Shady Lady

and that there could be people watching us. He wouldn’t thank me if I let him sweep me into the delusion.

“Kel,” I whispered.

His hands wandered, exploring me from shoulder to hip and back again. His tats blazed until they burned against my skin. He bit down on the curve of my ear. “Say it again.”

“Kel.”

“It’s been so long. So long since I touched you.”

I exhaled slowly. If he moved or I did, protest would be moot. Already I could barely remember why I didn’t want to do this.

“Look at me. I’m not Asherah.”

Finally, the silver shine faded from his eyes. I could tell the moment he recognized me. But his desire didn’t vanish; since we were naked, I would’ve been humiliated if it had. Instead his longing gained layers. His gaze carried eternity, the weight of loneliness, and something unfamiliar. I only knew that I had never seen that expression in anyone before.

“Binder,” he breathed. Dimly, I remembered Caim using that word. “You called me back. You gave me your breath.”

“You needed it.”

“I need this.” He shifted his hips as if asking a question.

I didn’t ask why. In truth, I needed it too. No promises, just relief and the keen, knife-edged moment. I needed to wipe away the horror handling the demon’s harness had left behind.

He lowered his head, and this time he kissed me. His lips felt fevered against mine, faintly flavored with my blood. It did not revolt me, only offered a coppery tinge, and then it was more, a kiss that took my breath and gave it back. Heat rose from his body like sunlight on crystal and quartz.

“This creates energy,” he whispered into my throat. “I can use it to drive off that cursed sleep. I can’t leave you unguarded now.”

I didn’t care about his reasons. I just wanted him. It was enough that he knew who I was. In answer, I wound my legs around his hips. I didn’t care how many people might be watching from the shadows. Let them think we were pagans or devils.

He filled me with divine heat in one smooth motion, and I arched. His fingers curled around the rope of my braided hair, tugging my mouth to his. We kissed endlessly, our bodies rocking as one. As the heat amplified and his motions quickened, his tats shone brighter. I could feel them on my skin like starbursts.

“Corine,” he murmured. “Binder. Thank you.”

Kelethiel, son of Uriel and Vashti, I whispered back soundlessly. Thank you.

His face struck me as reverent, as if we shared more than our bodies, as if for him, this counted as both prayer and ritual. I responded, letting the sweet glow carry me higher. Sheer intensity ratcheted my need to ferocious levels, and I lost myself in him, bucking and whimpering against his lips. When he came, the sigils on his skin lit in unison, bright and pure and powerful. Answering energy burned out of me like a meteor and fell into his skin. When the glow dimmed and died, there were no new marks on him. No dried blood. Just the old scars. With my fingertips, I found the place where once wings had grown. He shuddered beneath my light touch.

“Will you get in trouble?” I asked.

His head rested in the curve of my shoulder. He did not move. “For what?”

“I just assumed . . .”

His lips lifted against my skin; he was smiling. “I’m not celibate by vow. . . . The rules of your religions do not come from us. We are older than your writings.”

I felt impossibly young and inexperienced beside him, yet safer than I ever had. “Oh. Well, I’m sure you —”

He put a finger on my lips. “I needed to share that with you . . . for many reasons. To fuel my healing, as I said . . . but that’s not the only reason.”

“There’s more?” Please, let it be something good. I needed to hear it, even if there were no promises. I didn’t ask for those . . . just a memory of his voice in the dark.

“You called me back from the pit and asked nothing in return. I know of no other way to express . . . no deeper—” Words failed him then.

“I get it.”

Maybe it seemed strange, but I believed we’d performed some ancient rite, and it also served as a way for him to say, Thank you, and I care. We said with our bodies what we could never speak out loud.

He went on. “Ordinarily . . . I abstain. It is unfair to share such intimacy when I can never stay. And I have spoken too many good-byes.”

That addressed his longevity, but it was more too. The moment they ordered him elsewhere, he would go. That much I knew. It hurt, but it wasn’t an impossible pain. Instead I felt lucky to have this moment; despite everything, I felt perfectly balanced.

“Who was Asherah?”

Behind his eyes, oceans of sorrow rose and fell in moontouched waves. “Someone I loved and lost, long ago.”

That was no answer, but I didn’t press. I hadn’t earned his secrets, even if he was crushing me into the ground, draped over me like a blanket. I hesitated to complain; once he moved away, the moment would become a memory. So I asked something else.

“What does ana dadika mean?” I butchered the pronunciation, but he recognized the phrase.

“Where did you hear that?”

“You whispered it to me.”

“Ah,” he said. “It is Babylonian, and it means, I am made for your love.”

Melancholy washed through me. What wouldn’t I give to have someone say that to me for real? “I’m sorry I’m here instead of her.”

One big hand curved against my cheek. “I’m not.”

My breath caught. Fresh yearning rose and he didn’t try to hide it from me. This time we had no excuse, not even a thin one. We did it again because we wanted to.

The End Is the Beginning Is the End

At daybreak we dressed in clean underwear, filthy clothes, and our hiking boots. The village remained unnaturally quiet. I sensed people watching us through their windows and sometimes I caught movement in my peripheral vision, but when I turned, I saw only closing doors. A few children were bold enough to stare out the windows, but their parents swiftly pulled them away and closed the curtains against us.

The silent message was clear: They weren’t coming out until we were gone. Based on the events of the night before, I understood their caution. Only the churned earth and faint, lingering smell gave a hint what had happened here. Maybe in a few days’ time, this would seem like a collective hallucination, and they’d start to forget. Today, the silent treatment proved a pain in the ass, and I didn’t look forward to more walking, but we wouldn’t receive further assistance. I was glad, however, that none of the villagers had come to harm because of me; I didn’t think I could stand more innocent blood on my conscience.

I ate the last of the protein bars and drew some water from the public well. With a philosophical shrug, I filled my bottle, and Kel did the same. The parasites might bother me, but we needed to keep moving. If we lingered here too long, Montoya’s sorcerer might send something else, something worse, though that defied imagination. Since I hadn’t known demons could be summoned in corporeal form, there was no telling what gruesome surprises lay in store.

In silence, I led the way toward the church, intending to ask the priest for directions, but the doors were closed, and he didn’t respond to my tentative knock. I glanced up at Kel, who said, “The best thing we can do is