Endangered Ch. 10

She studied his face, finding something akin to sadness there. Disappointment? Her reasons for keeping her suspicions to herself seemed almost petty now, if she'd lost the trust of this dragon, this... Devine. Despite her best intentions, perhaps she had erred.

"Very well, come with me." She brushed past him, a slender black-padded finger tracing lightly across his strapping forearm.

He turned to follow, surprised that she breezed straight past her study and down the corridor. Her gently swaying hips were naturally enticing to his eyes, but he tried to keep his mind focused, he needed all his mental fortitude to wrangle with this eel of a woman.

Around a sharp bend, the passageway ended abruptly in a rough-hewn wooden door. Conspicuous runes were charred into the thick planks of cedar, contrastingly dark against the beautiful reddish grain full of knots and imperfections. There was no door handle to admit them, but Reyla placed her palm on the wood and caressed downward. It shivered under her almost sensual touch, swinging open without so much as a push.

Chris paused on the threshold as she walked confidently into a small, intimate room that was apparently her personal quarters. He hadn't expected this.

"Come in," she turned, beckoning him past a fireplace that began to crackle with renewed life, perhaps sensing the presence of its mistress. "Have a seat. I'm going to change into something more comfortable, my feet are sore."

Apparently nonchalant about leaving him in her little living room, she opened another door and disappeared. Whether on purpose or not, that door stayed open even as the one behind him swung silently shut. Beyond, he caught a glimpse of a huge four poster bed, draped with thick blinds. She disappeared behind an ornate changing screen, and he looked away in embarrassment.

The little living room was a curious window into her private life. It was not at all what he'd expected. What had he expected? Certainly not tiny, efficient, dark, warm, and... homely? A well-worn leather armchair sat next to the open fire, a soft blue blanket draped across its seat and backrest. Beside the chair, a box of cut wood waited ready for the fireplace.

Of course, a bookshelf dominated the entire room and was filled to overflowing with what he assumed were her most treasured texts. So great was her love for the tomes that they were crammed into every available space, stacked almost perilously on the mantelpiece, and even stockpiled on the floor. The small table in the middle of the room was half covered with them as well. They teetered precariously in huge mottled piles, rising like uneven skyscrapers, towering over dark alleys below. It was a wonder the thing hadn't collapsed under the weight. The other end of the table was clearly her workspace, several books stood propped open or positioned on reading stands where she'd left them.

A solitary light orb glowed softly in the low, domed ceiling. Its light could be supplemented by various unlit candles placed haphazardly around the room.

There was just one of everything, he realised. One armchair, one seat at the table, one set of utensils laid neatly beside the tiny sink in the far corner.

Curiosity forced him to move over and examine the little kitchenette. He frowned, it could barely be called that. Just a sink, an earthen mug, a kettle for the fire, and a few shelves of dried herbs jars of sweets. What a solitary existence she led.

There was another narrow doorway beside against the wall here, with a handle this time. Internally, the debate only raged for a few moments. Curiosity got the better of him again, and he reached for it.

"It's mostly just books," Reyla said from behind him.

He whirled, red embarrassment rising in his cheeks.

"Sorry, I was... This isn't at all what I imagined."

She was barefoot, in her loose silken nightclothes once again.

"No matter. Excuse the mess." She motioned to the books on the table. "I'm going to prepare a warm drink, would you like one? I have... oh. I have only one cup, sorry."

"No, it's fine. I came for answers, not beverages."

"Very well," she said, brushing past him in the confined space.

He stepped back, almost tripping himself with the wooden chair positioned by her table reading station. The brass kettle was soon filled with water, and she turned back to the fire, hooking it over a sooty rod, so it was suspended over the dancing flames.

"You don't have electricity down here," he noted aloud, thinking more to himself than meaning to speak the words.

"Appliances are too loud," she replied, running a finger disapprovingly through the thin layer of dust encroaching on the wooden mantlepiece. "They disturb me when I'm reading or trying to sleep. My quarters are actually modelled after the rooms I grew up with in my house's Keep. Their familiarity is comforting."

"Your Keep? I would like to see how the Drow live one day."

"Ha! I don't think you'll be invited to any elven strongholds after the way you dealt with House Lefayd. Although," she considered him across the table piled with books. "My Matriarch might consider you a hero for putting them in their place."

Chris winced.

"I may have gotten a little carried away. Is there likely to be any backlash against me? Susan has prepared a restorative potion with some of my own blood, I was wondering if you could arrange some to be delivered to the elf who's tongue I... liberated."

"Have a seat, dragon. We may be here a while," she gestured to the small chair even as she took the much more comfortable armchair for herself. It was her room after all. "Hmm, I could arrange for the delivery of the potion, your reptilian nature would indeed be excellent for growing things back. I warn you though, it might not be accepted. I have heard that House Lefayd is furious, partly with you, mostly with themselves I think. They are ruined politically. The Synod has turned on Eramir at the behest of the vampires, he is in custody awaiting trial. They voted yesterday to administer truth syrup. I think he will find himself in Atlantis Prison for at least fifty years but who knows what else they'll discover during questioning. It remains to be seen if you will be shackled with reparations for the damages to Lefayd's property. I doubt it, seeing as you didn't kill anyone with that explosion. That was lucky, you have quite the temper. We share that at least."

"Indeed we do," he nodded. "Well, I'll count myself lucky if things work out as you've said."

"I would watch my back if I were you," she warned. "We talked about long memories this morning. Elves have some of the longest. Do not be surprised if you find a dagger protruding from your back in a thousand years and a Lefayd assassin whispering their regards in your ear."

Chris growled, his anger rising at the very notion.

"Peace, I am simply warning you to be vigilant. Now, you put on that performance out there because you want the truth about Radek?"

"Yes," he calmed himself.

"I don't have truth for you, dragon," she sighed, glancing away from his intense gaze. How was he going to react? He was touched by the Old Gods after all.

"What?"

"I have only a suspicion, though it grows closer to a certainty with every scrap of information we gather."

"A suspicion?!" he asked incredulously, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "I find that hard to believe. You've been holding something back on the subject for a while. The Synod has been too reserved about the root of their problems, too. Tell me, Reyla."

"He may be a demon," she said quietly, shrugging her slender shoulders.

"A demon? May be?" His disappointment at the elf's elusiveness drained away. "What do you mean a suspicion, is he or isn't he?"

"Do you need a dictionary, dragon?" A little of her own temper flared. "One does not simply cry demon without proof. The last confirmed presence of one was over four centuries ago, a minor entity at that. Nor has the Synod been inactive. Some of their best are trying to hunt him, the only one who found his trail so far died horribly. You are the only Being who has survived an encounter with Radek. Others seem to die or simply fall under his thrall. At this stage, he is either an incredibly gifted, ancient, and psychotic mage or... a demon."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh. Given what I know of your involvement with higher powers and that hideous magic I saw in the footage from Brazil, I lean ever more heavily toward demon. Too many coincidences."

"Then why did you keep it a secret from me?" he asked, disturbed and exasperated at the same time.

"Because before a few days ago, I was convincing myself that it couldn't be true," she answered in a short tone. "You do not even understand the significance of a demonic presence, do you? What exactly would you have done with this unverified, potentially explosive information, hmm?"

"I don't know," he said honestly.

"And how do you think Beings would react if they found out the Revelation was orchestrated, being forced on us by a bloody-damned demon?!"

"Not well, I assume."

The kettle bubbled up with a hiss, water overflowing the spout to douse the rosy embers below with a hiss. The distraction took the steam out of the elf's own boiler. For a few minutes, they were both silent. Chris battled a mounting sense of panic, foreboding, and helplessness as he began connecting the dots.

Reyla took the hot kettle carefully back to the sink, setting it aside for a moment as she spooned a calming mix of dried herbs into her small teapot. A spoonful of honey followed before she poured the hot water over the top, releasing the pleasant scent of jasmine into the room.

"It would be an unmitigated disaster," she turned, finding him with his head in his hands, brought low by yet another burden it seemed.

"Arrrrgg! What does it mean?" he croaked, his voice thick with pent-up emotion. "Why me? What am I supposed to do?"

"Oh, dragon..." she took the few steps to close the distance between them, pulling his head into her tummy, holding him. She hadn't meant for him to suffer from this. For a few moments, she just enjoyed touching him for the first time, running her fingers over his thick neck, through his short, messy hair. Finally, as his breathing became steady once more, she tugged lightly on his ears until he raised his face to look up at her. "If he is a demon, we will find the creature and kill it, of course."

"As simple as that?" he chuckled wryly, his chin still resting on the thin silk covering her sylphlike lower abdomen.

"The simple plans are always the best," she said, patting his head almost maternally. Catching herself, she stepped away before they fell any further down the slippery mountainside of intimacy. Her tea was nearly ready.

The moment was not lost on Chris. Reyla could be gentle it seemed, and he had needed the comfort. The scent of her body and the lilac infused soap she'd used that morning still tingled in his nostrils.

"Thank you, Reyla. It's overwhelming to think that I must be connected to this somehow, that it's my responsibility to deal with Radek. I suppose in some ways I've felt it but... I just wish I knew what I was doing. Is that too much to ask from whatever chose to change me, to give me this power?"

They regarded each other in cautious silence for a few heartbeats until she flicked an errant strand of white hair over her long ear and turned to pour herself a steaming, fragrant cup. With her back turned, she voiced her thoughts.

"If there's anything I have learned for certain about the Devine, it is that they are just as fallible as the rest of us, Chris," she spoke softly, pouring into her lone, fired-clay mug. "Though their power outstripped our understanding, they still fought a war, still killed and died, still made mistakes, still had stupid laws which lead to the meaningless deaths of thousands of us. And it would appear their great Barrier still lets terrible things slip through every now and then. We might have worshipped them in the zealous youth of our time on this planet, but they were never omnipotent. You have a wonderful power, a rare gift to be sure, but dealing with a demon loose in our world is not your responsibility alone. I will help you and others will too."

"Thank you. That is at least a little reassuring," he breathed, some of the weight of responsibility lifting, if only for a few moments. "Not the part about Devines being fallible though. What were they fighting over? What even are demons?"

She put the mug to her dark lips and took a careful sip, considering her answer.

"I am almost certain the few demons to find a way through the Barrier over the last few thousand years have been lowly creatures. Though powerful by our standards, they must pale in comparison to the entities that battled with the Old Gods. I cannot say why they fought, I had hoped you might shed some light there, but alas, it seems that is not to be. Whatever demons are, they obsess with growing, with gaining power by consuming all around them, including each other. I have read that on the battlefield, it was not uncommon for a demon general to devour an officer who couldn't complete his tasks. They disposed of their wounded in a similarly inhumane way. But, there is the heart of what makes a demon. They consume energy, especially life and the concentration of magic associated with such high complexity. I have been told that sentients are especially nutritious."

"The village..." he murmured.

"Yes, indeed. That is why I am now almost certain that Radek is a demon, I think they were reaped... like a crop of ripe grain." Reyla shuddered at the thought, blowing on the surface of her tea.

"Well? What do we do about it?" he asked, almost accidentally knocking one of her books off the table with a frustrated swipe of his hand.

"Ahh, there lies a non-trivial problem. All investigations pertaining to demonic activity are the strict purview of the Synod. More specifically, that fairy bitch, Queen Magdalen. Strictly speaking, what you did down there was interfering with her investigation. Nothing will come of it because you didn't go down there to hunt him, but I'm required to pass on all the information you gathered."

"You've got to be kidding me. So what? Now we sit back and do nothing?"

"I didn't say that," the elf grinned wickedly, her ears twitching. "But we must be cautious with our plan. For a start, we will use your Familiar to hunt him. The humans have some impressive technology, I think they might surprise us. Magdalen cannot reasonably stop them without revealing that they suspect he is a demon. Who knows what trouble that would cause."

"I don't even want to think about it," Chris rubbed at his temples. "The word is too religiously charged, we're already going to be branded as devil-spawn by half the world as it is."

"Exactly. The reaction amongst the Being population would be no less disastrous. In the past, the lower classes have been known to band together and openly run down demons out of fear, regardless of human collateral damage or the Synod's orders."

"Shit, do we have options?"

"I have another, less diplomatic, avenue we might explore. I would need your help to break into certain vaults to obtain rare texts that might contain spells to locate demons, amongst other things. That would be our last resort though, the consequences would be dire. There is still a good chance that the Synod can handle him themselves, though it doesn't help that they're so distracted of late. You haven't helped either. Magdalen was one of Eramir's firmest allies, and now she is busy maneuvering to keep her seat."

"What a mess." He slowly stood, his head coming close to the slightly domed ceiling. Suddenly the desire to get home was strong inside him, to seek reassurance and normalcy in the love of his brood. "You've given me a lot to think about."

"Think nothing of it," Reyla almost purred, taking another languid sip from her comfortable seat as he moved toward the door. "You see why I have been discrete, then? Our suspicions about his nature mustn't become common knowledge."

"Yes, I understand. You need to consider telling Michelle though, she'll be much more effective if she knows what she's looking for."

"I have considered it, but wouldn't she be obliged to report this to her superiors?" Reyla asked.

"Maybe," he sighed resignedly. "She certainly wouldn't appreciate being put in that position. She'll be furious if she's lied to though. I was."

"I'm sorry." Her head bowed in contrition, fine white hair flowing down from behind her ears to partially obscure her elegant face. Yet another gesture of deference which was probably rare for her, he thought. "When I first decided to conceal my thoughts on the matter, I considered them hardly more than a fearful fancy. It seemed so improbable, the arrival of any demon through the Barrier is easily detected. The Synod's hunters converge and a short, sometimes bloody struggle ensues before the demon is dispatched. I still have no idea how Radek slipped past our detection."

"I guess we'll have to ask him one day."

"Be serious, Chris. What will you do, now that you have the burden of this knowledge?"

"I truly don't know, probably nothing. Though the idea of marshalling an army of Beings and sweeping down the continent until we've flushed him into the sea does seem appealing. For now, I think I'll go home and find a way to distract myself."

"A dragon through and through," Reyla smiled, it might be nice to entertain him a while longer and move to other topics, but he was ready to leave. A flick of her wrist opened the thick door to the corridor outside. "You have done all that could possibly be expected of you so far. Be at peace, Chris. Simply continue to gather knowledge and strength so that you may act if the opportunity presents itself."

"Thank you," he turned in the portal. "Sorry about the drama before, I didn't... Still friends?"

"Of course."

***

He did not return to the domestic bliss he so desperately sought after the frustrating conversation with Reyla. Raised voices in the apartment put him on alert as soon as he phased into his bedroom. Though muffled, a heated argument appeared to be underway in the borrowed hotel suite.

He knew that he shouldn't, but it didn't stop him creeping silently to the door, listening all the while.

"It's not that big a deal," Susan said, clearly trying to calm the situation. "I'll just miss out this cycle, no one else will get put out."

"No!" Annabel growled, followed by a dull thump that Chris would swear was her foot stomping the floor in outrage. So Annabel was adorably angry then, that couldn't be good. "Lillian you're throwing your weight around again. This will be the third time you've broken the schedule, it's just not fair for everyone."

"Mother and I agree," Claire spoke firmly in his First's defence.

"You don't understand, Annabel. I need this, I need him," the vampire growled, her voice containing much more darkness than Chris expected. "I will have him tonight. You will have to stop me by force."

"Here we go," he muttered, turning the door handle to step quickly inside before things soured any further.

All eyes turned to him, so many pretty faces set in relief, worry, love, concern, mischief, longing, and finally, feral hunger.

Lillian practically launched herself across the table at him, eyes black and full of promised death. It took all his mental fortitude to stand firm, bracing himself to receive the jarring impact that came half a second later. She coiled around him like a python, her pencil skirt ripping up the seams as her lush thighs encircled his waist. The fabric was no match for her undead strength, and he didn't bother resisting her lest he meet the same fate.