If You Must Falter Be Wise

[Skie and Avery]

The arrow told him things. When he thought about it, he could hear his sister’s life. Now he could hear the quiet shuffling of limbs moving through sheets. Laying on his own bed in The House of Sin, Avery moved his arm from where it rested on his stomach to the mattress beside him. The sound of skin brushing across cotton was the same as what he heard in his sister’s room. Something warm flooded the pit of his stomach. Every time he used the arrow to listen to her, he heard something that brought him equal measures of joy and rage.

He was used to her now, and as his ears were filled with the sound of her sighing, he pulled in a long breath as well. Listening to Skie sleep was the most peaceful moments he had with her. He imagined the way she laid in bed, a blanket wrapped around her hips and her arms embracing her pillow while her face buried into it. From what he’d heard lately, he knew the elf was likely there, sleeping silently beside her. Avery imagined how restlessly her Drow lover would sleep if he woke to find Skie cold, blue, the life drained from her eyes.

It was nights like these, when he didn’t care for the delights that lay down the corridor from his room that Avery thought of her. The anticipation of the satisfaction he’d gain from squeezing the last breath from his twin’s neck was better than any lover the House could drum up. He wasn’t completely alone tonight, though.

A man’s body lay curled on the floor, on knees and elbows with a bowed back. From the shoulders, the torso of a young woman rose up, with a face that had been destroyed and held only rows of teeth and a searching, drooling tongue. Her arms were crossed on the mattress, giving a pillow for the horrendous head to rest. Absently, Avery let his hand move across the sheets and a single finger stroke the side of her arm. She stirred in her sleep but didn’t wake.

His mentor had given him a fantastic gift indeed. The monstrosity had once been one of his victims, and now was a show of power, of horror, of possibilities that he had only begun to imagine. Surely one gift deserved another. Watching the creature sleep, his green gaze boring into a face that would never betray a consciousness, Avery began to move through a list of his assets.

He had an entire people, an army that he could lay before Aurelius. Somehow, it didn’t feel impressive at all. Perhaps because the demonic commune was filled with beasts of power, who fed on and craved affection, he mused. The Beauty as a whole were devoid of violence, so unlike their King. Hellspawn of Benevolence, perfect creatures made for pleasure and so rarely agents of pain, the demons of Concordia were too soft for his master’s needs. Oh sure, the tiefling could likely use them. Usage was his forte.

No, Avery thought, he needed something more impressive. A crash rang out and his ears were filled with the movement of two bodies suddenly sitting up, and hushed questions. His sister cleared her throat. “Just a book falling,” he heard her say. Her lover satisfied with her answer, more movement, then silence, and soon the quiet sound of Skie drifting back to sleep. He hated that she could have that tender moment, comfort in her lover’s arms. Oh for the day, Avery thought, when he would strip her of her comfort and lead her begging and screaming for death. Her elf, her thief, and her books would never be able to save her then.

His thoughts lingered on the books even as he banished the spell that let him listen to his sister. He’d caught moments where she was reading, her muttered musings and out-loud translations only giving him bits and pieces of what she was working on. Between what he gained by spying on her and the accounts his demons had returned to him, she was gifted with the magic of their father.

Devon dan Sabriel had been called the Starslayer, destroying souls as if he were snuffing candles out in the night. Skie had the same power, but something curious had been emerging since she’d been banished and stripped of the attributes of her demonic heritage. Now she was creating souls, touching demons with the gift of humanity.

Avery’s hand froze, his absent petting of the beast ceasing as his eyes stared at the ceiling. A mirror mounted over the bed showed his bright verdant eyes, and the smile that was slowly spreading across his face. His too-sharp teeth were gleaming, sparkling with a spark of mischief almost as bright as the one in his eyes. Oh yes, he thought, it was almost too perfect.

[Skie and Avery]

“This won’t do at all,” Malagaste said. His tone was mocking, playful, a growling baritone softly teasing her from behind. Even if he were facing her, Skie wouldn’t have been able to see the Drow. He’d blindfolded her, wrapping a soft, dark cotton scarf around her head to cover her eyes. The urge to peek from underneath it to see what he was planning was not nearly as strong as the memory of what happened the last time she’d tried slipping from a restraint.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, smirking.

“I told you to be ready when I came in. Yet here you are, not wearing the corset I sent.” He clucked his tongue against his teeth, the sharp “tsk” mixing with the sound of leather sliding along cloth. With her vision in black, Skie tilted her head and guessed at what he’d done. In the end she guessed he’d removed one of the belts around his waist, either the one for his gun or the one for his knives.

“I can’t breathe in that. Who even wears corsets?” she whined. After having spent most of her life without the bounds of clothing, even the loose blouses and soft pants she wore felt confining sometimes. The corset was torture.

“Everyone.” He said, his tone sharp. “I hope you’re not planning on arguing with me. Next time I tell you to be ready, wear the corset.”

“And you’re sure you don’t like what I chose instead?” she asked, leaning forward from where she’d been kneeling and swayed her hips back and forth. Was the pause she heard him admiring her choice of outfit – or rather her lack of one?

“You’re enjoying this too much,” he said, and finally she felt him kneel behind her, his thighs on either side of her and his hand gripping her hair to pull her back against his chest. His other arm wrapped around her and she found her jaw in his hand, her head held still so that he could whisper in her ear. “You know, you won’t always have this kind of excitement available when you need to cast a spell.”

It was true. After all, she’d gained more momentum with understanding her magical abilities with Malagaste than she had with Seth. Malagaste seemed to understand that part of what made her spellcasting “tick” had to do with her succubus heritage. Yet, with her ability to seduce stripped from her, how could she cast in battle?

“Tell me, Skie, have you ever been pursued?” he asked softly. She tried to turn her head, but he held it forward, his fingers warm as they pressed in under her jaw.

“Do you mean romantically?” she asked, trying not to laugh.

“As prey, suingmc ligrr.” he growled. Suddenly, she was dizzy. The smell of wet earth and the memory of leaf litter and broken branches under her feet as she ran through Concordia came flooding back. Her back twinged, echoes of pain bubbling to the surface as she remembered the day her brother stripped her of her wing and banished her from her family.

“Oh, I struck a nerve,” Malagaste said. “Perfect. Tomorrow your training resumes.”

She could hear the amusement in his voice and for a moment she wanted nothing more but to bash the handsome smile she knew was on his face into the back of his head. Heat flooded her cheeks as the same and fear gripped her and made her feel so cold that she trembled. Oh yes, she had been pursued before. Malagaste released her neck and laid a kiss on the back of her neck before he got up. She felt even colder without his body against hers.

After a moment, she felt a tug and the blindfold was pulled free. Her eyes blinked open and she turned to see her Drow lover let the cloth fall to the floor as he padded back to the small bed in the corner of the room. It had been his gun holster that he’d removed earlier, draped over her pillow. The girl knew better than to get up before she was told to, so she watched as he started to strip his clothes off. When he was nothing but dark skin and rippling muscle, he pulled the blanket from her bed and returned to drape it around both of them.

“Tomorrow?” she finally asked.

“Yes, tomorrow. Tonight you’ve earned some fun.” His chuckle was a comfort as he pulled her beneath the thick quilt, and they became a tangle.