Chapter 10 Daylan
ten
Daylan
His taste lingers on my tongue as Lazarus moves away from me, grabbing his clothing off the floor. I reel in disgust at myself for allowing my tongue to sneak out unbidden to capture what he put there and for witnessing it in the first place.
Why had I watched that scene of depravity?
Why had I gotten hard inside my robe as I’d watched?
Temptations of the flesh are ever present within Bright Haven, and despite telling Lazarus that I am untouched even by my own hand, that is a lie.
I have been weakened occasionally and have tempered my own needs, but those occasions were few and far between.
I know I am meant to be pure and holy and that I am a being without sin, yet that I am called to sin in this manner has always been something I have sought guidance in prayer for.
I have never known the touch of another though, and I certainly have never tasted another person’s release.
In the presence of this devil, I am losing my grip on all that makes me who I am and I am fearful that I will have to answer for it when I reach the gates of Heaven above.
I do not know what I will say when asked, and that sits within me as I watch Lazarus get dressed, clipping up the bib of his pants and turning to offer me a small, wicked smile.
The rain overhead stopped at some point during the last few moments, but I am still dripping with water and my robe is soaked through, clinging to my shoulders uncomfortably.
I shiver where I sit, my body trying to warm itself up as the remnants of the wind spiral through the hole in the roof above my head.
I am thirsty.
I am hungry.
I am freezing, and I don’t have the means to solve any of these problems for myself aside from sucking the red rainwater from the edges of my robe.
I fear I may have to do that, though it hasn’t been boiled as the water in Bright Haven always is, and I don’t know if it will make me sick.
At least if I do get sick, I have been given a bucket for all of my waste. Small blessings, I suppose.
Lazarus, ever wicked, has pulled a cup from somewhere and is currently eyeing me as he sips liquid from it as if he can read my mind.
I swallow as his throat bobs, his eyes bright over the edge of the plastic cup.
He tips it upwards and then sets it down on a small wooden crate, upside down so that I can see it is empty.
“I figure you’re probably starving by now,” he comments, looking my way. “Probably thirsty too. How about this? You have a choice. You can ask me one question or have one cup of water.”
I stare at him carefully, trying to find out if there’s a trick in there. “Can I ask a question without it counting?”
Lazarus snickers. “You just did.”
My gut sinks, and he snorts another laugh. “Fine. Starting now. A cup of water or a question. Boiled water from the lake out back, totally fine to drink without getting sick.”
“Are we by the lake?” I hadn’t realized we were still that close to Bright Haven. Then again, I’m not entirely sure where the lake really is, so maybe we aren’t that close by.
“Is that your question?”
“No,” I blurt out , not wanting to lose a chance at a glass of water. “Water, please.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Lazarus laughs softly as he grabs the cup he’s just finished drinking from and heads to the far corner of the cabin.
He opens up one of the barrels I assumed was empty and dips the cup in.
I can see the droplets of water dribbling down the side of the plastic as he walks the cup over to me, taking slow steps like he means to mess with me some more.
Finally, he hands me the cup, and I tilt it to my mouth, swallowing in large gulps until it’s empty, just in case he means to stop me from having the whole thing.
That strikes me as a very Lazarus thing to do.
Water drips down my face, and I reach up with my soggy sleeve to wipe it away, but it hardly does anything to help.
“Wow,” he breathes as he reaches out to take the cup from me. “I was right. You were thirsty. Hungry too?”
I nod slowly as the water sloshes around my empty stomach. I shouldn’t have drunk that much that fast, and I feel a bit nauseous, but it was worth it to have liquid in me again. Lazarus places the cup on the floor beside his chair, and I lick my lips, making sure I’ve captured every drop possible.
“How about the same deal? One piece of deer jerky or one question,” Lazarus says.
“A big piece. Not a question.”
Lazarus grins, nodding. “A big piece. Agreed.” I eye him carefully, and he places his hands in the air as if he is surrendering. “I promise. A big piece of deer jerky to fill your empty stomach, or one question.”
“Deer, please.”
“There is nothing you want to ask me, little Lamb?”
A thousand questions bite at my mind, but every single one of them goes silent as my stomach growls. “Food.”
“Fine, but you have to nibble it. You eat it as fast as you drank that water and you’ll be cleaning up your own puke with your fancy robes.
” I nod my agreement, and he heads back to the barrel by the front door, reaching inside again and pulling out a thick strip of preserved meat.
I make a small noise of question and he smiles, understanding me.
“Two containers in one barrel. One water, one food.”
He walks back to hand me the jerky, and I tear into it with my teeth the moment it reaches my fingers, gnawing on the hunk of meat without a care for what I look like.
The jerky is salty, yet somehow sweet, and as I take another bite, I try to place where that is coming from.
Hopefully, it isn’t spoiled because I cannot seem to stop chewing away at it.
“Ekksha,” Lazarus says with a grin. “Honey jerky. I traded for it the last time I was there.”
“You’ve been to Ekksha?” I ask, swallowing the meat. I think I’ve been there before myself, but it was so long ago I can hardly remember what it’s like in a place that runs on honey and hives.
“Ah, that’s a question, isn’t it?” His eyes glimmer at me, and he places a finger on his lips, letting me know I am not getting any answers.
I tear another thin strip of jerky off the stick, savoring the taste of sweet honey and smoky salt.
I must be starving because it is the most delicious thing I have ever tasted in my life.
When I finish that strip, I am still hungry, but I take heed of Lazarus’ words and nestle the meat on my lap, taking care to place my hands on it just in case he means to snatch it away from me.
I don’t know if Lazarus will feed me again, and I’m not taking any chances.
“My turn, Lamb,” he says, settling on his chair and staring at me. “I choose question.”
“You get a turn?”
“Of course, I do. Why wouldn’t I? It’s my game and I choose question.” He hesitates for a moment, eyebrows furrowing and face pinching like he’s deep in thought, but finally he meets my eyes again. “What do they say about me?”
This is a trap. A trick. I can feel his mood shifting, his hands gripping his knees as he leans forward expectantly. All of his former joking nature is gone and in its place is a scowl and a snarl. How am I meant to handle whatever he intends to do when he hears my answer?
“Speak, Lamb,” he snaps. “Get to it. What do they say about me in your precious fucking Bright Haven?”
“Nothing,” I offer, for it is the truth.
“Bullshit, you’re lying.”
“I’m not. We don’t speak of you. We cannot. To do so is a sin. I don’t know what is whispered behind closed doors, but to my knowledge only Angelo ever spoke of you, and he died for it. Your name is feared, Lazarus.”
Lazarus’ lips crack into a wicked grin, the edges of his mouth curling upwards and his teeth flashing at me. “They fear me.”
I nod, and he puffs his chest a bit where he sits, his mood shifting again.
“They should fear me,” he offers, seeming quite pleased with my truthful answer. “Angelo died because he spoke my name, and my name is fear, yes?”
“Yes.” Something he said earlier in the day strikes me, and I take advantage of this moment. “Earlier you said Angelo got what he deserved. What did you mean by that?”
Lazarus stares at me incredulously, offering a sigh. “Lamb, you suck shit at games. Shut up and eat your meat.”