He wasn’t sure what to make of it. “Are you okay?”
“Better than. Do you know how long it’s been since a man did that to me? Not this lifetime, for certain.” Her words were slurred, and she cuddled against him, her knees drawn up. “You know, I usually like women. I don’t normally pick up guys, if I’m the one doing the choosing. Guess I knew something was different about you. You did well.”
Chet settled back in the chair and breathed out. He wasn’t exactly limp, but he wasn’t erect, either. He felt absolutely no desire to fuck her again or come. It was as if her orgasm had somehow illuminated him. Made him larger. Probably the effect of little sleep and lingering alcohol, but still.
They dressed out of necessity in the cool room and settled on the desk. It was hard and lacked covers, but Chet dozed, warmed by the soft, perfect Flame curled in his arms. He’d never felt this way about another human being. Not even Rory, though he felt a twinge of guilt at the thought. A piano tinkled upstairs. People were laughing and talking, their voices blurry noise that merged together.
The windows were still cracked open, and cool air moved over Chet’s bare feet, keeping him from sleep. An occasional wisp of cigarette smoke drifted into the room. Chet should really get up and shut the windows, but that might disturb Aureate.
She was breathing evenly, her body curled against him with implicit trust. Her crocheted sweater had an interesting texture under his hands. He stared upwards, the lights of Plainsdaugheau making strange patterns on the fabricated ceiling. Chet closed his eyes and lolled against her bald head, loving how soft she felt against his body. A breath of poetry sped around his head like a cynodict on a race track. Who’d written it? The Magician Zang? No, that wasn’t it. The Magician Tene, that’s right. Something about eyes. Traitorous honey eyes, not of magic but sex...
Chet’s eyes sprang open. His whole body came awake, though he didn’t move. Tension rippled through him, his muscles contracting involuntarily. “I know you.”
“Mmm?”
“I know you. You’re the traitor! The affiliate turncoat.”
Aureate sprang up as if she were being attacked, her hands reaching for weapons that weren’t there, her eyes wide in the shadows. “What? What did you call me?”
Chet could recall the whole verse now that he was awake. He gazed at her, dark legend come to life. “The Magician Tene wrote about you. I’m sure it’s you! You must be the Magician who turned away from the fold...”
“Stop.” Aureate looked like she wanted to leap out the window, glass and all. “You can’t—you don’t—who are you? Answer me! Answer me now!”
Chet blinked. She was shaking. Hard. He realized what he’d said, what he’d done. “Aureate, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I read it in a book years ago. Since I met you, I kept thinking something about you was familiar. I just figured out what it was.”
A pause, then Aureate began breathing again, though her shaking grew worse. Chet hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath. She murmured, as if to herself, “That’s right, Journey said you’re an archaeologist with a really good memory for classics.”
“Is it... is it true? Were you a Magician?” Now he was the one holding his breath.
She stared at him in the dark, then quietly crept back into his arms. He accepted her—she was crying. “Yes," she said, sniffing.
He held the forgotten past in his hands, yet she still breathed. It was strange and wondrous and scary as Abyss. “Tell me about it. I—I think I need to know.”
Why did he need to know? Such a frightening question to ask himself. He’d been obsessed with the past far too long with an intensity that had—for all intents and purposes—kept his own life in check. Now that he was in a position to learn the answers he craved, he wasn’t sure what question those answers pertained to. It was like staring down the fabled Abyss: Chet felt excitement and fear in equal parts with a sprinkling of horror, though regarding what he could not say. If Aureate asked, how could he assure her he was serious? He had nothing. Chet held his breath, awaiting her reply.
Aureate was silent. Then she whispered, “For a long time, it was easy. I liked it. Blood magic was... very powerful. But there was this little problem, you see. I don’t think anyone ever wrote about the problem. It’s not the sort of thing most Magicians worried about.”
“What was it?”
“Death," Aureate said with a shaky laugh. She sniffed again.
Chet found a handkerchief in his jacket pocket, silently thanked Journey for its existence and offered it to her. Aureate sat up to wipe her face and nose. He said, “What do you mean, death? You face death as Flame, too. What’s the difference?”
“As a student of the classics, you must understand that Magicians, like Flame, were reincarnating affiliates. Yet all Magicians were men. Did it never occur to you to ask why?”
“Um.” Chet blinked. “No. I—I guess... there aren’t too many women represented in the classics anyway.”
“Foex was a sexist asshole who didn’t like women except to fuck them. Oh, and he also liked pregnant women because they popped out babies to carry on the line of whatever race he was sculpting. He tinkered with the flaxen race for millennia; his hands are all over the roots of your racial memory, did you know? Foex had no other use for women. But the thing is, if you pick up a reincarnating soul over and over again, half the time they’ll be born as a girl.”
“He couldn’t control that?”
“No. Don’t know why not. One of the larger rules I guess the gods cannot break or sully. Pelin doesn’t care—never has, never will—but Foex did.”
“You said... the problem was death.”
“When his Magicians were reincarnated as girls, he killed them. Us.” Aureate took a deep breath. “Me.”
“Oh.”
“Usually, he’d bring the baby girl to a practicing Magician to use in blood magic. That’s how Foex liked it. He utilized every resource and didn’t waste energy. He had an appalling amount of energy; that’s why I liked him as an affiliate. But... sometimes the girl wasn’t a baby. Sometimes she was older. Sometimes she remembered.”
“You remembered.”
“Oh, yes. I didn’t really think about it until I was born female six times in a row. Foex was mindful about finding us early, but I escaped once during that streak of lives. I grew up and found a really good man. I miss him sometimes or at least the memory of him, which isn’t the same thing. I was pregnant—near term, in fact—when Foex found me.”
“He killed you.”
“Of course he did. He killed me the next time and the time after that. By that point, I was going out of my mind. Then I was born a boy. Foex was much happier. He let me grow up and instructed me personally in changes in magical workings that had taken place while I was out of circulation. I smiled and took his instruction until his back was turned, and then...”
“And then?”
“I grabbed the first ship to Palister and rode like abyss until I reached the first Flame node I could find. The nodes are an old thing we used to have back in the Cobalt Era, before our current system with the Flame Council. I begged them to hear me out. The Flame, I mean. Pelin was curious and came down to talk with me in person. I was absolutely raving mad, but she listened. And here I am.” Aureate took a deep breath. “Well, here I am a few thousand years later. My eyes were permanently dyed yellow by Foex, no helping that. They’re with me every lifetime, thus my initiate name. Pelin gave me the name knowing full well what I just told you. I don’t remember the last time I’ve told this story to an outsider. I hardly ever talk about it.”
Chet could barely think or breathe with this living legend in his arms, sharing real secrets from the past. Nevertheless, he frowned. “They must not have liked that. The Magicians, I mean.”
She chuckled ruefully. “You’ve been reading Tene, have you? He was such a doedicu. He hated everything I stood for, waging his own private smear campaign against me, to use the modern phrase. I
haven’t heard the accusation ‘traitor’ in ages.”
“Oh.” Chet blinked. He hadn’t considered the authors of his books as biased, somehow. As political. I should have, he thought with a snort. No god affiliate on Uos had the luxury of being apolitical.
“Chet, you said you needed to know all this. Why?”
“Because... because I’m bound to this weird Magician’s tool, and I don’t know why. I don’t know why it chose me. Did Journey tell you what happened?” Chet was distracted by an odd noise outside. Was that a motorboat? It seemed incongruent that someone would be messing around with a motorboat in the middle of the night. Well, they were at sea. The motor cut, and Chet ceased worrying about it.
“Briefly. Tell me more.”
Chet explained how the Raptus had reacted when he’d touched it during the tug-of-war. “I can’t get the feeling out of my head that it wants me for something. It didn’t bind us until I touched it. But I'm just a guy!”
Aureate grunted. “I have guesses, but you have to understand I was never at that kind of skill level. Even Zang and Tene were really pushing the envelope to create it. They must have sacrificed a lot of girls to do so.”
“Oh. Yes, I can see that. Blood magic always sounds so romantic in the abstract, but it must have been horrible and messy on the practical end.” Chet chewed it over. “I was always taught Foex’s brand of magic stopped working when he died, but the Raptus is still operational.”
“I don’t believe in perpetual motion, so my best guess is that they must have linked it to its victims in an endless loop. The more blood it spills, the more powerful it becomes. There are problems with that theory, the most obvious being that the Raptus has been mired in lucid mud for three-hundred years, yet it hasn’t run down. Don’t know how they did that. I would have been curious about it—once.”
“Aureate, I hate to ask, but is it possible for you to find out? Journey said back in Wetshul that you were the best consultant on why the Raptus is acting this way.”
She looked away, fiddling with her crocheted sweater. “Yeah, Journey asked me before we went on stage.”
“What did you say?”
“I told her no. I really don't want to meddle with the Raptus. I expect she and Knife will ask me again, try to talk me around. But my answer is final.”
Chet jerked back, then glared. She didn’t want to meddle with it? He and the others were linked by an invisible umbilical cord by a mind-control device—like being strapped to a ticking time bomb—and she didn’t want to even try? Screw that, he thought. “Why not?”
Aureate looked him in the eye. “Because I don’t want to kill someone to find out.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No.”
“You can still... does blood magic still work?”
For a long moment, he wasn’t sure whether she’d answer. Her shoulders slumped, her athletic, dancer’s body curled away from him. Then Aureate nodded once, her eye downcast. “I don’t practice it. Much. Hardly at all. Only in dire emergencies, and most the time not even then.”
The answer seemed to cost her much. It occurred to him that Aureate’s reaction—her whole being—was consumed by shame. Based on everything she’d said, he could understand why. “I see.”
“Obviously the Raptus isn’t a toy just anyone should be using, or using at all. I’m glad Knife and Journey are set on destroying it. Good riddance.”
Chet sighed. “Did Journey have you unlock it with your words and blood, backstage earlier?”
“Yep.” Aureate stretched, then climbed down from the desk. “I gotta take a piss, Chet.”
“Is there a bathroom around here?”
She snickered. “There’s the ocean. Flame can aim and fire just like a guy, you know. When I come back, maybe we can play some more. Me on top, this time.”
He grinned at her. Though she hadn’t specified a gender, he rather thought she’d be fantastic as a man. His cock stirring at the thought. “Sounds good.”
Chet hummed under his breath as she strode out, leaving the door open behind her. The summer breeze was a little too cool. He rolled onto his belly. If Journey could do all sorts of tricks with a penis, maybe Aureate could, too. Maybe they’d...
A scream, a splash. Chet scrambled to his feet, eyes wide. There was more screaming outside. Real screams.
Chapter 19
Chaos
Chet raced outside and slammed against the waist-high railing, staring down at the water. Elderbeth had risen in the sky hours ago, green and luminous, three of her moons visible. In her light he could see... Chet gulped.
Something human shaped was thrashing in the water. Chet caught a glimpse of a bald head and face, nearly unrecognizable. Almost a horror mask, covered in lumpy boils. Chet couldn’t believe it. Was that—was that Aureate? She was struggling, screaming in the night; even her eyelids had erupted in boils.
I see, Chet thought breathlessly as her instantaneous transformation from sexy Flame to horror show sank in. He couldn’t imagine how much pain she must be experiencing; even a few drops of water had made Journey and Knife whimper.
Chet looked up and down the deck. He was alone, he’d have to save her himself. He checked his first impulse, which was to dive in, grab her and pull her back to the ship. The best possible way to drown. Aureate was panicked, out of her mind. Chet raced along the deck, looking for floatation devise or even a decorative donut-shaped life preserver. This was a ship, there had to be something.
He gaped. A motorboat was tied up just around the corner. Chet recalled the noise he’d heard earlier... maybe someone had lowered a lifeboat into the water? If so, it was to his good fortune. The boat was tied to one of the emergency ladder rungs along the ship’s hull. Chet swung over the railing and scampered down, grateful beyond measure that he was at home in all manner of boats. His family’s vacations by the lake had done that much good, anyway.
Aureate was still screaming. Why didn’t anyone come? Chet needed help, for Pantheon’s sake.“Knife! Journey! Help!” he screamed at the top of his lungs as he untied the rope.
The motor was a brand he was familiar with. Chet primed the warm engine and ripped the starting cord. The motorboat roared to life—not a sputterer or a reluctant starter, then. Good. Next came safety. Chet’s eyes roved around the little boat, seeking lifejackets. Nothing. Not a single one. Chet swore, cursing whoever had outfitted this lifeboat. What did they think people needed most during an emergency at sea anyway? Canapés, mixed drinks and a parasol?
After he’d successfully fished Aureate out of the water and saved her life, he was going to have a little word with the ship’s crew about that. But the first important step in the customer-complaint process was not dying. Right.
Chet swung the boat about and renewed his yells for help. Aureate’s screams seemed to be tiring. Or was she... Chet gulped. How long could a Flame survive in water?
The thrashing lessened as he aimed toward her. He hove to right by her side, let the throttle go, and reached down to grab her crocheted sweater, glad she’d dressed after they’d had sex. She didn’t grab hold of him, didn’t acknowledge his grip. In a burst of desperate strength, Chet pulled her into the motorboat without the usual flailing about. Aureate—he assumed it was Aureate more by her clothing than her face—was twitching violently, her screams quieter once she was aboard.
Her face was a nightmare. He couldn’t see distinct features anymore: no eyes, nose, lips or ears. Half of the massive boils were in the process of bursting, ugly puss running everywhere. Her exposed skin was bubbling off, pustulating and sinking, an active process taking place before his eyes. A chemical reaction. Chet had expected smoke or steam, but no. There was only a sound, a low hissing to accompany her fading screams. Chet wondered what he should do. This wasn’t a heart attack or a stroke! What did you do for a water-soaked Flame? Get her clothes off? Dry her? It would do for a start. Where was a fire when you needed one?
“Chet!” It was Knife, fully dresse
d and a little seedy looking, his collar open. He raced across the decks and ladder-like staircases to reach them.
“Thank Pantheon! Come on, she needs your help," Chet cried out. Knife would know what to do! He’d help Aureate.
A flash lit the sky and there was an explosive thud not far in the distance. What? Chet anxiously looking up: the sky was starry and clear. It hadn’t been thunder. But the ship was rocking just a little, as if in response.
Knife grabbed hold of the railing. People from the other side of the ship began screaming, and a clearer voice than the rest yelled something about a fire. Was there an explosion onboard? Chet wondered. Then he looked at the motorboat itself. Oh. This isn’t a lifeboat, is it? Someone had boarded them. The same someone who’d pushed Aureate into the water? Chet assumed she’d been pushed. Aureate hadn’t been drunk and no sane Flame would have jumped.
Chet steered the motorboat toward the nearest emergency rung ladder. “You’ll have to climb down," he called up to Knife, tying the boat up to the ladder with a sailor’s hitch knot. He deliberately cut the engine. Pantheon knew how much gas the motor had left, and they’d need it to get Aureate to a hospital on the mainland.
Knife climbed down slowly, reluctantly. Chet wanted to scream at him to hurry, but held his tongue. There seemed to be a lot of commotion on the upper decks of the ship; he could smell fire and something like gunpowder. In contrast, Aureate had ceased making noise and moving. Well, except for a minute hissing noise as her skin continued bubbling off. Knife gripped the side of the motorboat stiffly and gazed at Aureate. His expressions radiated the same horror Chet felt, only intensified. Knife didn’t move.
“Do something! Quick, do you have the lighter?”
Knife jumped at the sound of his voice. Then he closed his eyes, his expression grim and resolved. He said in a low voice, “Chet, I need you to grab hold of Aureate and raise her up. Her head needs to be clear of the hull of both the ship and this boat. Can you do that?”
The Artifact of Foex Page 20