by S. E. Akers
Silas leaned out one of the upstairs windows. “Perhaps a crash helmet instead?” he shouted down.
I whipped up a stout breeze and sent it straight at him, closing the window in a glass-shattering “SLAM”.
Tanner trailed the shards of glass to the ground. “That wasn’t very nice,” he remarked, muzzling his grin.
I rose to my feet and dusted myself off. “Nice? I think you need to grab a dictionary and recheck the definition.”
“I was referring to the window,” Tanner laughed.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure the hands-of-the-house will have that replaced in the blink of an eye,” I said. “That’s why you keep him around isn’t it?” I figured an innuendo about his identity couldn’t hurt.
“You’re right,” he grinned, brushing off my inquiry. He motioned for me to try again. “Maybe take it a little gentler this time? Start out with only a wisp and then work your way up from there . . . gradually.”
I corrected my approach with a watered-down version of my previous try. It worked. My feet lifted off the ground like the lightest of feathers being scooped up by a caressing breeze. This was much better.
“Good. Now go a little higher and level out your body,” Tanner instructed.
Once I’d cleared the tops of the trees, I attempted to lean over into position. I quickly discovered that this was the hard part. The more I shifted my weight, the more I flipped around in a circle like a daggone Ferris wheel. Trying to straighten up only whirled my body faster. Summoning gusts and lifting things were one thing, but doing it to yourself while steering your butt in a certain direction was quite another. Eating blindfolded with your hands tied behind your back required less skill.
“Try focusing on a time you remember Bea flying,” Tanner called to me telepathically.
That was a problem as well. I’d never seen her do it sans her falcon form. Now I knew why. A pair of wings gave her a far superior streamlined advantage or at the least, better agility.
Sadly I was no closer to being crowned “graceful aviator” than I was at successfully pulling any memories when Tanner wrapped up my lesson five hours later. But on the plus-side, I found something that soared through the air worse than my arrows — me. Pathetic. I had to have looked like a cat trying to claw its way out of a wet paper bag up there. I sure felt like it. If any part of this craptastic lesson was meant to lift my spirits, Tanner was going to have to reach into another barrel —’cause this one sucked.
Some pick-me-up, I groaned. But not all of my crashes were for naught. A silver lining emerged like a glistening ray when I smashed into a trellis of grapes running along one of the edges bordering Silas’ garden. Their vines were the ideal choice for shaping the hoop I needed for my dreamcatcher. Now my list was only a midnight stroll away from receiving another checkmark.
Tanner and I went our separate ways before dinner. He adjourned to his study, and I headed downstairs to hose off the gritty evidence from my latest struggles. But I needed to make a slight detour first. Silas always fed the monsters before tending to our meals. This was my perfect opportunity to snag the feathers I needed before they were gobbled up.
A surprising sight rocked my retinas when I arrived at the dungeon floor. I felt like I’d just wandered into the livestock tent at the West Virginia State Fair there were so many different farm animals lining the hall. Two portly pigs were tethered to the turn wheel. Little did they know all those “snorts” they were grunting would be the last ones crossing their snouts. A pang struck my heart when I heard the cute little goat “baahhing” beside the imp’s door. Awww… I wished I had enough time to sharpen its horns with some diamond-dust so it could go down fighting that little winged-devil. The day I banished it couldn’t come soon enough. If the goat didn’t tug at my heartstrings hard enough, the steak dinner tied to a hook outside the chimera’s cell ended up yanking them slick off. I gave the black & white cow a couple of consoling pats. I hadn’t seen the three-headed beast since the night it had ripped into me. That vicious thing would have this side of beef roasted and filleted within seconds. I still couldn’t shake the look it had in its eyes when Silas pulled me out of the cell. A shiver rocked my spine. Oh, it wanted me bad that night. If the chimera was given the choice between the two of us right now, there was one competition I would win hands down.
I spotted the chickens stacked in their crates beside the balegore’s cell, and judging from the number sitting there, it appeared seconds and thirds were on the menu this evening. I glanced back at all the animals still amazed. Their buffet-like presence was understandable, but it was their existence that had my head shaking. There wasn’t a barn for miles around — above or under the ground. Yep, the hands of the house were just as resourceful with the meals around here as they were with the repairs. I could see him pulling any of these out of his butt…especially the cow.
I unlatched the top cage and reached inside to collect my first feather. I tried to be as gentle as I could, but the bird still “bwoked” and flapped its wings in a feisty fit.
“Sorry,” I winced, biting my lip. I only plucked out one more. I couldn’t see causing it any more pain, regardless of the fact that this bird was about to have one seriously messed-up day.
I was closing its cage when the house steward came strolling down the hall. “Have I stumbled upon a support group for the aerially-impaired or are you fashioning a set of wings thinking it will help your cause?” Silas zinged as he breezed past.
I found myself too engrossed in the elaborate meal service he was carrying to even take a stab at a comeback — china dishes, full tea service, silverware, napkins, and all the trimmings.
With the fancy tray leading the way, the house steward strutted straight down the hall to the last cell door, the very one that contained the yet-to-be-revealed creature Number Five. I couldn’t help but feel genuinely taken aback. What the heck was in there that claimed opposable thumbs capable of latching onto a dainty teacup? I ultimately shadowed his trail, growing more curious with every step.
Silas turned and handed me the tray to hold. “Would you be so kind, Ms. Wallace?” I agreed with a dazed nod and watched him pull a tiny bronze key out of his pocket. He swung open the door, gave his hands a couple of directive claps, and then extended them towards me. I handed the tray straight to him. “Thank you, ever so,” he cooed and then entered the room. I started to follow him inside when the door slammed in my face with a “BOOM”.
Uh! I rattled the knob, but it wouldn’t turn. I gave the door two stout pounds not a stinging second later. “You’re WELCOME!” I bellowed, praying he’d caught the gist of my tone through the slab. I tucked the feathers into my pocket with an angry shove and then marched straight down to the chimera’s cell. As soon as I untied the rope, I led the cow down to the cell where Silas had disappeared and positioned her rear towards the door. My hands stroked the heifer’s head while I telepathically issued my explicit directive. Since Silas’ hands were the ones leading the young bovine to a horrible slaughter, I figured she was the perfect choice to help me serve up some payback.
Bombs away, I giggled as I strolled down the hall. Yeah, I may have freed the rest of the critters…and quite possibly transmitted that same manure-message to all of them before heading up to my room. Now there’s somethin’ “rude” for him.
I arrived at the dining room roughly an hour later to find dinner already dished out and sitting in front of our chairs, which was unusual. Tanner wasn’t here, and Silas never served us until we were both sitting in our seats. Paranoia kicked-in as I eyed the plate of Swedish meatballs resting on the charger. The thick gravy smothering them would be an ideal base for blending several loogies. I wasn’t falling for that. Without a shameful second-thought, I switched my plate with Tanner’s. Who knows? It just might lubricate those tight lips of his into an admission about his female guest. He was a tough guy. I didn’t see the harm, especially with him never finding out.
I’ll admit it wasn’t my finest of mo
ments.
Silas stepped into the room not a second after I’d taken my seat. He picked up the pitcher of ice-water sitting on the buffet with a devilish gleam and started his approach. Okay, maybe a part of me thought he had something else in mind. After all, accidents happen.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Wallace,” he assured. “I wouldn’t dream of wasting a drop of this on you, nor would I stoop to something so simplistic as spitting in your food.”
“Of course, you wouldn’t,” I snarked and then whisked open my napkin. I’m not stupid, I affirmed quietly as I laid it in my lap with a crisp sweep.
The attentive house steward picked up my glass and filled it with water. He angled his stare to mine when he placed it back down on the table. “I’m not stupid either,” Silas sang directly in my ear. Then he strutted down to Tanner’s end of the table, collected his plate with a triumphant glare, and headed towards the kitchen. He turned in the doorway to mutter an attention grabbing, “Moooo” and shot me a cunning smirk.
No he didn’t… I trawled my fork through the gravy and pressed one of the meatballs. Eyes flaring and nose crinkling, I dropped my utensil like a hot pot and shoved the plate towards the center of the table.
OH, YES HE DID! The worst of all this wasn’t the actual “donation”, but that he’d accurately predicted my counter-move — the bastard! And of course he came strutting back into the room with a much fresher plate for the professor and hovered over it like a hawk until Tanner came along. Then he moseyed his scheming butt back into the kitchen, looking even smugger. Now there was a shit-eating grin.
Tanner noticed my rejected plate on the way to his chair. “You hardly touched your lunch, and now you’re thumbing your nose at dinner?” he asked as he took his seat.
“I’m not hungry,” I shrugged.
His brow bounced. “You?”
I looked back at him directly. “Yeah.”
Tanner leaned back, shifting his stare between my rigid expression and the plate. “What did he put in it?”
I flashed a deflated grin. “You don’t want to know.”
Tanner pushed back his chair and rose from the table. He leaned over and swapped my meal with his just as Silas stepped back into the dining room. Tanner had no sooner set the tainted dish down in front of him when the house steward snatched it up and did a huffy 180º back into the kitchen with it. And he didn’t tame a single one of his childish stomps either.
“Is there a problem?” Tanner called to Silas.
The house steward didn’t answer him until he returned less than a minute later, carrying a new plate. “Nothing at all, Professor. I simply wanted to make sure your meal was served as warm as possible.”
“I appreciate that,” Tanner replied, trying to dampen his grin.
Silas immediately returned to the kitchen, but this time with more grace than grit to his gait.
Considering the sacrifice behind his act, I decided to keep mum about the first exchange. But in my defense, I thought it was just a little spit.
“Thank you,” I said.
“That’s not necessary,” he insisted. “I like the thought of you owing me one.”
I pursed my lips, feeling rather amused. “You know, a true hero wouldn’t hold someone in their debt.”
Tanner let out a light laugh. “When they’re about to shovel a pile of what was hiding in that gravy into their mouth they sure would.”
“True,” I laughed. “But how do you know that’s not the same plate?” I posed. “He seemed pretty ticked. He might be getting back at you for spoiling his fun.”
Tanner leveled his smile. “He can’t,” he assured with an earnest air and then turned his attention to his dinner.
His comment was curious enough to mark it down as another clue. Tanner made it sound like Silas couldn’t harm him, not even in the slightest of ways. There was definitely some sort of bond there — an awfully trusting one at that.
With another meal under our belts and neither of us ready to turn in, I suggested watching a movie instead of any friendly matches of pool, chess, or cards. My esteem couldn’t handle any more salt in my wounds. I let him pick, with the understanding that the horror genre was off the table. My dreamcatcher was nowhere near ready, and the efficacy of the togwort was still unproven. I certainly didn’t need anything scary working its way into my subconscious and fanning the diamond’s flames this close to bedtime.
I plopped down on the sofa. “And you can consider my remote surrender payment in full for dinner,” I added.
“I see,” he said with a devious bump in his tone. “Then I’d better make it a good one.”
Now I was worried. “So? What are we watching?” I asked as I reached for the popcorn bowl and then settled into a comfy spot.
“One of my favorite movies,” Tanner grinned and started scrolling through his collection. Most of the movies zipping down the screen were oldies. Well, 70’s, 80’s, and 90’s… Oldies enough in my eighteen-year-old eyes. But I didn’t mind. Daddy and I watched movies from his good ole days all the time. I kind of liked them. Of course I wasn’t planning on telling him that.
“Well don’t keep me in suspense. Give me a hint,” I urged.
“I see you haven’t worked on your patience any,” he cracked with a testosterone-twinkle sparking his eyes.
The sight of him looking like a kid charging out the door to go and shoot up some bad guys forced a procession of names to start marching through my head. Clint… Stallone… Arnold… Bruce… I’d seen that expression on Daddy’s face and been down this road far too many times not to know I’d just signed away two hours to an adrenaline junkie.
It turned out I was in the right ballpark. I was just calling up the wrong batter. It was Al. I’d completely forgotten about him.
Tanner turned to me. “Have you seen Scarface?”
“No,” I winced. I honestly hadn’t and considered myself lucky until right now. I’d avoided watching this one with Daddy on numerous occasions, but it seemed destiny was hell-bent on me paying the piper despite my past successes.
“Good,” Tanner beamed and sat down beside me.
I pointed to the TV. “Isn’t he a drug dealer?”
“Drug lord,” he corrected.
My lips parted. I never understood the deal with this one. Daddy loved it too. But Tanner’s stance on the evils of drugs had me racking my brain even harder.
“So your ‘favorite movie’ is about a drug lord?” I posed.
Tanner hit the “pause” button and then turned to me like he was about to reveal who’d built the Egyptian pyramids and how. “No, my favorite movie is a valuable tale about predicting what a person will do. If you know what makes someone or something tick, even a creature, then you’ll know what will ultimately be their downfall.”
“Oh,” I muttered. I supposed that made sense.
“And, I respect the drug lord’s fierce drive and control,” he added with an aroused gleam lighting his eyes.
Yeah, that made even more sense.
He scooped up a handful of popcorn and shoved it into my mouth, grinning. “Now, shut up and watch the movie.”
So all in all, it wasn’t bad. I certainly wasn’t the least bit bothered by the chainsaw scene. I’d seen a heck of a lot more in-person gore than that (participated in some of it too). Slicing a head off with your sword can still mar you with a good bit of guilt, no matter how bad of a person they were. And though I was happy to see the credits roll, that only meant our cozy evening on the sofa was coming to a sad and fruitless close.
I told Tanner I was tired and headed off to bed. That couldn’t have been further from the truth. The reviving effects of the tourmaline were still going strong, but most important, I needed him to “fake” turning in too so I could sneak out and gather up the grapevine for my hoop.
“And that was one of your ‘favorite’ movies,” I teased as we approached our doors.
“Were you expecting The Notebook?” he countered.
“Not
hardly, but I still don’t see the fascination.”
“I suppose most guys like the power-trip, but I like how it shows what motivates a person and how their principles dictate their actions. In this case, it was greed and loyalty.”
The greed I got, but the other part had me stumped. “Loyalty? He killed his best friend just for marrying his little sister. Where was his loyalty?”
Tanner let out a laugh. “Would you have expected anything less? His friend violated his trust when he went against his wishes. He had no other choice if he was going to stay true to his nature. Knowing what makes anyone or anything tick and just how far they’ll go is worth its weight in gold. It makes them predictable.” Tanner looked deep into my eyes. “Paying closer attention to what motivates a person can be useful when figuring out whom you can and can’t trust, especially when it comes to sizing up your enemies. It’ll help you root out their weakness as well. Everybody has one.”
“You don’t.”
“Yes, I do,” Tanner admitted.
Disbelief washed over my face. “I don’t believe that for a second.”
Tanner’s eyes paled into an arresting lavender hue. “It’s as true as I’m standing here looking at you,” he vowed.
“Then what is it?” I questioned, still skeptical.
“I can’t afford to hand over valuable information like that,” Tanner assured as he took a few steps back towards his room. “Maybe if you pay closer attention you’ll find out?” He opened his door and turned to me with a shrewd grin. “Good-night, Ms. Wallace.”
My glare turned squinty as I grasped the doorknob. “Good-night, Professor Grey.” Nope. I still didn’t believe he had a shred of weakness, nor entertained a single drop of fear.
Our doors came to the same synchronized close that they always did. I stared at the bronze slab for a moment while my mind drifted in the wake of his last remark. He didn’t have to tell me what my weakness was. I was shamefully well aware.
Once Mother Nature and I were all square with the world, I parked my rear on the edge of the bed in wait of some telltale alarm bells. Ten minutes had passed, and they still hadn’t come yet. Maybe he was actually going to bed this time? Of course, I didn’t see how if all those tourmalines were really in his system. He couldn’t catch any shut-eye until Labor Day if his life depended on it. I shook my head in a grumble. Not from the number of stones missing from that mammoth jar…