by McGill, Brie
Orion peered over his shoulder, and lifted an eyebrow.
“You’re afraid of what the visions will show you about yourself.” Aleister wheezed, rolling in the grass, inching onto his stomach, plunging his elbows into the soft earth. “It’s easier to lock your nightmares inside and let them eat you, rather than to man up and look them straight in the eye.”
Ninkasi sat at the table by the window. A murder of crows soared through tumbling wisps of clouds in the late afternoon sky; waves broke endlessly upon the distant shore.
She recalled vague stories from childhood, a princess locked in a forlorn and shambling castle, watching all the kingdom’s unicorns being driven into the sea. She felt desolate, like a bone white shell washed upon a chilly shore, bleached by the sun.
She felt nostalgic. She remembered the magic of reading faerie tales with her mother when she was young, before her father left, before her mother drank. She did her best to instill the same magic in her brother, though, at times, she felt the spirits of her parents were long gone.
Thunderous footsteps plowed through the hallway and the door to her room swung open, cracking against the wall.
Aleister towered in the doorway, planting massive hands upon his hips. He wore silk pajamas in a circus-clown shade of aquamarine, stitched with glittering symbols. His thick hair was crazy, standing up, matted in all directions; his chestnut eyes were wide, glassy, his irises thin rings around dilated pupils. Unkempt stubble flourished across his unnervingly sallow complexion. “You!” He pointed at Ninkasi.
Consternated, she turned slowly to face him, exhaling an annoyed breath. “What do you want?”
This was the first time she saw him without a mask: she felt whatever ruse existed between them all had crumbled.
Probably because of the sex. Sex was funny like that. It always had far-reaching, unforeseeable social complications.
She made a wry smile, relieved by the vague shred of normalcy.
Aleister wiped his nose along the length of his sleeve, sniffling tremulously. “Are you on birth control?”
Ninkasi’s jaw dropped. “Yes.” She opened her palms. “What—” She tilted her head, and looked at the ceiling. “How is that any of your business?!”
“Because, if you aren’t” —Aleister stormed across the room, pointing a hideous finger— “and you get knocked up” —he poked his finger into the center of her chest— “it becomes one hundred percent my business.”
Ninkasi slapped his hand away. “Get out of here.”
“What do you use?” He folded his arms over his chest, wiping at his nose again.
She shook her head. “Up close, you look much better with your mask on.”
“My auntie looked better in that dress.” Aleister scowled.
She returned a bitter smile.
He slammed his palm against the table. “In fact, if I dug her up right now, I bet she’d still look better in that dress.”
Ninkasi looked out the window, turning her back to him. “You’re a disturbed man.”
“I need to know what kind of birth control you’re taking.” Aleister sat across from her, leaning over the table.
“Why?” She threw her arms into the air. “How is that remotely relevant to you? What does it matter? I’m locked in this room!”
“I’d be at ease knowing its effectiveness.” He folded his hands.
“Obviously I would know what works for me.” She pressed her lips together and glowered at him.
“I need to know if what you’re using will expire or run out.” Aleister sniffed.
“I’ve got plenty.” She shook her head. “Ugh, I can’t believe I’m discussing this with you!”
“I’m concerned, because my objectives have shifted.” He drummed fingers against the table. “Your father's next vote is still a few weeks away. In the meantime, rather than using him as a pawn to fuck with our target, we've decided to go all in and bring down the target itself. Your father has quite the nefarious voting record, and I'm sure we can still use you to our advantage—but I am currently investing one hundred percent of my resources into this pursuit. Therefore, I must store you here indefinitely.”
Ninkasi bit her lip, and fought to blink the tears from her eyes. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, and she couldn’t believe he would dare to address her in such a cruel and tactless way.
That’s all she was, wasn’t she? A bribe. Something to be thrown into storage until he required her, if he ever required her, if he wasn’t too busy with other things.
Damnit! She had a life away from this place! She couldn’t be trapped here forever!
Aleister blabbered, “My concern is that you will, at some point, run out.”
Ninkasi closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Aleister, how long do you plan on keeping me here?”
“I want you to know—”
“Do you know that I have a life outside this place?! That I want to go home?!” She balled her fists.
He slapped his palms on the table and addressed her sternly. “It may not sound conventional, but there are herbs growing on the property that will suffice. Whenever you require more, I demand that you ask, and everything you need will be provided.”
Ninkasi buried her face in her hands. “I need to go home!”
Aleister grabbed her wrist. “I am dead serious.” He tightened his grip. “I don’t want to become an auntie.”
“You’ll have to wear this dress.” She kept her eyes fixed on the table.
He yanked her arm. “You know nothing of the lineage to which you would bind yourself by blood.”
She tried to pull her hand away.
Aleister held her with great strength. “You’re a simple, innocent girl. It would suit you to remain that way.”
Ninkasi grimaced and twisted her wrist, snapping free of him.
He narrowed his eyes. “You aren’t taking any of that chemical shit, are you?”
“No, I’m using herbs already.” She massaged her wrist. “There, I answered your rude, invasive, insensitive interrogation, do you mind getting out of my quarters now?”
Aleister widened his eyes. “You are using herbs?”
She rolled her eyes. “Seeds.”
“That chemical shit is bad news.” He wiped his nose. “Ever wonder why infertility is inexplicably on the rise?”
She nodded. “I tried an injection once and felt awful. . .”
Aleister crossed his arms. “We blew up a huge production lab offshore in Naraka—”
“I don’t want to know!” Ninkasi shifted in her chair and frowned. “I don’t want to have this discussion with you! Will you leave?”
“Swear to me!” He grabbed her hand and crunched it in his fist.
Ninkasi fought to yank her hand away and failed.
Aleister squeezed tightly. “Swear to me you will never stop eating those seeds and that you will come to me for alternative measures when they are gone.”
She winced. “If I swear, will you let my hand go?”
He held his grip and burned her with a dogged stare.
“Fine, fine, I swear!”
Aleister released her.
She shook the ache from her hand, curling her lip in disapproval. “It’s not like I want to get pregnant, anyway! Why do you think I had those seeds with me in the first place?”
Late afternoon sun warmed her back. Ninkasi rested her head on Orion’s shoulder, enjoying the gentle swaying of a wooden porch swing inside a forgotten gazebo a long walk away from the cabin. She smelled the wildflowers in the meadow, heard the song of birds in the trees, the occasional hum of a passing dragonfly.
The blindfold, her panties, and Orion’s belt lay scattered at their feet in the grass; both had been too fervent to be together to bother removing anything else.
Orion lovingly stroked fingers through her hair. “It has been forever. . .”
Ninkasi tugged on his shirt. “Forever since what?”
“Forever since. . .” He tur
ned his head away, and sighed. “Since I’ve held someone in my arms like this.”
Slipping her fingers inside his shirt, she felt the warmth of his chest. “How long has it been?”
“Since before I came to the chateau.” He used his fingertips to massage her scalp.
She closed her eyes, falling into his touch, listening to his breath. “Decades?”
“It isn’t easy.” His fingers slowed, then stopped.
Ninkasi lifted her head.
“When you lose someone. . .”
She nestled her head into his chest.
Orion clamped a strong arm around her.
They lay together in silence.
She didn't want to lose Orion.
❧ ❧ ❧
The boy crouched behind a golden grate, hiding inside an idle air vent near an unused fireplace at the far end of the room.
He took slow, steady breaths, ignoring the fusty smell of the vent, feeling his hands break out in a cold sweat. He had never hurt anyone in his life.
But this wasn’t the same thing. Hurting people was wrong. What the boy intended to do wasn’t wrong: in fact, it was protecting her from more hurt; it was justice, virtuous.
Sitting and doing nothing when he knew how deeply she hurt was wrong, and never would the boy let anyone else tell him otherwise.
The door swung open, and Andrealphus waltzed inside, wearing his emerald silks, his eyes smudged with orange mineral dust and kohl, lips painted red, his peacock-like uniform bestowing the illusion of life within his grayish limbs.
The boy trembled at the sight of him.
Andrealphus reclined in a towering burgundy armchair, wide enough for two people—and occupied the entire chair with his hulking frame. He smiled with sharp teeth at the serving cart within arm’s reach of his chair, and gleefully swiped his glass of scotch.
‘Scotch.’ The boy watched with bated breath.
Tilting head back, Andrealphus downed the glass in one gulp.
The boy gawked: was it that easy?
Andrealphus had unwittingly drugged himself.
The boy swallowed. He watched. He waited.
Andrealphus sank comfortably in his chair, and reached to the bottom of the serving caddy, grabbing a green bottle of scotch with a magnificent crystal cork. He avariciously poured another massive glass and returned the bottle.
The boy bit his lip. How long would it take for the drugs to knock him out? The liquor should speed up the effects of the drugs, shouldn’t it?
Andrealphus wiggled his body into the maroon cushion, tapping his fingers against the mahogany lion’s paw armrests. He took another swig of liquor and slammed his glass against the cart.
The boy’s heart pounded.
He rested his head against the back of the chair; minutes passed, and his eyes fell shut, head rolling to the side.
It was now or never.
The boy held his breath, digging fingers into the metal grate, and cautiously hoisted it out of the way. He took great care to keep the grate away from the walls, from the floor, as to not make a sound. He climbed from the duct, hastily beating the dust from his clothes, and popped the grate back into the wall, transfixed with the motionless giant and fearing for his own life. The grate reinstalled, he secured his hiding place from suspicion: he could never be too careful.
Andrealphus remained motionless.
The boy zipped across the room, tiptoeing, and lowered the latch on the door, locking them inside.
There were no windows. There was no escape.
It was only the two of them.
The boy inched toward the giant and grimaced, poking a finger into his face.
No response. His skin was cool.
He breathed a sigh of relief, and knitting his brow with determination, tapped his palm against the sleeping monster’s face.
Still no movement.
The boy slapped him with an open palm.
Andrealphus’s head rolled further to the side.
The boy gritted his teeth: before attempting anything further, he had to be absolutely sure of his situation.
He leaned over the chair and cracked the giant across the face, once, twice, thrice. The sting of his palm hitting the demon’s face delighted him: a current of rage ignited in his stomach, ripping like fire through his limbs, and a part of him would have been perfectly content to batter his nemesis until his hands could take no more.
He shook his angry thoughts away.
It would work best if he could get Andrealphus on the floor.
The boy dug his heels into the plush carpet and gripped Andrealphus’s wrist with both hands. He bent at the knees and tugged, pulling, using the strength of his body to drag the giant from his chair.
His enormous body toppled forward, forehead cracking against the wooden chair arm.
The boy grunted and lowered his center of gravity, taking a deep breath and stepping backward, trying to pull Andrealphus from the chair with the power of his stance.
Andrealphus’s body lurched forward and crashed face-first into the floor, landing in a cumbrous heap, his legs tucked beneath his torso.
The boy put his hands on his hips, and surveyed him with a disdainful frown: he needed to roll the monster on his back.
The boy scuttled behind the hefty armchair, and shoved it out of his way—easier to move the chair than the giant.
He knelt before Andrealphus and pushed him toward the space where the chair had been, and with momentous effort, rolled him onto his back. The boy stood and wiped sweat from his forehead.
He grabbed a satiny pillow from an adjacent chair, and approached Andrealphus, scornfully surveying his collapsed body. This was his moment.
This was it. He would pay.
The boy climbed over his torso, kneeling on Andrealphus’s chest. He took a deep breath, and bent forward, securing the pillow over Andrealphus’s face. His fingers gripped the sides of the pillow like a vise, snugly fitted over the demon’s airways.
He held the pillow for a moment, forcefully.
Andrealphus’s body twitched.
The boy had no idea how long it took to suffocate someone, let alone someone of Andrealphus’s size. He hoped the drugs would hold. He hoped the drugs gave him some kind of an advantage in this situation, pushing the monster to expire more quickly.
He felt a nervous sweat break out on his forehead—he wished the monster would die, already. His heart pounded: he wanted nothing to go wrong.
He owed it to her; this was her liberation, her peace.
The boy couldn’t decide if he would tell her that he was responsible for the monster’s death. He wasn’t sure if she would be grateful, or think him a murderer. Her personal shame was a burden too monumental to share. She didn’t wish to speak of the abuse.
She didn’t know that the boy had seen.
Maybe she needed to speak of it.
Would telling her deliver immense relief?
Andrealphus’s body jerked again vigorously.
He watched the monster, waiting for him to die. He tightened the pillow over Andrealphus’s face, pulling the sides toward the floor.
The boy shut his eyes. Her blood-curdling screams echoed inside his head. He saw the pain, the horror, the humiliation in her eyes.
He gritted his teeth and pulled the pillow down with all his might. “Why don’t you die, already!”
The monster’s massive arm shot up from the floor and grabbed the boy by the throat. Thick fingers locked around his neck and plucked him away.
Hair stood up on the boy’s arms, and he defensively tucked his head into his head into his chest. Thrashing in the giant’s grip, he kicked, flailed, trying to twist free.
Andrealphus grunted and sat upright, ripping the pillow away with his free hand and launching it across the room.
The speeding pillow crashed into the service cart, knocking his scotch and glass to the floor.
“You!” The giant squeezed the boy’s chin between his thumb and forefinger
, jerking his head so he was forced to face him. “What in the world do you think you’re doing?” His rouged lips twisted into a perverse smile and he hissed his words through sharp teeth.
“Let me go right now!” The boy screamed, twisting and tossing, battling to free himself. “You put me down, now!”
The monster chuckled, his shoulders wriggling with amusement. “Or what, boy? What can you do about this?”
He jerked around in his grasp, shoving and shouldering. “I’ll tell my mother!”
Andrealphus hoisted him further into the air. “Tell her what, boy, hmm?” He slapped him across the face. “That you tried to kill me?”
The boy winced.
“No, I’m far more useful to her than you are alive.” He shook his head. “You’ve grown to be a monumental failure, if I understand correctly.” The monster dug his sharp nails into his neck. “I could kill you now and I bet your mother would be grateful.”
“Mark my words, I’ll kill you.” The boy stopped wriggling. “Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but I will kill you. I’ll make you pay.”
“Pay for what?” The monster studied him.
The boy gritted his teeth and glowered.
“Aha, I think I know what this is about.” Andrealphus tossed his head back and laughed. “How sweet.”
The boy thrashed again, trying to break free.
“But the truth is, you’re an ineffectual whelp. An anomaly.” The giant shook his head. “The first born of royal blood that I know to lack power.” The giant grabbed his face, steadying him. “It’s time you learn something about the power structure, here, boy. My afternoon is free, and in my generosity, I’ll give you a one-on-one instruction.” He released the boy, and climbed to his feet.
The boy stood up and rubbed his neck.
“Those who have power may do whatever they please. Those without power, well—” He threw his head back and laughed pompously. “Those without power are powerless to stop me.” He dug his nails into the boy’s shoulder. “You can experience exactly what your sister felt.”
New Batteries
XI.
Ninkasi rolled over, sprawling across the king-sized mattress of her canopy bed, reaching for Orion’s shoulder, his chest. She'd grown accustomed to his presence; he regularly returned to spend the night with her, after Aleister retired to his study.