Chapter 24
The silence afterward was almost solid. In it, Ligat began to feel ridiculous—he’d just tumbled the medium up against a wall like they were village youths after a fair, in a room full of the dust of eons.
He didn’t care much about living up to his image as Perthrux’s servant, but even the man he’d once been would have found the situation comic.
He couldn’t manage regret, though. Especially not when he was still inside Hazel, feeling the last spasms of her climax grip him, hearing her ragged breaths as she recovered.
Ligat hadn’t had a lover since he’d entered Perthrux’s service, not even for a night.
In retrospect, it had been a bloody miracle that he’d held back long enough to bring Hazel off.
It had been a small one that he hadn’t spent himself the second she’d touched his prick.
He’d forgotten the intoxication of desire.
He straightened up slowly, exerting a small wisp of power in a spell that cleaned both of them, and Hazel gasped at the unexpected, hot breeze. “Sorry,” Ligat said, though he found her reaction slightly gratifying. “I should have warned you.”
“It’s a nice trick, though,” she said, after sliding her hand between her legs for a brief confirmation of the spell’s effects. The sight made Ligat stir again, though he didn’t indulge himself further. Another round with Hazel, and he wasn’t sure he’d have the energy to get back to his lodgings.
He tucked his cock away and carefully buckled his robe again. “It’s been useful on other occasions. Fights,” he clarified. A remnant of honor surfaced. “I…don’t make a habit of seducing ladies. Particularly not those in your situation.”
Hazel had started to pull on her jeans, but she paused and glanced up at him, curious. “How many people have you known in my situation?”
“Well. None.”
“Ah.” She went back to her jeans. “I appreciate the disclaimer, all the same.”
Ligat, unsure of what to say in response, chose the less frightening path and peered out around the doorframe. The street was empty. He couldn’t hear hoofbeats any longer. “I believe our pursuit has left.”
“Oh. Good.”
“I’d advise against following me in the future,” he added, even though he now found the prospect extremely interesting. “The places I travel are hardly safe.”
He turned to find Hazel giving him a level look, her eyes deep blue in the shadows. “Do you think I’m going to die peacefully at eighty if I stay away from you?”
“No,” he said as curtly as when he’d told her he didn’t get attached to the doomed.
Ligat knew what her fate was most likely to be. He could picture it quite vividly in his head. To the best of his knowledge, there was very little she could do to change that, and even less that he could.
She was Perthrux’s gateway. He was the demon’s servant. Their roles were fixed.
Still, when he met her eyes, he wanted to give her a different answer.
“Thanks for the consideration, though,” said Hazel dryly, and this time she was the one to turn away. “And since I’d expect your overlord to batten down the hatches when you tell it about this, or set a trap—”
“I have no intention of telling it,” Ligat interrupted almost before he’d even thought the words.
The idea revolted him, and Hazel’s skeptical expression stung, though it was entirely justified.
He would have told Perthrux not very long ago, and his revulsion wouldn’t have mattered. It hadn’t for years.
Now he could conceal the truth. He’d had every intention of doing so from the moment he’d caught Hazel following him, and their liaison had only cemented it. He just hadn’t intended to let her know as much.
Hazel studied him, her arms folded across her chest and her gaze as sharp as it had been in her yard. “Why not?”
“It’s not part of my duty. You following me doesn’t weigh on my master’s goals one way or another. It already knew you could move into the ethereal world.”
“And having sex with me is irrelevant too?”
“What would it gain from knowing that?” Ligat shook his head. “You know who I am and who I serve. You’re hardly the sort to let me cloud your judgment through pleasure, and it wouldn’t much matter if you did.”
The corners of Hazel’s full lips twitched. “Thank you, I think.”
“It’s an unusual quality, in my experience,” he said, and didn’t stop the bitterness from leaking into his voice.
He took in their surroundings: faded walls with chipped mosaics, a long table he hadn’t even considered in the midst of his lust because it looked likely to collapse at any moment, stairs he wouldn’t go up for love or money.
A living city, once? A memory? He couldn’t tell. It didn’t really matter. Now it was empty save for the two of them—if they were lucky.
“We’d best be going,” said Ligat.
* * *
Hazel hadn’t taken many walks of shame—general introversion had kept her out of most parties and bars—but she would have put trek through an abandoned ethereal city up against anybody else’s winner for most uncomfortable.
Trekking through an abandoned ethereal city while the man she’d slept with was along for the trip put it into a different league entirely.
Also, she didn’t know if he was really a man.
Also also—
—she told her brain to shut up. There’d be plenty of time to go over all that.
I will think about it tomorrow, for tomorrow is another day.
She told her brain that it was quoting a racist old movie and that its imitation of a Southern accent was awful. That sort of helped.
They walked with caution, stopping in doorways to peer around and listen for more noises. Hazel kept her eyes on their surroundings even more than she probably really had to. She suspected Ligat was doing the same.
“Have you been here before?” she couldn’t help asking as he turned confidently down one narrow street. The buildings on either side were bulbous structures, once a variety of bright colors and now faded to shabby pastels. Half-moon windows opened in their sides. Hazel didn’t look in.
Ligat shook his head. “One always moves counterclockwise to exit ethereal places if there’s no obvious way out.”
“Oh,” said Hazel, adding that to her list of notes. Whatever happened to her, her contacts—and the occult world at large, in its roundabout way—would learn a lot.
For the first time since they’d left their temporary shelter, she felt Ligat eyeing her. “If I ask how you found me,” he said, “I suspect you won’t answer.”
“No.” Learned politeness told Hazel she should follow that with an apology, but their circumstances made it ludicrous. “You have most of the cards in this game. I’m keeping mine to myself.”
Besides, while she didn’t know if other spirits could hurt Casper, she didn’t want to find out. Ligat and his master might ignore the dog if they thought he was just another wayward ghost, but letting them know he could track through the ethereal would probably make him a target.
The city blurred around them as they walked, becoming a watercolor and then an abstract.
The sound of their footsteps on the stone softened and disappeared.
Hazel found that more of a relief than she should have; the ether had plenty of predators besides the skinless horse-things, but the streets around her didn’t look like the ones Ligat had fled through with her over his shoulder, and her mind no longer felt so bruised.
Ligat abruptly cleared his throat. “My apologies for not mentioning it before,” he said, “but I don’t—that is, I don’t believe I can father children anymore. If I’m mistaken—”
“Oh,” said Hazel, blinking. She hadn’t even thought about that potential consequence. “My IUD’s good for another three years.”
“I…” He glanced down at her, confused, and she noticed for the first time that his eyebrows were more brown than black. She thought his hair might be the same, but the hood made it difficult to tell. “…I’m glad to hear it.”
“Well, I’m glad to know you’re not, um, magically enhanced in that regard.”
“It wouldn’t be possible.” Ligat paused, frowned, and then shook his head. “That is, I’ve never heard of it. Growth isn’t one of my master’s areas of concern. Another demon may have those powers.”
“I’ll bear that in mind if I meet any other minions.” Hazel watched the dark figure walk beside her, tall and purposeful, and turned over both his unfamiliarity with the concept of an IUD and how he’d said he couldn’t father children anymore. “You were human once, weren’t you?”
Ligat turned burning eyes on her before giving his answer in a completely flat voice. “Yes. I was.”
“How long has it been?”
He’d been expecting a second question, but not that one. Hazel could tell by his sudden blank look. “A century?” he said and shrugged. “I forget exact dates. Time slips away out here.”
Despite his boss and his mission, Hazel couldn’t help wincing in sympathy. Maybe Ligat had started working for the demon knowingly, maybe he’d even signed up because he’d get immortality out of it, but he’d answered with a resignation that very clearly said he wasn’t thrilled about the results.
“I bet,” she replied, because any other response felt like wading into even more dangerous waters.
She focused on the street again, watching how even the sketch of it faded as they walked on, dissipating into the blue mist of the ethereal.
The buildings around them had almost gone, too, and the marble blur of a gateway stood up ahead.
“I can escort you back,” said Ligat.
Hazel shook her head. “Back is the easy part.” Travel from the open ethereal was very quick if you knew your destination. “Besides, I’m sure you have better things to do.”
They passed under the gate. A faint roaring sound like waves filled Hazel’s ears, the noise that transition between formed and unformed sections always caused, and then she was standing in the open ethereal.
Ligat turned to face her, eyes like embers, the swirling half-familiar shapes of his tattoos glowing on his cheeks and forehead. “As you say.” He sketched a bow that was more than half sarcastic. “Until we meet again.”
No potential response to that seemed right. Go to hell felt weird, between the sex and the temporary alliance, not to mention that it was probably redundant. Have a nice day or take care of yourself were obvious lies. “See you around,” Hazel finally said before she headed off.
That one was almost a guarantee.