Horns and Halos, page 8
I stared at him in horror, and my jaw went slack. “Oh,” I whispered, unsure of why I ever asked him what I was thinking in the first place. Any hope of backing out of the deal was quickly snuffed out. Searching the area around me, I tried to wash my mind of his words. I drowned myself in the scenery of the quiet village while hugging myself. Suddenly I felt cold, but it wasn’t the kind of chill that came from the air.
As if the event never took place, he asked me, “Where are you off to now?”
I sighed. Was I really expecting a devil to care? Cracking my back, I replied, “To the pottery wheel. The village is lacking in bowls and cups. I was going to try and make them.”
“You don’t know how to slow down,” he muttered to himself. “Have you ever worked with one before?” His eyes trailed over me and rested upon my lower back as I rubbed at it. He seemed deep in thought as he faintly hummed to himself.
“A few times, though, I was never good at it,” I admitted awkwardly.
“We’ll be here the rest of the day,” he griped.
“You could just wave a hand like you did earlier. Neither one of us would have to suffer, then.”
He eyed me over with a dead-pan expression. Looking away, he said, “Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.”
“What?”
“It was before your time. Come along. It seems we both have some work to do.”
We walked through the village to a rundown hut that had a thatched awning. Under it, there was a table littered with various types of clay-created objects. Inside, the whole building looked like a gang of toddlers tried—and failed—to make pottery. Dried bits of red clay were everywhere from the counters to the windows, to the floors, and entirely covered the man-powered pottery wheel in the far back of the building. Upon reaching it, I gave it a spin. Though it whined in protest, it eventually twirled without further restraint. It was a little rustic, but functional.
Draki sighed at it. “What a pitiful artifact. They could at least have something a little less primitive.” He shook his head. I didn’t really understand what he meant, and he further confused me by saying, “I feel like I’m about to reenact a scene from a movie.” He proceeded to laugh.
All the while, I stared completely clueless to his jokes. I knew what movies were ... or what they were supposed to be. Plenty of books I had read described them. I hadn’t seen one myself, though. Those lucky enough to live in the faith cities might have seen a handful. They had the luxury of electricity. How I longed to see a light that wasn’t a flame. How I wished to see a moving picture. I smiled at the thought.
That moment of dreamy happiness was broken by Draki’s voice ordering me around. “Stand over here.”
“You’re going to turn the wheel for me?”
“But of course. How else would I have a front-row seat to your sad attempt at sculpting a cup?”
I frowned. “I don’t know why I bother with you,” I mumbled.
“Honestly, I don’t know why you do, either.”
Now that the banter had ended between us, he motioned to a wooden door on the floor. After lifting it up, I saw several clay pots full of murky-looking river water. In the center was a large clump of clay and a small shovel. I didn’t need prompting to know that I needed to scoop out a helping and get to work. My nap earlier had set me back on where I wanted to be with my list of chores.
Slapping the lump onto the wheel, I took off my jacket, threw it on a nearby table, wet my hands, and waited for Draki to spin the wheel. As I tried to form the clay I heard him sigh ... a lot. Pushing past the annoying sound, I focused on attempting to build up the clay to look more like a cup. The clay folded in and plopped in on itself. I growled loudly at my failure.
“That’s it. I cannot endure hours of this. Watching you fail isn’t as fun as I thought it would have been,” he announced, standing to his full height. Tossing a layer of his attire onto the same table as my jacket, he fussed with his sleeves and came to stand behind me.
Uncomfortable with the action, I started to sidestep out of his way. A strong hand caught me and moved me back to in front of the wheel. “I didn’t tell you to move.”
“I don’t need your permission.”
He sucked in air and it sounded like a hiss. I boldly turned around, standing face-to-face with him. The moment I did, I regretted it. My bravery wavered when our eyes collided. His white hair slowly fell over his shoulder and framed his pale face. Golden hues blazing with a fire stared back at me. Per usual when his grin was washed from his features, his face was sculpted in perfection and free of any emotion aside from hidden, prideful anger. My vision traced every dip and curve and rested on his smooth lips. Why did I think of kissing them? I shook my head slightly to free my mind of the vision I had been assaulted with.
“I wasn’t asking what you wanted, Sia ...” His words trailed off. I watched as he took in a deep breath, closed his eyes, and saw the tension in his shoulders leave him. Opening his eyes, he finished with, “Do not thwart my efforts to help you when you are clearly struggling. Per our arrangement, your best interests are in mind whenever I act.”
As much as I wanted to snap back something angrily, I knew our heated arguments weren’t going to help us have a more peaceful relationship. And although pushing the limits of his patience daily was fun, it wouldn’t help me get my work done any faster. So I chose to let go of my hostility and whispered, “Okay.”
“Good girl,” he said while turning me around.
Some of the irritation rose back up in me. It swiftly died when his hands slid over my own and placed them on the cool surface of the clay. I looked over my shoulder and his face was so close that my nose ever so slightly grazed over his cheek. I tried to pull back, but he held me steadfast in place. The tantalizing smell of spice and smoke calmed me as it had now become a scent that I had associated with him and protection. I loosened up slightly.
“You are putting too much pressure on the clay when trying to form it,” he informed huskily.
His hold on me lightened, and one hand went to spin the wheel. Quickly, it returned to guide me, pushing slowly in as the clay slipped underneath. “Your hands are guiding the clay. You are using every bend and curve of your hands to morph it the way you want it to go.” Again, he spun the wheel, and I watched the clay rise as I pushed in gently and then pulled the clay up. His thumbs dipped down over the rim, and the jagged edge became smooth. No matter how mad I wanted to be, I saw the clay transform before my eyes, and I felt accomplished. His hands fell away, and I smoothed out the outside of the cup on my own.
The wheel stopped spinning, and the cup that was left on top of the platform was as good as anything I saw Mr. Freeman make back in my old village. I couldn’t help it. I gaped and then smiled wildly. For such a long time I thought I was only okay at many things. Never good ... that is, unless it was chopping up animals and wood. I marveled at the work that I had done and felt tears well in my eyes.
“I ... made that?” I asked.
“With my help, but, yes. You made that.”
Too scared to touch it, I withdrew my hands even more. “I ...” I didn’t know what to say.
“You’re welcome,” he expressed as he went to sit in a chair over by the wall.
“I want to make another one.”
“Humans are such strange creatures. You show them how to do something well and they don’t want to stop.” He motioned at me with a wave of his hand. “Go on. This is your chore, not mine.”
I turned to face him and smiled. “Thank you!” I exclaimed.
His eyes widened, and he went stiff before shaking his head and turning away from me. “It would have been a bother to wait all afternoon for you to figure it out.”
I didn’t care what he had to say. Using a flat wooden spatula, I removed the finished cup and placed it on another table to be baked later. I still needed to make a lot more cups before I would need to move on to the bowls. They weren’t going to be cooked in the kiln until tomorrow. Just making them was going to take me the rest of the afternoon, and maybe a chunk of my evening too. But they had told me that they didn’t need to be perfect.
It wasn’t too much longer after I had started the third piece that I saw someone’s shadow pass by the windows. The one who cast it was quickly approaching the main entrance. For a brief moment, I worried that they might see Draki. Peering over my shoulder at the devil, I noticed that he was sitting in a chair by the table with our jackets. He was free of any signs that he had previously helped me as there wasn’t a single spot of clay on his attire or skin. He shooed me before disappearing. I looked back to the unexpected guest.
Elijah stood in front of me with a tray of food. “Before you attack me, my mom told me to bring this to you.”
The look on my face softened as I heard him say that. “Oh,” I mumbled.
He looked around for a clear space to place down the meal, but it was all eaten up with various items and pottery. Rinsing my hands in a container of water and wiping them hastily off on a bit of cloth nearby, I rushed over, moved my jacket, and motioned to the table.
“Thanks,” he stated, putting it down.
The awkward silence stretched.
“Look ...” we both started at the same time.
He gave a breathy laugh and said, “Ladies first.”
Spotlight on me. Great. I suddenly didn’t want to say anything anymore. Feeling heat lick at my cheeks, I said, “I just wanted to apologize for yelling and pushing you earlier.”
“What about what you said?”
“What about it?”
“Oh, so ...”
I smirked. “Oh, I meant every word of it. I’m just sorry for the way that I said it.”
He laughed again. “And the pushing.”
“Yeah, that too.”
We both gave a short chuckle.
“Good to know,” he said. Slowly, he rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “I’m sorry too. I understand why you were so upset with me.”
I nodded. “It’s okay,” I muttered and picked up the spoon to stir the soup. Corn and potatoes swirled in the poorly shaped bowl. “It smells great,” I expressed, my stomach growling as the spices hit my senses, awakening the hunger I had suppressed for the past couple of hours.
“Yeah, mom’s always been outstanding in the kitchen. I’ve learned a lot from her and ...” he motioned to the soup, “I’m able to mimic her cooking pretty well. Dad can’t tell who cooked most days.”
He stated the last while I had a spoonful shoved in my mouth, and I practically choked on the bite. Through partial wheezing, I screeched, “You made this?” Even as I said it, I found myself licking my lips and savoring the taste.
He nodded. “Sure did.”
I did a double-take from the soup to him and tried to blink away my astonishment. “Wow. You did amazing, Elijah!”
“I’ve got attractive arms and I’m able to cook. Am I on my way to becoming husband material yet?”
This time I coughed as I attempted to swallow my second bite. Again, I flared with heat. Putting the spoon down, I dropped my hands to my side and flapped them slightly. Through the patting sound of me repeatedly hitting my thighs, I struggled for a way to get out of the conversation. “Seems like it’s going to be a short meal break. I’ve only managed to get two pieces done, and I was hoping to finish them today so I can bake them tomorrow before I have to go to the river to wash clothes.”
Drawing his lips into his mouth, he bobbed his head and said, “I get it.” He came over and looked at the lump of clay on the wheel. “Do you want me to he—”
“No,” I replied quickly.
“Am I bothering you?”
“No,” I answered honestly and then winced at my own answer. It was honest but I didn’t want to ... I was playing with fire.
He smiled. “Good. I’ll keep finding excuses to see you then.” Before I could protest, he winked and headed for the exit. “Eat before it gets cold. No one should work on an empty stomach,” he yelled back to me.
With Elijah gone, I practically melted into the chair and went stiffer than the dead when my rump didn’t hit the wooden surface. Instead, I landed in a lap. My heart stopped beating for a moment, and my stomach did a flip. An arm possessively wrapped around my waist to keep me in place as long digits ran through my messy braids.
“Take a minute. You’ve been working so hard,” Draki purred darkly.
My skin reacted to his voice in ways that scared me. It came rolling over my body like faint thunder rumbling over the thirsty ground below. He was a storm: unpredictable, full of controlled fury, and brimming with destructive lightning. His rain could quench your thirst right before he downed you in it.
Doing my best to control my quivering, I focused on regaining my composure and saying, “I’m fine.” As I went to stand and free myself of his blazing embrace, I was pulled back, and I felt a ping of energy zip through every limb.
“Stay,” he growled in a low whisper.
What that one word did to me I would take to the grave. I closed my eyes and swallowed past everything from chaotic anxiety to the dangerous emotions that were running amuck inside of me. My chest was wild with a drumming heartbeat that raced with primal fear and confusion as I listened despite my better judgment. My suddenly dry mouth made it hard to voice my thoughts as I whispered back, “I need to eat and work, Draki.” Saying his name made me feel like I was slapping on chains to me and him and forever tying our fates together. No matter what I would be forced to face in this life or the afterlife, it would be done with him.
He drew in a deep breath, and it was so close to my ear that I shivered. Closing my eyes, I fought everything I had just thought of and hoped that he would let me go.
“Very well,” he stated calmly. “The rain is coming,” he said, looking out the window.
“What?” I asked, and then I heard it. Actual thunder sounded off in the distance as the sunshine was shadowed by the churning black clouds heading toward the village. “I see.”
The hold on me was released, and he guided me to my feet. Conflicted, I meekly said, “Thank you.”
“Stop that,” he snapped, standing to his full height.
I looked back, and he had already turned away from me, looking to the opposing windows that held the view of the sky free of clouds and encroaching darkness. “Stop what?”
“Thanking me.”
He kept his back to me, and I looked around the pottery room. I wanted to ask why, but there was this feeling that told me to stay away from asking the simple question. It was as if anger and an answer I couldn’t handle would reside in his reply. I knew what it felt like to try to escape questions that I wasn’t ready to answer, so I opted to change the subject. I remembered many days and nights that mom, dad, meemaw, and I would sit on the porch and watch the storm roll through the desert. It came so rarely. In the summer it brought a reprieve from the unrelenting heat of the sun. We would all eat snacks and talk with neighbors as the lightning would web through the sky.
Looking out the window to the storm and then back to Draki, I asked, “Why are you looking out that window? Don’t you enjoy watching storms roll in?”
“You never realize how much you miss the sun until you live a life full of endless storms.”
“Storms have their own beauty.”
“You say that. Living through it is far different than enjoying the moment of one as it passes.”
“So, you like sunny days?”
He went silent. When I thought that he had no desire to give me a reply, he said, “I like what they remind me of.”
“Which is?”
“What I’ve lost.”
“Can’t you just try to find it again?”
He chuckled softly and shook his head. His golden eyes peered over his shoulder to me and inspected me quietly for a moment. “Do you think everything in life is so easy?”
“Just because it was lost doesn’t mean it’s gone. You can get it again.”
He shook his head. “Sia, some things in life are lost because you forgot where you put them. Others are lost because they are taken away.”
My brow bent in confusion. “You’re saying that there is no way to get it back because you had it taken away?”
“I did something unforgivable,” he half-growled the reply.
“All my life I was taught that if you apologize—and if you are sincere—you can earn another chance.”
“And therein lies my problem, my dear. I can’t apologize sincerely because ...” he faced me fully and his pose was proud and unwavering as he finished his thought, “I’m not sorry for what I did.”
I didn’t know if that scared me or made me feel sorry for him. “You miss what you’ve lost but not enough to apologize for what you did?”
His expression shifted. I didn’t know that gold could be so bright and yet be so dark at the same time. His eyes washed over me like a hungry beast calculating where it would make its first bite. His tone was low as the one word carried out like an angry song. “Yes,” he hissed.
We didn’t talk anymore after that. I went to eat my meal while he watched the sun running away from the dark, angry clouds. As time dragged on, and with the melody of the storm to keep us company, I worked on making the necessary pottery.
Chapter 7:
Sweet Nothings
A few hours later, Draki stood on the opposite end of the building in front of the entrance. As he eyed over the doorway, he grumbled something to himself. “Time to leave, Sia,” he announced to me and headed my way.
“Hmmm? Okay, just let me finish this piece,” I said, refreshing the spin on the wheel.
Before I knew it, his foot had stretched out and stopped the device from turning. The clay folded in on itself as I stumbled over my handwork, and the almost finished bowl became a fresh clump of clay once more.
