Authors: Nerine Dorman
His features were too sharp. He had two sets of vestigial nipples beneath the first and fine membranes webbed his fingers, which terminated in small dark nails, like a dog’s. The breeze shifted and Helen caught the all-too familiar whiff of fish.
“You’re that thing! That thing from the dam!”
He grinned then, a too-wide smile that nearly split his face with a set of small, too-sharp teeth, like she’d expect on a lizard.
“I’d prefer not to be referred to as a thing, Miss Helen. I’ve waited many years for the right time to approach you, and
things
tend not to think or plan, for that matter.”
“What do you want with me?”
“Well, you, of course, my bright little flame.”
“Everyone seems to want me! What’s so special about me, anyway? Everyone says I’m powerful but I’m just a girl. Everything was normal a few weeks ago, now I don’t know what’s what anymore.”
He sneered, and started walking around her. “Ah, poor little Helen, feeling all sorry for herself now that she’s so popular. Oh, so she just wants to be an ordinary, boring smelly little teen, does she? Guess what! Life isn’t fair. You got something everyone wants and if you can’t protect yourself, they’re going to take it whether you want them to or not.”
Helen shivered and hugged her arms to her chest. How the hell could she reconcile this boy with the beast that had dragged her beneath the water? This refrain of life not being fair was all too familiar. The huge amount of what-the-fuckery in which she had been dumped almost choked a whimper out of her.
“So, what do you want with me?” She tried to summon a brave face.
“Ever heard of the wise snake that lives beneath the river or the lake?”
“That’s an old African legend the black people tell.”
“And?” He looked at her with an air of expectance, as if she should finish telling a story.
She’d humor him. If he’d wanted her dead she wouldn’t be standing here. “The wise person goes to the water and the snake spirit chooses them and keeps them for a while, teaching them how to work magic, before letting them back to the real world.”
He beamed at her, clapping his hands. “Clever girl! Although I wonder...I don’t think this world is any less real than what you’ve been taking for granted.” He paused, tapped a fingernail to his lips.
“But my friend!” Helen said.
“Poo to your friend.”
“Bijou’s mother died trying to save me. Bijou’s in grave danger.”
“Bijou’s marked by Ngbandi of the north. She is not my concern. You belong here, with me, until such time that I decide to release you. I’ve lost many like you to the hungry ones, too many to count. I won’t lose you.”
“I appreciate your concern but–”
“But nothing, Helen Ashfield. Your soul has burned bright for many lives. It is only fitting that you are now mine to teach.”
Helen twisted on the spot. Her brother, Etienne, her dad, grandmother...they would worry. What about her mom? She wouldn’t even know she was missing.
Helen swallowed hard. If anything she needed to say goodbye or at least reassure them. The legends always said the people returned once the spirit had finished teaching them. But she didn’t want this, did she?
Trystan! What about him? She gasped. Why couldn’t life just go according to what
she
wanted for a change?
“I-I can’t! I refuse!”
“Then you stay here until you change your mind. I can wait. I’m very patient.” The being folded his arms, and regarded her from beneath a fall of coarse hair. His smile was so goddamned smug she wanted to scream.
“Argh! You’re all so god-damned infuriating!” She punched him in the chest. It was like hitting a wall, and the boy didn’t move an inch.
“Done with the physical violence?” He looked down at her fist, his expression quizzical.
Helen withdrew her hand, rubbing her knuckles until the stinging went away. “All right, so once you’re done teaching me, I’m free to go?”
He nodded. “Free to go.”
“What do you get out of the deal?”
“The knowledge that you’re not a slave to anyone who’s going to work against your purpose.”
“Not even to you?”
“No, but we will have an extra special, um, understanding.” He gave another too-wide grin, his teeth flashing white.
“Okay, well, then hear me out.” She had to get away. “What if we strike a bargain? What if you allow me to go back just to make sure that Bijou is fine and that everyone knows I’m okay? Then I’ll come back and be your willing, erm, pupil.”
The boy threw back his head and laughed, his body shaking from the mirth. He wiped at his eyes once his amusement subsided. “What do you take me for, Helen, naive? I may not be given to human niceties but I’m not going to go as far as trusting you.”
“I promise.”
“Will you swear an oath?” He pressed his face close, the fishy smell turning her stomach.
“Sure, I’ll swear an oath–anything–I just need to get back.”
“Yeah, yeah, to make sure that everyone’s doing all right. I know you’ve got no intention of honoring your oath but in this reality oaths are, um, a bit more... How should we put it? Binding?” Something
else
lingered in his eyes, something that spoke of ancient secrets carved on forgotten
stelae
.
What was she getting herself into? Maybe she’d find a way to wiggle out of the deal but anything right now beat not knowing that she’d been able to assure everyone that she was not dead, or worse.
“Okay, so how do I make this oath?” Helen asked.
If the being’s grin could grow any larger, she didn’t think it possible. “An oath sworn in blood.”
Helen stepped back. “That’s just gross.”
He shrugged. “It’s more binding than your word.”
“How?”
“You could call it magic. We must go to the
lefika
. It would be...appropriate.”
Before she could protest, he grabbed her hand, his skin cold and clammy like that of an amphibian, and dragged her, stumbling, along a cobbled path she had not noticed before.
“Is it far? Will it take long?”
“Distance and time are relative here, bright one.”
“Hey?”
“I could send you back to before you were born or five hundred years in the future, so don’t piss me off.”
“You wouldn’t!”
The entity stopped, spun around, and pressed his cheek against hers. “Try me.”
Every inch of Helen’s being screamed against the contact but she held still. “It’s fine. Really.”
“Good!” He yanked her on.
They walked beneath tall trees, which reminded Helen of slender oaks in shape, with bark that shone with a hint of bioluminescence. Beyond this avenue it grew dark. Not even the stars penetrated the canopy of gray, palmate leaves.
The path stretched ahead, undulating like a lazy snake, each cobble giving off a sheen of light, a tint echoing the green of her companion’s eyes.
“What is your name?”
“I have many names,” he said, without turning to face her, seeming intent rather on scanning the landscape on either side.
“Which one do you care to tell me?”
“You can call me Troth. That’s a nice name.”
“It’s not your real name, is it?”
“It’s the name I choose to give you and you may call me by it. Therefore, it’s a real name.”
“But...”
“What is a name but a made-up word used to identify a person, animal or object?”
“You’re infuriating!”
“That’s the second time you’ve said that today, it’s wearing thin. I’m Troth. Get it right.”
Helen shut her mouth. There was no way she’d subject herself to anything this being wanted to teach her. She wasn’t one given to lying but in this case she was glad to make an exception.
Presently, the avenue of trees broadened into a clearing with a ten-meter diameter. In its center, rising from a carpet of fallen leaves, stood a plinth, rectangular and hewn from pale rose-colored stone with rough strokes.
The stone reached Helen’s waist, the surface warm to the touch. A depression, the size and depth of a saucer, held a small pool of clear liquid. Water, perhaps?
“Pretty, eh?” Troth asked. “The
lefika
.”
“For a bird bath.”
Troth smirked. “Trying to be clever now, Miss Helen?”
“Perhaps, but not too clever, mind you,” she said.
“Not to worry, little bright spark. I prefer pupils who have some personality. Eternity would be awfully dull otherwise.”
Helen elected not to inquire. “So, now what? We’re somewhere and I don’t know where here is but I’d like to finish so that I can go back.”
“No need to hurry, wait.” He breathed in and tilted his head back so he could suck in deep breaths of air. It sounded like a snake hissing.
His muscles grew rigid and he gripped the stone plinth at its sides, his fingers whitening at the knuckles.
Helen felt the sound before she heard it, a low humming that vibrated in her collarbone, traveling to her belly to tickle at the base of her spine. Slowly it increased in volume until it grew into a thunderous bass rumble.
The water collected in the depression darkened then turned to liquid mercury, viscous and heavy, small ripples playing in concentric rings from the center to shiver against the outermost edge.
She did not get a chance to resist, his motion so quick when he snatched her left hand, sinking his teeth into the fleshy part of her palm. The pain was indescribable.
Helen went rigid, her cry choking in her throat so that only an abrupt squawk passed her lips. Her blood, bright against her skin, welled from the wound. Troth held her hand tight, halting her intention to jerk away. His eyes blazed, feral, as if daring her to try, and fail.
She looked down where the drops slipped into the mercury-like liquid.
“Say after me, ‘I, Helen Ashfield, bind myself to the teachings of the Noga.’”
“I-I–” Helen’s voice quaked.
Perhaps she could convince herself that she chose the lesser of many evils. All that mattered to her was her return to a time and place she could call her own.
“Say it.”
“I, Helen Ashfield, bind myself to the teachings of the Noga.”
The earth shuddered and a gust of icy wind sent leaves hissing away.
Helen made eye contact with Troth, who offered her a chilling smile.
“You are marked, Helen.”
Chapter 43
Decisions
Trystan marveled at Etienne’s pluck. He’d flinched but once when Trystan’s fangs broke the skin.
The blood, freely given, tasted...honest, nothing compared to the electric thrill of vampiric Essence but it felt somehow right. He drank slowly, closing his eyes when the boy’s stare grew too intense.
The tap on his shoulder came a lot sooner than he’d wanted it. Part of him screamed to go over the edge, to throw the boy to the ground and finish the job. He was still weak, though, his limbs shivering as if he’d just recovered from a fever. He let go and opened his eyes.
Etienne clutched his wrist to his belly, grimacing, his dirty t-shirt raised to display pale flesh and a sprinkling of black hair where the navel winked at him.
“It won’t bleed for very long. It may be an enzyme of something in our saliva that eventually reacts with oxygen after a minute, although–”
“You rarely leave them alive, do you?”
“No.” Trystan looked away from those dark, accusing eyes. “You’re the first in many years.”
“And you haven’t given it much thought, have you?”
No. Trystan’s head twitched and he bit his lip. He could almost hear Mantis’s mocking laughter. Too many years alone. Too many years without connecting with another sentient being.