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Chapter 3, Shade |
.: Publication date 23-Mar-2002 :: Reads: 1068 :: Review ::  ::  :. |
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I kissed her. I was expecting something, but what happened next surprised me so much I stopped. She kissed back; that I was prepared for, but the hunger in her response made me dizzy. Her lips were like soft petals and I wanted to revel in them, but she crushed her lips to mine. I felt her teeth meet mine through our lips and I tasted blood. I wasn't sure whose it was, and I didn't care. I was lost. I could feel her shaking and I slipped my arm around her. I opened my eyes to see her face while we kissed and the look in her eyes shocked me so much I did stop. There was that hunger there yes, but the pain was so overwhelming I didn't know what to do. I saw a trickle of blood trailing from her lip and knew it was she who bled. "Did I hurt you?" I reached out to touch her lip and she broke into tears.
I froze my hand in mid-air like a bird frozen in flight. She quickly progressed from tears into full-blown sobs; the force of them wracked her body. I reached out and wrapped both arms around her. At first she froze, a second later she melted into my arms and wept on my shoulder. I had no idea what was causing her torment so I just held her. I stroked her hair and a twinge of guilt flashed through me as I marveled at how soft it was. "It's OK, it's OK." I murmured again and again while she held onto me as if she was drowning. I let her go on like this as long as I could stand it and then, softly I asked, "What's wrong Dream?"
At first, I thought she didn't hear me, but in a few seconds, her tears slowed and she buried her face in my chest. "I...I can't do this, I'm sorry. I thought I could, but I can't." I could barely make out her words. She whispered into my shirt and kept her face hidden. She shook in my arms and then pulled herself together. She pulled away and sat against the far arm of the couch. I glanced around the room, partially to give her a moment to collect herself, partially so I could recover my own calm. I was amazed that the room was still empty. It was getting later and the club had been packed in front. I remembered the darkened hall we had come down to reach this place and thought perhaps the room wasn't well known. Secrets within secrets.
I turned to face Dream again and barely kept from jumping. Behind her stood a woman of medium stature, her hair was cut shoulder length, dyed black; and her make-up looked like the rest of her, average. I stared for a moment; she was running her fingers through Dream's hair and looking down at the top of her bowed head. The look on this woman's face was one of twisted desires. I didn't know what I was seeing at the time, but even then, I knew there was something in the woman that was not right. I looked at Dream, but she had her face turned away, buried in the corner between the couch and the interloper's body.
The stranger spoke and I was not surprised to hear a poorly faked accent spill from those painted lips. "Come along my pet." That was all, but Dream stood and followed meekly. I was shocked. I was aghast. I was alone in a strange club, in a part of town I had never before visited, and my date had just followed some bitch out of the room as if led by a ring through her nose; as if her keeper held the title to her soul. I reached for a cigarette and swore under my breath. My jacket had just walked out the door, and in my confusion, I hadn't even watched which direction they had gone. I looked at the table in front of me, searching for inspiration. All I saw was my coffee and Dream's wine; I reached for the coffee, changed my mind and grabbed the half-full glass of wine. I drank the wine in one gulp and stood. I still had cash in my back pocket, the bar was sure to sell smokes and I could really use another drink. If they hadn't carded me before, what was to say they would do so now?
I looked around me and tried to pierce the shadows. I had no idea where the door was, and I couldn't begin to guess. The darkness that surrounded me was complete. Small fragments of light illuminated a couch here, an armchair here, but no door. I reached again for my cigarettes and again realized they and my jacket were gone. I tried to feel anger for Dream, but all I felt was pity, well, pity and lust. I did feel betrayed, but more by circumstances than by her. I gave up and walked to the nearest wall, not that I could tell in the shadows, but I decided I'd either find the door face first, or trail my fingers along the wall until I found an exit. I reached one hand out in an attempt to avoid a broken nose. It was just like this, with one hand out as I shuffled along that they would have found me if I hadn't heard voices a split second before they entered the room from the opposite side of the room. Instead, they entered just in time to watch me turn, trip over the chair behind me, and fall flailing into the corner. I leapt up to the sound of applause.
"Well done, but the landing looked a little shaky, I give it an eight!" There was the strange priest guy I had seen Dream speaking with at the diner. Behind him were three or four others I had seen; one of them was the girl who had been with him. She aimed a slap at his arm and looked at me.
"Are you OK?" She stepped forward and introduced herself. "I'm Sketch, this joker is RG." She said it like a word, Arjie. "Actually his real name is something unpronounceable unless you've been speaking Italian for your entire life, so we call him RG. You'll have to excuse his behavior, he's having a crisis of lust." She turned a bit and gestured beyond RG. "These other fine fiends are Rose," A redheaded woman in her early twenties stepped forward and nodded in my direction. "Raven," I stifled a laugh as she pointed to a man with the whitest hair I had ever seen. He was dressed in all white, from his albino alligator cowboy boots to his bleached leather duster. "and this is Francis." She lowered her voice and stage whispered, "He nuts, but we all love him just the same."
"Just because you don't believe me when I say I'm an elf!" Francis leapt the back of a couch and sprawled across the cushions as if he had been there the entire time. He was dressed in what could only be describes as gypsy sheik. His hair looked like he'd killed Cindi Lauper for it, his jacket was more patch than original material, and he was wearing a kilt, if colorblind spiders on acid ever made kilts. "And here, you look like you could use it." He flipped a lit cigarette at me and I ducked, but when it sailed over my head, it exploded into colored streamers.
"Ha ha Francis." Sketch looked at me, then over her shoulder at RG, then back at me. A decision must have been made, because she nodded her head and asked me to join them. I started to decline. I think I said something about being out of smokes and needing a drink when before I knew it I had a cigarette in one hand a large glass of something foul and alcoholic in the other and I was back on the same couch Dream had led me to and left me on. Francis began to entertain us all with a tale of interstellar pool and gods at war and I decided to rest for the moment.
I waited for a lull in Francis' tale and then looked at RG. "Umm, if it's not too personal a question, what is a crisis of lust? I mean I've heard of a crisis of faith before, but..." I trailed off with a glance at his collar. The priests' collar was still there. He laughed and leaned forward.
"What this?" He fingered the collar. "I am a duly ordained priest of the catholic church. That doesn't preclude my involvement with those of other denominations. As for a crisis of lust, well, let's see; how shall I put this? When I'm taking confession and a woman admits she is a nymphomaniac, she wants it now, and she enjoys it in some rather unusual ways, that's a crisis of faith. Tonight, I was speaking with a women who I have sworn to bed." He paused and sipped his drink.
"I know, priests are supposed to be celibate and planning to go to bed with someone in what would clearly be an instance of adultery must be doubly bad in my case. Well, you're right, but in life, you have to have your priorities, and me, uptight and unable to do my job is worse in my mind than me going out and indulging this overblown libido of mine. And if I ever get caught out, I'd much rather it be with a normal woman than say, an eighteen year old midget hooker with a proclivity for bringing young boys with her on her tricks." He smiled and shot a glance at Francis who made exaggerated 'who me?' gestures.
"As for a crisis of lust," He went on. "a crisis of lust is what happened tonight when I finally got this girl alone. She is beautiful, one of those women you see who is always sitting on the edge of the crowd, or just one table away. She rarely wears enough to cover a body you'd readily kill for, but whenever you come on to her or invite her to join your table she gets this blush across the tops of her breasts and demurs. Well, the blush might be specific to this girl, but I have got to know how far down it goes!" Sketch slapped him again, but I could tell it was the affection of a long time friend rather than any form of rebuke. "Anyway, I finally got her alone and what happens? We spoke for nearly an hour and in the end she, not me, but she is the one to make the next advance. She wants to know if I want to meet up again and maybe go somewhere more private. I readily agreed to meet her at this nice restaurant none of these rabble know." he smiled at his friends. "And she left for who knows where."
"So where's the crisis?" I was getting to like this strange group. I was also feeling a lot less adrift on the night now that I had people around me again.
"The crisis, the crisis you see is now that I have put all this effort into this girl, I want to talk to her. I actually want to know what makes her tick. I'm going to go to that dinner tomorrow night and I'm probably going to spend every minute conversing and not a single minute pressing my advantage. The crisis is that I'm still horny, but instead of grunting into the pillows like bunnies, I want to be talking. Ironic for a priest out on the town isn't it." RG smiled and leaned back into the pillows. "But you still haven't introduced yourself. You know all our names. What do you call yourself?"
I introduced myself and we fell to talking. Rose was a ball of energy and she kept flitting from the arm of one couch to the other. She was always leaning over someone's shoulder and nibbling on his or her ear or braiding their hair. I nearly broke her jaw the first time she snuck up behind me and sent a stream of hot breath running across the back of my neck. She dissolved into giggles and soon I began to feel like one of the gang. After his initial outburst, Francis lapsed into silence except for the occasional comment and Sketch kept to herself. I finally asked Raven about his name and everyone went silent. I back-pedaled worried that I had finally asked something too personal.
"I'm sorry, never mind, I didn't mean-" Raven cut me off.
"No need, they just love to hear me tell this story. You see I'm American Indian, not that you can tell. When I was younger, I had raven black hair, that's why I was given the nickname when I was thirteen actually. I had some white friends who thought it was funny because the ravens in town always followed me around. The name stuck outside the tribe, but; four years later, I was struck by lightening." I must have made some noise because he stopped and looked at me. I tried to look credulous and apparently satisfied, he continued.
"When I was struck by lightening, I lost all my hair and spent nearly six months in coma. The entire time, or so I'm told; a huge raven kept watch outside my hospital window. By the time I woke up, my hair had begun to grow back and it was white. I even tried dying it once, but the dye just washed out. Also, the raven that kept watch lives with me now, it's not exactly a pet, but if I'd let it, it would come in here with us. I just don't think the smoke is very healthy for it. There are two strange things about all this. To my people, the raven is one of the trickster's people; he's like the creative urge, but with a mischievous streak a mile wide. My tribe are afraid to let me stay on the res now because of what they feel to be too close a tie to Trickster, but they don't want to turn me away because unlike the western gods- No offense RG- our totems are all considered neutral, mostly something you don't want to get on the bad side of. So they think I'm touched or that it's a joke because of my keeping the nickname or something. The other thing, and this is the really strange one, is that on the day I woke up from the coma, the raven turned as white as my hair. You'll have to see that to believe it, but it's true. I'm still blaming the whole thing on Trickster playing mind games with us all, but others think it's significant somehow." He lit a cigarette and offered me one. I gratefully took one, lit it, and blew a few smoke rings while I thought.
I felt like I should say something, but other than 'wow, cool story' I couldn't think of what so I settled for an old favorite. "Fascinating." Raven smiled and like it was a signal, the conversation took up where it had left off. I felt again like I had passed some test, but I had no idea what the grading scale was. After that, I nursed my drink and listened to the ebb and flow of talk. A few other people filtered into the room and one couple went straight for the darkest corner. A few moments later, I could hear the soft sound of silk on skin and occasional low moans of pleasure. That started me wondering what sort of club I had been brought to and then I was back to thinking about Dream. I was about to ask the others if they knew of the strange woman, who had claimed her when RG stood up and announced it was time to 'get me back to town'. I protested that I could find my way and it was then that I discovered I wasn't allowed to leave by myself.
"Ten visits Xeno, that's the rules." RG looked almost apologetic. "You are allowed ten visits at the invitation of others, then it is decided by the owners."
"What's decided?" I asked.
"Whether or not you get to learn where we are. Here." he handed me a shot glass full of something that was so green it nearly glowed in the dark. He picked up one of his own and looked me in the eye. "One for the road, bottoms up!" He tilted his head back and the drink slid out of sight. I emulated his actions and shot the drink myself. It tasted strangely minty, but there was a cloying aftertaste that I couldn't identify. I set the empty glass on the table and used the action to steady myself. I thought I had drunk more than I expected, but then the room slid sideways and all I saw was darkness.
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