Master of the Game

by Jane Kindred

  Belphagor shushed him, though he was speaking Russian, which Phaleg couldn’t possibly understand, and led him farther into the living room while Phaleg waited uncomfortably in the kitchen as Lev prepared tea. “He’s fallen. Little ‘F’, but fallen just the same. Heaven considers him no better than you or me.”

  “I highly doubt he shares Heaven’s opinion.”

  “He’s a good man.” Belphagor’s tone was clipped, but he softened as he added, “And a good boy.”

  “Bozhe moi.” Dmitri shook his head with dawning understanding and resignation. “This is the angel you told me about. The one you trained. You expect me to take care of one of your lovesick boys.”

  “He’s not lovesick for me. Not anymore. It’s Silk he fell in love with.”

  Dmitri’s eyebrows rose. “Silk? Vasily’s little twink morsel?” He glanced down the hallway toward the kitchen. “But Silk didn’t love him back.”

  “Actually, he does. But Phaleg didn’t want to endanger him. He knew trying to stay with Silk in Raqia would do just that. It would put us all in danger.”

  Dmitri nodded and sighed. “And I suppose he doesn’t speak a word of Russian.”

  “He can say ‘pozhaluista’ and ‘spasibo’.” Belphagor smirked at Dmitri’s exasperated eye roll. “Look, I’m sorry to dump him on you like this, but I didn’t really have a choice. He couldn’t stay in Heaven. But you’ll be well compensated, I promise.”

  The Grigori’s dusty blue eyes seemed to darken. “And now you insult me. I have never taken money for giving someone sanctuary, and I don’t intend to start now. He’ll have bed and board here just like anyone else. But I will expect him to learn the language and to earn his keep as soon as possible. I imagine I can find him something outside the city. Lev and I will have to move anyway.”

  “Sorry. I know I’ve compromised you one time too many.”

  “You do tend to put a demon in more compromising situations than anyone I’ve ever known.” Dmitri smiled reluctantly.

  Belphagor smiled back, relieved he hadn’t damaged their friendship. “Before I leave in the morning, I’d be happy to compromise both you and Lev repeatedly as a reward for your hospitality in lieu of the rubles you won’t take.”

  Dmitri laughed. “I think that might be more like rewarding you for your own bad behavior.” His eyes twinkled. “But I’m not entirely against the idea.”

  Phaleg lay awake in the guest bed. Belphagor had claimed he would sleep on the couch, but the soft grunts and groans of appreciation from the master bedroom said otherwise. He turned to the wall and tried to make himself come, but the memory of his last night with Silk made him too melancholy to bring things to fruition. It also made him harder, remembering how it felt to be so thoroughly and helplessly bound and yet fucking Silk at the same time. But the arousal couldn’t override his sadness.

  And the strangeness of the place didn’t help matters. There were other sounds besides Belphagor having a romp with his friends. The strange, deep, mournful hoot that called out periodically he recognized as the sound of the train that had brought them from the frozen lake country at the foot of the Hell Staircase. But there were other sounds: the odd hum of the ubiquitous machines in the building that no one else at dinner had seemed to notice, and the occasional growl and roar of the larger, moving machines outside in the distance—it all served to make this world seem more like his childhood conception of the mythical demonic hell than anything he’d ever encountered. The prospect of remaining here for the rest of his days in a place where no one knew him, and where he was certain never to connect with anyone else as he had with Silk made the odd meal he’d eaten sit in his belly like a stone.

  Lev, at least, had seemed very kind. A little like Silk in his mannerisms and physicality, though he was taller and looked more like an angel than a demon, he’d been easy to be around, and he’d made an extra effort to make Phaleg feel welcome. He’d even offered to show him around St. Petersburg the next day, which Belphagor promised Phaleg would find remarkable in its resemblance to Elysium. That, at least, might give him some comfort.

  Despite the oddness of his surroundings, Phaleg found he’d slept when a knock on the door of the apartment woke him. It was still dark, but like the Firmament, the winter days were short here, and he suspected it was late morning. He couldn’t make out the voices in the foyer, but the distinct bass rumble to one of them could only be Vasily. What in Heaven—what on Earth—was he doing here? Phaleg had hoped the firespirit would comfort Silk in his absence, though it had pricked him with miserable jealousy to think that comfort might be physical.

  He rose and pulled on his pants—the rough, stiff “jeans” Belphagor had bought him at one of the stops along the train’s path—and remembered to stick his feet into his cozy house shoes. The earthly habit Anzhela had implemented at the apartment in Raqia reminded him of Silk, who had a pair of tapochki to match every elegant outfit he owned. How was it possible everything reminded him of Silk in this completely alien world? How was he going to live in this place if he couldn’t put the demon from his mind?

  When Phaleg opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, his heart nearly stopped. Not only was Vasily here, but Silk himself stood in the foyer. “Silk?” He had almost no breath to form the word.

  Silk turned toward his voice nonetheless, and the gorgeous gray, almond eyes fixed on Phaleg without giving away any emotion. But his words did. “You complete and utter ass.”

  Before Phaleg could say a word, Silk crossed the hall, spun him about and pushed him back into the guest room, pulling the door shut behind him.

  “You don’t just get to run away and play the noble angel with me, dammit.” Silk poked a finger into his chest to emphasize his words as he spoke. It felt like Heaven. “You do not get away from me that easily.” The demon glared at him a moment longer, as if trying to decide whether to smack him or kiss him, and then did both.

  Phaleg wrapped his arms around the slender demon, cheek smarting and eyes watering, which he tried to pretend was from the sting of the slap, without conviction. There was nothing in any world that felt so good against his body and his lips as Silk.

  When Silk finally released him, he was still spitting mad, but Phaleg couldn’t stop smiling. The prospect of living in exile might not be so terrible if Silk came to visit now and then. Like a simpleton, he hadn’t even thought of this possibility.

  Silk crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you grinning about?”

  Phaleg tried to look appropriately repentant. “Sorry. I’m just so happy to see you. And I’m sorry I didn’t say good-bye. I just didn’t think I could stick to my resolve if I saw you again. But please understand, there’s no other way, so while I love you so much for coming here to try, you won’t persuade me to go back.”

  “Bozhe moi, but you can be thick.” Silk’s expression softened slightly, though his arms were still tightly folded. “I’m staying here with you.”

  “But I thought…” Phaleg faltered. He wasn’t supposed to know about what had made him think it. Belphagor had told him in confidence.

  “You thought what?” The lovely eyes narrowed. “I swear, you won’t be able to sit for days if you don’t spit it out this instant.”

  “I—” Phaleg blushed as his ass warmed at the thought of Silk making good on his threat. “I thought you hated it here. Your last trip…I mean…” Now he was blushing with discomfort.

  Silk’s arms dropped to his sides, and he slipped his hands into his pockets. “Belphagor told you what the drovers did to me. Where he found me.”

  “Not in any detail, but…yes. He said you turned down Vasily’s proposal while they were apart because you couldn’t bear it here after what you went through.”

  Silk exhaled through his nose with obvious irritation. “I don’t know which one of you is more of an idiot. I turned down Vasily’s proposal because I wasn’t in love with him. Yes, I have some unpleasant associations with this place, but I’m not incapable
of appreciating what the world of Man has to offer. Would I rather be in Raqia? Of course. But not without you.”

  The reality of what Silk was saying to him finally made its way through his embarrassment, guilt and regret, and the effect was so profound, his legs nearly gave out beneath him. “You’re staying with me. You’ll be with me. Always.”

  Silk gave him a sly half smile. “Just try and get away from me. Dirty angelwhore.”

  Their absence had obviously been conspicuous, but the demons were nice enough not to mention it when Silk and Phaleg finally emerged. Silk insisted on holding his hand as they joined the others in the parlor, his grip tightening relentlessly when Phaleg attempted to pull away.

  The Power—Grigori, Phaleg amended mentally; he could see the earthspirit ruggedness, though Dmitri seemed less imposing than his celestial counterparts—regarded them thoughtfully. “Will you be needing sanctuary also?” he asked Silk in angelic.

  “I will.” Silk glanced at Belphagor. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to manage the Stone Horse on your own. I left Khai in charge, but I didn’t tell him I wasn’t coming back. He’s also staying with Anzhela and the boys for a few days. I thought maybe you and Ruby might move in, finally get rid of that tawdry room at the Brimstone—until I saw the reason you keep that room.”

  Belphagor smiled. “Indeed. It’s not the only reason, but it is chief among them. Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure something out. I only wish I’d thought of this solution before I left.” He indicated Silk’s hand around Phaleg’s. “I’m afraid I may have been projecting a bit, hearkening back to my own first fall.” Vasily’s gaze narrowed on him intently, but Belphagor somehow managed to ignore the heat of it. “Suffice it to say, the world of Man took a while to grow on me.”

  “The reason I ask,” Dmitri continued, with the sort of authoritative impatience that typified Powers in the celestial sphere as well, “is that I’m afraid I don’t have any good prospects for you here in Russia.”

  Phaleg was startled by this pronouncement. “Forgive me, but when we spoke yesterday, you didn’t seem to have any reservations.”

  Dmitri nodded. “My reservations are new. It’s the combination of you and Silk together that presents a problem.” He glanced at his partner beside him. “Lev and I have had a hard enough time trying not to attract attention, and we were born here. On your own, Phaleg, I’ve no doubt your experiences in angelic culture would have served you well enough to keep you from becoming a target. But together—and particularly together with Silk—you’d have bull’s-eyes on your backs. No offense, Silk, but…the way you are… It’s likely to get you and your angel killed.”

  Phaleg expected Silk to lose his temper, but it was Vasily who jumped to his feet. “Just a damned minute. You’re going to blame Silk for the hatred of some irrational humans?”

  “I’m not blaming him. I’m telling you plainly that he stands out. And what you do not want to do here is stand out when you’re in love with a member of your own sex.”

  “I can’t go back,” said Phaleg. He clutched Silk’s hand more tightly, as if he could keep Silk from deciding to return without him after all if he just clung hard enough. “It’s impossible.”

  Dmitri nodded. “I understand that. What I’m recommending is not for you to go back to Heaven, but for the two of you to leave Russia altogether. There are other nations where you’ll find more welcoming communities. Or at least communities who will treat you with indifference. I have contacts across the globe, and I’ve already made some calls. I’d recommend the Netherlands, England, or perhaps the USA.”

  Phaleg stared hopelessly at the sounds of these utterly foreign princedoms. The prospect of living here in a land where the culture seemed in some ways familiar to what he’d known had been unsettling enough. But if he couldn’t stay here—Phaleg felt as if he were floundering in a sea whose depth and breadth he couldn’t fathom. And his hand in Silk’s had gone numb, as if he’d already lost touch with him. Perhaps he was even spiraling away on his own in the Outer Darkness and Silk was just an illusion.

  “We’ll go wherever you think is best,” said Silk, grounding him once more. “You’ve rightly surmised that I’m a leopard who cannot change his spots, so I’ll just have to trust your judgment. We’ll need language lessons, of course, and a primer in the culture.”

  “Of course,” said Dmitri. “All will be arranged.”

  “There’s one other thing I’d like to arrange.” Silk gave Phaleg a sidelong glance. “I have it on good authority that the New Year marks your birthday.”

  Phaleg’s eyes widened. “How did you know that?”

  Silk’s smile was secretive. “I have my sources.” He turned to Belphagor on his other side. “Since I assume you and Vasily will be leaving shortly for Heaven, and Phaleg and I will be off to our new destination soon after… I think I should give Phaleg his present early.”

  The gleam in Belphagor’s eye as his gaze fell on Phaleg spelled trouble. “Marvelous. Looks like Ded Moroz is bringing all of us an early present.”

  Phaleg was banished to the bedroom while Silk discussed the particulars with Belphagor. His skin tingled all over imagining what Silk might have in mind for him that would put that look in Belphagor’s eye. Some show they wished to put on for the rest, no doubt, judging by his comment. Phaleg was mortified and thrilled by the thought of being ordered about naked in front of everyone.

  Silk opened the door, his face serious. It wasn’t the look Phaleg expected. He rose from his seat on the edge of the bed.

  “Tell me you understand the importance of your word and that you will use it if your comfort level is exceeded.”

  Phaleg’s breathing was shallow as he answered. “Of course I will.”

  “And when I explain how this is going to go, you’ll tell me right now if you need to, and preempt everything. You won’t allow me to start something you don’t think you can handle just because you want to please me. This is for you.”

  “Yes, milord. I promise.”

  Silk took a step toward him. “I love it when you call me that. But not this time. This time we will be strangers.”

  Phaleg swallowed. “Strangers?”

  “Strangers—demons—who’ve spotted you on the wrong side of town. An angel. Alone. With no one to heed your cries for help.”

  Phaleg nearly tripped against the bed as he took an involuntary step back. His grip convulsed on the edge of the coverlet. It was the fantasy he’d harbored all his life. His secret shame. And Silk was going to give it to him.

  Silk’s stare was uncompromising. “Do you want it? Yes or no.”

  Phaleg’s limbs were trembling violently. He closed his eyes. “Yes,” he breathed.

  Silk closed the space between them and Phaleg moaned against his kiss as Silk’s arms enveloped him. “Remember,” he whispered, “you can always say your word if you change your mind. And afterward, I’ll take care of you. I’ll still love you. This is a game. A very serious one, but a game. It isn’t us. Do you understand?”

  Phaleg didn’t trust himself to speak. He nodded and made a wheezing sound as he breathed in too quickly.

  Silk searched his eyes and Phaleg closed them again. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “I’m afraid,” he gasped. He couldn’t seem to get air.

  Silk’s hand stroked his temple. “Do you want to be?”

  Phaleg leaned his head into Silk’s hand and nodded. “Yes.”

  “Good.” Silk drew him close with his hands on either side of Phaleg’s head and kissed his brow lightly. “I love you. Stay here.”

  Phaleg collapsed onto the bed when Silk had gone. “Heaven help me.” But he was beyond Heaven. Beyond help.

  He had no idea how long it had been since Silk left him, and no idea what anyone was doing outside his door. Whatever it was, they were doing it quietly. The grim afternoon light had faded. He left the light off. It occurred to him then he ought to have used the water closet. But the door was opening
.

  In the dim glow from the hallway, a figure stood staring at him, dressed in dark clothes he didn’t recognize and wearing a woolen knit cap that came down over his entire face, with just small cutouts for the eyes and mouth. Phaleg couldn’t tell who it was.

  “Well, look what I found in here?” The rough voice didn’t illuminate. All Phaleg could be sure of was that it wasn’t Vasily. His heart began to pound painfully in his chest.

  A taller figure came up beside him. “Bozhe moi, a fucking angel.” The earthly accent had to be Dmitri’s. Or Lev’s. “What do you think you’re doing here? This is demon territory.” The demon—Phaleg had given up trying to identify him—moved with unexpected swiftness and grabbed him by the hair, yanking him off the bed. “I asked you a question.”

  “I—I don’t know,” Phaleg stammered.

  “Well, you’re about to find out what happens to angels who wander where they don’t belong.” The demon thrust him toward the door, and Phaleg fell against the other demon blocking it. This one grabbed Phaleg between the legs without ceremony—and without gentleness—and Phaleg groaned.

  “Oh, he wants to find out.” The demon yanked open Phaleg’s jeans and exposed him. Phaleg hadn’t even realized he was almost hard. The demon said something in Russian, and the other answered him in the same language, prompting both to laugh. The shorter one grabbed Phaleg’s semi-erect cock and fondled it roughly until his arousal was unambiguous. The demon growled close to his ear. “You like demon dick, boy? Is that it?” Was this Belphagor? The demon’s chuckle sent a chill down his spine. “You’re about to get more than you can handle.”

  The two of them took Phaleg by the arms and dragged him into the hallway. All the lights were out. They pushed him toward what must be the parlor door. He stumbled through but didn’t recognize the room. Dark cloth covered everything, and a dimly lit oil lamp threw strange shadows. Several figures rose at once, seemingly appearing from the furnishings, all clad like the first two. Phaleg was beginning to panic. He couldn’t even be sure how many there were. He recognized none.