Chapter 31 Vapor and Smoke #3
“You aren’t new to this life anymore, Foley.
” I didn’t get up. Between us, Guru sat quite comfortably, batting the feather quill that had fallen to the roof with his paw.
Tap. Tap, tap. He jumped up and came running when he noticed the bead of blood that had dropped to the ground at my feet.
Yowling, he looked up at me, as if asking for my permission; of course the strange little thing drank blood. “Go ahead, little prince,” I told him.
Foley’s tormented eyes nearly rolled back into his head as the cat began to lap.
“Seven hundred years ago, you were young. The thirst still had hold of you. You didn’t know how to control it.
I hate to break it to you, but there are members of the Fae down there, in the town.
I can scent them from here, which means you certainly can.
You haven’t torn down there and laid waste to any of them, have you? ”
“No,” he said breathlessly. “I haven’t.”
“There you are, then.”
He seemed to shatter out of nowhere, his fear getting the better of him. More tears fell, staining his pale skin with tributaries of blood. “How am I supposed to know? How am I supposed to trust myself?”
“You’ll know that when you can walk across this roof and come sit back at this table with me.”
He eyed my blood, pooling on the table in front of me. I had created only a small wound, nothing that would pose me any real problems. The bleeding was already slowing. Soon it would stop altogether.
“I can’t, Fisher! I—”
“Don’t look at it. Here. Look at this.” I reached into my pocket and took out the small wooden box I had been carrying.
Foley’s attention bounced from my blood to the box, my blood, the box, my blood . . . It settled on the box. “What is it?”
“It’s a box.”
“I can see that,” he shot back. “But . . . what’s inside it?”
I tapped the box’s lid. “A real demon,” I told him.
Foley spun around, facing out into the night. He interlaced his fingers behind his head, hissing in Old Fae. “Otariallan dyer mé.”
“No,” I said. “I’m not kidding. Believe me, I wish I was, but I’m not.”
Slowly, Foley turned to look at the box over his shoulder. “Which one?” he asked.
“Joshin.”
“Which one is that? I can’t remember.”
“The scorpion demon,” I said dryly. “King of the Dark Dream.”
“Gods and sinners have mercy.” Foley lowered his arms, turning, his golden teeth glinting in the muted light. “And what are you doing, carrying it around in a box?”
“I made a deal with it.”
“You did what?”
“I didn’t have a choice. It stung me. Carrion, too. We needed its venom.”
“Who’s Carrion?”
I almost laughed. In another life, gods almighty, they would have relied upon each other, those two males. Ruefully, I admitted, “He’s a friend. You’ll meet him soon enough, I’m sure.”
Foley chewed the inside of his cheek, processing that. His eyes darted to the small puddle of cooling blood on the table but quickly flitted away again. “All right. So . . . what kind of deal?”
I recounted it for him, word for word. “One secret and its venom in exchange for our lives. But I had to agree to release it once we were okay. I swore that I wouldn’t place it into a demon trap.”
“Fuck. So it’s in there, then? All of it?”
“What’s left of it.”
“And you’re okay now? Why haven’t you released it?”
Ahh, the beauty of the fine print. Even in a rush and dancing on death’s doorstep, there was always a way to swing a bargain in your favor if you paid close attention to the details.
“Because I didn’t say when I’d release it,” I explained.
“Nor did I say where. And the box isn’t a demon trap.
It’s just a box.” I tapped my finger against the lid again, and the furious scorpion inside threw itself at the walls of its new prison.
“Don’t worry, Joshin. I’ll uphold my end of the bargain soon enough.
I’m a male of my word, after all.” The box rattled again.
Slowly, Foley crept toward the table to get a better look.
“Why have you brought it here?” he asked.
“Because I won’t risk leaving it at Cahlish.
I just can’t. And I can’t keep carrying it around with me.
I can hear it whispering all the time, and well, it doesn’t exactly have anything nice to say to me.
” I gave him a lopsided smile. “Are you still a member of the Lupo Proelia, Foley? In there?” I pointed at his chest.
The vampire looked down at his solar plexus, his right hand closing around the hilt of a sword that he hadn’t been able to hold for nearly a thousand years. His eyes shone bright when he looked back up at me. “Yes. Sometimes. When I dare to dream of a reality in which I still might be good.”
“Dreams are just vapor and smoke,” I said. “They mean nothing unless you’re willing to live them. You are good. You are my brother. You are a wolf. Nothing will ever change that.” I slid the box toward him across the table, holding my breath. Would he do it? Would he sit?
Gingerly, Foley took the chair he had kicked away when he’d leaped up and placed it back at the table.
He moved painfully slowly as he sat down, but still he sat.
A long moment passed, in which he looked at the glossy, near-black pool of blood on the surface of the table and shivered.
Eventually, he reached out a shaking hand and picked up the small wooden box.
“I’ll keep it here for you for now. I’ll watch over it until you ask for it back.
But in the meantime . . . tell me about the demon’s secret. ”