The Deception Dance

by Rita Stradling

  He takes a step out of the crater and toward me. He’s staring so intently I can, literally, feel heat on my face from his gaze. His voice sounds as parched as his skin looks, “Are you really my Raven?”

  I pause, choosing my every word. “It’s me, Raven Smith, I’m really me.”

  He narrows his eyes, “How?”

  “I was raised from the dead, recomposed, by magic.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see a few stragglers squeezing out of the door. Something catches my attention and I turn from Andras. Several humanoid demons are dragging injured humans from the hall; one of them has a big round pregnant belly hanging out of her ripped shirt. Though I can tell this woman’s skin tone is naturally darker than mine, every visible part of her is discolored and swollen.

  I run toward the woman being dragged by her long black hair. “Hayvee?” I yell. “Are you Hayvee?”

  The pregnant woman doesn’t peek open her swollen eyes.

  “Hayvee!” I call, almost reaching her. The demon hauling the pregnant woman tries to hurry his escape by weaving through the crowd, but the congestion of demonic bodies is too thick. I catch up and grab the pregnant woman by her feet. The bug-eyed humanoid hisses, his forked tongue snapping out from behind his teeth, but the moment his tongue darts back behind his teeth he implodes into a cloud of ash. The pregnant woman plops to the floor and the dust settles onto her hair. She moans and whimpers.

  “Are you Hayvee?” I whisper.

  Her eyelashes flutter but she doesn’t answer.

  A hand settles on my shoulder, “You know this woman?” Andras says from inches behind me.

  “I think so.” I turn to him, “I think she’s Albert’s wife.” I hasten to add, “Albert is a stupid jerk but she and her baby don’t deserve to suffer for that.”

  His hand caresses my cheek; his skin chafing mine, like sandpaper. “She will not. Her life is my gift to you.”

  “Thank you,” I force a smile.

  “Did you know that your friend came to join me?” He turns to the side, “Chauncey!” He shouts.

  I turn to see the small crowd of demons that did not flee the hall; Chauncey stands among them. Her teeth have receded to normal and she’s changed into a clean dress but Chauncey looks no less demonic than when I last saw her.

  She skips forward, no trepidation, no fear of me. I still have the sword and gun in my hand, I could just end her. Andras wouldn’t stop me. But he’d know; he’d know that there was so much more to my death, my rebirth. His head slumps forward. I have so little time, so little time to convince him...

  She stops to pout at me, her eyes gleaming red in the firelight, “Oh, hi Raven, nice to see you.”

  I swallow. The hand around my sword clenches.

  “Chauncey, bring this woman to Albert Tapper. Make sure she reaches him safe and not further harmed.”

  Chauncey winks at me as she wraps her arms around Hayvee and drags her from the room.

  No. No. No. Should I stop her? Am I just going to make it worse?

  Andras turns to me. “Now that woman is with your friend, are you happy?”

  No, not at all. But I can’t say that. “I’m relieved that I’ve made it here, to you.” He could not guess how relieved I am, or how terrified.

  “I only regret that you have to see me like this, before my ascension. I do not like you seeing me in this wasted shell.”

  Stephen told me, ‘What you say doesn’t matter as much as how you say it...’

  I try to sound tender, “I feel the same for you, no matter how you look. I’m just glad I’m finally with you.”

  He grins, the cracks of his parched skin spreading up his face, “You want to be with me?”

  “I dream of being with you.”

  His withered hand cups my cheek. “I have almost burnt through this body; I have little time left, but soon...” he steps even closer, “…soon I can touch you with my true body, with my true hand.”

  “You mean, if you open the gates of Hell?”

  He smiles, not a kind smile.

  ‘Ask questions, questions are never lies.’

  “How can we be together in a world where Hell has taken over? How can we be happy together if everyone else I know, my family, my friends are in danger?”

  His wings seem to droop lower, feathers rain down and settle on the marble. He sighs, his head swinging jerkily, “I’m tired of touching you with the hands of lesser beings; I want to be myself.” He says this as if that settles things.

  “No being in Hell wants us together, Andras,” I try to sound distraught. “Andras, pretty much every demon, but you, wants me dead. Don’t you see? How will you keep me safe if there are demons more powerful than you among us?”

  “Raven,” He wraps his arms around me, “Now that I have found you again, I will take measures so no other demons will hurt you.”

  “If you wait until another magician...”

  He jerks back suddenly. “Whose vest is this? And whose sword and guns are you holding?”

  I bite my lip.

  His eyes widen, “Those Leijonskjöld...”

  “…helped me, yes,” I interrupt. “But they’ve also kidnapped me, lied to me...” I drop the sword to clatter on the floor and reach for his fissured face, “You’ve never lied to me.”

  “I never will,” He says, stepping in. His scorched body presses against my vest; the smell of burnt fabric accompanies the sound of material sizzling between us (but I know that I need to ignore this).

  His lips are so close.

  ‘Convince him that you love him, and only him.’

  “I’ve never wanted anyone to touch me the way I’ve wanted you to.”

  ‘You can always, always lie with your actions.’

  I press my lips to his, my mouth sears with pain. His tongue scorches mine as it enters between my lips. His arms wrap around me, wrapping me in blistering heat. He seems to burn hotter and hotter, squeezing me tighter and tighter.

  When I can’t bear it any longer, I pull my head back. “You’re so hot.”

  He releases me and leaps back quickly.

  I tumble forward. I shouldn’t have objected. Stephen’s words chant in my mind, ‘if you miss-step, if you slip...’

  “Andras...” I call out to him, but he’s not looking at me sprawled on the floor.

  Andras has turned to where Chauncey has reentered the hall; or moreover, he stares at who Chauncey holds in her clutches.

  Chauncey’s grin is so wide you could write ‘triumph’ in bold letters across her blood-red lips. “Look who tried to ambush me for the pregnant girl,” She says, giggling, right before she flings Stephen to the floor beside me.

  ‘...if you miss-step, if you slip, the gates will open and we will all be consumed by Hell.’

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Day Fifty-Six

  Andras laughs; it starts as a little chuckle, but soon a gale of hooting hysteria echoes from every direction. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Andras laugh before. It reverberates through every bone in my body.

  With each movement Andras makes new dark crevasses fissure up his skin.

  I clutch my arms around my middle and can’t stop chewing my lower lip. Even demon-Chauncey holds herself protectively.

  Out of the corner of my eye I see figures all around us shuffle back; it’s all the remaining demons, they’re fleeing the hall. Even the wolves clear from the balcony; they step back into the shadows.

  Stephen turns over and hastily scoots away from me. He’s been stripped of his weapons; his shirt is open, the buttons have all busted off. His vest and jacket are so torn they literally fall off of him.

  When Andras’s laughter finally subsides, he reaches down and offers me his hand. I hesitantly take it, hiding my wince by forcing a grin.

  He gently helps me to my feet, leans over and kisses me lightly; his lips are burning embers on my cheek.

  Andras’s voice is still laced with laughter when he says, as if joking to himself,
“And you say, ‘I’ve never lied to you,’ beautifully done. Tell me Raven, what do you feel for me?” He looks down at me tenderly.

  This answer is the most essential, these words the most critical, but I can’t think of anything. Anything at all. Words, just words, just say a word, any word. But...but I can’t.

  I tell myself not to look at Stephen; that I can’t look at him.

  I clear my throat. “I’ve never desired anyone the way I’ve...”

  “I know…” Andras cuts in with an impatient tone and a sway of his head, “…you said that; you never wanted or desired anyone the way you’ve desired me, ‘desired’, past tense. I want to know what you feel right now. How do you feel about me, at this moment?” The fissures climb their way up his lips and into his mouth; around his eyes cracks circle and branch out into his cheeks.

  I step back but my legs are shaky and I’m afraid I might trip.

  ‘When asked for a direct answer, misdirect...”

  But nothing, nothing comes to mind. I can’t think of a way to tell him I love him when I don’t. I hate him. I hate him. I say the only true statement I can think of, “I...I’m so tired.”

  “You know,” Stephen says almost nonchalantly. “She was raised from the dead only last night.”

  I can’t help it, I look at him. Stephen’s facing Andras but his pupils veer to the corner of his eye and then his gaze pauses on mine for an instant. Stephen throws back his head; his usually well groomed blond hair had been falling into his eyes and he could have been just trying to fling it back, but for some reason, I don’t think that was it. I think he was trying to signal something.

  My gaze darts over the room in the direction he gestured, but all I see is a couple of burning trashcans and blood stained marble. I turn back to him, but he is not looking in my direction anymore.

  Stephen sits almost casually, his knees up and his arms resting across them. “Do you really expect her to know what she’s saying? I mean, she looks all muddled and confused, maybe her wits haven’t completely returned.”

  Andras’s pivots to loom above Stephen. “Stephen Tapper,” he pronounces the words with a smile on his lips, “The word-weaver. That’s what my demons call you; well, the ones that survive.” Andras steps around Stephen in a slow circle, his wings brushing against Stephen’s hair. “You’ve learned some of our tricks; you even wiled your life back from me, once.” His wing pushes Stephen’s cheek. “And now you think you can deceive me?”

  Andras stops, his wings snap up, expanding to their full length above his head. “DECIEVE ME!” The scorching on his chest rapidly spreads out, blackness chars down his arms.

  The entire building ripples around us, dust dislodging and raining down.

  Chauncey might be smiling, but she’s also backing away quickly.

  Andras’s neck blackens, the burns creep onto his chin. His hand comes down, pointing into Stephen’s scarred face. “You poisoned her against me!”

  “As far as I know,” Stephen leans back on his hands, “You’re the only one who poisoned her.” He gives another flick of his head, this time directly in Chauncey’s direction.

  She’s almost made it out the giant archway that leads to the gaping exit. He wants me to… stop her?

  I inhale. I also want to save Hayvee, but I can’t go after Chauncey. We have to stop Andras, right now, that is what matters most.

  Andras’s huff of laughter sounds more like a caw, “Since our first encounter three years ago I have considered you not unintelligent. When I discovered you were with her in Leijonskjöld Slot, that pathetic excuse for a fortress, I assumed you would spy and analyze my every move. I knew that your brothers were useless and impotent, but you, you’d figure out exactly what I was doing. But as I said, I thought you had some measure of intelligence, now I find out I was wrong.”

  I step ever so slowly lightly toward my sword lying three feet from where Andras peers down at Stephen. The pistol in my hand is large and cumbersome and I don’t know what lever is the safety. But Stephen told me ‘you can always, always lie with your actions.’ Andras doesn’t know I can’t shoot.

  Andras’s head sags forward as he continues, “Did you honestly think your little charade tonight would work? If you had kept silent it would have never been necessary!” The burns singe over his jaw to lick up his ears. “What I want to know is this: why did you tell her about all my misdeeds, when you could have had exactly what you wanted if you hadn’t? Is it because what you want is her?” This he snarls.

  “I’ll tell you what you want to know Andras, but it will be a waste of my breath. You could not possibly understand my motivations.” This time his motion is obvious, he glares at me then inclines his head to where Chauncey has already fled.

  Yeah, right. As if I’d leave him, to face Andras alone and weaponless, to go after Chauncey. I shake my head.

  Stephen closes his eyes then opens them to fix on Andras. “You’re right Andras; I have learned some of your demon tricks. But I have never embraced your methods.” Stephen climbs to his feet. “To me the means always matter. I’m not like you; I’m not going to manipulate Raven to get what I want. I wouldn’t convince her to deliver herself to you without knowing what you’ve done; without knowing what you truly do to get your way. She deserved the truth from me, no matter what...” He straightens his posture and tilts up his chin and inhales.

  “You’re right, you could have saved your breath; you have little enough left. I told you the last time we met, Stephen Tapper, the next time you get in my way, it’ll be more than your face that I carve.” Andras unsheathes his long black sword from thin air.

  Stephen closes his eyes as Andras raises his sword above his head.

  “Stop. Stop, now!” I scream with my gun pointing at Andras’s charred chest. “Stop! I know how to kill you, remember? Just like Nicholas did, three times in the chest, then take off your head.”

  Andras does stop and he lowers his sword, but he’s smiling at me when he does.

  I grit my teeth. “I’ll do it, I’ll shoot you!” The gun, held tightly between my hands, throbs. I glance down at the silver barrel, it throbs again and I can see it pulsate, then the gun bursts in my hands like a water-balloon. Cool thick liquid metal drips through my fingers. I just stare at the dripping silver, then at my sides where the other three guns are running in streams to join the pool made by my sword. I breathe, “What?”

  I beg Stephen for an explanation with my gaze. Tell me: I’m crazy. Please tell me that I’m insane, but not that I’m weaponless.

  Stephen’s blue eyes shine and his lip puckers up into an expression of sympathy; he shakes his head. “It seems that Andras can’t be killed by weapons made by humans...”

  “That’s not true!” I insist, wildly throwing my gaze back to Andras. “I saw you...”

  Stephen clarifies, “Unless he wants to be.”

  Why? Why would he want to die? Why would he want to be killed? But before I can ask the question the answer is on my tongue, “So, I would hate Nicholas.”

  Andras smile drops and his eyes narrow; his leathery nostrils flare. “Nicholas came out to Kullenberg to kill me.” He growls, “And, you screamed for him to run.”

  It’s true, I remember; I screamed for Nicholas to run. I didn’t think anyone had heard me. I nod. “I did, and it saved his life. You knew, knew that I would hate the victor and love the fallen.” And that’s what happened, at least until all Andras’s plans derailed.

  Andras raises his sword again.

  “Stop!” I lunge forward grabbing at his arm but it’s like clutching a red-hot poker. “I’ll make a deal with you Andras. I’ll make any deal, whatever you want, just don’t open the gates to Hell and let Stephen go!”

  He leans so close to me the heat from his face dries the saliva in my mouth. He shakes his head and smirks. “I think not,” he whispers, and then leaps forward to thrust his sword through Stephen’s stomach.

  I don’t scream, I don’t even move, it happens to
o fast. One moment Andras is beside me, the next, his sword is driving down and through Stephen.

  With a flick of Andras’s wrist Stephen falls off his blade and collapses to the floor. I dive for Stephen, blood is pouring down his exposed stomach. I try to staunch the flow with my hands but I know the cut goes through his other side. There’s so much blood. I’m kneeling in blood, covered in blood, and I can’t get it to stop.

  “Run.” Stephen says.

  I look up to see Stephen’s eyes fixed on me.

  He rasps, “Raven, run!”

  He’s delusional, he’s losing his wits. I can’t run; I have to stop the blood. But there’s too much, a river coursing and webbing down his waist.

  Something sharp nicks the side of my neck making me flinch. I look over but don’t understand what I’m seeing. There’s a blade, a black blade at the side of my throat.

  I scurry back, “What are you doing?”

  Andras steps over Stephen’s dying body as if it weren’t there. He follows me with patient strides.

  I make it to my feet. “What...What are you doing?” I repeat. “But...you told me that you’ll give me anything I want!”

  “No, what I promised was to do anything in my power for you… ” he says, closing the distance between us, “…as in, I will do anything in my power to get you, the way I want you.”

  “But... you said...” But he didn’t say… he said no servant of his would harm me, that no one else would harm me, he never said he wouldn’t. I guess I just assumed that he would never kill me...