Fiends

soft breeze.

    ‘I… I guess I kind of… lost my cool last week. I’m really glad you came along.’ He shrugged. ‘I wanted to apologize.’

    ‘Apologize? For running from me?’ she asked.

    ‘I’m really sorry.’

    ‘What’s your name?’

    He hesitated. ‘Allan.’

    ‘Allan what?’

    She wants my last name? Good God, she’d be able to look me up, find me. ‘Hawthorne,’ he lied. ‘Allan Hawthorne.’

    She stepped toward him, mask and dress glimmering, and reached out her hand. Allan shook it. But when he tried to let go, her fingers tightened. She held him in a firm, warm grip. ‘I’m Ligeia,’ she said.

    The name surprised him. ‘Really? Ligeia? There’s a story by Poe…’

    ‘I know,’ she said in her strange, hushed voice.

    ‘I really like Poe.’

    ‘We have that in common, then. Come with me.’ She pulled him by the hand. And kept his hand in hers as she led him slowly down the sidewalk.

    ‘Uh… Where are we going?’

    ‘Does it matter?’

    ‘I don’t know.’

    ‘You’re free to leave, if that’s your wish.’

    ‘No. No, that’s okay.’

    She nodded slightly, then turned her head forward.

    Allan hoped to see under her mask, but it curved around the side of her face, hiding her almost to the ear. It hung from a headband, a folded scarf that was tied at the back. The way the silver cloth was tucked in over the top of the scarf, it flowed down smoothly except for a slight bump made by the tip of her nose. Her chin didn’t seem to touch the draping fabric at all.

    They walked in silence for a while.

    He wished she would say something.

    Finally, he broke the silence himself. ‘I really felt awful about running away.’

    She stopped and turned toward him. ‘It was this,’ she said. Her other hand came up. Her fingertips glided down the glossy mask, easing it inward. Ever so briefly as the fingers slid down, the mask took on the contours of her face. Though her eyes remained hidden, Allan glimpsed a veiled suggestion of slender nose and cheeks. Her lips appeared for an instant, bare in the opening. Her fingers drifted the fabric against a small bulge of chin. Then she breathed. The hints of her face dissolved behind a silver tremor.

    Allan tried to swallow. He wished his heart would slow down.

    ‘I frighten you, don’t I?’

    ‘A little,’ he whispered. ‘I guess.’

    ‘We fear the unknown,’ she said. ‘But we’re enthralled by it.’

    ‘Yes.’

    ‘Do I enthrall you, Allan?’

    He let out a small, nervous laugh. ‘I don’t know. You sure… make me curious.’

    ‘You wonder what the mask hides.’

    ‘Yes. And… and why you walk around at an hour like this.’

    ‘So I won’t be seen.’

    ‘But why?’

    ‘My face, of course. Come along.’ She turned away, pulling at his hand, and they resumed walking. ‘I like the night,’ she said. ‘It holds such secrets.’

    ‘But its dangerous.’

    ‘Not for me. The mask protects me. People keep their distance. They take me for a madwoman.’

    ‘I guess… I was afraid of that, myself.’

    ‘I know.’

    ‘You’re not, though.’

    ‘You don’t think so?’

    ‘Hope not.’

    Laughing softly, she squeezed his hand. ‘I think I like you, Allan.’

    ‘I think I like you, too.’

    ‘Shall we be friends?’

    ‘Sure,’ he said.

    She looked at him. ‘Are you sure?’

    ‘Yeah. I mean, why not?’

    ‘You’re still frightened of me, aren’t you?’

    ‘A little, maybe.’

    ‘I won’t hurt you.’

    ‘It’s just… you know, the mask. If I could see your face… Is it… is something wrong with it?’

    ‘My face is my own.’

    ‘How can we be friends if you’re hiding behind a mask, if you won’t let me see what you look like?’

    She gave no answer, but led him into an alley. His mouth went dry. His heart slammed. As they left the lights of the street behind, he peered into the darkness. High walls on both sides. Dumpsters ahead. But no lurking derelicts that he could see. Though the alley appeared deserted, he trembled with dread and excitement.

    Ligeia halted. She put her hands on his shoulders.

    ‘Is my face so important?’ she asked.

    Oh, God! She’s going to take off the mask. Now. Right here in the alley. In the dark.

    ‘Is it?’ she asked again.

    ‘Uh. I guess not. Not really.’

    ‘You said we can’t be friends unless you know what I look like.’

    ‘That isn’t quite what…’

    ‘Suppose I’m not pretty? Would you run from me again?’

    ‘No.’

    ‘Suppose I’m horribly ugly?’

    ‘Is that why you wear the mask?’

    ‘Perhaps.’ Gently, she rubbed his shoulders. ‘How important is my face to you, Allan? Does it need to be beautiful? Or can you accept me without… passing judgement on it?’

    He managed to whisper, ‘Yes.’

    ‘Yes what?’

    ‘I don’t need to see.’

    She glided forward, wrapped her arms around Allan and drew him close against her. He felt the heat of her body, the push of her breasts, the cool smoothness of the mask against his face. Her lips met his mouth.

    Her lips felt wonderful. Warm and moist.

    So long since the last time he’d held and kissed a woman. The feel of her shocked him with desire.

    But she must be hideous, or why…?

    He didn’t care. She smelled of strange, jungle blossoms. Her sweet breath filled him. He slid his tongue into her mouth and she sucked it in deep and writhed against him, rubbing him with her sleek body as her hands clutched his back.

    His own hands roamed Ligeia’s back, caressing the skin above the top of her dress, roaming lower, sliding the fabric against her, following her curves down past the sash. He filled his hands with the soft, firm mounds of her buttocks. And knew they were bare beneath the fragile veil of the skirt. Moaning into her mouth, he pulled the skirt up.

    Ligeia grabbed his wrists. She forced his hands down to his sides and leaned away, shaking her head. She