Trickery, page 7
part #6 of Beginning's End Series
Eden looked up at him with an encouraging smile. “That’s very good, Evander.” He started to say something else, then smiled again. “It actually has two different meanings—”
Evander’s eyes twinkled in the light. “You told me.”
They shared a lingering grin.
“Now wouldn’t it be nice,” Jesse interrupted loudly, “if you had a place to indulge in something like that. Wouldn’t it be nice, to sleep somewhere with a door.”
The vampire glanced over in confusion while Eden rolled his eyes.
“He’s been pestering me since you left to allow us a night in the local tavern. These two have enjoyed their afternoon off a little too much.” The fae hitched onto his elbows, turning in mock confusion to the shifter. “Weren’t we going somewhere? Wasn’t there something we needed to do?”
Jesse threw up his hands, looking very much like a petulant child. “It would only be a little while—”
“We cannot simply idle in town,” Eden answered for the tenth time, “we need to pick up the pace. We have lost too much time already, and every day that stretches between us and the valley fills Evander with dread. Can we not put him out of his misery?”
He’d thought it a sound argument, but Jesse turned to the vampire instead. “I’m sorry, Evander. I thought you might want some time alone with Eden.”
There was a brief pause, then Evander turned with a smile. “I am in no hurry to reach the valley,” he replied innocently, trailing his fingers along the fae’s hand. “There are many ways we might occupy ourselves in between.”
Eden rolled his eyes, but didn’t remove his hand. “You’re as bad as the children. Must we not be setting an example?”
The vampire considered this with a thoughtful frown. “Mortal customs are still a mystery to me, but I believe that would be rather strange.”
There was a pause.
“I didn’t mean—”
“He is not asking you, mios.” Evander pulled him closer, sliding a hand into the fae’s bright hair. “I am asking. And I should warn you, my people are accustomed to getting their way.”
Eden smiled in spite of himself, eyes drifting to the vampire’s lips. “I cannot promise that...”
“So, it’s settled,” Jesse interjected quickly, tightening the leather cords on his satchel as if to emphasize the point. “Tomorrow morning we will head to the tavern?”
“Yes, it’s settled,” Eden replied dryly. “Unless you wish to enlist my boyfriend in any more of your twisted schemes?”
Jesse considered, then brightened with a smile. “Actually, I would.” He rummaged eagerly in the grass behind him. “Evan, I’d like you to look at this piece of wood, and tell me whether you see a dog or a cat.”
Chapter 6
It was midday by the time the friends crossed the prairie and found themselves in the marshy towns and fishing hamlets that wound alongside the river. They wandered along the main trail for a while, allowing themselves to drift beside the other travelers, before they came upon a village that looked promising and waved farewell to the rest of the group. There was a creak of wagons and the braying of donkeys as the others rolled slowly onwards, vanishing gradually over the next hill.
“Do you think they knew I was a vampire?” Evander asked curiously, staring after them. For almost six leagues, they’d been walking shoulder to shoulder. Not one of them gave him any trouble.
Eden glanced over in surprise. “Did you not see when the centaur fainted?”
Kiera stepped deliberately between them, taking both by the satchel and forcing them down the village path. “Let’s find ourselves a tavern, shall we?”
They followed along with surprising obedience. It wasn’t until they rounded a corner and saw the distant cropping of thatched rooftops, that Evander cast a sideways look at the fae.
“You’re making that up about the centaur,” he muttered.
“No, I’m not.”
Kiera tightened her grip, keeping her eyes squarely on the village. It was a skill she’d picked up working in a tavern, one that had carried seamlessly into her travels. If given the choice between destination and distraction, men would choose distraction every time. Best to keep looking forward.
“I hate talking with centaurs,” Jesse murmured absentmindedly, flicking at the ferns as he fell into step alongside them. “I never know where to look.”
Heaven help us...
By some strange superstition they’d developed over the course of their journey, they didn’t choose the first tavern they happened upon, but the second. It was the same layout they’d come to expect—a boisterous bar on the ground floor, and a place to sleep it off just up the stairs. The only difference was the small pasture attached to the back, where pigs and chickens rooted in the grass.
“Oh, that’s perfect.” Jesse pointed with a bright smile, gesturing between the tavern and the sty. “Dinner for us, dinner for the vampire...”
The others looked down quickly to hide their expressions, while Evander went very still. It took a few seconds before he finally turned those fathomless eyes to the shifter. “Would you care to sleep beside them?”
The conversation paused.
It was a trick vampires had—the ability to follow through on any threat. Jesse didn’t know how it would come about, or what exactly it meant, but there was no doubt it could come to pass.
He glanced once more at the pigs. “...I’d like to offer a sincere apology.”
The vampire swept stiffly past him. “Good dog.”
They’d arrived precisely at the midday rush, and the tavern was already filled to capacity. A pair of overworked servers rushed between tables packed with local fishermen and men come up from the quarry—looking to drink away their wages and blow off a little steam. It seemed unlikely they would even be noticed, yet every single head turned as the friends stepped through the door.
We should start charging people when this happens. It could finance our whole trip.
Eden made a quick sweep of the room, then cut straight to the proprietor, with the others trailing in his wake. There were more than a few whispers, a handful of open stares, but no one dared to approach. They could credit the vampire with that as well.
The owner straightened up in a hurry, smoothing down his clothes. “Good afternoon, my lord.” He bowed his head respectfully, the way they’d been taught as children to address the fae. “How might I be of service?”
Eden smiled cheerfully, catching his eyes. “We’d like to purchase two rooms for the night. Do you have any available?”
The man nodded quickly. “Of course, just a moment...”
The others watched as he rushed to the storeroom to procure the keys, already desperate to tell his wife about the strange group of patrons that wandered into the inn.
Jesse stepped forward, murmuring in the fae’s ear. “Two rooms. Can we afford that?”
Eden flashed a look at the vampire. “Can we afford not to?”
In a fortunate bit of timing, the man returned before Jesse could respond—wielding two bronze keys and a beaming smile. He placed both with a flourish in Eden’s hand.
“Our finest rooms,” he declared, fighting the urge to bow again. “If there’s anything else you require, just let me know. My name is Taggart. Henry Wells Taggart. This is my establishment.”
Kiera lifted her eyebrows slowly, fighting back a smile.
The words rolled off his tongue like a king, and he positively swelled with pride just saying them. If they’d lingered even a second longer, she was convinced he’d offer the fae a personal tour.
To his eternal credit, Eden didn’t laugh. He merely took the keys with a gracious smile. “And it’s one of the finest I’ve seen. You have our thanks, Master Taggart.”
The man’s mouth popped open, but he lacked the breath to speak. He merely watched with the same dumbstruck expression as his visitors climbed the rickety stairs, heading to their rooms.
It wasn’t until they’d reached the landing, a whisper choked from his lips. “...you’re welcome.”
THE ROOMS WERE INDEED more spacious than most—paired together with an adjoining door each of the friends silently vowed would remain shut. Furniture was sparse, but they had everything they needed. A dresser for clothes, a bin for washing. A large bed in the middle of the floor.
It caught their eyes at the same time.
“This is excellent,” Eden declared, turning to the others, “now leave.”
There was a beat.
“We just got here,” Kiera began in confusion, “why would we—”
“Not all of us,” he interrupted, gesturing between her and Jesse, “just you two. The vampire and I require some time to ourselves.”
Evander smirked behind him, while Jesse was enraged.
“You understand we have separate rooms—”
“And I have no wish to restrain myself, because my friend with lupine hearing is taking a bath next door.” He took Jesse by the shoulders, turning him towards the stairs. “Why don’t you wander the town for a while? Make a list of all the things you find that start with the letter m...”
The shifter wrenched himself free, turning with a mutinous expression. “It was my idea to come.”
“Then it’s a shame I spoke up first,” Eden answered smoothly. “If you’d like to discuss it, I completely understand.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Evan, would you care to explain it to him?”
Jesse let out a slow breath, praying for patience. “We’ll be outside.”
The fae smiled sweetly. “Take your time.”
The door swung shut before either of the mortals were able to reply. They stood there for a moment, standing on the wrong side of their precious room, then Jesse offered out his arm.
“Shall we?”
Kiera took it with sigh. “We shall.”
DESPITE HAVING BEEN unceremoniously ousted from their own lodgings, it wasn’t long before those tempers soothed in the balmy summer air. The village they’d picked was less of a trading hub, and more of a rural community. People wandered the streets in cheerful familiarity, hauling produce and tugging livestock, calling out friendly greetings as they went about their daily tasks.
Jesse and Kiera wandered with them, strolling hand in hand.
These people did not see the dragon. If they had, we’d see none of these smiles.
It wasn’t long before they left the busy streets behind and drifted upwards into the hills and houses. Some were grand, with sprawling fields of cattle. But most were a modest reflection of the town itself. Kiera focused upon one in particular—a tiny cottage dripping in wildflowers.
“That’s pretty,” she murmured, following the winding trellises.
Jesse paused in step beside her, following her gaze. He stared a moment, breathing in the scent of honeysuckle, before looking down with a curious smile. “Did you ever have a garden?”
She shook her head, eyes dancing with flowers. “I lived above the tavern. And before that, I shared a room with my parents. I’ve never had a space of my own.”
A prickle of fear rushed over her, as the fairy’s words drifted through her mind.
‘This burden will not always be yours alone to carry. And this journey of yours won’t last forever.’
“Does it ever make you nervous,” she blurted, casting a sideways look at his face, “to imagine what might happen when this is all finished?”
While the others might be more set in their plans, both she and Jesse were in the unique position of having absolutely nothing to return to. Her home had been destroyed by fire, along with everyone she’d ever known or loved. He was a wolf banished by his pack. An exile, forever hunted.
What a pair we make.
He glanced over in surprise. “Nervous? What do you mean?”
She hesitated, searching uncertainly for the words. “I guess as long as we’re doing this, it feels like I’m moving towards something. But when the dust finally settles...I don’t know what comes next.” She opened her mouth to say something more, then shook her head. “Where I come from, people are born and die in the same village. In all my life, I can’t think of anyone who ever left. I always supposed I’d do the same. Move out of the tavern, get a place for myself. I never imagined I wouldn’t have somewhere to call...”
Home.
It was the word that haunted her. The one she never allowed herself to say.
“Did you realize there were so many ways in which to build?” she continued abruptly, taking his arm once again. “In Cattaling, everything was made of pine. Pine tables, pine bannisters, pine brushes to run through your hair. The whole place smelled of it, I’d never seen anything else. But here”—she glanced around, warming with a smile—“there’s so much to choose from.”
It had been one of the things that struck her most in their travels, the different ways in which people carved out a corner of the world. Along the low country, most of the houses were built from the soft cypress and thick woven rushes one found along the river. Trystan and Sanna had made their house from pieces of polished stone. Once they left the familiar shores behind and travelled across the great sea, she was sure they’d find something completely different.
Perhaps there is nothing different about it. Perhaps a home is a home.
They’d started moving again, but Jesse’s face had gone very still. Twice, he glanced over his shoulder at the house she’d been admiring. Twice, he opened his mouth uncertainly, on the verge of saying something in reply. Their eyes met and he tucked it away, clearing his face with an easy smile.
“I’d like to start by saying that if the fae was here, he’d cheerfully point out how none of that actually matters, because none of us are going to survive.”
She laughed in spite of herself, leaning against his arm. “Admit it, you’re starting to like him. Even more since he made those apples for you.”
Jesse stared at her a split second too long, like he was suddenly realizing his life had grown rather strange. Then he took a breath and pulled them to a stop, turning to look into her eyes. “I like cedar.”
She blinked, sure she’d misheard. “What?”
“I like the curve and the weight,” he replied. “I like the smell when it rains. If I built myself a home somewhere with trees, I’d like to build it out of cedar.”
He paused ever so slightly. “What about you?”
...I like cedar.
She stared back at him a moment, warming with a secret smile. “I’d like...shelves. Lots of shelves.”
It was his turn to blink.
“Shelves?” he repeated in confusion.
She laced their arms together, strolling down the winding road. “You can’t keep carrying those books around forever. At some point, they’ll need a home.”
Chapter 7
“Do you think they’ll charge us extra for the bed?”
The immortals were lying side by side, sated and content, a tangle of damp sheets wrapped around their waists. Although they’d done their best to be careful, the room had not withstood the force of their efforts. The bed was the least of their troubles. There was also a crack in the floor.
“I think Master Taggart can let it slide, just this once.” Eden stretched up his arm, running his hand along the scratch in the frame. “We could always blame it on the wolf...”
Evander smiled to himself, gazing upwards at the ceiling. “One day, that wolf is going to bite your hand.”
“That is true enough.” The fae laughed, settling back upon the pillows. “But I have some time to spare. He does not yet know he can.”
They lay there for a while longer, only the sound of quiet breathing to break the silence.
The sun had crested and was beginning its slow descent, streaming through the tattered curtains in shafts of uneven light. It streaked across their bodies like ink spilled messy from a jar, drawing lines and illuminating sudden strips of skin, an ever-blending portrait of shadow and light.
After a few minutes, Eden rolled onto his side, tangling their legs together. “I could stay here forever,” he murmured, tracing a finger along the lines of the vampire’s arm, “have an eternity of moments like this. No company, no rush.” He smiled to himself at the thought, pressing a kiss to Evander’s cheek. “Just the two of us. Your hand in mine.”
Evander paused a split second, like he was debating how to reply.
“We could do that right now,” he answered softly.
Eden glanced up in surprise, then pulled back. “You don’t want to be here,” he said quietly. “You don’t care about any of this.”
There was a pause.
“Does it matter?”
“Evander—”
“Does it matter?” the vampire insisted. “It amounts to the same thing. I am here beside you for however long you wish to stay. I am here until the end.”
He leaned closer for a kiss, but Eden pulled away again.
“It matters that you care about things. That you’re invested in a place, in a group of people. It matters that you don’t want to see those things destroyed.” Eden stared a moment longer, then sat up stiffly, draping his arms across his knees. “I don’t want to be the only reason you’re here.”
Evander sat up as well, trying to interpret his expression. “What difference does it—”
“Because if you die, I will be the reason for that as well!” the fae snapped. “It will be on my shoulders, do you understand that? I will carry it with me forever.” He started to say something else, then fixed his eyes on the wall. “I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t care, Evander.”
The vampire regarded him in silence, that lovely face turned to stone.
It was the first time they’d spoken openly about such things, though they’d alluded them often enough. But as many troubles as the fae was carrying, the vampire had troubles of his own.
“Do you ever allow yourself to think beyond this very moment?” Evander asked a bit sharply. “Do you ever wonder what might happen when this is done?”
