Carnival of Souls

dilemma was the one he’d been wrestling with more and more as he got to know Mallory.

He crept through The City, only upright due to willpower and the medicinal skills of his packmate, and went to the gate that he’d paid for not long after the competition began. Before this contract, he’d been to the human world periodically. Something about them fascinated him. As a child, he’d followed a mark over there, and when the situation got out of hand, he’d been taken into custody and placed with what they called a foster family. Years later, he’d honed the skills he’d learned in those weeks and felt relatively able to blend into the human world. That didn’t mean, however, that the twinge of sheer panic ever faded when he crossed through the gate.

A flicker of fear of being trapped again, away from his Zevi, assailed him as he stepped into the other world. If not for the desire to protect his packmate, he would bring Zevi here, but the younger cur already had trouble coping with The City. Kaleb wasn’t sure how he’d deal with a third set of rules, so unless it was essential, Kaleb’s trips would be solo excursions.

He took a moment to calm his nerves, and then he made his way to Mallory. He’d never been to her home with her knowledge; like any daimon on the run, she hid her den. Still, he knew where it was, had known before he’d ever spoken to her, and it was to that home that he now went. For the first time, he stood on her porch and knocked on a side door to her house. It was shadowed, unlike the front door, which would leave him exposed and standing with his back to the street.

Moments passed before she opened it. He could smell the sharp tang of metal, of gun, that he now associated with her. It wasn’t a scent that existed in The City; it was of the human world, the world Mallory thought of as hers. In The City, guns were forbidden. Death was to be an act of closeness. That was the law: “If you cannot touch the person you are ending, you can’t kill them.” Guns made death impersonal.

She opened the door only partway. At first, she simply stared at him, a pistol clutched in the hand she kept out of sight. “Kaleb?”

“Hello.”

“What are you…? I mean… Hi.” She paused almost imperceptibly before asking, “How did you know where I live?”

“I was passing by one day, and I saw you going inside, so I took a chance.” Kaleb did his best to look harmless. “Are you busy?”

“No, not right now.” Mallory ducked her head briefly and whispered something he couldn’t hear.

He suspected that she was allowing him entry into her home and wondered briefly if humans had become more aware of magic or if some meddling witch had warded her house. How much does she know? He couldn’t think of any way to ask her that without alarming her, and he didn’t think that tipping her to what he knew was in his best interest. Whether he killed her or delivered her to The City, he’d need to gain her full trust to do it. Asking if her house was warded wouldn’t do that.

“Do you want to come in?” she asked aloud.

“I do,” Kaleb said.

“We’re moving, so there’s no furniture, but if you want… unless you weren’t really staying. I mean…” Her words trailed off and her hand went to the stone that hung on a cord around her neck.

He’d seen such amulets in the possession of Watchers. The stones helped keep a daimon healthier, giving them strength that was stored in the stones. The Watchers’ tolerance of witches made them more trusting of stronger spells. The combination of her amulet and the wards made sense; a Watcher must have hidden Mallory and paid for the wardings on her and on the house.

“I’d like to stay.” He smiled, but the expression was ruined by a wince of pain as he stepped into the house. He grabbed the kitchen counter. “Sorry.”

“Are you okay?” She whispered something hurriedly again and then put her hand on his biceps. “Kaleb?”

They both froze for a moment when she touched him. It wasn’t until she retracted her hand that he could say, “I’m fine.”

He focused his attention on her, and she looked away — not fast enough that he missed the interest in her eyes. She was so different from the daimons he’d met in The City. They’d made no secret of their interest, but tried to hide fear or worry. Mallory tried to hide her interest, but had no qualms showing that she worried.

A small sound of pain escaped, but he tried to turn it into a laugh before he said, “Just a minor injury. One of my matches went a little wild.”

She’d been clear on what she thought when he’d told her previously that he was a fighter, so he wasn’t surprised when she said, “Boxing is barbaric.”

“I know. Today, I really know.” He winced at both the pain and the extent of what he’d hidden, what she’d eventually know he’d hidden if she was brought to The City instead of killed. It was peculiar to care what she thought, but he did. He didn’t want her to know that when he said he boxed, he really meant he fought to the death; or that when he said he was away at school, he meant away in another world. He’d tried to find close approximations of the truth when he told her about himself, but some things had no human equivalent.

“I don’t have anywhere for you to sit.” She looked around her barren house. “Everything was sent out already. The movers left a few hours ago.”

He smiled at the thought of not only bringing her to The City, but of seeing her in his home, of having a new home — one furnished to him as winner of Marchosias’ Competition.

“What?” She couldn’t look away from him, and he heard the flicker of fear in her voice.

“Do you know what would make me feel better, Mallory?” He stepped close enough to her that the edge of his shirt brushed against hers.

Mutely, she shook her head, but she didn’t flee.

He leaned down until their lips were nearly touching.

She parted her lips to say something, but he kissed her before she could utter a word. He’d never kissed anyone for reasons other than base need or being hired. None of that prepared him for the way Mallory responded to him — or how he responded to her. His body burned like something had pierced his veins, and it took more effort than he’d ever known not to let their first kiss become the first night with their bodies entangled.

After several wonderful moments, Kaleb pulled back abruptly. They were both breathing heavily, and her eyes were wide with a mix of longing and shock.

She looked as startled as he felt. The difference between them was that he knew what that sensation meant. Mallory was pack, his in a way that only Zevi had ever been. She belonged in his life, in his home, but how could he say that to a daimon who thought she was human? Marchosias was a cur, but a lot of daimons were curs. Kaleb had bedded some, killed others, but he’d only ever felt the fierce need to protect one other cur.

“You’re… not what I was expecting,” he said. Nothing he’d ever experienced came near the wash of heat that felt like it would burn them both alive.

She started trembling.

He stared at her, trying to find words to explain, to help them both understand, but there were none that he could share without telling her what he was and what she was. He wasn’t sure either of them was ready for that. He slid his hands up and down her arms to quell her chills and to have an excuse to keep touching her. “I’m sorry.”

“For kissing me?” she asked.

“No,” Kaleb said quietly. “I’m sorry I didn’t do that the moment I met you.”

Mallory took several steps backward, out of his reach. “I don’t understand, but I think that maybe you should…”

“Kiss you again?” Kaleb walked toward her, and she continued to back up so that she stayed just out of reach.

She trembled violently, and he wondered if the spells that were wrapped on her were being loosened by their kisses. He wasn’t having that reaction. He wanted to pull her to him and calm her, but she was wide-eyed with fear. That he did recognize. The first time he’d felt the pack connection, he rebelled. Then, he’d been unprepared for the urgent need to be near anyone, to protect them at any cost.

He watched Mallory force herself to try to be calm. Tentatively, she laughed and said, “That seemed w —”