by S. E. Akers
“I told you I wasn’t in the mood,” I muttered.
Silas shook his head. “You may not think so, but I detect a trace of hunger still hiding in there,” he said and then strutted back into the kitchen.
A quiver of doubt rolled through me as I eyed the silver dome. Surely he wouldn’t kick a gal when she’s this far down? With a slight wince, I leaned forward, gave the oval handle a quick pinch, and then whisked off the lid.
My muscles relaxed immediately. There was my hilt—thankfully—gleaming in all its life-saving platinum glory. However it wasn’t alone. It was resting on top of a thin leather book bound with a braided cord that I’d never seen before. I picked it up curiously and untied the knot. All I hoped at this point was that the hands of the house hadn’t chronicled my numerous fiascos, and this wasn’t his prim & proper way of making me eat them all.
I glanced at my empty crystal goblet and closed my eyes. The least he could’ve done was poured me some juice to wash it down.
I opened the book and started thumbing through it casually. The more pages I turned, the faster my fingers flipped. Every slip of parchment detailed things about the monsters held in the dungeon. But the entries weren’t general notations like most of the ones featured in the volumes of creature accounts down in the library. This compilation held extremely intimate things, the kind no one but the creatures themselves could confirm definitively. I pushed out my chair and jumped to my feet to track down Silas, only to find him standing behind me in the doorway.
I held up the journal. “What is this?”
“That’s my personal log,” Silas announced. “You don’t serve as a resident zookeeper to those beasts and not learn a thing or two about them.”
Granted, what he’d said made sense, however, his admission had me flipping back to one entry about the supposedly “eye-less” wormy creature that had no recorded history other than the whens and wheres of its discovery.
I pointed to the passage on the page. “Is this true?”
“Ms. Wallace, precisely what part of ‘I do not lie’ eludes your comprehension?”
My need for answers stifled my testy glare. “How could you possibly know some of these things for sure? Most of this is speculation.”
“I prefer to call them critical observations,” Silas retorted. “And the manner is irrelevant unless plying me with a round of Twenty Questions is your game. I had hoped you would seize this opportunity to find a nice cozy spot in the parlor for some reading before we proceed with your training for the day.”
“I thought Tanner left instructions that I’m only to exercise my mind in his absence?”
“Well we don’t always get what we want, now do we?” Silas posed.
His remark couldn’t have hit the nail on the head of my summer more accurately. “That goes without saying,” I nodded.
“What Professor Grey doesn’t know won’t hurt him. A concept I believe you are quite familiar with, I might add. Though we won’t be tangling with any creatures.” He straightened the sleeves of his dress shirt with two crisp tugs to their cuffs. “Just be aware that the next time you see them, it will be your last.”
“You sound pretty confident about that.”
“Oh, I am,” he assured. “Now all that remains is getting you to feel the same way.”
The rockiness of our relationship had me questioning his reasons. “Why are you helping me?” I asked. “Are you doing this for me . . . or for Professor Grey?”
A peculiar look shadowed his face. “Why would you ever assume my motives rest with him?”
“I overheard the two of you talking yesterday,” I admitted. “I know he’s ready to wrap up my training.”
“He is,” Silas confirmed openly. “In fact, his impatience grows with each day that passes.”
Ouch. “And he regrets having to do it,” I added, still shaking off his slap.
Silas looked more lost in his thoughts than he seemed surprised. “Heard that part too, did you?”
I nodded. And I wasn’t about to hit on the Mexico comment. I hated to think what sort of chafe would result from that.
“No, Ms. Wallace. I’m not doing this solely for him or you.”
Now I was seriously confused. Granted, Silas wasn’t an evil ass, but you could sure bet if you shook him hard enough the only thing brown dropping out of him wouldn’t take the form of any warm & fuzzy teddy bears. “Then why are you?” I asked.
“Which is more important, the assistance or the reason?” he submitted.
“Both,” I replied, unwavering.
“Very well. I’m doing it for myself,” Silas replied. “Lending a hand in your success helps me more than you could ever know, so let us just leave it at that, shall we?”
“But—”
“That is all you need to know,” Silas warned like the slam of a screen door. “And as much as I would regret passing up this golden opportunity, I can resend my offer at any time. Either way, we both stand to gain or lose.”
“But I only have a little over a week left,” I argued. “I don’t see how—”
Silas interrupted me with a brash wave. “Mountains have been moved in less time, Ms. Wallace. Whatever you desire is only as impossible as what your own mind makes it seem. There are no barriers when you can see past your frustration and fears. You must realize that and vow never to forget it.”
I looked at him soulfully, wanting everything he was saying to be true.
“Well? What are you waiting for?” Silas huffed and then shooed me off with a curt point. “Go and study up for a spell. I’ll collect you in one hour.”
I tapped the journal against the side of my leg for a moment, still stunned by his saintly turnabout. There was no way in hell just any ole supernatural could have uncovered some of the information within its pages — myself included.
“Tick, tock, Ms. Wallace,” Silas’ voice boomed in my head. With that, I headed off to the parlor for some top-secret supernatural speed-reading.
Promptly one hour later, Silas took a boisterous stride into the room. “Ready?”
I closed the journal with a one-handed “thump”. “Does Professor Grey know about this?”
“Why would he?” Silas countered. “He’s never asked.”
Wow… Tanner couldn’t have been more off-base in regards to his “loyal” house steward’s supposedly black & white nature. It seemed his conscience held more shades of gray than the paint aisle of a hardware store.
“Isn’t this, I don’t know . . . sort of deceptive?” I posed, shifting in my seat.
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand your question,” Silas countered shamelessly.
“You’ve basically given me information that Tanner—‘my mentor’—has no knowledge of,” I explained. “Like cheat-sheets.”
Silas shrugged his shoulders brazenly. “Let’s call it an advantage, shall we? It’s simply gaining the upper hand through the ascertainment of rare knowledge, and it’s an advantage you would have if any other Talisman knew of its existence, would you not?”
“I suppose,” I muttered.
“It’s simply information. That’s all. Knowledge that is solely at your discretion to use or ignore the same as any other weapon or tool you personally claim.” The house steward crafted an artful grin. “And in the grand scheme of any contest, it’s only considered cheating by those who were left in the dark.”
My head fell into an objectionable tilt. “That’s my point.”
Silas gave his head several shakes and then strutted over to the pool table. He picked up Tanner’s favorite pool stick and began unscrewing its tip. “Did Professor Grey fess up about the turquoise hidden in here during any of your games?”
I shot straight to my feet. “WHAT?”
Silas then motioned to Tanner’s elegant marble chess set. “Or the fact that he always chose black during your matches, because the bases conceal tiny slivers of charged green aventurine stones?” he posed. “Of course you already know what a benefit t
o gamblers they are. And by the sum of your losses, they certainly live up to their lucky hype.”
A warm rush of red swept across my face like a raging river. And here I’d thought I was merely filling the role of opponent. Fool seemed a much better fit.
“Or his deck of playing cards?” Silas asked, his brow fully arched. “Just who do you think provided that pretty purple ink they were printed with?”
I shook my head. Son-of-a-swindling-bitch! I paced back and forth, wrestling with my outrage. Of course I was just as mad at myself — for even doubting my skills in the first place. And I’d been trying REALLY HARD to beat him every time!
“Something wrong?” Silas asked.
“Yeah,” I said coarsely. “You know, as much as I wanted to succeed at something, he never let me win one little game — the entire summer!”
“Why would anyone, especially a devout warrior like Professor Grey, give up an advantage?” Silas grinned. “Concession only means one has lost interest.” The house steward pulled out his pocket watch and gave it a frivolous polish. “Believe me, Ms. Wallace, we both know you wouldn’t have wanted that.” Silas tucked the flashy timepiece back in his vest pocket with a firm tap, just like a lone checker that had victoriously dusted off a zigzagging trail of queens. “And you still don’t.”
The accuracy of his assessment willingly melted the icy glaze in my eyes, albeit aggravating — even more so coming from him. Just proves that the sharpest tacks can still issue some pretty blunt blows.
“So?” Silas began. “Are you ready to put your summer of shortfalls to an end?”
All I wanted was that very thing, but regardless of my wishes, nine weeks of doubt kept my feet firmly planted.
Silas tilted his head while his moss green eyes hinted a deep sense of sincerity. “It’s much easier to believe the bad things we tell ourselves and sink into our shadows than it is to stand in wait of hope’s light,” Silas assured. “It happens. Human nature practically ensures it. Why there isn’t a soul alive or dead who hasn’t done it a time or two. And no matter how much you try to plant even the firmest of resolutions in your mind, your will cannot take root without seeing a drop of sunshine.” Silas walked towards the doorway and then paused once he’d reached its threshold. “You are always and forever on destiny’s path, Ms. Wallace. Which do you choose to be . . . its shadow or its light?”
I closed my eyes for a moment, shutting out everything around me. I’d been suffocated by enough insecurity this summer, and I was ready for its choke to finally come to an end. With an unwavering gait, I joined him in the doorway.
“Light it is,” Silas beamed. “A wise decision.”
I laid my hand on his arm softly, halting his turn. “Silas, what are you?”
“I’m afraid that’s something I’m sworn not to reveal,” he admitted. “But, I might yield a nod if an educated guess happened to arise.”
I leaned against the wood framing, my brain scrambling to take a stab at my first one.
Silas snapped his fingers and headed off down the hall. “We’re following now, Ms. Wallace,” he blared. “I suggest you heed destiny’s sway. You’ve dallied in your thoughts for long enough this summer.”
I raced after him, still trying to nail something down. I remembered how powerful five-year-old little Tatka had turned out to be. That seemed an “educated” possibility.
“Are you some kind of sorcerer?”
A repulsed look pruned Silas’ face on the spot. “I’m going to forget you said that,” he chided, eyelids twitching.
So it seemed the haughty house steward had a hard-on for witches and their elemental counterparts as well. I held up my hands in an apologetic surrender. “Consider that one scratched.”
His eyes narrowed like a doorstop. “Then are we finished?”
“For now,” I smiled, lips pursed.
Silas brushed off my intrigue with a brusque turn towards the triptych and then whisked away the panels with a wave. I started to enter when he positioned himself in front of me.
“Now, before we step into that cave, you must give me your word that regardless of any reservations which may arise, you will do everything I say,” Silas forewarned. “I would never ask anything that I know you could not bear.”
The stern creases that normally lined Silas’ brow appeared much softer, more sympathetic if possible, which was all the reassurance needed from the girl who’d been dodging iron cannonballs balls and stinging wisecracks for the past nine weeks.
“You have my word,” I promised, “and my complete trust.”
“Very well,” he nodded and ushered me into the cave. “I think you’ll find your training goes swimmingly from here on out, now that you have the right mentor.”
“Tanner’s an excellent mentor,” I insisted.
“Yes, when it comes to lecturing and combat training. But when emotions come into play — not so much,” he countered, nose crinkling. “And the irony of that boggles even me.” His head rocked along with his steps. “Of course it’s hard enough dealing with one’s own frustration. I suppose when an individual refuses the easiest fix he has to offer, it does make the situation rather challenging.”
Our descent remained steadily on course. “Are you saying I should’ve been using my amethyst all this time?”
“Heavens, no! I’m rather proud that you haven’t.” Silas’ feet came to an abrupt halt. “I still remember the look on Professor Grey’s face when you dropped it into that chest. Oh what I wouldn’t give for a commemorative snapshot of that,” he grinned and then resumed his steps. “And at the risk of sounding crude, I doubt I could fathom the distance your blinded-with-bliss head would be in relation to that lump lying at your backside if you had. Digging another diamond out of your neck would feel like a picnic compared to the surgical excavation it would need.” Silas shook his head. “I doubt a carnelian could make a dent.”
“Believe it or not, Silas, I never thought my feelings would get in the way,” I argued and then exhaled a burned-out sigh. “And then when they did . . .”
“You realized you were writhing in quicksand?” he interjected.
“Up to my neck,” I admitted.
Silas stifled a slight gag. “You sound like a silly girl in one of those dreadful Young Adult Fantasy novels. Do yourself a favor and stay away from that section altogether. Life rarely turns out to be a fairy tale.” His shoulders jerked into a foul shudder. “Ugh. All that pointless melodrama. Just think of all the unnecessary emotional exhaustion you’ll spare yourself from.”
His frank advice reminded me of someone else’s words of wisdom. “Kiera warned me too,” I said.
“Our demonic-temptress houseguest?” Silas batted back. “So that’s what was taking you so long.” Silas tilted his head. “You were getting life-lessons from a succubus?”
“Yep,” I confirmed.
“I’m curious, Ms. Wallace. What on earth would prompt that conversation?”
If I hadn’t sucked up enough of my pride already, I was about to inhale and shelve the mother lode with this one. “Because she sensed my desire,” I muttered. “She scored a notch in the wall for every day she felt it burning in the air.” And now that I was really thinking about it, my wishful desires were sort of responsible for her rush to suicide. So it seemed my emotions weren’t only my worst weapon, but other beings as well.
Silas tapped his finger against his chin. “That’s interesting,” he hummed. “One for every day you were here, you say? Right up until her death?”
“Yes.” I shot him a glare. “There’s no need to rub it in.”
“I shall never say another word to you about it again,” he grinned.
I’d assumed our path towards “my training” would carry the two of us straight down to the torture chamber, but in a peculiar twist, we were standing in the doorway of the totem room.
“Why are—”
Silas’ scowl halted my words. “That sounds like the makings of an objection to me,” he rema
rked and waved me into the room.
“No objections,” I insisted. “Just curious.”
“Either way, I’m not a fan of questions,” he added as I walked past him.
“Understood,” I nodded. “I just assumed we would be training, physically.”
“I’m afraid we can’t get to that until we take care of a little mental housekeeping first,” he declared and then cocked his finger dead at me. “You, Ms. Wallace, remind me of the kitten that can’t find its way out of a wet paper bag when it comes to your emotions. The more you writhe in them, the tighter the folds, and then the more your walls close in around you, the more you fret, and then the process begins over and over and over. Your emotions shroud you, just like the paper bag soaked with water. You’ll never stop suffocating until you acknowledge it, and you’ll remain trapped until you learn how to cope with them.”
Right now I would have relished a morning spent in his torture chamber being pummeled with iron or even stretched on a rack instead of what I feared “Dr. Silas” was about to sock me with. And the way that critical finger of his was bouncing, I was surprised he didn’t circle a crazy gesture beside his head.
Silas walked to the center of the room, stretched out his arms, and commenced with a slow turn. “Look around at all these totems, Ms. Wallace,” he instructed. “Do you think you’re the only one to have lost loves ones, seen another’s demise, or been forced to do things your heart struggles with? Do you think you’re the only one out of all these souls to have questioned your gifts or seen it as a curse? Take humanity for example. People from all walks of life have burdens they carry with them all the time. The degree of their pain is trivial. It’s how they cope with them at the end of the day that matters. Talismans may be supernaturals, but they are not hardened machines. Emotions are as much of a struggle to them, despite their elemental abilities — even for Professor Grey.” Silas then turned to me, his eyes pressing. “Compassionate acts are one thing, however, so many of your decisions come from that twisted sense of guilt you harbor. It festers in your subconscious, Ms. Wallace. It stifles your actions where it shouldn’t and twists your arm into doing things against your wishes, which is ultimately responsible for all those secrets you keep. How can you ever stand on your own two feet and make your own decisions when you are a prisoner of it? So, that brings us to your first lesson, ridding your heart from as much of that guilt as we can and then closing the door on certain parts of your past.”