The Deception Dance (39 page)

I bite my lip.

His eyes widen, “Those Leijonskjöld...”

“…helped me, yes,” I
interrupt. “But they’ve also kidnapped me, lied to me...”
I drop the sword to clatter on the floor and reach for his fissured
face, “You’ve never lied to me.”

“I never will,” He says, stepping
in. His scorched body presses against my vest; the smell of burnt
fabric accompanies the sound of material sizzling between us (but I
know that I need to ignore this).

His lips are so close.

‘
Convince him that you love him, and
only him.’

“I’ve never wanted anyone to touch
me the way I’ve wanted you to.”

‘
You can always, always lie with your
actions.’

I press my lips to his, my mouth sears with
pain. His tongue scorches mine as it enters between my lips. His arms
wrap around me, wrapping me in blistering heat. He seems to burn
hotter and hotter, squeezing me tighter and tighter.

When I can’t bear it any longer, I pull
my head back. “You’re so hot.”

He releases me and leaps back quickly.

I tumble forward.
I shouldn’t have objected.
Stephen’s words chant in my mind, ‘
if
you miss-step, if you slip...’

“Andras...” I call out to him, but
he’s not looking at me sprawled on the floor.

Andras has turned to where Chauncey has
reentered the hall; or moreover, he stares at who Chauncey holds in
her clutches.

Chauncey’s grin is so wide you could
write ‘triumph’ in bold letters across her blood-red
lips. “Look who tried to ambush me for the pregnant girl,”
She says, giggling, right before she flings Stephen to the floor
beside me.

‘
...if you miss-step, if you slip, the
gates will open and we will all be consumed by Hell.’

Day
Fifty-Six

Andras laughs; it starts as a little chuckle,
but soon a gale of hooting hysteria echoes from every direction. I
don’t think I’ve ever heard Andras laugh before. It
reverberates through every bone in my body.

With each movement Andras makes new dark
crevasses fissure up his skin.

I clutch my arms around my middle and can’t
stop chewing my lower lip. Even demon-Chauncey holds herself
protectively.

Out of the corner of my eye I see figures all
around us shuffle back; it’s all the remaining demons, they’re
fleeing the hall. Even the wolves clear from the balcony; they step
back into the shadows.

Stephen turns over and hastily scoots away from
me. He’s been stripped of his weapons; his shirt is open, the
buttons have all busted off. His vest and jacket are so torn they
literally fall off of him.

When Andras’s laughter finally subsides,
he reaches down and offers me his hand. I hesitantly take it, hiding
my wince by forcing a grin.

He gently helps me to my feet, leans over and
kisses me lightly; his lips are burning embers on my cheek.

Andras’s voice is still laced with
laughter when he says, as if joking to himself, “And you say,
‘
I’ve never lied to you
,’
beautifully done. Tell me Raven, what do you feel for me?” He
looks down at me tenderly.

This answer is the most essential, these words
the most critical, but I can’t think of anything. Anything at
all. Words, just words, just say a word, any word. But...but I can’t.

I tell myself not to look at Stephen; that I
can’t
look at him.

I clear my throat. “I’ve never
desired anyone the way I’ve...”

“I know…” Andras cuts in
with an impatient tone and a sway of his head, “…you
said that; you never wanted or desired anyone the way you’ve
desired me, ‘
desired’
,
past tense. I want to know what you feel right now. How do you feel
about me, at this moment?” The fissures climb their way up his
lips and into his mouth; around his eyes cracks circle and branch out
into his cheeks.

I step back but my legs are shaky and I’m
afraid I might trip.

‘
When asked for a direct answer,
misdirect...”

But nothing, nothing comes to mind. I can’t
think of a way to tell him I love him when I don’t. I hate him.
I hate him. I say the only true statement I can think of, “I...I’m
so tired.”

“You know,” Stephen says almost
nonchalantly. “She was raised from the dead only last night.”

I can’t help it, I look at him. Stephen’s
facing Andras but his pupils veer to the corner of his eye and then
his gaze pauses on mine for an instant. Stephen throws back his head;
his usually well groomed blond hair had been falling into his eyes
and he could have been just trying to fling it back, but for some
reason, I don’t think that was it. I think he was trying to
signal something.

My gaze darts over the room in the direction he
gestured, but all I see is a couple of burning trashcans and blood
stained marble. I turn back to him, but he is not looking in my
direction anymore.

Stephen sits almost casually, his knees up and
his arms resting across them. “Do you really expect her to know
what she’s saying? I mean, she looks all muddled and confused,
maybe her wits haven’t completely returned.”

Andras’s pivots to loom above Stephen.
“Stephen Tapper,” he pronounces the words with a smile on
his lips, “
The word-weaver
.
That’s what my demons call you; well, the ones that survive.”
Andras steps around Stephen in a slow circle, his wings brushing
against Stephen’s hair. “You’ve learned some of our
tricks; you even wiled your life back from me, once.” His wing
pushes Stephen’s cheek. “And now you think you can
deceive me?”

Andras stops, his wings snap up, expanding to
their full length above his head. “DECIEVE ME!” The
scorching on his chest rapidly spreads out, blackness chars down his
arms.

The entire building ripples around us, dust
dislodging and raining down.

Chauncey might be smiling, but she’s also
backing away quickly.

Andras’s neck blackens, the burns creep
onto his chin. His hand comes down, pointing into Stephen’s
scarred face. “You poisoned her against me!”

“As far as I know,” Stephen leans
back on his hands, “You’re the only one who poisoned
her.” He gives another flick of his head, this time directly in
Chauncey’s direction.

She’s almost made it out the giant
archway that leads to the gaping exit. He wants me to… stop
her?

I inhale. I also want to save Hayvee, but I
can’t go after Chauncey. We have to stop Andras, right now,
that is what matters most.

Andras’s huff of laughter sounds more
like a caw, “Since our first encounter three years ago I have
considered you not unintelligent. When I discovered you were with her
in Leijonskjöld Slot, that pathetic excuse for a fortress, I
assumed you would spy and analyze my every move. I knew that your
brothers were useless and impotent, but you, you’d figure out
exactly what I was doing. But as I said, I thought you had some
measure of intelligence, now I find out I was wrong.”

I step ever so slowly lightly toward my sword
lying three feet from where Andras peers down at Stephen. The pistol
in my hand is large and cumbersome and I don’t know what lever
is the safety. But Stephen told me
‘you
can always, always lie with your actions.’
Andras doesn’t know I can’t shoot.

Andras’s head sags forward as he
continues, “Did you honestly think your little charade tonight
would work? If you had kept silent it would have never been
necessary!” The burns singe over his jaw to lick up his ears.
“What I want to know is this: why did you tell her about all my
misdeeds, when you could have had exactly what you wanted if you
hadn’t? Is it because what you want is her?” This he
snarls.

“I’ll tell you what you want to
know Andras, but it will be a waste of my breath. You could not
possibly understand my motivations.” This time his motion is
obvious, he glares at me then inclines his head to where Chauncey has
already fled.

Yeah, right
.
As if I’d leave him, to face Andras alone and weaponless, to go
after Chauncey. I shake my head.

Stephen closes his eyes then opens them to fix
on Andras. “You’re right Andras; I have learned some of
your demon tricks. But I have never embraced your methods.”
Stephen climbs to his feet. “To me
the
means
always matter. I’m not
like you; I’m not going to manipulate Raven to get what I want.
I wouldn’t convince her to deliver herself to you without
knowing what you’ve done; without knowing what you truly do to
get your way. She deserved the truth from me, no matter what...”
He straightens his posture and tilts up his chin and inhales.

“You’re right, you could have saved
your breath; you have little enough left. I told you the last time we
met, Stephen Tapper, the next time you get in my way, it’ll be
more than your face that I carve.” Andras unsheathes his long
black sword from thin air.

Stephen closes his eyes as Andras raises his
sword above his head.

“Stop. Stop, now!” I scream with my
gun pointing at Andras’s charred chest. “Stop! I know how
to kill you, remember? Just like Nicholas did, three times in the
chest, then take off your head.”

Andras does stop and he lowers his sword, but
he’s smiling at me when he does.

I grit my teeth. “I’ll do it, I’ll
shoot you!” The gun, held tightly between my hands, throbs. I
glance down at the silver barrel, it throbs again and I can see it
pulsate, then the gun bursts in my hands like a water-balloon. Cool
thick liquid metal drips through my fingers. I just stare at the
dripping silver, then at my sides where the other three guns are
running in streams to join the pool made by my sword. I breathe,
“What?”

I beg Stephen for an explanation with my gaze.
Tell me: I’m crazy. Please tell me that I’m insane, but
not that I’m weaponless.

Stephen’s blue eyes shine and his lip
puckers up into an expression of sympathy; he shakes his head. “It
seems that Andras can’t be killed by weapons made by humans...”

“That’s not true!” I insist,
wildly throwing my gaze back to Andras. “I saw you...”

Stephen clarifies, “Unless he wants to
be.”

Why? Why would he want to die? Why would he
want to be killed? But before I can ask the question the answer is on
my tongue, “So, I would hate Nicholas.”

Andras smile drops and his
eyes
narrow
; his leathery nostrils flare.
“Nicholas came out to Kullenberg to kill me.” He growls,
“And, you screamed for
him
to run.”

It’s true, I remember; I screamed for
Nicholas to run. I didn’t think anyone had heard me. I nod. “I
did, and it saved his life. You knew, knew that I would hate the
victor and love the fallen.” And that’s what happened, at
least until all Andras’s plans derailed.

Andras raises his sword again.

“Stop!” I lunge forward grabbing at
his arm but it’s like clutching a red-hot poker. “I’ll
make a deal with you Andras. I’ll make any deal, whatever you
want, just don’t open the gates to Hell and let Stephen go!”

He leans so close to me the heat from his face
dries the saliva in my mouth. He shakes his head and smirks. “I
think not,” he whispers, and then leaps forward to thrust his
sword through Stephen’s stomach.

I don’t scream, I don’t even move,
it happens too fast. One moment Andras is beside me, the next, his
sword is driving down and through Stephen.

With a flick of Andras’s wrist Stephen
falls off his blade and collapses to the floor. I dive for Stephen,
blood is pouring down his exposed stomach. I try to staunch the flow
with my hands but I know the cut goes through his other side. There’s
so much blood. I’m kneeling in blood, covered in blood, and I
can’t get it to stop.

“Run.” Stephen says.

I look up to see Stephen’s eyes fixed on
me.

He rasps, “Raven, run!”

He’s delusional, he’s losing his
wits. I can’t run; I have to stop the blood. But there’s
too much, a river coursing and webbing down his waist.

Something sharp nicks the side of my neck
making me flinch. I look over but don’t understand what I’m
seeing. There’s a blade, a black blade at the side of my
throat.

I scurry back, “What are you doing?”

Andras steps over Stephen’s dying body as
if it weren’t there. He follows me with patient strides.

I make it to my feet. “What...What are
you doing?” I repeat. “But...you told me that you’ll
give me anything I want!”

“No, what I promised was to
do
anything in my power for you
… ” he
says, closing the distance between us, “…as in, I will
do anything in my power to get you, the way I want you.”

“But... you said...” But he didn’t
say… he said no servant of his would harm me, that no one
else
would harm me, he never said he wouldn’t. I guess I just
assumed that he would never kill me...