Steven Brust - Agyar

My hands are still shaking, and, as I typed the above paragraph, I have twice had to leave three times now I have had to run to the toilet.

But let me describe it all; perhaps that will exorcise it somewhat. I returned to the hospital and hid myself in the bathroom in Brian Baldwin’s private room. Sure enough, Kellem arrived within minutes. He was awake, and they spoke together in tones too low for me to hear most of the words. But I’m certain that I heard Kellem say, “Little one.”

She used to call me “Little one.”

No, I’m not jealous (this time); but I understood things better now. Baldwin wouldn’t or couldn’t leave town, Kellem was unwilling to make him, and the bitch had fallen in love. As new for her, I think, as for me-which is hardly coincidence. So, I guess, I have something to thank her for as well.

I’ve been shying away from asking myself this, but I wonder if my feelings for Susan will change once I am free of Laura. I can’t help wondering, but I don’t believe they will. If one can ever trust one’s own instincts, there is no chance that I am wrong about this.

But let me return to the story.

I continued listening, and presently the conversation stopped. I waited for a moment, then emerged from hiding. They were holding each other close, and his head was thrown back with an expression of rapture while her head was buried against his shoulder.

She looked up as I entered, and her expression underwent a series of changes impossible to describe. At last she said, “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

Brian sighed and settled back against his pillow, calling her name softly; his breathing was fast and deep. Kellem rose from the bed and faced me.

I said, “I thought we should have a talk, dearest Laura. Have you a few moments? I hate to interrupt such a tender scene, but-”

“Keep still.”

“Your hair seems to be starting to grow back. Congratu-”

“Silence.”

“Heh. Try it on someone else; I know better now.”

“You know what better, fool?”

“Many things. I know why you brought me here. I know what sort of idiocy you’ve been involved in. I know that you lied to me. Most important, I know why you lied to me. You cannot control me any longer, Kellem.”

“Oh?” she said. “I cannot?”

“That is correct.”

She smirked at me.

I shrugged. “I’m offering you a deal, Kellem. My life for yours. You leave me in peace, and allow me to depart, and I’ll take no action against you.”

“Indeed?” she said, smiling with fake sweetness. “But if I cannot control you, how can I stop you from leaving? Why don’t you just do it?”

“It isn’t quite that simple,” I said. “But I can-”

“Silence,” she repeated, snapping out the word, and I found myself unable to speak; it was as if something had reached past my consciousness to wherever my motor skills are controlled, and pushed the off button for speech. All I could do was glare, which I did.

“You think you can defy me? You think you can resist my will? You think you can set your powers against mine?”

I still could not speak, so I continued to glare; flying in the face of reason, I must admit, but I wasn’t feeling reasonable.

“Then I must teach you better.”

She looked around, and I saw her eyes come to rest on the tray of half-eaten food on the cart next to Brian’s bed. I suddenly knew what she was going to do, and I tried to ask her not to but I still couldn’t speak. She pointed to it and said, “Eat.”

I shook my head.

“Eat,” she said again, and I couldn’t even fight it. I walked over to the tray, and picked up the spoon. There was some sort of noodle dish with hamburger and tomato sauce. I don’t even think I would have been able to eat such a thing when

Four times now. I hope that was the last.

I picked up a spoon and put a little on it. “More,” she said. I complied. I brought it to my mouth and stopped. “Do it,” she said.

I did. I chewed it. I would have chewed it for a long, long time, but she caught me and said “Swallow,” so I did. I felt it slide down my throat and travel all the way into my stomach.

She said, “Again.”

Her control over my voice had stopped, so I said, “Laura, please-”

“Another one! Now!”

I repeated the process. And again. It was about then that the cramps hit and I doubled over, retching.

“Again,” said Laura, at which point the door opened. The cramp ended as this occurred, so I was able to watch as a nurse entered. She stared at me, then gave me a disapproving frown.

“The food,” she said, “is for-”

“Kill her,” said Laura Kellem, and I could feel her smile as she pronounced the words.

I had no will, no choice.

The nurse screamed and backed out of the door. I was on her before she got much farther, but that was enough. I was aware that there were many people around me as my hands fastened on her throat, crushed, and twisted. At the same moment, I felt that I was free again, but it was just exactly too late.

I was back in the room before the nurse’s body hit the ground. I was not surprised to find that Kellem was nowhere to be seen. Another cramp hit just as the screams started, giving me the absurd impression that everyone in the hospital had been hit with stomach cramps at the same time I was.

There were footsteps behind me, but I couldn’t move. There were hands on my shoulders as the pain stopped. I stood and twisted free. Someone tried to grab me and I tossed him or her away like an insect one finds crawling on one’s shirt. I crashed through the window, taking cuts on my face and hands.

I made it back home in time for my stomach to empty itself. Five times, so far.

Somehow I am going to kill Laura Kellem.

Today I went on what can only be called a scavenger hunt. I had to start early so I could reach places before they closed, but I made it. I purchased one black candle, some dark blue wool and matching thread, a needle, ten yards of blue yarn, one yard of white. Then I found an all-night grocery store and picked up some fresh basil.

So much for the purchases. The other stuff was harder, it still being winter, but I took a shaving from the stem of a wild rose, and bits of some mountain ash and even a few nettles, although it took me nearly all night and I came back cold and irritated.

When I returned, Jim said, “What’s in the bag?”

“I’m going to sacrifice a child,” I snapped. “Gotta problem with that?”

He looked troubled until he realized that I was jesting, which hurt my feelings a little.

For all that it has taken me, maybe ten minutes to write this down, getting it done was very lengthy and irritating. But at least I’m done, and as ready as I’m likely to be.

The moon will be new in five days.

Winter is holding on with great determination this year, which annoys me even though I know what is causing it. In New York, spring is meaningless as far as I’m concerned, and in many places I have been it never actually seems to happen, but Ohio, I’m told, usually has one, and this year we are being cheated out of it. It snowed again today, then the snow turned to rain which froze on the sidewalks after making a halfhearted effort at melting some of the snow it had just deposited on us. It had stopped raining by the time I arrived at Susan’s door. The smells of spring, which are how I identify the condition, have not yet occurred, and for all I can tell will not at all this year.

We walked to the Tunnel and strolled along the Ave; one of a number of couples fighting the weather, hand in hand or arms about each other. Susan had her black-gloved hands on my arm; I had eschewed my ugly coat entirely, but wore a thick gray sweater. There is something about this particular pose-her hands on my arm-that makes me feel tall, proud, masculine, and extraordinarily tender.