Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/467418.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Original_Work
  Character:
      Original_Characters
  Additional Tags:
      Community:_smut_fest, Demons, Priests, Mentors, Underage_Character,
      Coercion, Erotic_Horror, Grooming
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-07-22 Words: 14492
****** On The Turning Away ******
by kkscatnip_(autohaptic)
Summary
     In a world where demons torture humans for fun, religions are based
     on how they deal with the threat of demons. Ziyans offer up their
     priests--people often purchased as children from impoverished
     families--for the greater good. But is it really worth it? Can any
     good come from consorting with demons?
My parents up and decided to give me over to the Ziyan church when I was ten.
They told me that the cathedral in New Telava where I was gonna go was the
greatest in all of Walid, and that being a priest wasn't disgraceful; priests
kept everybody else safe, or safer at least, from the terrifying appetites of
demonkind. I didn't learn until two days after my fourteenth birthday that they
gave me to the Ziyans so that they wouldn't have to pay taxes; the news came
from a demon named Latenetstar the night he came to take my virginity.
"So you see," he purred, stepping into a shadow on one side of me and out of a
shadow on the other side, "you are worthless to your family, to everyone else;
your only value is to fulfill your function as a priest. I intend to be the
first to make use of your... services."
It took me a couple tries to get words out. I had seen demons here and there,
but never one close enough to feel their breath on my skin. "Ziyans aren't
meant to serve until they're fifteen and initiated."
He laughed. "Oh, Baki. Baki, Baki, Baki. I cannot imagine why in the three
worlds you would truly believe that being initiated makes any great
difference."
The Ziyans are great lovers of education, so they raised me and learned me--
taught, rather, me with my backwards country vocabulary that they were doing
their best to eradicate--all about the scriptures and the scriptures said yeah,
it made all the difference in the world. But the other priests in the cathedral
here told me their experiences, and they said that it didn't matter a lick. I
knew which one I was more willing to trust.
"It doesn't," I said, looking down at Latenetstar's feet. Or where his feet
should be; the room was shadowed and I was pretty sure it was just him from the
knees up standing in this world because I couldn't see his feet at all. Not
that I could see the rest of him very well either: barely even an outline,
thanks to his dark coloring.
"I find myself more and more delighted with you every moment," he said, and I
guess that laugh sounded kind of delighted, but mostly it sounded creepy. "I
think I will keep you."
"Why--" I started, or tried to start, but he was already leaning down and
pressing his lips against mine. I wanted more than anything to pull away, but
it was something that Visham had told me that kept me from doing that: They
like it when you fight 'em, so if you don't want 'em to pay attention to you,
don't let anything they do bother you and don't fight 'em. Ever.
And Visham was right: Latenetstar looked like he'd been sucking on a lemon when
he pulled away. "I'll claim you next time," he said, and flicked his fingers
out in a brief not-a-wave before turning and stepping into the shadows,
disappearing completely this time.
The air in the room got a little lighter--it always felt so heavy when a demon
was around, a feeling that anybody living in a Ziyan church got to know in an
up close and personal way. I let out the breath I didn't even realize I was
holding as I leaned back against the desk chair, making it creak.
Visham was twenty-five, a full priest for ten years now, and said my weird
coloring, red hair and skin pale enough for freckles and blue eyes, would paint
a target on my back, but believing him wasn't exactly... well, it was the last
thing I wanted to do. Looked like I was gonna owe him an apology for calling
him a fear-mongering liar with a tongue like a pit viper.
---
I knew my parents were always afraid of my hair and eyes--red and blue together
was considered an unnatural, blasphemous combination in the part of Walid I
came from, and I can't even tell you the number of times I was almost stoned in
the streets before I learned to wear a head scarf all the time--but knowing
they'd pretty much sold me to the church was... it knocked me out for a few
days. I didn't wanna get out of bed, I didn't wanna go to class, I didn't wanna
do nothing.
Visham put an end to that, dismissing Hakir, my friend and a younger acolyte
who I'd set at the door to make everybody just leave me alone, and then making
me tell him what was wrong, what was going on. When I finished, he just sighed
and shook his head. "So what, your parents sold you. Mine gave me away because
they couldn't afford to keep me. Besides, the more you mope around, the more
Laten's gonna gloat when he comes back."
"Let him gloat, then." I rolled over, pulling the pillow over my head and
squeezing my eyes shut.
"For the love of--Baki, you're so..." Visham trailed off, and I felt the bed
dip as he sat down. "Look, do you want me to, you know, take your virginity
instead so he won't be interested?"
It was probably the kindest offer anyone ever made for me, but I'd already been
told by Osníe, she who had power but hated to make threats, not to let anyone
but a demon do that, on pain of death. Even if she didn't like to use power,
she knew what kept the demons placated, and it was not being robbed of the
things they expected to remain available to them. "No. I just, I guess I ain't
gotta wonder why I never got a reply for any of my letters, huh?"
"Any of your--oh, letters to your family? Mine never replied either; I think
they probably keep the letters and don't send them out." Visham pushed me over
a little, and I scooted back so that he could crawl under the blankets with me.
Despite his age he was small, no more than a few inches taller than me. He
smoothed my dark red curls away from my face and pressed a kiss against my
forehead. "Look, just, don't let it get to you, all right?"
I wrapped my arm around his waist and shifted down a little so I could lay my
head on his chest. "Okay, Visham."
He rested his chin on my head and wrapped his arm around me in return. "So,
you're gonna go back to normal tomorrow, right? No more moping around; you
don't want Laten to have the pleasure of knowing he got to you."
"Okay, Visham," I said, even softer than before. I waited a few breaths, hoping
I could be strong enough to not say it, but fear was running rampant in my mind
at the idea of seeing Laten again. "Just stay with me tonight, okay?"
Visham hugged me tightly. "Whatever you want, Baki. I just have to go set
things in order in my room first, right? So they don't send out search
parties."
It was mostly a joke; everyone knew that they watched the priests and acolytes-
-that's what I was, stuck in an arranged marriage that I hadn't agreed to in
the first place--like hawks. If they didn't know Visham was in my room right
now, I'd eat my hat. The poet's cap that I wore most of the time, that is; it
was the last thing I had left from home. I was going to throw it away as soon
as Visham left.
We lay there a while longer before he declared that he had to go now, at which
point he untangled from me and gave me another kiss on the forehead. "If I'm
not back in an hour..." He didn't put it into words, but we both knew what he
was saying: If he wasn't back in an hour, a demon wanted his services, and
there was no telling when he would return.
Still, I wasn't going to make him say it. I smiled. "I'll see you before the
morning, either way."
His nod was relieved. "Just so," he said, and headed for the door.
"Visham!" I called, as he opened it, though not too loud. Hopefully not loud
enough to carry beyond the room.
"Yes?" He turned to face me, closing the door, leaning back against it, but did
not return to my side.
Well enough; it would just make it harder for him to leave if he did that. "I'm
sorry for calling you a liar. You were right--about my coloring, I mean. So,
I'm sorry."
The smile that had been playing Visham's lips disappeared as he pressed them
together, looking away from me. "I'm sorry, too," he said softly. "I wish--
I wish I had been wrong."
That made two of us, then. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "It's
okay. Just--go do what you need to do and come back, okay?"
"Okay." His smile returned, if a little strained. "Take a bath while I'm gone;
you stink."
I stuck my tongue out at him, not caring how childish it was. What did it
matter if I acted like a child? I was fourteen, after all.
---
How I fell asleep that night, I couldn't say. A miracle, perhaps, a real live
miracle. Whatever the cause, when I woke up just after dawn Visham was there
with me. I'm not what you would call a morning person, so it took me until my
hand ran into something slick to realize that all was not right; Visham was
cold against my side and there was something pooled under our combined weight.
Horror crept up my spine. I had wet myself in the night, surely. Not... Then
why won't you open your eyes? I asked myself.
And then I smelled it: blood. I sat up, awake like a lightning bolt all of the
sudden, and what I saw was an image seared into my mind: Visham there in bed
with me, but naked rather than clothed, though the blankets down around his
waist kept his decency.
But, but that wasn't... it wasn't the bad part. The smell of blood came from
what was splattered over the bed, over his chest, even over my pillow. Someone
had ripped his throat out and written on the wall above the headboard in his
blood: HE WANTED WHAT WAS MINE.
I ain't ashamed to say: I passed out right there, right on the spot.
Hakir, the younger acolyte assigned to me and a couple other about-to-be
priests, was probably the only reason I came around again. When I did it was to
the realization that my unconscious body had fallen over Visham's and the boy
was babbling in some language that wasn't Telavese.
In a panic I pushed myself away from Visham, flailing backwards into Hakir and
falling off of the bed entirely. "Baki!" Hakir said, tone urgent.
I shivered all over, trying to pull off my bloody night-shirt and get as far
away from the bed as I could at the same time. I accomplished the latter before
the former, and even once I'd done them both I realized that I had blood
smeared on my face, my arms. "Get it off me, Hakir! Get his blood off of me!"
Hakir was shaking as badly as I was, reaching in his pocket for a kerchief and
then going for the pitcher of water he'd brought in for me to clean my face, as
he did every morning. "Hold still," he whispered, and I could tell that he was
near tears.
He'd never seen anyone dead before. I had never seen anyone dead before, for
that matter. "Get it off," I sobbed helplessly, holding my arms out to him. I
couldn't care that I was crying, not right now, panic still rising in my chest,
beating in my ears far faster than my pulse.
Very probably, holding still was the hardest thing I'd ever done before. I
trembled with the effort and steadily grew more and more nauseated, until Hakir
rubbed the cloth over my nose and I inhaled and all at once, I turned and was
miserably sick right there on the carpet.
The next thing I thought was foolish as all get out, but the only thing in my
head at that moment was that poor Hakir was gonna be the one who had to clean
it. "I'm sorry," I said. Whispered, low and miserable and knowing it was all my
fault.
"It's okay," Hakir said, one hand on my back. "Your face--let me finish
cleaning it off, please?" His voice shook a little, and I could see tears
running down his face. "I didn't mean to make you..." He waved a hand at the
stinking mess on the floor.
The smell of it was making me feel like I was gonna add to it, so I got up and
moved away, all the way out of the bedroom and into the little sitting room
where I had a desk and a couch and a low table squeezed in there. I sat on the
couch, and Hakir joined me shortly, his cloth looking much cleaner than it had
before.
He sat on the table, and I held my breath until he was done. "There," he said,
pulling back.
Neither of us looked toward the bedroom door, instead sitting in silence, Hakir
playing with his wash cloth and me trying to think about something that wasn't
the fact that Laten had killed Visham for wanting me. Just for wanting. Nothing
else. Visham had never made an honest pass at me, never done a damn thing
besides be a friend and mentor to me ever since I got here.
And Laten killed him for it. Ripped out his throat and wrote on the wall with
his blood.
I was going to be sick again.
Hakir figured it out probably as soon as I did--I guessed I looked pretty
green--and rushed into the bedroom for the basin. He brought it back just in
time and I was miserably sick into it, then just kept dry heaving after that.
Heaving and heaving and nothing coming out.
Did Laten kill Visham there?
Was Visham awake? Did he know?
Did it matter? Make a difference? Probably not.
Eventually the dry heaving stopped and I leaned back against the couch, panting
as my head spun.
"I gotta go tell somebody," Hakir said, about the time I caught my breath. He
looked down at his hands, twisted together, knuckles white with the grip he had
on his own fingers. "Are you going to be okay until I get back?"
As long as nobody made me go back in there, I was pretty sure I could resist
turning into some kind of screaming mess. Hopefully. I just nodded, not
trusting my voice to lie good enough for Hakir.
"I'll be back as soon as I can. Okay?" His brows were drawn together, hazel
eyes worried.
I nodded again.
Hakir left, looking over his shoulder nearly the whole time.
I wished like burning that I could pass out again. If there really was
something out there that wasn't the demons--that was supposed to be the third
world, the non-demon, non-human world--I wished they'd make me conk out, but
either there wasn't a damn thing out there or they didn't have enough pity to
spare some for me.
Osníe was completely calm and collected when she came in, looking like she
dealt with this kind of thing every day of the week and twice a day on the
weekends.
Maybe she did. Maybe every priest who was transferred, every priest who worked
out their debt to society, who left at all, was killed. Maybe that was why
Visham was so jaded and bitter: he knew he was gonna get killed.
The whole thing made me sick all over again, but lucky for me the basin was
right there and I still didn't have anything in my stomach. Hakir was right
there when I was done not quite throwing up, offering me a glass of water. I
took a sip, swished, and spat several times, and the taste still wasn't gone,
but it was better than nothing.
Hakir's smile, small and said, said he knew what I was thinking.
Does Hakir want me? I wondered, suddenly. Laten hadn't specified in what sense
Visham wanted me, but... Hakir certainly wanted to be close to me, and always
had been a little close before. I looked down at the carpet. I had to protect
him; I couldn't get close to him. Couldn't get close to anyone ever again, even
outside of sex. "Go help them," I said, probably too soft to convince him that
it was what I really wanted. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Give Osníe a
hand, Hakir."
Whatever else he was, Hakir was obedient. Just like I was at twelve, I guessed.
He wiped his face of tears and headed for the bedroom.
I, on the other hand, started crying again. I couldn't stop thinking, couldn't
stop wondering, couldn't stop imagining Laten standing over Visham--how had he
managed to not wake me?--and reaching down and just... Everybody knew demons
had inhuman strength, so I guess it wouldn't be hard for a demon to rip
someone's throat out.
Or had Visham been standing up when Laten did it? Looking him in the eye.
Imagining it that way made me feel a little better, just the idea that Visham
had done what he could to protest, to stand up, to die like a fighter rather
than a pri--
I didn't need to be thinking about that particular saying right now.
Osníe saved me, appearing right then and looking me in the eye. She wasn't an
ice queen or anything, despite her position. She came and sat next to me and
bumped my shoulder with hers. "You know you can't tell anyone, right?"
"On pain of death?" I asked, voice twisting with bitterness.
"Yes," she murmured, and reached over to take my hand.
I pulled both of my hands away from her, but did not look her in the face. I
couldn't take seeing the hurt in her face.
"Baki..."
"Don't want your pity," I growled. I didn't. Truly, it was the last thing I
wanted.
"You need to know, it's the way of things. You're old enough to know, now. I'd
have kept it from you until you were initiated, if I could, but the demons
rarely like to stick to plans. Especially Laten; I'm sorry you've attracted his
attention."
"Visham--" My voice shook horribly, "--said I would. My coloring."
She sighed. "And your innocence."
I laughed, though it sounded pained. "Oh, is that all. It's a good thing I
don't got any more of that, right?"
"Just so. I'm going to release Hakir from his duties for a time; he can stay
with you."
"No," I breathed, head snapping around to look at her. Sharper, I repeated it.
"No. He--it's not safe. You saw the message. I can't--no. You can't do that.
Can't."
Osníe shook her head. "He'll find comfort elsewhere, then, and be sorry he
can't have any from someone who shares his pain."
"It's not safe," I said again, knowing it to be true.
"I'm going now. You can go out in the park if you'd like, while the servants
clean up."
I didn't want to go outside. I just wanted to sit here. I shrugged.
"Suit yourself," she said, rose, and went back into the bedroom. She wasn't in
there a minute before she headed out, one hand on Hakir's back, guiding him
past without allowing him to stop.
I hated and loved her for that, at the same time.
---
It didn't take long for the servants to arrive. The servants who would clean
up. Clean Visham's body up.
In between when Osníe and Hakir left, I'd convinced myself that I needed to see
it. One more time, before it was all gone; I had to see it, had to watch them
clean up the horrible mess that I had let happen.
As soon as I followed them in, I wished they hadn't. The smell of death was
grotesque; I swallowed compulsively until the nausea went mostly away and sat
down on the far corner of the bed and drew my hands up to my chest and watched.
Visham was as pretty in death as he had been in life: skin still bronze, brown
hair black in some places with blood, green eyes lifeless and staring, rolled
up a little, like he was trying to read what Laten had written.
Maybe he didn't die immediately. Maybe he choked on blood. Maybe he breathed
blood. Maybe--
I didn't need to do this. I just needed to watch: watch them move him onto a
stretcher and cover him with the bloody blankets--lucky me, I mussed the covers
horribly in my sleep so I didn't have to move for them to remove the blankets--
and watched as another servant began cleaning the blood off of everything.
The headboard, the nightstand. The wall.
HE WANTED WHAT WAS MINE.
Never again, I swore.
---
If I was completely with it and coherent and everything, I would've expected
Laten to visit me that night, even though demons visiting two days in a row was
rare. But I wasn't expecting him; I was shivering under my new blankets in
early Summer and trying very hard not to imagine that I could smell blood and
death still hanging about in the room. Maybe they'd missed a spot in cleaning.
My eyes snapped open the second I felt the room get all heavy and oppressive,
just in time to see Laten's dark form stepping out of a shadow. He was dark-
skinned where I was pale, with hair as dark as the shadows he seemed to live
in. His eyes were demon eyes, though, shifting color with his mood. They were
pale, pale blue now, glinting in the light from the moon as a smile spread over
his lips.
He was wearing clothes similar to my acolyte robes. "Look at you," he purred.
"Shaking like a leaf in the wind."
"They said I'm coming down with a fever." I hoped that Laten didn't know me
good enough to recognize paper-thin bravado when he heard it.
His smile said that I wasn't that lucky. "That would be why you were throwing
up all over the place this morning. It all makes sense now: vomiting,
hallucinating, shaking. You simply must be sick; there's no other explanation."
"When was I hallucinating?" I asked, only realizing a heartbeat later that it
was probably exactly the question he wanted me to ask.
"So you're going to lie there and tell me you weren't hallucinating that you
can still smell the blood? They did get it all, coincidentally; there's none
that you can't see."
I sat up in bed, letting the blankets fall down as I turned to face Laten fully
and crossed my legs. That way felt much safer than letting them hang over the
side of the bed, which was stupid, but there it was. Laten was not in any way
reading my mind; he was just reading my body language and had apparently been
watching me for some time. I put my hands on the bed on either side of me
rather than clench them together. "Did you have a reason for showing up, Laten?
Or are you just here to give me nightmares?"
Laten leaned against my bedpost, looking down at me. "Dearest, you would have
to fall asleep tonight if you were to have nightmares; I sincerely doubt you're
able."
I looked up at him, narrowing my eyes, glaring even if there wasn't no way I
was gonna slow my pulse. "Leave me be and watch; I'll fall asleep."
He touched the tip of my nose with the tip of his finger. "You think so? Are
you confident enough to make a wager?"
No. "Yes."
"Mmm. Okay. If I leave and you fall asleep, you can choose when I take your
virginity, provided you don't allow anyone else to take it. But if I leave and
you can't sleep... I get to choose, and if another demon takes your virginity
before then I'll torture you to death."
I swallowed, looking down at the blankets. They were so white. So new. The
latter was probably going to happen anyway, so why was I even nervous about
making the bet?
Because there was a difference between possibility and probability.
But what was the alternative: don't make the bet and give in to fear? No,
Visham wouldn't want that. "Okay."
Laten laughed, sounding delighted. "Excellent." He leaned over, brushing his
lips over mine briefly. "I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early. Yes?"
I shrugged.
He laughed again, stepped into the shadow of the headboard, and disappeared.
---
I was pretty sure that the clock on the mantle was thirty-one seconds faster
than the big one in the bell tower that tolled the hours for all of New Telava.
When I wasn't asleep, I spent as little time in my rooms as I could, so I
hadn't noticed it before, but as the clock tolled six o'clock in the morning I
knew it beyond even a glimmer of doubt.
"How long do you suppose we continue the fiction?" Laten's voice came from the
darkness over by the wardrobe.
Could demons just speak in our world and remain completely in theirs? Or did
their disembodied mouths flap in the middle of otherwise empty space? The
mental image made me shudder anew when all my other shivers had stopped around
half-past three. "The idea that you were watching me kept me up," I said, not
having to fake petulance even if the words were a lie.
It was the sight of Visham with his throat ripped out that kept me awake,
waiting to crop up in my mind every time I drifted toward sleep. The feel of
his body against mine, not cold but not warm either. The--
"Never seemed to bother you before." Laten stepped out of the shadows and into
the pink early-morning light just beginning to come from the window; it made
his brown skin practically glow.
"So you won your bet," I said, not caring how resentful I sounded. "Are you
going to take your prize?"
Laten grinned. "No, not yet. I'm patient; I'll take you when I want, and no
sooner."
He really knew how to get to me; I did feel relieved that he wasn't going to do
it now, but there was still that worry, that distress that I had no idea when
he was going to do it. At least if he did it now, it would be done and over
with. "You're just a tease." I put all of the bravado I could into the words.
"Am I?" Laten tilted his head, canted his hips. "I'd like to think that I
deliver only what you're ready for."
This, at least, I had a good response for. "Just because you think something
doesn't mean it's right."
The way he shrugged was fluid, graceful, which was an absurd thing to label a
shrug but I found myself noticing it anyway. He leaned over a little, so his
face was even with mine. "You're going to be a lot of fun," he purred, then
leaned forward and kissed me.
I recoiled instinctively, panic flooding through me as I scrambled backward
over the bed, eyes wide, heart beating a mile a minute. He didn't follow me,
instead staying leaned over and looking at me with hooded eyes while I panted
for breath. I didn't dare look away from him, keeping my eyes trained on his
every movement.
He smiled, slow, utterly pleased looking. "See? I told you: you're going to be
a lot of fun, dearest."
Some absent, non-panicked part of my brain noted that this was the second time
he'd called me that and maybe, maybe he was making that my nickname. Dearest,
like I was... The whole idea made me want to vomit, stomach rolling. My
breathing was the hardest thing to even out, but Laten just put his hands on
the bed to brace himself and watched me master my reactions.
"I hate you," I whispered, and sighed, my breathing still not quite right.
"Grist for the mill." He straightened all at once and winked at me. "When
you're ready," he said, simply, and then turned and walked into a shadow.
I watched him go, not able to respond, not able to do anything but lie there on
my elbows. I eventually flopped onto my back and sighed, bringing one hand up
to my chest to feel my heartbeat, even though I could already hear it in my
ears. Fast, but slowing down.
A knock at the door startled me and set my heart to thumping too fast, but it
was just one knock, just Hakir, come to wake me up.
I sat up so that he wouldn't come over to the bed. "I don't need you to wake me
up anymore." Hakir waking me up each morning was something that I had arranged
back when I graduated from the chores that Hakir did now, a way to keep contact
with people closer to my age than the mid-twenties that most of the priests
were.
Hakir stopped mid-step and looked at his feet for a moment before looking at
me. His eyes were so pretty, looking more green than brown today because of the
brown shirt he wore. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No," I said quickly, shaking my head. "No, I just, I need to be more
independent." And not let anyone else get close enough to me to desire me.
They'd end up dead and it would be entirely my fault, like Visham; everyone
knew demons could get rather possessive and I just let Visham...
The breath I drew in was shaky; my eyes burned. "It's not your fault, Hakir."
My voice cracked on his name, but that wasn't unusual; I still wasn't out of
puberty's clutches just yet. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"Neither did you." Hakir took a step closer.
"No," I breathed, scooting backward until my back was against the headboard.
"Don't come near me, Hakir. You can't--it's not safe."
He shook his head, straight brown hair swinging a little as he did. "Living in
a Ziyan church is never safe," he said softly.
"Don't come near me," I ground out between clenched teeth. "Just don't. I don't
care if you--what you think is okay. Don't. come. near. me."
The hurt in his eyes made my chest ache, but my heart sang when he turned away.
He was going to be safe; nothing bad would happen to him and I was going to
make sure it stayed that way.
---
Laten was as religious as I was supposed to be. Although he didn't visit every
day, he always visited at least once a week, in the morning, to tease me about
the night before. Even weeks after Visham--after it happened, I was still
having nightmares, still waking up in the middle of the night and forcing
myself to stay awake for fear of falling sleep again.
Because if I fell asleep, Visham would be there waiting for me. Alive, asking
me why I had damned him, or dead, with his throat gaping and the smell of
blood. The sight of it, too. Blood was always red. Always gleaming at me in the
early morning light. Always oily when I touched it, clinging to my skin the way
I had clung to Visham.
"Another sleepless night?" Laten asked, as he crawled into the other side of
the bed beside me. His body was demon-warm, almost burning against my skin.
I squared my shoulders and looked at him, bold as I could manage with my eyes
burning from lack of sleep and that familiar heartache blooming in my chest.
"Yes, no thanks to you." I paused and pursed my lips for a moment, as if
annoyed. "It's been six days, you know. I almost thought you'd forgotten me."
Laten's eyes flashed to orange, a color I had never seen on him before. "I
could never forget you, dearest. Don't imagine my affections to be so easily
shifted; no one else compares to you."
But why, I wanted to know even if I didn't dare ask. Why was I so interesting?
Why was he so fixated on me? "Could've fooled me."
He brought one hand up, putting his thumb on one side of my neck and his
fingers around the other, pressing the crease of where thumb met palm against
my windpipe. "You won't speak to me like that. Are we clear?"
"Yes," I choked. It was amazing how little pressure it took to make me almost
completely unable to breathe. I would've thought it'd take more. I wasn't
afraid, though; hadn't he just said no one compared to me? There was no danger
of him killing me.
"Good," he said softly, maybe a minute later. His eyes had cooled to light
green, almost teal. Blue was aroused, for him, so when he leaned in and pressed
his lips against mine I was ready for it.
What I wasn't ready for was my body's reaction, the way my hips jerked as Laten
bit my lip and the sickening heat that washed through my senses. Was Laten
placing a spell on me? I'd had spikes of heat before--I wasn't made of stone--
but never anything like this.
The heat dominated my senses and I even made a sound, a needy sound, into the
kiss.
"I'd wondered how long it would take," Laten murmured, grinning lazily as he
pulled back.
Without his lips pressed against mine, I was free to lean back against the
headboard and pant like I'd just run around the entire cathedral. Twice. What
was he doing to me? "For what?" I asked, having learned that working on
inference was dangerous.
Laten's grin turned predatory and his eyes flickered away from me for a moment,
over to the side. "For you to enjoy being kissed by me."
I didn't have to turn my head to see what he was looking at; the tray in
Hakir's hands clattered to the floor as he stood there, mouth open with shock.
"Baki," he whispered, like he couldn't believe it; he shook his head, turned,
and fled.
Sighing, I closed my eyes. It hurt, but at least this would discourage Hakir
from getting close to me. "You going to get me some breakfast to replace that?"
He just laughed, throwing his head back, a big booming laugh that was nothing
like the sultry chuckle he usually gave. "Oh, I don't think so. It will be more
miserable for him to have to come back and see you again. Do you suppose he
will look you in the eyes? Or will he ask one of his other little friends to do
it? Care to make a wager on the probability of his return?"
I didn't, but I'd learned that Laten made and held me to the wagers even if I
didn't want to participate. "He'll beg someone else to come clean it for him,"
I muttered.
"He'll do it himself, I believe. And on that note, it is time for me to depart.
Think of me when I am gone, dearest." He winked, like he knew that I tried my
very best to not think of him when he was gone.
Laten won the bet again. I couldn't face Hakir, myself, and was dressed by the
time he returned so that I could ride out to the park that the cathedral shared
with the palace and find a quiet place to cry all of my emotion out.
---
Sometimes when he came, I'd be out of bed, having given up on sleeping, and at
my desk writing. I had correspondence with acolytes in other Ziyan churches,
the way we all did. I don't think any of us exactly enjoyed writing the letters
but they always gave us grief if we fell behind so for the most part I think
everyone kept up with their correspondence.
Laten liked to stand behind the chair and brush his stomach, his crotch,
against the back of my head and neck and shoulders. Casually. It made me tense
and lose my train of thought completely the first time he did it--I suppose
that was his intent, now that I'm thinking on it--but I'd grown accustomed to
the touches over the last six months and found myself hardly noticing it now
when he leaned over my shoulder, his chest brushing the side of my face, and
plucked the letter off of my desk.
And so I think that there is more to demonkind than simply torturing humanity,
he read. There must be. He placed the letter back on the desk and leaned back
to press a kiss against my chest, draping his arms down so his forearms rested
on my shoulders. "You're right."
I blinked, surprised. "I'm right?"
"There is more to demonkind than simply torturing humans. Humanity, rather,
though I think you are misusing the word. There's even demons like Amin and his
lot who--well, let's say that it's not their own team they root for. In any
case: you are correct; little more than half of demonkind never steps through
the veil." That was what he called visiting the human world.
I wondered at the information, especially the idea that some demons did things
to help humans since I'd never heard anything about that before, but my thought
processes came grinding to a halt as Laten's fingers very purposefully brushed
my nipples, pressing gently, making the coarse robe rub over the sensitive
skin. I could not help the shiver, could not stop it, couldn't do anything but
sit there and close my eyes and try to maintain steady breathing and a clear
mind.
It didn't work; it never worked. "Stop that," I whispered, when he didn't limit
himself to that simple touch.
"Am I making it difficult for you to think? I believe that is the entire point,
dearest." He whispered the words in my ear, hot and moist, and ran his tongue
around the rim.
The shiver that worked itself through me, head to toe, wasn't pleasant. Not at
all. Why couldn't he just leave me alone?
"Your body never lies. The rest of you paints beautiful lies for me, but your
body doesn't ever try to lie." He leaned over a little farther and kissed me,
pushing his tongue into my mouth, making me groan and arch into the kiss.
This wasn't what I wanted; it was just my body. He just trained my body. Anyone
can train a body. Maybe if I told myself all of that enough it would sink in
and I'd quit doing this, quit reacting. His fingernails dug into the hard
points of my nipples just as he broke the kiss, so I made a high, pained noise
right against his mouth.
Laten chuckled against my lips and kissed me again, chaste this time. "You're
almost ready. Should I make it a birthday present?"
I couldn't forget his promise that he wouldn't do anything until I was ready,
couldn't get that threat out of my mind. My nightmares these days were half
this, him making me ready, and half of Visham. "If you want," I whispered,
wanting to look away but not daring.
"You deserve a grand present; you'll become a full priest, won't you?"
My lips were dry, despite the kisses. I licked them. I had begged them to speed
up the ceremony, to make me a full priest in light of Laten's attention, but
they were adamant about their rules. Not until I was fifteen.
Maybe Laten would take me in the middle of the initiation ceremony. Bend me
over and just--no. I wasn't going to think about that. I drew in a shaky
breath. "I will, yes. They have the ceremony planned for the morning of my
birthday."
"Mmmm. Do you think I should be present, to claim you for all to see?" he
asked, whispering the words in my ear, making me shudder all over again. I
couldn't help it; my ears were sensitive and he knew it.
"Please don't." I ground the words out, so soft they were barely audible.
"I'll... Everyone knows already. You don't have to."
Laten's chuckle made me shudder in an entirely different way. He pinched both
my nipples and straightened but did not step away. "I think I'll make it a
surprise."
---
He didn't show up for the entire two weeks before my birthday, which was
surprise enough, but the fact that he didn't appear in the middle of my
initiation ceremony was the real shock for me. I kept holding my breath when I
didn't have to speak the oaths, waiting for the air to get thick and heavy,
waiting for him to show.
But he didn't.
I got through the entire ceremony, Osníe and the other priests left, and I was
left there in my formal robes, sitting on my cramped little couch. I was
entitled to move into proper rooms now, but I couldn't bear it. This was the
room where Visham died; this was the room where I stayed. I couldn't leave,
couldn't abandon his memory like that.
"You look quite nice in those robes. The blue matches your eyes and the white
brings out your freckles."
"And here you are at last," I said, looking toward where his voice came from,
shadows around the corner where my desk was.
Laten walked out of the shadows, feral grin on his lips, eyes deep blue, almost
the same color as my own. The same color as the robes. "If I took you there,
they would all see; I have no intention of sharing you in any way."
He had such a talent for making me feel relieved and then just dashing it
completely, killing the relief, making panic rise in my chest. "And do you plan
on..." I coudn't say it, though. Couldn't bring myself to say it.
"Do I plan on fucking you?" he asked, enunciating the last two words very
carefully.
Like I had any doubt with his eyes being that color. "Do you still plan on
torturing me if another demon has sex with me after you?" It was a logical
enough question, and distracted from the issue. Even if it wasn't a good
distraction. There was part of me that was resigned to the fact that one day
Laten was going to get the idea in his head that the only way to keep me as his
and his alone was to kill me.
He at least seemed to be considering the question. "Perhaps. It depends on if
you like it or not."
With the way he was training me, it was very likely that I would like it on a
physical level. Even the air thickening with his presence made my cock twitch,
made me flush a little with automatic arousal. "Okay."
"Mmmm. Not the best question, but that's not what you were going for, is it? We
need to get back on a pleasant subject." He walked over and sat down there in
my lap, straddling my hips, taking my face in his hands and tilting my chin up
until I looked up at him.
Even through all the arousal, I was terrified. I'd heard stories of other
priests' virginity being taken, of how the demons were brutal, fierce.
Unrelenting. Laten had a gentle streak, at times, so I couldn't help but wonder
how he would be. My heart beat in my chest, in my ears, far too fast.
Laten kissed me. I opened up automatically, eyes squeezing shut as I gripped
the couch tight enough to make my knuckles ache. Laten was a talented kisser,
if a little rough. He used his teeth without apology, biting my lip, scraping
my tongue, pressing me back against the couch as his hands worked their way
inside of my robe.
I whimpered into the kiss at the first touch of his fingers on my nipples and
squirmed a bit when Laten pinched, but that only made him press his hips down
against mine, the cleft of his ass rubbing against my cock through the thick
formal robes.
How many other priests had fucked in these robes?
"Don't let your mind wander," Laten said into the kiss, voice low and fierce
enough to shoot a spike of pure fear through me.
I kissed back more fervently, leaning closer to him, even as he broke the kiss
and climbed off of me, pulling at my robes. My clothes were not like his,
controlled by his mind and shed with just a thought. It took more effort, and
the formal robes--there'd be buttons missing on the underobe and the sash was a
little in need of mending but none of it mattered.
The only thing that mattered now was making Laten happy.
When we were naked, he sat down on the couch and pulled me into his lap,
fingers somehow slick and pressing between my cheeks, probing my hole. I was
tense, too tense, and he raked his teeth over my neck, wrapped his fingers
around my cock with the other hand.
"Relax," he whispered.
Like I could do that. I was nearly hyperventilating, movements jerky, mind
flooded with a toxic mixture of arousal and fear that made me want to do things
but too afraid to do anything but what I was told. And I'd been given no
instructions.
Except, don't let your mind wander. Relax.
Two things I couldn't do.
"Deep breaths, Baki. This isn't going to hurt unless you make it hurt." He
kissed my neck, one side and then the other. "And right now, you're making it
hurt."
Determined, I buried my face in the crook of his neck and kept breathing, in
and out, in and out, focusing on my breath. I almost didn't feel it when he
pressed his finger in entirely; I knew he was doing it, but it was at the edge
of my consciousness instead of front and center. Deep breaths. I closed my eyes
to intensify my focus, hoping that I could block out the feeling entirely.
To my surprise, it worked. After a minute or so of being fingered with
increasing speed, I stopped feeling it entirely and the only thing there in the
dark behind my closed eyes was the mental image of the way my breath was
swirling through my body with each inhale and exiting completely on each
exhale. I couldn't hear anything but that, either, the steady rush of breath.
It was too good to be true, though. Laten must have figured out what I was
doing because he pushed me off of his lap all at once. There was nothing for me
to catch myself on; I fell off of him, onto the carpet, banging my
shoulderblades and then my head against the low table.
"You're not allowed to tune out," Laten growled. He stood up, leaning over, and
pressed his hand around my throat, making my head tip back against the table.
It's your own fault, I thought vehemently, but didn't--couldn't--make a verbal
reply. I just shook my head and clawed at his hand, but he was solid as stone,
completely unmoving.
"I was trying to make it nice for you. I was trying to make your first time
meaningful. But you just shit on that gift; you just tuned out completely and
thought--what? Thought I wouldn't notice? How stupid are you, dearest?" He spat
the endearment like it was a curse.
Maybe it was. Spots were beginning to dance in front of my eyes and even the
way the edge of the table dug painfully into my back was beginning to fade from
my mind. I still couldn't reply; he was pressing too hard.
Laten bared his teeth, dug his fingers into my neck and shook it twice, then
let me go. What he did after that, I have no idea; I was far too busy
breathing, far too busy coughing, far too busy with my own needs to even worry
about him for minute or so.
But I had to pay attention; this was evidence of that, if nothing else. He was
pacing back and forth, looking steadily at me. Glaring steadily at me.
He stopped in the middle of his line of pacing. "You've given me a conundrum.
You have to have sex be good before I can deprive you of that, but..." He
trailed off, growled, and began pacing once more.
"Just do it," I croaked, my words dry and raspy as an old man's.
"You asked for it." He walked directly over to me, picked me up easily and
rolled me in his hands, putting me down with my knees on the couch and my arms
on the back of it. His hand cupped my head from behind and forced it against
the wall. "Don't you fucking dare make a sound. Don't complain. Don't do
anything but take it, because that is the only thing you are good for."
I don't know what I was expecting. I was still having trouble breathing, still
coughing, but Laten wasted no time in pushing his cock inside of me. One
thrust, pushing my hips forward when I cried out and tried to move away from
him. By the time he was fully sheathed, my hips were trapped between the back
of the couch and his cock and tears were in my eyes.
"I said don't make a sound," he growled against the back of my neck, and bit.
Not a nice bite, not a love bite. Hard. Rough. Marking me, I realized, in some
part of me that wasn't dealing with this, that was still doing deep breathing
and completely calm. He's marking me.
The fucking was brutal. He was slick, yes, but I was tense and he didn't wait
for me to relax. He just fucked me, in and out, teeth digging further into me
as he panted against my skin, hot, the combination between the pain and the
sensation completely overwhelming.
He made no effort to please me; he made no effort to do anything but fuck me
like a wild animal.
This is it, I thought. This is the thing he was preparing me for by being nice:
this complete lack of niceties. Nothing good about this, nothing nice about any
part of this, just... pain. It made me yearn for even the messed up training he
had tried to instill in me. Something, anything that had a modicum of kindness,
of respect.
Of not reducing me to this, my most basic function as a priest.
When he finished, I was crying silently, fingers gripping the couch, breathing
heavy breaths through my mouth. Surprisingly, he was quiet too, except for when
he came, groaning and finally releasing my shoulder from the grip of his mouth
in order to not be bowed over so he could press himself against me from knees
to shoulders.
"You make an admirable priest," he murmured in my ear. "Which is good, I think,
because it's all you'll ever be."
He left me, then, but I couldn't summon the willpower to do anything but kneel
there on the couch and cry for a long time after. Not until the big clock in
the bell tower tolled the noon hour and I realized: if I don't move now, Hakir
is going to see me, and then where will I be?
---
I don't know how Hakir knew, but he knew. The next few days he went out of his
way to do me favors: bringing me nice paper for my correspondence, making sure
I got the choicest cuts of meat for food, and making sure that the water was
hot as could be every time I requested a bath.
Which was often. I was never going to get the memory of Laten out from my skin-
-not with that bite, and it wasn't infected but I was frightened to death of
anyone seeing it--but maybe I might remove his scent, his sweat, his seed. Even
long after I knew those things had to be gone, I continued requesting at least
two baths a day; the hot water was comforting, and I could drift away, but I
made sure not to pay attention to my breath.
Hakir's crowning achievement on the kindnesses he offered to me was to offer to
teach me his native language. It was called Skaddian, and although most of the
cathedral's two libraries were full of books in Talavese he managed to find
three books in Skaddian that he could use to teach me the language.
"They're not very good books, but they're considered classics," he said, hazel
eyes bright. "There's a few ways I could go about teaching you, if--if you'd
like to learn."
"Why..." I trailed off, looked away, cleared my throat. "That's not the best
idea, Hakir."
The hurt on his features was plain. "I just--I haven't really spoken Skaddian
in two years, so I thought, if I had someone to speak it with..."
I realized that he was homesick; he was offering to teach me because he was
homesick. He was thirteen now, too, and not likely to be allowed to go to what
had been the Skaddian lands before Walid absorbed the dry, barren stone and
desert that made up the area for the minerals that were in the rock. There was
one Ziyan church there, but they tried to get us as far away from our homelands
as possible to minimize the temptation of escape.
"Hakir," I whispered, and bit my lip. "Just once a week, okay?"
It was like I had pulled out a stick from a dam and the water flowed down;
Hakir laughed delightedly and wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tightly.
"Of course! Once a week. I am going to start tomorrow. I'll work on some
translations today, and explain the words, and there's the polite and impolite
forms, but I guess the impolite form will just do because that's what two of
the books are written in and the polite form isn't that different but..." He
grinned. "Thank you, Baki."
I hugged back, though somewhat awkwardly. As long as his affection remained
purely brotherly, it was fine, right? I certainly hoped so; according to my
correspondence, there was little I could do about Laten's interest in Hakir.
---
"No, Hakir, please, just--leave me be," I called. He'd gotten so solicitous
since I'd agreed to do the tutoring, and I was glad that he was happy but I
couldn't protect him if he kept putting himself in Laten's path like that.
I turned back to the letter I'd been reading before Hakir came to offer me an
afternoon snack.
And from that evidence I must conclude: there are demons who would like to help
us, but they are few and far between. Better you pray that he kill you than
pray for demonic intervention, Attai, my correspondent over in Klaten, in the
mountains of western Walid, wrote.
I rubbed my eyes for a moment; I was not going to cry at having confirmed for
me that which I already believed. I continued reading. My own demons--there are
four of them. She went on to explain in great detail about her four demons:
Neraid, Golem, Tisam, and Selsíe. The first two were unremarkable, and visited
several other priests besides, but the last two were interesting: they always
showed up together, and drove Attai to great passion--far greater than she'd
ever experienced in her life up until that point.
And it gets better each time, she wrote. I dread the day when they turn on me,
as I know they must, being demons, but for the moment I am satisfied. If Neraid
and Golem are a sandstorm, Tisam and Selsíe are the monsoon that makes the
desert flood.
It was foolish for me to wish for demons like that to take some interest in me,
but I did, despite what I knew Laten's reaction would be. Foolish, yes, but I
had to dream; there was no other happiness, large or small, available to me. I
pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and began to write: You give me hope, to
think that all of demonkind are not like him...
---
Laten hadn't shown up in the five days since--since my birthday, so I suppose
it wasn't a surprise to find him standing there in the room with us halfway
through the two-hour block Hakir and I had scheduled, but seeing him still made
my heart drop into the pit of my stomach. I'd just been starting to enjoy the
teaching, even if Hakir touched me a little too often. Or maybe I just noticed
it because I enjoyed it so much; light touches, the kind one shared with
family.
There weren't many of those kind of touches here.
"You just look so happy," Laten purred. "I couldn't resist. Have you shown him
my mark?"
The flush that had come to my face from the feeling of the heavy air faded
completely and I went cold right down to my toes.
"I'll take that as a no. Do you want to see, Hakir? It's a mark that says he is
mine in every way that matters."
Hakir clearly wanted to say something, but I shook my head at him and picked
the book up off of his lap. It wasn't safe for him to stay; I wasn't going to
let him be drawn into this. "You should go."
For a moment, it looked like he was going to refuse, but finally he nodded and
stood and, with a little wave, left.
I let out the breath I had been holding, feeling like I was deflating on the
spot. I didn't care; Hakir was safe for now and that was knowledge I was going
to cling to for dear life. For dear sanity.
"He's a pretty little slip of a boy; maybe I should focus my attention on him
as well."
Laten didn't sound like he wanted a reply, so I didn't give him one, just
looked at him. He looked darker than usual, but that might just be because the
shadows of evening were growing. It wasn't morning when he came to me, for the
first time in a very long time.
"Not the kind of attention I'm giving you, of course. The kind I gave... what
was his name? Veshan? Visham? I think that's it."
My mouth went dry and I froze, not even blinking. He knew that was it, by his
tone.
"He doesn't want you yet, but you clearly want him to be close to you. That's
dangerous; I can't allow it. Maybe I will give him different treatment from
Visham, after all: more like what I gave you before. But it would be more
painful--for him, of course--since he's so much smaller than you."
No, no, no. Please, no. Please.
"Mmm, your fear is delicious, dearest. I think I'll wait a bit; there's no need
to spoil my appetite for the future by snacking before supper, hmmm? Now,
strip."
My movements as I stood were mechanical, but I knew that whatever he was going
to do, it was better than him doing anything, anything to Hakir. Keeping him
safe... I would do anything. And that was all there was to it.
---
"Why did you put the blue sheets on my bed?" I asked, probably a little too
loudly. Too angry. But I couldn't help it; they were the same blue as Laten's
eyes and just looking at them made my stomach do flip-flops. Not actually
nauseating, but enough to make me uncomfortable.
Hakir ducked his head. "I didn't realize you didn't want the blue sheets
anymore," he said, and raised his eyes to catch mine. "Maybe if you'd told
me..."
"I shouldn't have to tell you, Hakir!" I stood up, fists clenched, anger
pouring through me.
"I'm not a fucking mind reader, Baki!" He matched my tone perfectly, and I
could hear the way his voice twisted bitterly at the end. Curses were something
for when he was angry; normally he had a mouth... well, a mouth like a priest.
"I'll ask for another acolyte," I growled at him. It would be safer. Far, far
safer. "You're--you're not--I can't--you shouldn't--this isn't going to work
anymore!"
To my surprise, Hakir laughed. There was bitterness there, too, and I knew it
was my fault but I couldn't let him get closer than he already was. Couldn't.
He walked over to the door, still chuckling, and paused with his hand on the
fancy knob. "Let me know when you feel like treating me like a human, okay? I'm
not the enemy here."
I wanted to feel bad about it, but the only thing I felt right then and there
was relief. And guilt, for feeling that way in the first place.
---
Hakir's lessons in Skaddian ended the week after that. He didn't want to stop
teaching me, of course, but I was dreading a repeat of last time, of Laten
showing up in the middle of the tutoring and demanding my attention, so I ended
the lessons out of that fear.
Laten hadn't yet done that again, but yet was the key word there; it was only a
matter of time. Now that he knew how much I...
I swallowed hard, not wanting to think about it. I should get out of bed; the
big bells rang the noon hour a while ago. Not so long that I was in danger of
hearing the one o'clock bell soon, but long enough.
The breakfast was still sitting on the table. Hakir--I hadn't had the heart to
ask for someone else--brought it for me and left without saying anything. Just
like yesterday. And the day before. I sometimes got out of bed for dinner, when
the hunger got too great, but sometimes I slept through it too.
Laten dragged me out of bed when he wanted me, and laughed at my despair, and
promised me even better things to come.
He'd shown up yesterday, though, so there was no way he'd come today. It seemed
like, except for special occasions, demons couldn't come through every day.
Thankfully. Hakir would come, though, bearing the afternoon tray and giving me
a disparaging look as he took away the untouched breakfast tray.
I forced myself to throw the blankets back, sit up. I flopped back against the
bed, but not before I got a smell of myself: dirty. Too many nights spent
thrashing around, trying to claw my way out of nightmares.
Okay, Baki, I thought. You're halfway there. Get up; he's going to worry if you
don't get out of bed except to use the pot. The number of days since I'd gotten
properly dressed was... I had no clue.
I didn't know, not truly, if I was more worried about Laten or Hakir. My
thoughts were for Hakir, but I wasn't sure I could take another of Laten's
visits, so abusive when I was like this. It took more to make me care, he said,
and maybe he was right but that didn't mean that the visits didn't take a
higher toll on me now.
I pushed myself up, arms against the bed, and scooted toward the edge of it,
putting one foot on the floor and then the other. And then sitting up all the
way, and then standing, and then walking over to the wardrobe, pulling off my
week-old night-shirt as I did.
The walk winded me. My pants hung loose on my hips; I didn't have a belt to
hold them up, so I tucked my loose shirt in. It helped some.
I looked at myself in the mirror. My skin was pale, pallid, almost grey-
looking. My hair was lank, dirty, bordering on gross, and my eyes...
They looked like Laten's, when he--
Before I realized what I was doing, I pulled the mirror off of the wall, took a
step back, and threw it at the empty space where it had been. I was still close
enough that when it shattered, the pieces fell around me.
I looked blankly at the glass and just turned and walked over it. It crunched
under my feet the first two steps, and on the third a piece dug into my right
instep. Fourth step, and pieces dug into the ball and heel of my left foot.
Someone was going to have to take the glass out of my feet, I realized when I
was in my little sitting-room, sitting on the couch, not eating the food in
front of me.
I hoped it wasn't Hakir.
---
"I'm not even going to ask what you were thinking," Hakir growled as he
squeezed my right foot and dug at the glass with tweezers. "You know what--
you're just a giant headache, Baki. That's all you are anymore. You won't eat,
you sleep all hours of the day, you've stopped your correspondence, you don't
come to prayer-days, you... you're working on killing yourself, at this rate."
"It's proscribed," I said, without inflection.
"I fucking well know it's proscribed." Hakir squeezed my foot even more
savagely than before, and made a soft ah as he succeeded in pulling out the
last piece. "And now you've made it to where you can't go out; isn't that just
so convenient?"
There was nothing I could say to that. I hadn't been thinking about what I was
doing when I broke the mirror and walked on the glass. I just wanted to get
away from the color of Laten's eyes. "I'm sorry," I whispered, in lieu of
anything of substance.
Hakir caught my gaze and held it. After a few seconds, he spoke, "No, you're
not, or you would've engaged that brain of yours in what you were doing. You're
just sorry I'm angry at you."
Very, very sorry for that. If it meant what I thought it meant... If Laten
figured out what I thought it meant... "Yes."
"Well, you can't stop me from being angry with you, not unless you quit doing
stupid, self-destructive crap like this. You don't even think, don't think that
I--I--"
Don't say it, I thought helplessly.
Hakir didn't. He just glared at me as he finished tying the bandages around my
foot. The other one was already done.
Behind me, I heard Laten's laugh, the sultry chuckle that meant trouble. All
kinds of trouble. I swallowed hard, looking down at the floor, at my feet. The
bandages weren't perfectly white, but they were still whiter than my skin,
which was a surprise.
"Good to see you," Hakir said, with a mocking bow.
No, no, don't do that, I thought, panic making me care for once, making me
stand up and face Laten. "He's not who you want."
"Oh?" Laten drawled, and winked at me.
I hated his winks. They were always trouble. The laugh and the wink together...
facing them was a daunting idea.
"I think he's exactly who I want."
"No," I whispered. It was soft, helpless, and utterly useless.
"Come now, Baki, this isn't going to be any fun if you can't bring yourself to
at least try to resist. Not that it will do much good, but this is the only
person left who you care about, is it not?" Laten sneered, probably at the idea
of me caring about anyone but him. "Show some feeling!"
Hakir stood still, eyes wide. He knew better than to run, at least. Knew there
was no escaping the demons, that they could only be temporarily placated,
temporarily pleased, temporarily stopped. I looked at him for a moment, then
looked away, feeling my eyes burn. "Why bother? You're just going to do it
anyway."
"I might wait, if given proper incentive," Laten purred, in the voice that said
he didn't mean what he was saying at all. His eyes were dark-tinted, too: a
sure sign of a lie.
"Liar," I said, hopelessness making me brave. For the moment.
He sneered again, reached into a shadow by his side, and pulled out a knife.
"No," I growled, moving back, pushing Hakir behind me and holding my arms out.
I could only resist for so long, but it might be long enough for, for. For
something. A rescue? I was in the middle of the largest Ziyan church in the
empire; rescue was unlikely at best, but mostly laughable. The demons Attai had
mentioned... no, that was foolish. So foolish, Baki.
Laten took slow steps toward me, passing the knife from hand to hand. His
movements were lithe, sleek, and easy, like a cat. "Yes, actually. Get out of
the way, dearest; I don't want to hurt you, but I will if you don't move."
I dropped my hands to my sides, as if I was giving up, and when Laten came near
I lunged for him as fast as I could.
My fastest was still far slower than Laten's reaction time; he used the motion
of my lunge against me, sliding out of the way, twirling, and knocking me over
the back of the head. I went down like a sack of potatoes, the world winking
out of my consciousness like a candle.
---
Words. A sob.
Hated voice.
Another sob. "Please," Hakir said.
"You're never going to have a chance to be near him again," Laten said, low and
pleased.
I groaned, opening my eyes, rolling onto my back only to have my vision explode
in painful color as the swollen lump where Laten had hit me took the full
weight of my head. I didn't look over at them yet; I wasn't that brave. I could
smell blood enough to know what was happening.
"See? I told you he would wake up before I finished you off."
No, I thought, and sat up too fast. My stomach rebelled, but I hadn't eaten in
long enough that there was nothing to throw up. I knew it was from the knock on
the head, not from the situation, but it still made me feel weak for retching
uncontrollably to be the first thing I did on waking.
Laten was polite, and waited for me to stop gagging before he said, "Dearest,
come and see what gift I've prepared for you."
Gift? Gift? I swallowed back the nausea and moved slowly. To my knees, and
Laten was there, offering me a hand. I wanted not to take it, but maybe--maybe
Hakir could still be saved. If I did what he wanted. I took his hand and let
him pull me up slowly.
"There." Laten wrapped his arm, the hand that did not hold the bloody knife,
around my waist, and led me into the bedroom.
Where Hakir was tied up.
To the bed.
I shuddered, but Laten tightened his grip on me and for some stupid, stupid
reason that made my panic freeze. You'll panic, until he comforts you? I
thought, hating myself all over again.
Hakir was naked, tied hand and foot to the four posts of the bed. All I could
think was that it was still two years before he would be a priest. Only, he'd
never make it. Not with cuts like that all over him: feet, legs, hips, stomach,
chest, arms, hands. Even his face was cut, though I could see tracks of tears
through the blood; those must have happened first, or near the beginning.
How long had I been out for? How long had I condemned Hakir to this slow,
painful death?
"I'm sorry," I told him. It was the only thing I could think of to say. Saying
nothing just wasn't a choice I was willing to make; he deserved something.
"Don't be." Hakir's voice was raspy, like he had been screaming. "It's not your
fault Laten's a fucking sadist."
There was nothing I had heard that was funnier than that; of course it was my
fault. He was, for all intents and purposes, mine. He visited no other priests.
I should've pushed Hakir away harder, so this wouldn't have had to happen.
"So sweet," Laten said, and mimed wiping a tear from his eye. "Sadly--"
But he never got to say what was sad; another demon stepped out of the shadow
on the other side of the window. He had copper hair, like mine, but copper-red
skin too, and eyes that were bright, blazing red. I had no idea who he was, but
Laten seemed to know him; he took a step back, eyes wide and completely focused
on this new demon. "I see you, Selsíe, but where are your little friends? Your
sire and that crazy boy the two of you drag around."
Selsíe? Wasn't that the name of one of Attai's demons? I bit my lip, not daring
to hope.
"Here," yet another demon said, this one with blond hair and skin that had a
pale yellow cast to it; a pure white demon stood by his side. A matched set?
Which was the boy and which was the... what had Laten said, sire? That couldn't
be right. I was glued to the spot, though, not wanting to do anything to
attract the attention of these new demons.
"Tisam," Laten hissed, eyeing the blond demon and taking a step back,
tightening his grip on the knife. His gaze shifted to the white demon. "And
Amin--how lovely to see you."
My eyes went wide. Amin's name, I didn't know, but Selsíe and Tisam: those were
without a doubt the demons from Attai's letter. The ones who brought her
pleasure; the ones who gave her hope.
"If only," Tisam, the blond demon, said. In a movement too fast to see he
pinned Laten against one bedpost, a hand around Laten's throat and the other
gripping the wrist of the hand that held the knife, squeezing until Laten's
fingers relaxed and he groaned in pain.
I wasn't going to hope. I wasn't, I couldn't afford it, I couldn't, what I was
seeing was--it was--not real. A dream, from when Laten hit me on the head. A
fantasy.
The white demon, Amin, caught Laten's other hand, and the two of them pulled
Laten down to the ground, each putting a knee on one wrist. Tisam clapped a
hand over Laten's mouth and Amin looked over his shoulder at the copper demon.
"You're up, Selsíe."
Selsíe walked over and stood above Laten, one foot on either side of Laten's
waist, bent over and staring at Laten's face. "Open your eyes, Laten."
Laten tried to shake his head, mmmphing and nnnnphing, his eyes squeezed shut.
Hakir, on the bed, was silent, and I realized it was because he'd passed out.
Shock or bloodloss? Or both? Was he dead? I couldn't bring myself to go over to
the bed.
"Can I help?" I called out, my voice only trembling a little. I was weaving
where I stood, but I couldn't just--stand by. If I couldn't go to the bed, I
could at least do something, anything.
Selsíe looked at Amin, who shrugged. "Sit at his head and hold him still; he
can work spells with his eyes, but not as long as he's looking into someone
else's eyes."
It made sense, in a twisted sort of way, given how important it seemed like
eyes and looking were to demonkind--why else would their irises shift color
with their mood? I obeyed with unsteady steps, but it only took two before I
was sinking down on the floor, my knees on either side of Laten's face.
His eyes were still squeezed shut.
"Open. your. eyes," Selsíe growled, and spoke a few words that I didn't
understand.
Magic, I realized, as Laten's eyes opened. Demon magic. Everyone knew they
could do it, but they chose to so rarely. It seemed like everyone in the room
was waiting for something, and then I realized that I was probably the only one
who could see his eyes now. "He opened them."
"Very good," Selsíe said, sarcastic. "Lean closer to him, Baki; make sure he
can't see anything but you."
I did as I was told, my hair falling like a thin curtain around us. Laten's
eyes were green, deep, deep green; I'd never seen them that color before.
Selsíe said, "Now, Tisam can kill you, or I can banish you from the human
world. Your choice. Blink once for the former and twice for the latter."
Laten blinked once. I held my breath, waiting for him to blink again, but he
didn't. Why would he choose death over being banished from the human world? It
wasn't his world, he still had a life outside of the human world, didn't he?
What was so special about our world that he'd rather die? "He only blinked
once," I said.
I wasn't going to ask any of these demons the question, though. They had an
aura of power about them that made all of the little hairs on my body stand on
end; I didn't doubt for a second that they could kill Laten.
Tisam moved his hand away from Laten's mouth and started speaking, lips forming
that weirdly melodic demon magic stuff again.
Laten... I can't explain it: he just kind of dissolved. Like he was made of
solid stuff, and then he wasn't. His eyes were the last thing to turn chalky
grey, and then the ashes crumbled on the spot, having no internal support.
Suddenly I was kneeling with a pile of ash between my legs. I lifted my head to
see that Tisam and Amin were kneeling on lines of ash instead of wrists, and
Selsíe was standing over a slightly larger pile of ash instead of Laten's hips.
"Is he dead?" was the first thing I could bring myself to say.
"Very dead," Tisam said, sounding smugly pleased about the whole thing; his
eyes had gone blue during the spell and now faded to a yellowy green hue.
Amin's eyes were darker green, and Selsíe's, when he looked at me, were pure
yellow.
The colors very likely did not mean the same thing on them as they did on
Laten. But whatever else they were, they were demons. "Why would you help me?"
What did I owe them, now?
Selsíe answered. "Because he didn't deserve to die, and you don't deserve to
live in fear."
The only part of that which mattered to me was the beginning of the sentence; I
was on the bed in the blink of an eye, feeling for a pulse, my heart beating
far too fast. Hakir was dead; I couldn't feel anything. Too much blood, too.
Soaked into the blankets.
"Why didn't you come sooner!" I wrapped my arms around Hakir's limp body. "He
didn't have to die, did he?"
Amin had Laten's knife and was cutting the bonds while Tisam tried to pull me
away from Hakir. I just held tighter, burying my face in Hakir's bloody chest,
not caring if I was getting dirty. I was already filthy; what was a little
blood?
"No," I howled. "I won't, I can't, just leave us be, leave us in peace!"
"He isn't completely dead, you fool," Tisam said, low and dangerous. "Now back
off so Sel can work the magic on him."
"If it's not Laten, it will be someone else," I said, tears streaming down my
face. Tisam had my arms, and he was strong.
He wrapped his arms around me from behind, pulling me against his chest. "We'll
be your demons from now on; demons can feed on emotions other than fear, you
know."
Feed on? Was that why they came here, to feed? It was a horrible idea; no
wonder they were so universally feared.
Selsíe wasted no time; as soon as I was away from Hakir he knelt astride
Hakir's hips, placed his hands on Hakir's chest, and began speaking his magic.
The words really were quite melodic, but there was no effect that went along
with them. No bright light or dark light or sparks or anything, just the sight
of Hakir's wounds closing slowly and his chest expanding all at once as he took
a breath in and in and in. He coughed, on the exhale, and Selsíe moved away
from him at the same time that Tisam let me go.
I crawled onto the bed and wrapped my arms around Hakir's neck and hugged him
tightly. He coughed again, shaking his head. "How long was I out?"
"Long enough," I told him, not even caring that I was crying. They weren't bad
tears; they were good tears. I couldn't believe that there was even the
possibility that I was free of Laten, and more importantly that Hakir was
alive. These new demons--I'd find out about them later. Right now only Hakir
mattered. I pushed his blood-sticky hair away from his face and touched a
couple of the half-healed marks. "You've got souvenirs."
Hakir laughed, but it was a raspy thing. He shook his head once more. "You and
your priorities. So I'm not dead. Where's Laten?"
"We killed him," Amin said, from the foot of the bed.
"Help me up," Hakir whispered, and I helped him sit up to properly face Amin.
He must have seen the pile of ashes in the shape of a body not far from the
bed, because his eyes went wide for a minute and then he looked at Amin. "I
didn't know demons killed other demons."
Tisam snorted. "Of course we do."
Selsíe sighed. "What he means to say is: we kill those who go too far." He
waved a hand toward Hakir.
And they couldn't have saved Visham? They couldn't have prevented this whole
thing? "What about--about Visham?"
Amin sighed, this time. "It takes power, lots of power, to do what we just did.
And power takes time to build, especially when you don't collect it using
nefarious methods. We've had our eye on you ever since he killed Visham."
Oh. I felt suddenly bad; had they used up all of their power on me? On this?
"We'll see you in a few days," Selsíe said, soft, gentle. "I'll go and tell
Osníe what happened; there will be servants here to clean everything up
shortly."
It didn't occur to me until later to wonder how Selsíe knew how things worked,
but they were already gone by then, and the servants were cleaning my room
while they guided Hakir and me to the big bathing chamber.
I still couldn't believe it had happened; the whole thing was so unreal.
But Hakir held my hand the whole way through the halls, and smiled shyly at me,
and I thought: maybe I really am free of him.
---
"My hair's all wrong," Hakir said unhappily, running his hands through the bit
that I had just brushed flat.
I snorted, shaking my head at him. "Just because it's brushed doesn't mean it's
wrong."
Hakir took a deep breath and let it out, putting his hands at his sides. He
shifted one way and then the other in front of the long mirror in his room,
making sure that the formal robes he'd donned for the ceremony this morning
were still on correctly. "You're sure he said I should wear this?"
"I think Sel has a thing for symbolism." I shrugged, not knowing for sure and
in all honesty not caring. Hakir was going to end up naked by the end of it, so
why he was so worried about his clothes I had no clue.
"Oh." Hakir took another deep breath and let this one out even slower than
before. "Why am I so nervous?" he asked, and then tittered uncomfortably.
I leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Because it's kind of a big
step: now you start serving them, too."
He nodded. "I know--and I chose Sel! I did. So there's nothing to worry about,
but I'm still..."
"I'm going to tell you a secret, and you can't tell them that I told you,
okay?" I couldn't help a broad grin, practically bouncing on my toes with
excitement at finally being able to share this part of Amin, Tisam, and Sel's
visits.
"Okay."
I leaned in and whispered in his ear, "Sel's not into, you know, doing anyone.
He'll want you to do him."
Hakir pulled away and laughed delightedly. "So I chose well, then."
"Mmm, I'd say yes, though I think both Amin and Tisam go either way so if that
was what you wanted to do--"
"I thought you weren't going to tell," Selsíe said, suddenly standing in the
shadows; we could see him in the mirror, behind us. Both Hakir and I turned to
face him and he grinned at us, looking like he was Hakir's age with all that
glee in his expression. "So, is Baki staying, Hakir?"
Hakir bit his lip; this was the one thing that he and I had disagreed on. He
wanted me to stay while I didn't think I should be present. I could be, later,
but I didn't want Osníe to get it into her head that I was breaking the
virginity rule; Hakir and I had been very, very well-behaved for the last two
years.
"Osníe's only got one rule that she's strict about." Sel shrugged. "If you want
to chance it, fine, but..." He spread his hands.
"Okay," Hakir said, nodding, and I could see in his expression that he'd
decided. "I'll come to you afterward, okay, Baki?"
Like I was the one who'd wanted to stay and he was offering consolation. I
leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek, walked over to Selsíe to give him
the same, and then left.
If I wanted more than anything to watch at the keyhole, I at least knew better
than that.
Besides, Tisam already told me that he'd keep me busy if I liked. And with that
on offer, who was I to refuse?
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