moment was take her away from this charnel-grove, with the stew of demon-meat simmering in one pot and the tails boiling away in the other.
Cawley had forced her to do this grim, ghastly work; I had no doubt of that. What further proof did I need than that smile of hers as she looked up from her grisly labor? She saw her savior in me, her liberator.
“Quickly!” I said. With a nimbleness I was surprised to find I owned, I leapt the pile of bones that lay between us and caught hold of her hand. “Come with me, before they catch up.”
Her smile remained undimmed. “You speak good English,” she said.
“Yes . . . I suppose I do,” I said, amazed that the power of love had overcome the imperative that had turned my words to growls. What bliss to be able to speak my mind again!
“What’s your name?” the girl said.
“Jakabok Botch. What’s yours?”
“Caroline,” she said. “You’ve got two tails. You must be proud of them. May I touch them?”
“Later, when we have a little more time.”
“I can’t go, Jakabok. I’m sorry.”
“I want to save you.”
“I’m sure you do,” she said.
She put down her knife and took hold of my other hand, so that we stood, the two of us, face to face, hand to hand, with only the table of scraped bones between us.
“But my father wouldn’t allow it, I’m afraid.”
“Your father’s Cawley?”
“No. He’s my . . . he’s not my father. My father is the man with the wounds on his face.”
“The one with the pox, you mean?”
Her smile died instantly. She attempted to pull her hands from mine, but I would not let her go.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “That was careless of me, to say such a thing. I didn’t think.”
“Why would you?” Caroline replied coldly. “You’re a demon.
You’re not renowned for your intellects.”
“What then, if not our brain-power”
“You know very well.”
“Truly, I don’t.”
“Your cruelty. Your Godlessness. Your fear.”
“ Our fear? No, Caroline. It’s the other way round. We of the Demonation inspire fear in Humankind.”
“So what am I seeing in your eyes right now?”
She had me pinned. There was no squirming out of this. I could only tell the truth.
“You see fear,” I said.
“Of what?”
“Of losing you.”
Yes, I know how it sounds, believe me. Laughable would be kind, nauseating closer to the truth. But that’s what I said. And if you ever doubted the truth of what I’m telling you, then give up your doubts now, because if I were really deceiving you, I would not admit it, would I? How pathetic I must have sounded, playing the lover. But I had no choice. I was completely her creature at that moment: her slave. I leapt over the table between us, and before she could think to refuse me I kissed her. I know how to kiss, despite my lack of lips. I had practiced for years with the whores that used to loiter down the street from our house. I got them to teach me all their kissing tricks.
At first, my sleight of tongue seemed to be working like a charm. Caroline’s hands began to investigate my body, giving me license to do the same to her.
You’re wondering, of course, what happened to Cawley, the Pox, Nycross, O’Brien, Shamit, and Hacker, aren’t you? Of course, you are. And if I’d been less obsessed with Caroline I would have been doing the same. But I was too busy passing on all my kissing tricks.
Her hand moved around my back now, and slowly, tenderly, she ran her fingers up my spine until they reached the back of my neck. A shiver of pleasure ran through me. I kissed her more passionately than ever, though opening my mouth so very wide made my eyes water. Her hand tightened, pinching my neck. I pressed hard against her, and she responded by digging her fingers and thumb into my nape.
I tried to kiss her even more deeply in response to her touch, but she was done with kissing. Her fingers gripped my neck even more forcefully, and pulled my head backwards, obliging me to
Cawley had forced her to do this grim, ghastly work; I had no doubt of that. What further proof did I need than that smile of hers as she looked up from her grisly labor? She saw her savior in me, her liberator.
“Quickly!” I said. With a nimbleness I was surprised to find I owned, I leapt the pile of bones that lay between us and caught hold of her hand. “Come with me, before they catch up.”
Her smile remained undimmed. “You speak good English,” she said.
“Yes . . . I suppose I do,” I said, amazed that the power of love had overcome the imperative that had turned my words to growls. What bliss to be able to speak my mind again!
“What’s your name?” the girl said.
“Jakabok Botch. What’s yours?”
“Caroline,” she said. “You’ve got two tails. You must be proud of them. May I touch them?”
“Later, when we have a little more time.”
“I can’t go, Jakabok. I’m sorry.”
“I want to save you.”
“I’m sure you do,” she said.
She put down her knife and took hold of my other hand, so that we stood, the two of us, face to face, hand to hand, with only the table of scraped bones between us.
“But my father wouldn’t allow it, I’m afraid.”
“Your father’s Cawley?”
“No. He’s my . . . he’s not my father. My father is the man with the wounds on his face.”
“The one with the pox, you mean?”
Her smile died instantly. She attempted to pull her hands from mine, but I would not let her go.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “That was careless of me, to say such a thing. I didn’t think.”
“Why would you?” Caroline replied coldly. “You’re a demon.
You’re not renowned for your intellects.”
“What then, if not our brain-power”
“You know very well.”
“Truly, I don’t.”
“Your cruelty. Your Godlessness. Your fear.”
“ Our fear? No, Caroline. It’s the other way round. We of the Demonation inspire fear in Humankind.”
“So what am I seeing in your eyes right now?”
She had me pinned. There was no squirming out of this. I could only tell the truth.
“You see fear,” I said.
“Of what?”
“Of losing you.”
Yes, I know how it sounds, believe me. Laughable would be kind, nauseating closer to the truth. But that’s what I said. And if you ever doubted the truth of what I’m telling you, then give up your doubts now, because if I were really deceiving you, I would not admit it, would I? How pathetic I must have sounded, playing the lover. But I had no choice. I was completely her creature at that moment: her slave. I leapt over the table between us, and before she could think to refuse me I kissed her. I know how to kiss, despite my lack of lips. I had practiced for years with the whores that used to loiter down the street from our house. I got them to teach me all their kissing tricks.
At first, my sleight of tongue seemed to be working like a charm. Caroline’s hands began to investigate my body, giving me license to do the same to her.
You’re wondering, of course, what happened to Cawley, the Pox, Nycross, O’Brien, Shamit, and Hacker, aren’t you? Of course, you are. And if I’d been less obsessed with Caroline I would have been doing the same. But I was too busy passing on all my kissing tricks.
Her hand moved around my back now, and slowly, tenderly, she ran her fingers up my spine until they reached the back of my neck. A shiver of pleasure ran through me. I kissed her more passionately than ever, though opening my mouth so very wide made my eyes water. Her hand tightened, pinching my neck. I pressed hard against her, and she responded by digging her fingers and thumb into my nape.
I tried to kiss her even more deeply in response to her touch, but she was done with kissing. Her fingers gripped my neck even more forcefully, and pulled my head backwards, obliging me to
Similar Books
