Ilona Andrews - Magic Burns

Somewhere far an owl hooted and her cry lingered over the pitch-black water. “What is this place?”

“Morrigan’s refuge. It’s her home.”

“She’s here?”

He nodded. “Just not watching at the moment. She sleeps.”

“Does Morrigan ever come down to Earth?”

“Why won’t you sleep with me? Afraid of your Rambo boyfriend?”

“Rambo is a character in a story. Not real. You didn’t answer my question.”

He put his arm around me. “Kiss me and I promise I’ll talk.”

I took his arm off of me. “I don’t think so. That would be a slippery slope.”

His hand stroked my arm. “Ahhh, so you want me?”

“Maybe a little bit.”

He smiled.

“I’m still not sleeping with you.”

“Why not?”

I thought of Saiman dancing in the snow. “I have a friend who can change his shape. Imagine any body and he can transform into it. He’s invited me into his bed.”

He frowned. “Can he do a girl?”

“Yes.”

“I might like to watch that.”

Men were still men, even if they lived in the mist.

Bran sat up, pulled the carcass off the fire, and stuck the spit into the ground. A knife flashed and he offered me a half-charred leg. “Here. Might as well feed you since you’re telling me a story. Don’t want to be inhospitable.”

“Thanks.” I pulled a shred of meat off the legs and chewed. Sweet aftertaste. Rabbit.

“So what is it with you? Saving yourself for marriage?”

I guffawed. “Too late for that.”

“Why won’t you play nice with your friend then? Seems to me, the man’s working pretty hard. How long has he been after you?”

“About a year. He just keeps switching bodies like they were outfits, but no matter what body he wears, I know it’s him.”

“Don’t like him that much, yeh?”

I shrugged. “He doesn’t do anything for me. There were times when he came at me with something that might have been fun, if it weren’t him. But in the end, I always remember that he isn’t interested in me. If I was thrilled, he wouldn’t be happy with me; if I was on the verge of suicide, he wouldn’t care. I might as well sleep with a blow-up doll. He’s only interested because I said no the first time.”

“That’s why all men are interested.”

“True, but with him it ends with my body. Normal men eventually look for companionship.”

He shook his head. “No. Women look for that. Men look for bedsport.”

I smiled. “If it were so, why did you invite me to sit by you?”

“I figure I’ll change your mind.”

“You won’t.”

“So you say.”

“When was the last time you had a dinner like this with another person?”

He shrugged. “I don’t remember.”

“So you just eat by yourself? All alone?”

“What’s it to you?” His voice cut with a hostile edge.

“Nothing, just curious.”

He poked at the coals with a long stick.

I finished my meat and lay on my back, stretching my feet to the fire. It’d been a long day. I lost Julie and I still had no clue where her mom had gone. At least Andrea didn’t die.

I became aware of Bran watching me. Our stares connected and he went down for a kiss, but I put my hand onto his lips. “I don’t want to headbutt you a third time. Trust me, if I change my mind, you’ll be the first to know.”

He sat up, picked up a twig and snapped small pieces off of it, throwing them into the fire one by one. “I don’t understand you. I used to be good at this. Good at women. Now…You have a forward manner about you.”

I frowned. “I don’t think I’m that forward.”

“You are. Most women are now. Used to be that if a woman sat next to you like this and you fed her, it was understood she would lie on her back for you. Otherwise, why bother? Women now, they are brazen. Forward. They will sit there and they wear tight clothes, but they won’t sleep with you. They want to talk. What is there to talk about?”

I sat up and hugged my knees. “Bran, I don’t do anything for you, do I? Kind of like my friend doesn’t do anything for me.”

He stared. “Why would you think that?”

“A feeling I get. Like you’re trying to get into my pants because I’m a woman and you don’t know what else to do with me. You don’t think I’m all that.”

He sighed and looked at me. Really looked at me. “No,” he said. “I don’t. Don’t get me wrong, you’ve got a nice body and all. I wouldn’t turn you down if you wanted to spread your legs, but yeah I’ve bedded better.”

I nodded. “I thought so.”

“What gave me away?”

“The kiss.”

He reared back. “I kiss like a madman!”

“It was a kiss of a frustrated man with injured pride. There was no fire in it.” I handed him another twig. “Just talk to me. Pretend I’m a traveler who stopped by your fire. I bet you don’t get many visitors. You stay in the mist all the time?”

“I come out to play during the flares.” He encompassed the lake and forest with a wide wave of his hand. “I fish, I hunt. Never run out of game. It’s the good life.”

“So you don’t get to enter the real world unless the flare is up?”

“Yeah.”

“But the flare only comes every seven years or so. In between years, you’re here, by yourself, with no company?”

He whistled. A shaggy shape trotted from the dark and flopped at his feet. A huge, black dog. “Got Conri here.”

The dog raised his paws into the air, turning to get his belly scratched. Bran obliged. “If I get bored, I sleep. For years sometimes, until she wakes me up.”

I offered my bone to the dog. He took it out of my hands very gently and settled to gnaw it at my feet. I thought I was alone. At least I could go out and talk to other people. “You must’ve been here awhile, but you speak with no accent.”

“The Gift of Gab. One of three gifts she gave me. Gift of Gab: I speak any language I wish. Gift of Health: my wounds are healed fast. And Gift of Aim: I hit what I see. The fourth gift is my own. I was born with it.”

“What is it?”

“Admit it was the best kiss you’ve ever had and I’ll tell you.”

“Sorry, I can think of a couple better.” Or at least one…

“Then why do I waste time with you?”

I shook my head. He wasn’t a real person. Just a shadow of one with no memories, no ties, nothing but a sex drive, good aim, and wild eyes.

“Where are you from?”

He shrugged. “Don’t remember.”

“Okay, when are you from? How long have you been here?”

“I don’t remember.”

I grappled for something, some sort of marker that any person would know. “What’s your mother’s name?”

“I don’t remember.”

I looked at the stars. This mission was doomed to failure from the start. Who was I kidding?

“Blathin,” he said. “Her name was Blathin.”

He grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. “Come! I’m going to show you something.”

We ran along the edge of the lake into the trees. Ahead a wooden cabin rose, nestled among the greenery, connected to the lake by a long dock. Bran dragged me inside.

A fire burned in the fireplace. To the right a simple bed stood against the wall, to the left a row of chests sat. Carvings decorated the walls: a tree, runes, and warriors. Many, many fighters twisted by the battle spasm and carved with exquisite detail. Under them on the table lay a scroll, depicting a man with a long staff wearing a monk’s cassock. He sat on a rock. Beside him mermaids played in sea waves. The Shepherd…

Bran grabbed my hand, pulled me to a chest, and swung the heavy lid open. A white cloth covered the contents. He jerked it aside. Human heads filled the chest.