By Moonlight Wrought (Bt Moonlight Wrought) (12 page)

         Cinder had seemed preoccupied, anxious
and unhappy, and Dirk thought he knew why.  Finally, she spoke up.  “Come on. 
Let’s go,” she pleaded after only an hour, tugging playfully on Dirk’s arm.

         “Where?”

         “I know a place.”

         “Isn’t
this
nice?  It’s
expensive,” he complained, wondering how his plans had failed to please her,
especially since he had spent so much gold.

         “Yes.  It’s real nice, just not very
fun.  Come on, I know somewhere we’ll have lots of fun.”  She dragged him, by
the arm, giggling still.  He stumbled along behind her, dragging his feet.  “Come
on,” she urged.  “It’ll be great.  You’ll see.”  Dirk moved up alongside Cinder
and she took his arm, contentedly slowing down, happy to be with him, though
she held him as if he might fly off into space if she were to loosen her grip.

         They turned a corner and walked down a
dark street, or maybe it was a wide alley, Dirk couldn’t tell.  Cinder went
deliberately slow and moved in long, sweeping steps, kicking her legs out
gracefully.  Dirk looked down at her.  She was returning his gaze, a seductively
playful grin on her face: she was being sly about something.  Then past her,
Dirk caught a glimpse of movement in the shadows.  He stopped and as he watched
his eyes made out two forms writhing in an amorous embrace.  Then, with a
‘whoosh’ of cloth, they fell to the street, kissing and pulling at each other’s
garments.

         “Lewd,” he scoffed contemptuously. 
Having delivered on every street in Andrelia, Dirk finally realized where he
was.  It was a lover’s lane of sorts, where those without a room or time to travel
to one could lie in love, with plenty of their neighbors.

         “What?” Cinder asked as if shocked.  She
looked to where Dirk’s gaze was glued.  “Oh them.  Dirk, relax.  Why are you so
reserved?  Let’s find our own corner.”  She tugged playfully.

         “Never,” he said, looking around, seeing
others in the shadows, all in lascivious pursuits.  He pulled her along and
this time it was Cinder dragging her feet.  “If you want...
that
so
badly, we can go to a room,” he said with distaste.

         “Dirk,” she pouted.  “It’s just playing. 
I want to play.  Kiss and hold and touch.  It doesn’t always have to end
in…well…doesn’t have to end
in
.”  He turned and Cinder’s look softened
him:  her luscious appeal and innocent wantonness.  She smiled, realizing she
was about to get her way, again, as she always did.  Dirk sighed and looked up
at the stars as Cinder led him into a dark alcove and pulled him toward her so
that she was pinned in the corner.  Then she warmly threw her arms about his
neck and fervently kissed him.

         They remained for half-an-hour, kissing,
touching, and caressing.  Dirk finally blocked out the thought of where they
were and the presence of their amorous neighbors, losing himself in Cinder’s
passion.  Quite suddenly, Cinder pushed Dirk away and, laughing, ran down the
street.

         “Was that so terrible?” she called out
gaily, rushing with a speed seeming unnatural to a woman so feminine.

         Dirk followed as Cinder led him through
back streets and alleyways, eventually emerging again on a street lit by the
common, weak orange lamps.  Dirk realized then that they were heading toward
Cinder’s apartment, but that was not their immediate destination.  They went
just next-door:  the sign read
The Spittoon
.  Cinder paused outside to
pull her dress down over her shoulders and remove the ribbons from her hair,
fluffing her massive tresses up and out wildly, shaking her head from to side
to side.  She grabbed Dirk’s hand and jerked him in the door.

        
The Spittoon
was loud and well
lit, red-lens lamps alternating with white, bathing the place in a hellish
glow.  Dirk noted the smell of some strange tobacco and his head soon began to
ache.  The immediate room before him was full of people yelling and swarming
around an assortment of game tables.  “Pigs at the trough,” he murmured.  Off
to his right was a darker room, lit solely with the red lamps.  People sat
within, drinking more quietly, some smoking from the water pipes on each table,
many of them watching something at the other end of the room currently out of
Dirk’s view.  He guessed it to be, having been in such places on a few
occasions, seldom by choice, an exotic dancer.

         When he turned back around, Cinder was
slipping off through the crowd, like wind through the leaves, as if she was not
even touching anyone, normally an impossibility in such a crowd.  Dirk pushed
after her, and though he made quite a wake, no one seemed to care.  He found
her leaning on a table, hair back over one shoulder and throwing dice, for
which everyone else around the same table let out screams of excitement and
glee.  He watched Cinder for a while but she never paused to look at him and he
noticed her subtly dip her hand into her hose periodically; he could only guess
as to the reason.  But he didn’t think the owners would appreciate whatever the
excuse she would give if caught.

         Cinder slowly began to accumulate a small
pile of coins, but it was gone after tipping generously and taking Dirk for one
trip around the room, snacking, gambling and drinking.  Then once again she
slipped away unnoticed.  Dirk thought to look for her in the other room.  He
walked in and saw that there was indeed a dancer as entertainment.  She was
draped in a gossamer gown, through which everyone could witness her gyrating
form and she moved slowly to music that played only in her head, seeming in
some kind of trance.  Dirk was tapped on the shoulder by a fairly attractive,
scantily clad serving girl, tray in hand.  Her eyes were glassy and bloodshot,
and she looked right through him in a mindless stare, her hair tousled and her
dress askew.  She held the tray up higher.  Dirk glanced down at it:  it held
three mugs of beer and several bowls of oddly shaped pills.  He took a beer and
when he tried to pay, the girl simply winked and walked away.  Dirk shrugged
and took a sip:  fittingly, it was warm and flat. 

         Dirk didn’t see Cinder, but before he
turned to leave, one of the patrons sitting toward the front stood and began to
dance in concert with the entertainment.  He reached up under her gown and
fondled her, to the somber cheer of many in the room; others sat silently with
no change on their lethargic faces.  The dancer writhed on, oblivious to her
assault and Dirk left, disgusted, to once again search for Cinder in the other
room.  Dirk found nothing so he stepped outside to catch his breath.  He hadn’t
noticed how hot it had been inside, but it was noticeably cooler there on the
street.  He looked next door, to Cinder’s, to see if there were any lights on
in her windows, but there were not.  When he turned back again to reenter the
festhall, Cinder came walking toward him up the street, looking down as she
dumped the contents of a pouch into her own purse.  She bumped into him,
spilling coins on the street.  She looked up angry but smiled when she saw
Dirk.

         “Oh hi!” she squealed, and then bent over
to pick up the coins.  Dirk knelt down and helped her.

         “What are you doing?” he demanded.

         “Picking these up,” Cinder said giggling,
obviously very drunk.

         “I mean, where did you get this?”

         “Oh.  Him,” she said, motioning over her
shoulder.  Dirk went quickly to the alley where a man, richly dressed, lay
motionless.  Dirk stepped forward for a closer look and noticed a pool of
liquid next to him.  Cinder staggered up behind.  The liquid was not what Dirk
feared:  the man was snoring; certainly not dead, but passed out in his vomit. 
Cinder had at least not done anything too wicked.

         “You stole money from a passed-out
drunk?” Dirk gasped.

         “No,” Cinder insisted.  “He was throwing
up when I took it,” Cinder said quietly.  “He didn’t pass out until after I had
taken it.”

         “Cinder!”

         “Oh, he won’t even remember what
happened, let alone what happened to his money.  He’ll think that he had a
wonderful time and spent every silver.  Really.”  Dirk said nothing.  He didn’t
like it, but it all seemed to make sense.  The rich controlled everything. 
Dirk had never stolen, had never lied, had never broken the law, and allowing
Cinder to lift the man’s money before someone else did would normally have
seemed wrong.

         “Whatever makes you happy,” he said
halfheartedly.

         “
You
make me happy.”  She leaned
forward and gave him a long, open-mouth kiss, then trotted back inside.  Dirk
blissfully, if not ignorantly, followed along, placing a hand on her soft,
round backside, feeling a little wicked with his hand placement but finding
that he enjoyed the sensation.  Just after they got back in, Dirk noticed a
burly guard dragging a pant-less man to the door and with a shove he sent him
tumbling into the street:  the tumbler was the man Dirk had seen up on stage. 
Cinder went back to the same dice table. 

         A crowd followed and soon, to their
cheers, Cinder was winning again:  big.  She turned the retching noble’s purse
into ten times its original amount.  Dirk had not ever held so much money in
his hands and with their new wealth the duo had quite a night.  Dirk did not,
however, let Cinder consume any more debilitating liquor.  She split her
winnings with Dirk, more than reimbursing him for his expenses and leaving him
enough to do it two dozen more times.  She, on the other hand, now had enough money
to buy a couple of articles of clothing she had been eying the last few days,
as well as to drink and carouse and party.  Cinder always spent her money the
day after she won it, if she had not already lost it by then.

         After several hours, Cinder’s gambling,
dancing, and drinking urges had been sated, and she turned to more carnal
pursuits, if that was possible.  She licked and blew in Dirk’s ear, rubbed her
feminine parts against his body, gasped, cast him bedroom eyes and otherwise
made a sexual nuisance of herself.  And it worked.  Dirk, though not to the
extent of Cinder, had been thinking about and waiting for their evening-ending
encounter and with her room right next door, neither had long to wait.

         Dirk began a little teasing of his own:  he
made Cinder choose the time and presently she did, whispering in his ear how
she was ready and what exactly she was ready for.  He took her hand and led her
out into the cool moonlit night, then to her room where she unlocked the door
and led him into the dark.  The smell of perfume and laundered clothing, as
well as the very faint trace of a pleasant aroma Dirk never would have guessed
to be elven scent, took his mind back to their first encounter and it was as if
he had never left, still in the midst of lovemaking with her.

         Cinder could barely keep herself from
squealing with glee:  she jumped out of her dress just by the door and threw
her arms around his neck, kissing Dirk fiercely.  He whisked her up like a
child in his arms, cradling her, then carried Cinder to the bed, placed her on
it then dropped his clothes off onto the floor in the next hurried motion,
bursting with the desire to touch every part of her tremendous form.  Cinder,
had other plans and crawled away, giggling, to the headboard.

         While Cinder had become infatuated with
romance as she explored her human side, her elveness was still clear and
present.  The type of sexuality humans sought in their lives was taboo to elves
like Cinder, and the thought of such carnal acts was much like asking a
noblewoman to swill ale down on the docks with sailors; very distasteful
indeed.  But Cinder’s combination of half-human blood and infatuation with
exploring that side of her heritage, thrust her over the edge of elven morals
and worked, in a way, to make her even more risqué than the average human.  She
possessed not only the elven attribute to feel emotions extremely deeply, but
the lust of humanity and urges for sexual gratification.  To Cinder it was
natural and there was nothing lewd about her passion; especially with Dirk. 

         Lying with Dirk, Cinder had never been so
fulfilled, not in any facet of her life.  Dirk had never wanted love so
desperately.  Neither had ever experienced such satisfaction; a bond that would
tie them to each other for the rest of Dirk’s lengthy—as far as human
lives—years.  Cinder, exhausted and content, did not wake until midday; Dirk
had already gone.  By arriving after lunch, she nearly lost her job, but at
that moment she cared very little:  Dirk was all Cinder could think about for
days to follow, and human sleep had seemed the perfect follow-up to such human
acts.  Though all she cared about was being with Dirk, making love and partying
her hours away, Cinder knew that time was marching on and that changes were
coming into her life.

         The Fiend flew through the cloudy,
moonless dark; the muggy, oppressive night.  Sounds carried great distances on
the windless air.  Down the hill in the harbor the city’s ghostly silence was
broken by the clanking of a chain, followed by the splash of an anchor hitting
the water.  Then all was quiet again.  The Fiend could hear Itself breathing,
panting, sucking the still, stifling, damp air into Its lungs.  It sniffed. 
Nothing.  Again It took off on silent, agile legs.  It had been running unseen
all night and dawn would soon break.  It needed prey; not another empty night. 
The Fiend hungered.  Lusted.  It was compelled to prey; bred for it.  It felt
fear spreading slowly through the city.  By word of mouth, in hushed whispers
of the “thing,” the “creature,” the “abomination,” but “fiend” was the name It
liked best.  Man and woman came out into the darkness less now, but driven by
their own nature, many humans lived in the night, as did the Fiend.  They
shared the night, but not for long.  Soon, It would rule; one life at a time.

         It stopped:  the Fiend heard something. 
A creak.  A floorboard creak?  No, it was the opening of a shutter that made
that sound.  It sucked up It’s drool, did the Fiend, Its intensity heightened. 
Stalking slowly, silently, the Fiend stole into the alley.  It saw an open
shutter; vile light streaming forth.  The Fiend crossed to the far side of the
way, skulking through the shadows.  It smelled, then saw, her.  She stood by
the sink, washing something; suspecting nothing.

         Maria could not stand the heat so she
opened the shutter to allow the predawn cool, if it could be called that, to
leak in.  Her husband had left dirty dishes again which needed cleaning if she
wanted breakfast herself before leaving for work, and if she did not want
beaten again when she came home.  She worked the pump then heard a scraping in
the alley.   She could not see anything.  Maria leaned forward.  Still
nothing.  She wiped her brow with her robe sleeve.

         Something flashed and she jumped, but too
late, having been caught roughly by the throat.  She could not scream as It
pulled her toward the window.  It was an arm:  thick, huge, knotty, gnarled. 
Her mind raced and she reached into the drawer, pulling out a knife.  Maria was
off balance, her feet off the ground scrambling, kicking at nothing, at
anything.  When Maria brought the knife down over her head to slash the arm,
her wrist was caught by another great limb.  It grabbed her, stopping her blow
cold.  She did not hear her forearm snap, nor the knife clank as it hit the
wooden floor.  In front of Maria was a snarling face.  She could not make out
the features because the eyes held her:  they were green, a burning green, full
of rage and hate.  Maria was ripped up over the counter, then out the window
where she met the cobblestones face first and her world went black.

         Dirk had been seeing Cinder for two
weeks, Melissa three, and had grown close to them both.  He felt an
unintentional dependence on them growing, the first two people he had needed in
his life, and both had been met only days apart.  He did not question the draw
he felt, owing such feelings to his attraction to them and to their liking of
him.  He had not told Melissa about Cinder.  He did not know why, but he felt
for some reason that he should.  Perhaps it was because he thought of Melissa
as more of a friend than a lover, as Cinder clearly eclipsed that role in his
life.

         Melissa’s presence was still a blessing: 
he was no longer alone.  While Dirk liked Cinder and her carefree wheeling
about the city, Melissa was straight forward, true:  a real person that he
could count on if he ever needed help.  But he could not doubt his desires for
Cinder, which were growing stronger every day.  She was, simply put,
incredible.  She made him feel important, desired, and good at something.  His
life had meaning; something he had never felt before:  for a woman like Cinder to
desire to spend her time with a man like Dirk meant he must have been a greater
man than he had imagined.  Dirk wished his success had been at something he
valued, but to be lauded for his caring, which is how he loved women, it was
better than not being wanted for anything. 

         But Cinder was more than a mere sex
partner and Dirk believed he somehow meant more to her.  Cinder
did
want
to lie with Dirk every time she was with him, but before and after, she was
truly friendly and showed how she cared for Dirk as a person, his plans and his
dreams.  While Cinder might have cared for Dirk no more than Melissa, she was
so open, so unabashed, so curious that her concern was unmistakable and Melissa
so quiet Dirk often wondered what truly was in her heart, or so he told
himself.  It was so easy to be with Cinder:  she was so carefree and open:  she
hid nothing.  She just seemed preoccupied with sex and when it was over, she
questioned him on everything in his life; everything in the city.  One of the
few things he felt an expert on was Andrelian life; he lived and worked on
those streets.   And Cinder could not get enough of that knowledge, giving them
something other than sex to occupy their time.  He understood what she meant
when she said she had been studying people for a long time:  Cinder was
studying him, he knew it, and he didn’t mind.

         Dirk and Melissa had just finished
another dinner at her place when Dirk pushed his plate away and leaned back in
his chair.  It really was
his
chair:  he had delivered two of them from
his room a few days before, knowing full well that he got more use out of them
at Melissa’s table than he did at home. 

         “That was good,” he commented.  “Beef is
my favorite.”  Melissa dumped the scraps back into the pan.

         “I sure feel strange not having a dog to
give these to,” she commented.  “We had a lot at home.”

         “I never had one,” Dirk said absently,
his mind, instead, on his changing life, and how much progress he had made that
day in bettering it.  Finally finding someone, though they were women, that he
truly trusted as friends filled Dirk with new confidence, and he began to
emerge from his sanctum of life alone.  He had talked to Mr. Bessemer that very
day about his desire for promotion and his plan to serve as security for the
store.

         Mr. Bessemer, a friendly but busy man,
was impressed with Dirk’s aggressiveness for the position, and surprised at his
relative wisdom and preparedness for the conversation.  This, combined with the
deliveryman’s strength, made the promotion seem beneficial to all concerned. 
Mr. Bessemer had previously thought Dirk none-too-bright, but saw through this
misconception during their meeting.  Dirk and Mr. Bessemer got on quite well
and with some of the owner’s personal changes, Dirk was promoted on the spot to
Chief of Security and allotted a tab amounting to what used to be a year’s
salary for use on equipment he would need.  His pay was quadrupled.  But Dirk
was faced with a dilemma:  he had no idea how to tell Melissa.  They had been
working at least four hours together each day and he would miss that.  And he
also feared she would think he had gotten her the job only so he could move on
and up, using her for his own advancement.

         “What’s the matter?” Melissa asked
politely, noticing his silence.  Dirk shrugged.  “I have something to tell
you,” she announced, since he continued his silence.  Melissa had noticed Dirk
pulling away from her more and more as a lover.  He came to dine with her less
and so was in her bed less often.  She felt she was losing him and if she
wanted to keep him as a lover maybe she needed to lose him as a co-worker.  She
had made her decision.

         Dirk was relieved at her need to speak,
being able to wait a little longer before breaking the news to her.  “I think
I’m going to quit.  I found a better job,” she stumbled through the words. 
Dirk’s relief was short-lived; worried Bessemer would not let him move up if
Melissa left as well.  Before Dirk could speak she added, “Candy…and the other
horses are doing much better and I will look in on them for free every week or
so…”

         “What job?” Dirk interrupted, slightly
angry, though trying to hide as much.

         “Bodyguard,” Melissa answered solemnly
then she brightened.  “Oh Dirk, you should see the place.  It’s real nice. 
It’s a whole house, too.  Free food, and beer,” she exclaimed.  “And it’s
easy.  Boy does this guy have a nice house.  It’s like a mansion.  I mean...it
really
is
a mansion.  And the other guards are pretty nice, too.”

         “But what about your old job?” he cried.

         “I already said I’d take it,” Melissa
whispered, her shoulders shrugged to cover her anxiety.

         “Ahhh!” Dirk screamed.  “Melissa, no!” he
said as panic set in.

         “Why not?” Melissa asked, her voice
whiny.

         “Well...just because,” Dirk said.

         “Why?” she asked, growing angry, her
shoulders jutting back defensively in conjunction with the narrowing of her
eyes.  Dirk was hiding something, she could read it in his eyes.  “I thought
you were my friend!  I thought you would be happy for me.”

         “Don’t get mad, Melissa,” he warned
cautiously, her look enough to warn him of her temper.  Their hands rose
simultaneously, his to point his finger in her face, her arm rising to slap his
face.  “Listen first.  Look, I finally got a chance to make some more money.  I
already said I’d do it, too.  It’s Mr. Bessemer.  He’s already promoted me to
head of security and given me my bonus.  If you leave, he might not let me keep
it.”

         “That’s really great...” Melissa started
in earnest, her face going from angry to smiling in a moment.  “Wait a
minute...you want me to keep your job while you move up?  To Hell with me then,
right?” she yelled, once again growing angry and moving up to the edge of her
seat, as if she would leap over the table and seize him.

         “No, I guess not,” Dirk said quietly as
he wondered what they could do.  Then it hit him.  “We need to find you a replacement!”
he exclaimed, standing up and pounding the table with his fist. 

         “We need to find
you
a
replacement,” she argues.                                                     

         “Tonight!” he pounded again,
ignoring—though not disagreeing with—her counterpoint and they both raced out,
eager to solve their dilemma.

         Dirk and Melissa started at the
Phalanx
Tavern
down on the corner, and with no success there, they traveled tavern
to tavern.  Their luck at each establishment was equally bad; finding no one
either suitable or willing to take the job.  Neither of them could believe it: 
they each knew that the job paid better than many in the city; it was just ill
timing, they assumed, that kept them from finding a successor.  At midnight
they called off the search and sat down with a pitcher of beer, each, hoping to
either find another solution or drink the problem off of their minds and worry
about it in the morning, when their actions might reap new changes on their
lives.  One pitcher led to two, which led them back to Melissa’s bed.  This
time there was no shame and no guilt, simply the overwhelming satisfaction that
they found in loving each other and postponing their problem through sheer
delight.

         But at sunrise, an undaunted Melissa
shook Dirk from slumber.  “Come on.  Let’s get to the market.  We’ve got one
more chance,” she said, practically dragging him out of bed, even helping him
dress in her hurry.   “If we can find someone quickly, we might still be all
right.”  They rushed together down the stairs and out into the street. 

         They had been walking through the immense
marketplace for over half-an-hour, finding no one in need of a job fit enough
to perform it; the whole while, Dirk complaining that they had to hurry and
that if they did not report to work they would lose even their delivery jobs.  As
they stood arguing over the possibility of such an occurrence, Dirk noticed a
dirty but heavily muscled man leaning against a nearby building, gazing around,
his hopelessness lighting Dirk’s heart with joy.  “There!” Dirk exclaimed, and
they both raced over to the man.  He did not notice until they were mere steps
away, and a startled, nearly horrified look passed over his hirsute, unshaven
face as the two athletic forms grabbed hold of him.

         “Do you need a job?” Dirk asked
excitedly.

         “A good one?” Melissa added.

         “All you have to do is deliver some
things.”

         “Not many things.”

         “You can do it.”

         “You look strong.” 

         The man stared at them in turn, back and
forth, thinking that they, or he, had gone mad.  He tried to answer, but
neither Dirk nor Melissa shut up long enough for him to say a word.  Since he
never said “no” to them, not having had the opportunity, Melissa and Dirk
hustled him off all the way to Bessemer’s before he gave any sort of a reply. 
It turned out that the man
did
want and need the work.  He accepted, was
hired, and Dirk and Melissa were free; on Mr. Bessemer’s condition that Dirk
make sure the new employee was first properly trained.