Dealing with Demons

by Melissa Haag

  “I made a deal with Ahgred, thinking it was Morik,” I said once Morik closed the front door behind us.

  I carefully peeled off my jacket. The motion pulled at the sore spot at the base of my spine. Morik’s gaze narrowed at my hesitant, jerky movements.

  “And I think he marked me.” I didn’t know what we’d see when we looked; however, based on the area of pain, I feared Ahgred had removed the link Morik and I had forged.

  Turning away, I presented my back to Morik and lowered my pants just enough to expose the scorched area. Gran sucked air through her teeth.

  “How bad is it? Did I undo it all?” I felt like crying.

  Morik’s warm hand traced two twisting lines up the sway of my back. “Our link is still here, Tessa. Don’t worry. But he did add his own.” Bracing my hands on my legs, I flinched when he touched the tender spot, tracing it only half as far as the other lines.

  “It looks raw,” Gran said. “Let me get some first aid cream.”

  “I’ll change first.” I kept my pants pulled away from my back. Now that I’d moved the material, anything touching that spot hurt.

  In my room, I dug out my pajama pants and folded them down low on my hips. On top, I put on a sports bra, not wanting anything to stick to my lower back. I pulled my hair up into a messy bun and shuffled back out to the living room, feeling miserable.

  For a while, it had felt like we all had a chance to find our happy endings. Now, I felt like I held the loose threads of an unraveling blanket. How could I have let Ahgred mark me? More importantly, would Ahgred’s mark make it harder to finish my link with Morik?

  “Tessa, what did you gain from the deal?” he asked as soon as I returned.

  Thinking of what I’d gotten in exchange just made the deal worse. My eyes watered.

  “I’m not sure what I really got, but what I asked for was to go to the dance with you.”

  “Can you recall how you worded it? Exactly?”

  His suspicion made my stomach churn.

  “A single touch in return for a single night, the night of the dance, with you. I said your name, Morik.”

  He nodded and watched me lay on my stomach on the couch. Gran bustled over with the cream and dabbed it on. Immediate cooling relief followed her touch.

  “Gran, with your permission, I’d like to take Tessa to my home.”

  I didn’t turn my head to look at them. Instead, I faced the back of the couch. The material under me shifted from couch cushions to a white comforter, and I sniffled.

  “I’m sorry I screwed up, Morik.”

  “I don’t see how you screwed up. You made a deal to spend more time with me. I would never consider that a screwup.”

  “But the mark...” I turned my head to look at him. He lay on the bed next to me.

  “It doesn’t mean anything other than he hasn’t given up.” He smoothed a hand over my hair. “So you really want to go to this dance?”

  “Not bad enough for Ahgred’s mark.”

  “There had to be something that you wanted that enabled the deal. If not the dance, then something associated with it.”

  How could I tell him I wanted to experience things just in case I died? He would think I’d already given up. We still had a little more than three months. Instead of saying anything, I ignored the pain, lifted myself up on my elbows, and scooted closer to him.

  I still didn’t know where or how far he saw our relationship going or what he expected from me. But I knew I couldn’t keep hesitating.

  Half-lying on his chest, I leaned in to take a chance. My lips met his softly. Warm. Everything about him warmed me. I brushed my lips over his, feeling the slight rise of his lower lip. No holding back. Heart hammering, palms sweating, I used my lips to catch his lower lip.

  As soon as my lips parted, he growled, a low rumble that emanated from his chest and grew in volume.

  Clueless beyond our typical kiss, a gentle press of lips, I didn’t know if Beatriz’s suggestion had been literal, but I went for it anyway and caught his lip between my teeth. The growl turned to a groan. I released him and pulled back.

  For the first time in weeks, the void of his eyes assured me. I bent my head and gave his lip the barest lick, a tiny touch of my tongue.

  Like touching him first, and kissing him first, I seemed to unlock another aspect of our contact. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, cupped the back of my head, and lifted his mouth to mine.

  At the first touch of his tongue, I forgot to breathe, and my heart skipped a beat. He consumed me with his passion, and his tongue left no space unexplored. I shivered with anticipation and lifted my hands to his hair.

  This moment, this kiss, defined the purpose behind my deal with Ahgred. I didn’t want to die before I could experience what could have been.

  I accidentally brushed Morik’s ears. This time, he didn’t disappear or pull away. His fingers twitched at the base of my skull then slowly slid down my back. Little shocks crackled along my skin in their wake. Nothing else existed but his urgent mouth and nimble fingers.

  He stopped just short of the new mark. I gave up my hold on his hair, tugged his shirt up, and found smooth skin. I glided my palm over the flat planes of his stomach to his ribs.

  Seconds, minutes, years...I wanted time to hold still for our kiss. Instead, I tore away from him, desperate for air.

  He gave me an inch of space, just enough to turn my head while he trailed kisses down my throat. My skin tingled. More electric charges. His lips met my collarbone, and he growled again. I touched his ear lightly, not wanting him to stop.

  Suddenly, I lay on my back, and the weight of him pressed me into the mattress as he continued to kiss my neck.

  “Wait,” I gasped, and a whiny edge crept into my voice. I hated that it sounded so pathetic, but flames licked the base of my spine. All of the tingling charges he’d planted within me dissolved with my pain. I struggled to push him off me, desperate.

  My pain and panic lasted less than a second before the bedroom disappeared and we stood in the kitchen in front of the refrigerator. I blinked at that change of perspective. He pushed the button for ice, caught a handful, and pressed the ice to my raw skin. I immediately felt relief.

  “Forgive me,” he rumbled. “I forgot for a moment.”

  “Me too.” My hands, still in the same places, convulsed with the lingering application of ice. I lifted my head from his chest and met his gaze while the soothing water trailed down my back.

  Yellow streaked his eyes, no black, and I smiled at him sadly.

  Ahgred’s mark healed enough Monday night that I sported a delicate scab on Tuesday. The vivid red of his mark showed through the scab, and I knew I’d wear Ahgred’s color even after the scab fell off.

  Ditching jeans, I wore leggings folded down low on my hips and a long sweater. The knitting on the sweater caught on the scab occasionally, but it was better than having anything pressed against the area. The worst pain occurred when I sat or stood because the skin stretched or expanded and affected the scab unpredictably. Thus, Tuesday passed with measured moments of soreness.

  Moving from class to class, I struggled to keep the discomfort from showing in my expression. I knew I failed when Beatriz repeatedly glanced my way.

  Wednesday should have been better, but instead, the branded patch of skin hurt more.

  Before third hour, Beatriz yanked me into a bathroom. Just as the next class bell rang, she demanded to know the cause of my facial gymnastics.

  “Remember that tattoo?” She nodded her eyes wide. “Don’t ever get one,” I moaned and lifted my shirt so she could see.

  “Ew! That doesn’t look good.” She immediately started to rummage in the bag that hung from her shoulder and pulled out tweezers, peroxide, bandages, antiseptic spray, tubes of cream, and more. Everything she found, she set on the stainless steel shelf mounted just below the length of the bathroom’s mirror.

  Her supplies amazed me.

  “Why do you have all o
f that?”

  “Because my friend gimped around most of the day yesterday then left school looking a little flushed. Something had to be infected, and I knew you’d tell me eventually. Turn around.”

  She picked up the spray and the tweezers.

  I so did not want to turn around. The white, aerosol cylinder with tiny black lettering screamed hospital-grade, germ-killing fire in a can.

  “I’ll ask my mom to take me to the doctor,” I said quickly, not taking my eyes from the spray.

  Bea put her hands on her hips. “Turn around.”

  Giving her my best puppy eyes, I tried again.

  “I’ll trade you one more day of let's-wait-and-see-if-it-gets-better for a movie date with Morik.”

  It’d be dark. He’d be fine.

  “Now, I know it’s bad. It’s me or the school nurse. You’re not yet seventeen. Heads are going to roll for an underage tattoo. And it’s not ratting if I’m doing it to save your life,” she clarified. Resolve lit her eyes.

  Defeated, I turned and angled myself so I could watch her in the mirror while I braced my hands on the white porcelain rim of the sink.

  She flipped the edge of my shirt back and hissed in a breath. “Some of the scabs are almost off because of the clothes and cracking. I’m going to use the tweezers to—”

  “Bea, just do it quick. I don’t want a play-by-play.”

  She shook her head then ducked closer to her work.

  I relaxed my shoulders in preparation for her first assault but it didn’t help. I yelped my way through the scab removal. My knees buckled when she sprayed the now open and raw wound. She didn’t stop.

  Dousing my back in peroxide, she caught the run off with a paper towel and killed every germ. Of course, the peroxide didn’t stop at germs. It continued eating its way to my spine, and I clung to the sink to stay upright.

  With watering eyes, I looked up as she moved to grab one of the tubes. In a stall off to the side, I caught the blazing red and yellow swirl of Morik’s gaze. How had he known? Of course. My pain called him to me.

  Beatriz dabbed on some cream then taped thin gauze over the area.

  “The gauze will prevent snagging and other stuff from growing into the scab as it heals but will still allow the area to breathe. We should change it again before the end of the day.”

  I nodded and feebly wiped away the sweat that beaded on my upper lip. How was I supposed to get through the rest of the day? I wanted to go home, curl into a little ball, and curse whoever taught Beatriz first aid.

  “Come on,” she said, tossing her supplies back into her bag. “We need to go get a pass.”

  Motivating my shaky limbs, I followed her out of the bathroom, not looking back at Morik. He’d looked barely contained. Less acknowledgment probably suited the situation.

  After the sting of the peroxide and other chemicals she’d liberally applied wore off, the mark began to feel...okay. Still hot and uncomfortable, but not as bad. When she suggested we change the bandage again after the last bell rang, I didn’t protest. The process went quickly with little discomfort and no reappearance of Morik.

  We stepped out into the afternoon light together. Most of the buses began their slow crawl toward the main exit.

  Amidst the slush-filled parking lot, I spotted Morik leaning against his motorcycle. The day, just a hair above freezing, didn’t inspire excitement for a motorcycle ride. Or maybe my sore back didn’t inspire it.

  Beatriz, ever helpful, asked, “Can Morik give me a ride home since I missed the bus?”

  Across the distance, I caught his slight nod.

  “I’m sure he can. I’d rather walk, anyway.”

  “I figured.” She grinned and took off her jacket so we could trade. When she had the leather one on, she skipped down the steps toward him.

  He lifted my helmet and offered it to her when she approached. Beatriz played her chance for what it was worth and lifted her chin in a bid for him to put the helmet on for her.

  I shook my head, amused by her, and started home. The winter air ran its frosty fingers over my exposed skin. At first, I welcomed the touch. However, by the time I spotted my house, my cheeks were flushed with cold, and I no longer enjoyed being outdoors.

  Morik’s motorcycle sat in the driveway, and I knew he’d cheated to beat me home. He opened the door as I stepped onto the front walk. Yellow swirled in his eyes as he followed my progress. I managed a smile, but it probably lacked luster.

  “Did Beatriz get home okay?”

  He nodded and stood aside to let me pass. While he helped me from my jacket, he leaned close and spoke softly in my ear.

  “I never want to feel your pain again.” His voice shook with emotion.

  I never wanted to feel my pain again, either. As soon as I freed my arms from the sleeves, I turned and wrapped them around his waist. He gingerly embraced me in return.

  “I’m okay,” I said, enjoying the feel of his hard chest under my cheek.

  Gran cleared her throat nearby, and I reluctantly lifted my head.

  “Not much time to do homework,” she said with an amused expression.

  On the off chance I actually lived beyond seventeen, I really did need to keep my grades up. Sighing, I loosened my hold on Morik and drifted over to the table. Morik helped Gran finish dinner preparations while I worked through calculus.

  Each time I looked up, I found his focus on me instead of the food he prepared. I enjoyed his attention. With him, I didn’t feel desperate or trapped like I did with many of the boys my age. Probably because I knew any serious time with me could kill them. Morik represented hope for a future that didn’t involve my husband’s imminent death. Thinking of him in terms of a husband gave me a moment’s pause.

  My focus drifted away from my textbook, and the words on the page danced chaotically. Each generation of Belinda’s line produced at least one child. If I successfully chose Morik, it completed the deal. It should then mean additional descendants to my line were no longer needed. But were they wanted? I recalled his reaction when I’d asked what more he wanted before Christmas, and my mind drifted once again into confusing relationship territory.

  Morik met my curious gaze when I looked up. Ask or don’t ask? I considered the very real possibility of a short life and decided to go for it.

  “Will we...do you...” I had his complete attention.

  He tilted his head at me as I tried to figure out how to word my question.

  “I mean, are we going to have kids?”

  Gran turned slowly, her mouth slightly opened in surprise. Her gaze played ping-pong between the two of us.

  Morik’s eyes darkened. He didn’t move or speak, and I felt decidedly uncomfortable. Maybe I’d found a line after all, and not just crossed it but danced on it. Unsure how to take the question back, I sat there and turned a lovely shade of crimson.

  Finally, he reached up and ran his fingertips along one of his horns. “Given our differences, I think it unwise to attempt such a thing.”

  Gran’s color matched my own, and I decided to keep any further questions to myself.

  He blinked himself beside me and leaned close to my ear. “Having you is enough for me.” He kissed the tender skin just below my ear.

  My heart beat erratically from his touch and his words, and the tingle that spread up my spine surprised me. Not an extension to the mark, just a good feeling.

  “Thank you.” I smiled at him and darted forward to catch his lips for a quick kiss.

  We both heard the car in the driveway and broke apart.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I couldn’t wait for the weekend. Yet, it felt like it approached with painstaking deliberation.

  Ahgred’s mark mended slowly. Mom’s wedding plans grated on my nerves, and Beatriz’s daily questions about dress styles and color preferences tested my patience. It didn’t help that I spent very little time with Morik as the week progressed. At least, not any time where I maintained consciousness. The few minutes w
e had together while he drove me to school and less than two hours after school just didn’t feel like enough.

  Saturday morning, Morik and I rushed to the Coffee Shop with boxes from Gran. Word had gotten around, and Gran’s baked goods had really taken off since she and Mona had started partnering. Our current delivery was double the number of boxes we’d initially provided.

  Mona celebrated the increase in business with talk of extending her weekday hours. I declined helping her out after school, but that didn’t seem to bother her. She said she might bring in another part-time student but assured me I’d keep my weekend hours.

  The workday flew. After I finished the cleanup and prep for the next morning, Morik drove me home where Beatriz already waited, an excited member of the dress hunting party. While I loved the opportunity to spend time with Beatriz, I wasn’t overly enthused about the shopping. I would have rather spent the day with Morik, who had quietly disappeared after dropping me off.

  The dress-shopping crew rode in Aunt Grace’s new car for an hour to reach the first of the three shops Mom wanted to visit before dark. Gran took responsibility for clock-watching. Discreetly, of course.

  While Aunt Grace and Mom dug through white dresses, Beatriz and I searched through the winter formals. After seeing a few price tags, I happily let Beatriz pick and try on gowns.

  Soon, I found myself in a chair outside two dressing rooms. Mom came out with a first option, and we all agreed it wasn’t “the one.”

  As soon as Mom went back in, Beatriz stepped out in a strappy dress that fell in a silky cascade to the floor. The silver threads woven into the material caught the light as she moved, giving the dress a subtle elegant sparkle. I nodded my approval. She enthusiastically decreed she would not try on the others in the room with her. She’d found her dress.

  Aunt Grace and I wandered over to the bridesmaid dresses while we waited for the next round of admiring. It only took a few minutes before we agreed that nothing on the racks tempted either of us. We both favored floor length, but neither of us favored the prices.