The bobbing torches turned the corner, little dogs yapping in overdressed women's arms.
"Stop! For the love of God, stop!" she shouted, and Algaliarept felt a deep surge of satisfaction. Destroying her will would fulfill his every need.
A young man in white and gold pushed past the women, stumbling to a stop, shock in his perfect face. A wailing outcry rose from the nobles behind him, and several turned and ran.
Ceri's bridegroom was perfect, Algaliarept decided bitterly as he held her tighter. The man before him now complimented her in every way, slim, fair-everything Algaliarept was not. And then Algaliarept smiled-she had shunned elven perfection to be with him.
The man's lips parted in horror as Algaliarept's fingers entwined deeper in her hair, jerking her head up to expose the long length of her neck to him. And still Ceri stared at her bridegroom, color in her cheeks as her lungs heaved. Turning, the prince called for magicians.
At the sight of his back, Ceri's hand opened and the card she held fell to the earth. Something in Algaliarept sparked when the devil card fell to the manicured grass. The bent gold glinted in the torch light, but it was easy to see the beautiful maiden being dragged off by an ugly, red-skinned demon. "Take me," she whispered as three magicians stumbled into the clearing, frightened but determined. "I don't want to grow old. You are my demon."
With her acquiescence, it was done. Seven years of labor culminated in one satisfied laugh that made the young man in white pale. But he didn't move to save her.
"You don't deserve her," Algaliarept said, and then, as the magicians moved, he shifted his thoughts to leave. The yapping dogs, the wailing women, everything vanished into the clean blackness of thought. And as they traveled the lines back to the drop of time that had been flung from space itself, Algaliarept touched her soul, ran his fingers through her aura and felt her squirm. She had wanted it. Even with her denials and screams, she wanted it. Wanted him. She was his little blue butterfly, seeking out carrion.
Don't cry, Ceri, he thought, knowing she heard him when her mind seemed to quiver.
He was going to keep this one for himself. Turn the Dulciate elf into a showcase of his talents. No one had ever come willingly, before. He was an artist, and destroying her as he made her into what he wanted, would be his finest masterpiece.
Until I find someone with a little more skill, that is, he thought, knowing that wasn't likely to happen for, oh, probably another thousand years.
Two Ghosts for Sister Rachel
Two Ghosts for Sister Rachel first appeared in the anthology Holidays Are Hell. Family was becoming more important to Rachel at about this time in the series, and dropping back to when she was still living at home and working for her hard-won independence gave me a chance to show where Rachel developed not only her stamina but also her refusal to give up hope in the face of low odds. I thought it was important for the reader to see the Rachel beyond the tough, capable, and get-back-up kind of girl I usually focused on, the one who came from the fragile, weak, and death-row childhood. It makes her choices easier to understand.
ONE
I stuck the end of the pencil between my teeth, brushing the eraser specks off the paper as I considered how best to answer the employment application. WHAT SKILLS CAN YOU BRING TO INDERLAND SECURITY THAT ARE CLEARLY UNIQUE TO YOU?
Sparkling wit? I thought, twining my foot around the kitchen chair and feeling stupid. A smile? The desire to smear the pavement with bad guys?
Sighing, I tucked my hair behind my ear and slumped. My eyes shifted to the clock above the sink as it ticked minutes into hours. I wasn't going to waste my life. Eighteen was too young to be accepted into the I.S. intern program without a parent's signature, but if I put my application in now, it would sit at the top of the stack until I was old enough, according to the guidance counselor. Like the recruiter had said, there was nothing wrong with going into the I.S. right out of college if you knew that's what you wanted to do. The fast track.
The faint sound of the front door opening brought my heart to my throat. I glanced at the sunset-gloomed window. Jamming the application under the stacked napkins, I shouted, "Hi, Mom! I thought you weren't going to be back until eight!"
Damn it, how was I supposed to finish this thing if she kept coming back?
But my alarm shifted to elation when a high falsetto voice responded, "It's eight in Buenos Aires, dear. Be a dove and find my rubbers for me? It's snowing."
"Robbie?" I stood so fast the chair nearly fell over. Heart pounding, I darted out of the kitchen and into the green hallway. There at the end, in a windbreaker and shaking snow from himself, was my brother Robbie. His narrow height came close to brushing the top of the door, and his shock of red hair caught the glow from the porch light. Slush-wet Dockers showed from under his jeans, totally inappropriate for the weather. On the porch behind him, a cabbie set down two suitcases.
"Hey!" I exclaimed, bringing his head up to show his green eyes glinting mischievously. "You were supposed to be on the vamp flight. Why didn't you call? I would've come to get you."
Robbie shoved a wad of money at the driver. Door still gaping behind him, he opened his arms, and I landed against him, my face hitting his upper chest instead of his middle like it had when we had said goodbye. His arms went around me, and I breathed in the scent of old Brimstone from the dives he worked in. The tears pricked, and I held my breath so I wouldn't cry. It had been over four and a half years. Inconsiderate snot had been at the West Coast all this time, leaving me to cope with Mom. But he'd come home this year for the solstice, and I sniffed back everything and smiled up at him.
"Hey, Firefly," he said, using our dad's pet name for me and grinning as he measured where my hair had grown to. "You got tall. And wow, hair down to your waist? What are you doing, going for the world's record?"
He looked content and happy, and I dropped back a step, suddenly uncomfortable. "Yeah, well, it's been almost five years," I accused. Behind him, the cab drove away, headlamps dim from the snow and moving slowly.
Robbie sighed. "Don't start," he begged. "I get enough of that from Mom. You going to let me in?" He glanced behind him at the snow. "It is cold out here."
"Wimp," I said, then grabbed one of the suitcases. "Ever hear about that magical thing called a coat?"
He snorted his opinion, hefting the last of the luggage and following me in. The door shut, and I headed down the second, longer hallway to his room, eager to get him inside and part of our small family again. "I'm glad you came," I said, feeling my pulse race from the suitcase's weight. I hadn't been in the hospital in years, but fatigue still came fast. "Mom's going to skin you when she gets back."