The Saint

by Melanie Jackson

“It has indeed.” Kris rolled over suddenly, contracting his long muscles as he sat up and reversed their positions. He let his head slide down her body, his hair leaving a fiery trail as he kissed his way back to her mouth. “And I’m pleased with you too.”

  “I can still feel it in you—the wildness. But I’m not afraid now,” she whispered. And she did feel his lack of complete control. It was roaming her as well, flames licking at her body from the inside where no hands could reach. Yes, that beast was banished but not defeated.

  “Yes.” His gaze met hers and scorched. “Does it bother you that I’ve transformed bloodlust into desire?”

  “No,” she whispered. “Not at all.” But she did mind what was going on inside her. It was hot, so hot—she was burning up.

  He reached for her, his fingertips sliding over her thigh, moving along the sweat-moistened skin. She was very wet, but still she could feel herself catch fire every place he touched. His hand cupped, and he slid a finger inside her. His other hand wrote a fiery blessing on her skin, and he gave her the gift of knowing she was beautiful in his eyes.

  Emotion swelled in her heart, pressed hard against her breastbone. Her lips parted but no sound came out. Her feelings for Kris were so large that they could never be poured out through her small throat. There just weren’t enough words to carry her inner love to the outside world.

  Yes, there are. You know them, she realized.

  “Eat my heart. Drink my soul. Love me to death,” she finally murmured—because now it was safe to say it.

  Darkness again moved through Kris’s eyes, and Adora felt something powerful roll over her. Kris shifted above, lying between her legs, his weight supported on his arms that were lean and wiry but that could probably bench-press a truck. He pressed his mouth to hers, and this time she felt him drink her in, stopping her heart, drinking her soul, loving her almost to death.

  Around them the air roiled and grew smoky. She had little warning except the movement of his hips before he was inside her, the power of his thrust driving the breath from her body and thought from her mind. In the black-glass ceiling she could watch him as he drove into her and slammed her into the bed. She saw her own back arch as she writhed against him, just as violent, just as lustful as he. It was a pleasure that was almost brutal. Almost pain. Yet it was neither.

  And then, overwhelmed by both sensation and imagery, her eyes closed so that she would see no more of the wanton, animalistic creatures that coupled on the bed, so she would not see the expression of hunger on her own face. It was difficult enough, knowing that she hungered so desperately to actually place her life in someone else’s hands.

  Brightness poured through her eyelids, and she knew it came from Kris, that somehow he had transformed his shadow into pure light. Inside her body, something opened and flew outward like the universe after the Big Bang, and something else rushed back inside. It was the approach of fiery creation. It was soul called home from the cold wilderness of Hell, though whether hers or his, she could not say. And for an instant, Adora understood what Kris had meant about the laws of eternity not being the laws of time. Whatever this thing—this feeling— was, it could not be confined to, or explained by, any experience she had ever had.

  He put his lips firmly against hers, muffling her voice, and she screamed into his mouth. All the power was trapped between them. She was barely aware when he pulled out of her body and emptied himself on her belly.

  Not yet, Kris said, even as the last echoes of pleasure shook him, and she knew that he was speaking to the Goddess, denying her the new life she had hoped would be created when they made love. And in that moment, Adora knew that it was possible that she could love Kris and do so without fear. Even if he didn’t understand why, he knew her dread of parenthood, and he was protecting her even against the Goddess he served.

  She might have said something then, foreign emotional words, but Kris reared back suddenly and jerked her from the bed. He held her only until he was sure she would not fall, and then he turned and ripped off the fur coverlet and dropped it on the floor.

  Adora stared, openmouthed, as the hide slowly blackened and smoke circled the room. She leaned against a stack of books, feeling them shift behind her. She clapped a hand over her stomach as Kris’s seed began to slide down her body. It burned slightly in the palm of her hand, and her stomach was marked with a long red blaze.

  “Holy cow!” she said inadequately. “We actually set the bed on fire.”

  “I guess we both have some control issues,” he said—and then Kris started to laugh.

  And Niklas worshipped thusly: “Love and light Thou offer. Life and hope Thou offer. And I shall offer too.” And then Niklas lay himself on the barren earth and spilled his power into the ground and all around him wheat did grow.

  —Niklas 19:36

  Nicholas’s face twisted. He knelt before the cowering woman and gently freed her face from the cruel cage, carefully removing the sharpened bit from her bloodied mouth. He stared at the object in his hands with an emotion somewhere between distaste and horror. A scold’s bridle—he hadn’t seen such a device used in years.

  He kissed the woman, Sarah, on the forehead, and then on the mouth, stopping the bleeding. When her tears had ceased, Nicholas rose and turned toward the man who had so harshly used his wife. He felt old anger stir in him, a black ice that rose from the guts and reached for the heart. That one touch of cold was warning enough to deter his anger. Just as he had feared, the monster, the bringer of death, was still inside him.

  “Black Peter,” Nicholas said to his goblin friend, his voice harsh enough to strike fear in the human husband’s heart. He knew his eyes had turned. “Take this woman to her family. See that she is given enough gold that she need never return to this house. Then return here. This sinner and I shall have words while you’re gone.”

  “Nicholasss . . .” Black Peter said nervously, for he too could feel the creature inside of Nicholas and knew to fear it as he would Armageddon.

  “Go,” Nicholas added in another tongue. “Don’t be afraid. The only thing that will kill this man is kindness, and that I shan’t be sharing. I am sure such a pleasant, selfless emotion would be poison to him.”

  Black Peter backed out of the room as Nicholas weighed the cage in his hand, his eyes fixed on the cruel human who now cowered on the floor and called out for Saint Nicholas to save him. The irony of the man’s choice of saviors had the goblin smiling.

  “Asssk and ye ssshall reccceive,” he muttered as he wrapped the stunned woman in a cloak and led her from the small cottage. “And reccceive more than you wish.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Kris was higher than a kite in a hurricane, and mostly due to Adora. She has a lovely laugh, he thought. Soft and contagious, and precious for being so rare. And her voice—Kiss me so I can remember. Kiss me so I can forget. Her words still reverberated within him, leaving him shaken.

  He had also loved the shock in her eyes when pleasure overcame her. He loved that this woman of words, who could describe in detail every nuance of human emotion, was rendered speechless by their lovemaking. Above all else, he relished the feeling that flowed through him from her heart, a stream of emotion that rolled through his body and restored hope and faith and even memory. For he too had needed to remember, while also needing to forget.

  The Goddess wasn’t pleased with half a loaf, but Kris was content for now. Adora wasn’t ready to think about children, but she had given herself over to him, and in a different way than he had anticipated—and he had held her life safe for that long instant before he suppressed the death fey impulse to send her soul onward, returned her life to her. And as the current between them sent her life back into her body, that soul surely told her that her faith in him was not misplaced. She could trust him. It was a sign. The pattern of destruction was broken. She could love. Perhaps. Eventually.

  And he knew that he could trust himself. The deathbringer had not harmed her when it had the chance, eve
n though he was flooded with killing rage. Gaia had not forsaken him, the promise was kept. With Adora’s help, he could now go on. He could go into the goblin lands and not fear that the urge to kill would overwhelm him.

  The race was not to the swift but to the sure, and now he had certainty. They would not lose.

  Adora toweled herself dry, staring pensively into the dark glass walls of the bathroom. Low down, her abused body still throbbed, as though she had a second heart in her loins. This velvet bruise wasn’t painful exactly, and it was subsiding, so she decided that she could—would—ignore its physical reminder of the madness for now.

  It was somewhat difficult to ignore in the quiet, though, because her own thoughts were restless, noisy companions now that Kris was gone and they had again found their tongues. Why the hell was she alone, anyway? Kris, the ever-energetic, had put out the fire and then dashed off to do something with Jack.

  That was a rhetorical question, right? Joy asked, speaking for the first time in awhile.

  Yes, Adora replied.

  He had taken the time to push a ring onto her finger and bestow a last, knee-weakening kiss on his way out the door. “Is this like an engagement ring or something?” she had asked as she stared at her hand in bemusement.

  “Yes, I suppose it is. I’ll explain later,” he said happily and then disappeared.

  I still say it’s a twelve-carat bribe, Joy grumbled. But twelve really nice carats.

  Bribe or not, Adora liked having it—a gift from Kris. His first one, if she didn’t count the coat he’d sent Pennywyse to buy.

  “I’m pathetic,” she told her reflection.

  Of course you are. But why bring it up now? Is it the ring? Are you actually getting sentimental?

  Maybe.

  But it wasn’t her sudden sappiness that distressed her. Her unease was because she finally understood why it was that hurricane victims would choose to move right back onto their soggy beachfront property the minute the deadly water and wind receded, or why people rebuilt in the same place after a forest fire or earthquake took their homes. It wasn’t that they were stupid—just possessed by the illogical conviction that such a thing couldn’t possibly happen again. Sure, tsunamis happened now and again—but not to them. They had paid the price already. Earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, those were for other people. Sure, maybe God had blown down the trailer park three times, or wiped out Pompeii or Krakatau—but never again. A just God would never let it happen in the same place a half dozen times.

  Are you saying that sex with Kris is a natural disaster? Joy asked. Because from where I was sitting—

  Shut up.

  Well, are you saying that?

  N-no. Of course I’m not saying it was a disaster. But he is something of a force of nature. And dangerous. I felt it, you know, that moment while he wrestled with whether to give my soul back or to send it onward. What if sex is always like that? What happens if some day he isn’t paying close enough attention, he starts thinking about baseball or something and I end up dead?

  Good questions, but I notice that you aren’t packing up and leaving him. He stopped your heart and you set the bed afire, but you’re still here and so is he. At least, I assume he’s still here.

  I know. And it’s crazy, but . . .

  Let me guess—you’re sure that it’ll never happen again. Your trailer park is safe.

  Adora didn’t answer as she tossed the towel aside. She wasn’t sure of anything just then, except that once again she wanted to go for a walk.

  Oh, geez. Have you forgotten your last walk already?

  A short walk. In the mound, Adora promised. She had to get out. The room was too full of Kris and she was feeling overwhelmed. Speaking of love—even to herself—had opened something inside of her. And every scary memory she had held at bay for the last two decades was catching up, overshadowing her, and she needed space to wrestle with them.

  What’s that? Joy asked, distracting her.

  Adora walked to the bed and reached for the dress laid out there. It was arranged like a fainting lady, its skirts draped over the edge of the mattress in a long, graceful fall. She held up the bright green garment with the rolled velvet, and tried to find a bit of glassy wall that wasn’t obscured by books. The shade was as subtle as neon and the style a bit grand for daywear. But it was very pretty, she admitted, even if it wasn’t exactly what she was used to. And it went with her ring.

  You’re hopeless, Joy said.

  “So, what will you do to the goblins? Will you let us kill the goblin king who poisoned you? And what of this attack on Adora?” Thomas asked. “Something must be done. This was too bold.”

  “Anaximander already took care of my poisoner when he wiped out all the males in his family, and his assassin Raxin is as dead as Abrial can make him. Instead I shall let you do something far worse than kill them,” Kris answered happily, making Thomas look suddenly uneasy. “We shall make the goblin children love me—or rather, Santa Claus. I will begin the campaign by bringing them presents this Christmas Eve when I visit the humans. We start making plans at once. I know Pennywyse will probably give birth to imps when he hears about it, but he’ll rally. And this year, it will only be in the United States.”

  Jack gave a low whistle.

  “You don’t believe in starting small, do you?” Abrial asked. He once again looked normal, and no trace of his former deadly incarnation could be seen. He was, however, careful to keep his distance from Kris. “I’ve got to admire you, though. It’s the last thing the goblins will ever expect.”

  “It will make an excellent diversion too.” Kris leaned back and steepled his fingers.

  “Diversion?” Abrial asked. Now he looked uneasy.

  “Yes. I plan on getting Molybdenum’s people out of prison. It’s partially my fault that they’re imprisoned.”

  This time, Abrial whistled. “A jailbreak? From the heart of the L.A. hive? I’d pay cash money to see that.”

  “You wish to help, Abrial? Then mark your calendar and prepare to travel. I am going to need help this year—from all of you, since you know the Unseelie roads here better than I. And I will let you guess where your delivery duty will take you first.” Kris smiled at Abrial’s look of dismay. “I know, Abrial. But L.A. goblins have children too. And you wouldn’t have any luck controlling the reindeer. Besides, you’d scare any human children who might be peeking out their windows. We have to shift their perception of Santa Claus by slow degrees. No offense, but the black bat wings might be a bit too much.”

  The nightdemon shook his head. A moment later he said, “Not to change the subject, but does Adora realize how much time has passed in the outside world? She was joyriding on those fairy roads for quite a while. Even for us . . .”

  “No. I doubt she does. I’ll put it on the list of things I still need to explain.”

  “I’d pay to see that list too,” Abrial replied. “I guess it will be easier now that you two have joined. She should be more accepting.”

  Kris looked surprised. “You know we’ve joined?”

  “Of course. We had half a dozen fires blaze up in the mound.”

  “Oh. Sorry. We’ll work on that.”

  Abrial grinned. “That’s okay, the sudden rainstorms put them out.”

  “Enough,” Jack spoke up. “And don’t be teasing Adora about the fires, either. She’s still very skittish.”

  “Okay. But you’ll have to do something about Roman. He never has been able to resist a good joke.”

  “What can one do about Roman?” Thomas asked.

  Kris caused sudden silence to fall by asking, “You all know why we must do this, right? We are agreed? You all know that even if we retreat inside the mound and let the humans and goblins have at it, we can’t survive. This much death will poison the earth and then us.” Kris looked at each fey in turn. They weren’t grinning now. “We are the last of our kind, the last of the checks that balance the human and lutin worlds. As such, we have a moral obligation
to survive—and to keep the peace.”

  “Amen, brother,” Jack said, getting to his feet.

  Joy, what’s wrong? I can feel you ruminating, and it’s getting in the way of my own. And that was saying something for Adora, because all around her the garden was whispering urgently. To her or about her, Adora wasn’t sure which, but it was damned distracting. She even wondered if, should she turn about quickly, she would catch the vines behind her bent toward each other like old ladies gossiping behind their fanlike blossoms.

  “Hush!” she finally said to the plants. “Look, I’m not trying to abridge your right to free speech, but what about my right to freedom of thought? You’re stuffing my ears with noise until I can’t think. Just hold it down until I’m gone, okay?” There was sudden silence.

  Joy? Talk to me.

  Sorry to bother you. It’s just . . .

  What? Spit it out. You’ve never been mealy-mouthed, so don’t start now.

  Look, you’ve always thought of me as a shadow, something always close by but still separate from you. But really I’m not separate. I’ve always been a part of you, and without you, I don’t exist. The confession was made in a small voice. And I’m not sure that Kris likes me. The whole fire-sex thing is dangerous, and he probably thinks it’s my fault. He may want you to get rid of me.

  Adora thought about this. You know, Joy, it would probably be healthier if I were an integrated personality . . . but that’s not happening anytime soon that I can see. Anyway, you’re what helps me control the fire thing—which I’m sure he has guessed. But if not, I’ll explain. Adora grimaced. She was going to have a lot to explain. So, let’s not worry about it too much. The future will just have to look after itself for a bit. Let’s concentrate on getting through today.

  Joy in turn thought for a moment. Okay. So, what are you ruminating about? I haven’t been listening.

  Before Adora could answer, she came upon a strange animal out in the garden, perched atop a giant flowering vine. It was an odd mix of scales and fur, and looked vaguely like a rodent that had been grafted onto a lizard. She found the long drooping mustache that reached its waist especially appealing. The creature looked like the Frito Bandito.