could have undergone so many traumatic experiences as you did in such a brief span of time without breaking. You have to rest.”
> “My reservoir is full,” I said.
“I’m not talking about your magical reserves,” said Imogen. “I’m talking about you in here.”
She reached out to place her gloved hand over my heart.
That wedge of emotion trembled, and I forced a smile even as my breath hitched. I placed my hand over her own. “If this is a ploy to get me alone…”
“I’m serious,” said Imogen, and she was, her expression earnest, her tone grave. “I can feel you, now. Since you bonded with Neveah. I think we all can. It’s a feeling that’s going to grow, an awareness of each other, and the way you feel - it’s not right, it’s not good. You must stop. To rest. To heal.”
Tears prickled my eyes for no damn reason, and I wiped them away angrily. “Emelias is out there right now plotting how to destroy us. I’m going to be summoned to see this queen, then we have to figure out where the gate to Malkuth is, and how to get through it. We’ve too much to talk about for me to rest.”
“No,” said Imogen. “We don’t. But I understand. I’ve been there myself. Wanting to always drive myself on, to remain busy, so that I don’t have time to dwell on my pain. My problems. Why do you think I was one of the Academy’s best pupils?”
“Because you’re as smart as you’re beautiful?”
Imogen refused to be distracted. “Because I never stopped. And you’re becoming like that. Refusing to stop. And I understand why. I never wanted to look into my own pain. Since the manifold, I’ve been there again. Wanting to just rush forward, to sweep all those hard truths and revelations behind me, to pretend that nothing matters but progress. But I’m wiser now. Older. And I’ve been taking time to meditate on my mistakes, my past, my wounds. While you were in the manifold with the others, that’s what I did. Forced myself to stop, to rest, and just be with my pain. You’re going to have to do the same thing.”
“Or?” I asked, feeling stubborn.
“Or you’ll grow brittle. More impulsive, more erratic. Until you break, but in a fundamentally profound way that will need serious time to heal. Time which we might not have at that point. But which we do, now.”
I took a deep shuddering breath. A ripple of memories swirled through my mind. Sandovar moving a boiling bucket closer to my bound foot, Neveah in her demonic form, plunging her demon blade into my chest. Awakening wasted and alone in that hospital bed during Emma’s trial.
“I’m okay,” I heard myself say. “I won’t deny Tagimron was rough, but Gharab’s going to be tougher. I need to keep it together.”
Why were my eyes prickling again?
“Ladies,” said Imogen, turning to the others. “It’s time to get to work.”
“Hmm?” asked Emma, opening one eye to peer at us. She’d dipped her head in at some point, and her blond hair lay dark and wet against her scalp. “Work?”
“Noah is refusing to take care of himself. We need to bathe him, give him a massage, and force him to sleep.”
“Agreed,” said Little Meow, rising smoothly to her feet. “I was going to suggest the same soon. I’ve been growing concerned.”
“As have I,” said Brielle, and her tone was serious. “Noah. You’ve been walking around as if that wound in your side didn’t exist. That’s ridiculous. You need to rest.”
The wedge of emotion lodged in my throat trembled again, threatening to burst. Pure idiocy made me say, “I’m fine.”
But I knew I wasn’t and didn’t understand why I kept protesting. I stood and raised my palms to forestall any argument. “I’ll rest after we’ve got a working plan on how to handle this situation. We can’t just rest without -”
“No,” said Brielle. “You’re not fine. Emma?”
Both women turned, gripped the edge of the pool, then hauled themselves out, water cascading down their near-naked bodies as they rose and walked to where I stood.
The heat had brought a flush out in their skin, and their hands were moist as they reached out as one to undress me.
“Hey,” I protested. “Hey, I can - wait a second -”
They didn’t wait. Emma unbuckled my belt while Brielle pulled my tunic over my head. My pants dropped down to my ankles as I was pushed down onto the chair so both women could work on my boots.
I sat there, fighting to feel nothing, to focus on their beauty, the contrast between the blond and the redhead, to distract myself with their glistening curves and firm flesh.
But my insides were quaking. I felt a surge of anger - I’d not be feeling this if Imogen hadn’t pushed the issue. I’d been doing fine before she brought it all up.
Then my boots were off, my socks, and Brielle tugged my pants free, tossing them aside.
“I know that look,” she said. “You’re going to say something pig-headed about not getting in the pool and washing.”
“Yep,” said Emma. “I’ve seen that look a thousand times. Sorry, Noah. You’re outvoted. And shit, you’re bleeding.”
The wound in my side was trickling blood, the deeply mottled flesh Little Meow had healed over the hole having split. Only when I saw that did I register the dull pain throbbing in my side. “This isn’t a democracy. I’m the fucking Savior. If I don’t want to get in the water -”
“Nope, right now you’re just Noah,” said Brielle, rising and taking hold of my wrist. Emma did the same, and together they levered me to my feet. “Now forward march.”
Reluctantly I allowed them to escort me to the pool’s shallow edge, and together the three of us stepped out to plunge into the waters.
Holy crap, it felt good. Heated to just the right temperature, I felt the warmth immediately sink into my flesh, right down to my bones. The girls urged me deeper, and I gave myself over to the sensations - the deliciousness that washed over my skin, that began the process of melting the tension out of my kinked muscles.
Countless scabbed cuts began to sting, but I ignored them. There was still something profoundly wrong with the wound I’d suffered from the Ur-Gharab spear, but I tuned that out as well. Turning onto my back, I just floated, arms and legs extended. The heat sank into every crevasse, and each moment thawed me out a little more. I’d been like a fist, I realized, clenched white-knuckle tight. Slowly, slowly I began to relax.
Hands took hold of my shoulders, gentle but firm, and turned me around, pulling me back to the steps at the shallow end of the pool. I blinked and went to turn, but Brielle guided my upper body into her lap as she sat down on a step. My arms draped over her smooth thighs, my head falling back to rest against her stomach.
Emma positioned herself before me and took up one of my feet, which she began to knead with the balls of her thumb, digging deep and radiating out in small circles.
“Oh fuck,” I groaned, melting into Brielle’s embrace.
“That’s right,” said Brielle with smug assurance. “Now tell me again why this was such a bad idea?”
I didn’t. Instead, I simply luxuriated in being held by her, in having first one, then the other foot massaged by Emma’s expert fingers.
“When did you get so good at foot massage?” I asked as she switched back to the first.
“Guilty,” said Little Meow, raising a hand from where she sat cross-legged by the edge of the pool.
“She gave us lessons,” said Emma. “We had a lot of downtime while you were in the manifold with each of us.”
I lost track of time. It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes, but time ceased to have meaning as Emma worked on my feet. All the while Brielle traced the contours of my body, the ridges of muscle and swell of my shoulders, touching me lightly, languorously, as I sank ever deeper into a daze.
When they were done, they found some pots of minty, soapy stuff, and lathered up, laughing and splashing each other, then ducking down to wash away the suds. There was some mechanism at play in the pool that sucked away the soap and dirty water, so the pool itself remained pristine.
Perfection.
I washed up, then together we emerged from the pool. Little Meow had f
ound thick, perfectly white towels for us to all dry off with, and took me by the hand, leading me through an archway into a small side chamber. Dry heat baked off the walls that surrounded what could only be a massage table.
“Seriously,” I said, looking at the subtle wall sconces from which soft, honeyed light radiated, the potted ferns that stood in the corners, the padded table itself. “This is ridiculous. I thought Gharab was going to be brutal.”
“It might still prove so,” said Little Meow, pushing me down onto the table. “But the wise man takes respite where he finds it.”
“Guess I’m being forced to be wise,” I said, lying face down on the table.
“Better late than never.” I heard her rub her hands briskly together, then understood why when she placed them on my back: they were slick with oil that she’d just warmed between her palms.
I could hear the girls talking in the pool room, but the sounds seemed to recede as Little Meow worked my body, her fingers tracing and probing, working and kneading. My time as the Savior had seen me put on some serious muscle mass, and there was plenty for her to work.
She started with the small of my back, then massaged up my lats, digging deep. Focusing around my shoulder blades, she found knots of pain and crunchy spots which she annihilated with smooth, perfect precision.
“You’re a fortunate man, Noah,” she said, voice soft, slightly breathy from her exertion. “To be so loved.”
It didn’t sound like a question, so I remained quiet, blissed out.
“And I feel really lucky to be with you all,” she continued, hands never ceasing. “I wasn’t exactly lonely back in Tagimron? I mean, I was making friends, keeping busy, but there wasn’t any depth to my relationships. They were… transactional? With you all, I feel like I’ve found a family. Even though I just met you a month or two ago. Which is… rare.”
“Do you have a family?” I asked, voice muffled. “Waiting for you somewhere?”
Her hands paused. She didn’t answer right away, but when she did, she resumed her massage. “No.” The word was so quiet I almost didn’t hear her. “Not anymore.”