Page 25 of The Hunchback

Phoebus’s arms ever so slightly tightened around me, pressing me further against his muscular body. His face drew closer to mine and, for a moment, I feared he would kiss me. But he merely continued to examine my features as if they held the key to a great secret.

“And yet, you will not have me,” he said at last, looking pensive. “What manner of man managed to snag your heart before I could?”

“A good man who got dealt a terrible hand.”

He nodded slowly then effortlessly landed onto my balcony. The High Seraph held me in his arms for a few more seconds before releasing me with obvious reluctance.

“Thank you for the ride,” I said, feeling awkward.

He didn’t respond, content to stare at me a while longer. After a beat, Phoebus lifted his left arm in front of him and removed what I’d thought to merely be a gem adornment on the golden armband he wore.

“This may serve as a com system or GPS tracker,” Phoebus said, holding the device in front of my face. “Should you ever need me, if you are lost, or in the unlikely event you realize what a perfect partner I would be for you, press and hold here for a couple of seconds, and I will hurry to your side.”

My throat tightened at such kindness. I once more looked up at him, so tall and massive, with his divine face and majestic wings framing him. To think this delightful male—this god—could be mine and could make me nearly immortal. But my heart lay elsewhere.

“Thank you, High Seraph. You are the kindest of males.”

He snorted derisively. “No, beautiful Esmeralda. What I am is jealous of a man I don’t even know. Another first for me. You are crushing my ego. And please, call me Phoebus.”

I chuckled and gave him a sheepish look. But my smile quickly faded at the hungry, predatory look he gave me. With lightning speed, Phoebus cupped my face and pressed his lips to mine. Although the gesture startled me, it didn’t scare me. Despite the underlying desire I could feel raging beneath, the kiss was almost chaste and definitely controlled. It ended seconds after it started. Phoebus straightened and caressed my lips with two knuckles, a sad look on his face.

Then spreading his four wings, he took flight without another word. His imposing silhouette circled around the plaza. The other Elohim jumped from the perches they had returned to after the feast, and circled the plaza one more time with him. They then rose high into the night sky towards the glowing city of Elysium. As they turned into tiny dots in the distance, the Grand Magistrate’s barge, a large, boomerang-shaped vessel, took flight carrying Frollo and the dignitaries.

Discarding my flashy ceremonial outfit, I jumped into the shower to wash away the sweat of the Festival’s dance. I also hoped that the time it took me to cleanse myself and change would have convinced whatever guard might be spying on me that I had indeed gone to bed like a good girl.

Once dressed in a dark sarong wrapped as a halter dress, I rushed to the lift, flew it down to the ground floor, and then snuck into the backyard through one of the back exits. The beam of the Well’s tower lit the area far too much for my liking. Thankfully, the population was too busy dancing and singing to pay attention to me lurking in the shadows. I ran through the garden to the secret passage leading to Kwazeem’s house. Finding the cabin plunged in darkness had my anxiety cranking up a notch. I raced to his front door and knocked before turning the knob. Although relieved to find it unlocked, it also greatly disturbed me.

“Kwazeem?” I called out while closing the door behind me. The desolate chirping of an imp startled me. “Victus?” I half-shouted, rushing down the hallway in the direction it had emanated from.

The bedroom stood wide open, giving me a glimpse of a male form sprawled on his stomach on top of his bed. Despite the darkness, enough light trickled in through the window for me to recognize Kwazeem still wearing his costume. Anger surged through me that the guard had so rudely—if not cruelly—tossed him on the bed without taking a moment to check his condition, or if he was in distress.

I instinctively ran my hand over a glowstone at the entrance of the room, which immediately lit up the whole space. Victus and Lazarus, perched on each of Kwazeem’s shoulders, appeared to have sunk their claws into him, a distraught expression on their small faces. Their glowing eyes and the energy swirling in the room indicated they were using their limited magic on him, probably to heal or appease.

“Oh, Kwazeem,” I whispered, my heart aching for him.

Victus chirped at me, his big eyes staring at me pleadingly as I kneeled on the bed by my man. The muffled sound of tortured moans reached me through his mask. At first, the difficulty in removing it baffled me. It was as though the mask had been taped to his face. But when I finally managed to rid him of it, shock and fear washed over me.

Kwazeem’s face was beyond swollen and covered in purplish blotches. Had he not previously explained to me the symptoms of his condition, I would have believed without hesitation that the guards who had escorted him here had beaten him to a pulp for disobeying.

“You can’t stay like this for two days,” I whispered to myself, before raising my voice. “Kwazeem, can you hear me? It’s me, Mera. I’m right here. I want to help you. What can I do to help you?”

His eyelids fluttered, but his puffy eyelids prevented him from opening them. “F… Fr…” he stuttered, unable to form the word.

“Frollo?” I asked. “He’s gone on the Orbs tour, my darling. He won’t be back for two days.”

Tears gathered in my eyes seeing his battered face take on an even more tortured expression, his hands fisting the bedding as he realized how long he would be subjected to this agony. Kwazeem didn’t need me to tell him Frollo was deliberately punishing him.

“Maybe I can do what he does for you?” I offered. “Just tell me what to do, and I will.”

But even as I spoke those words, I could see that he wouldn’t be able to give me coherent instructions in his current state. Victus chirped, drawing my attention to him then pointing at Kwazeem’s hump.

“Do you know what to do?” I asked the imp against hope.

He gave me a sharp nod of the head, then performed all kinds of gestures in his sign language that I didn’t understand. Scrunching his face in frustration, he pointed at the hump again. Although I didn’t quite know what to do, I remembered Kwazeem mentioning a liquid accumulating in his back. I needed to drain it out.

Even drowning in debilitating pain, my man tried to resist when I removed the costume’s cloak and deactivated the holographic suit he had on. Instead of the flowy shirts he usually wore in my presence, a skin-tight, black t-shirt molded his muscular body and the sizeable hump on his back. When I lifted the hem to expose his back, Kwazeem became extremely agitated, groaning in protest through his moans of pain.

“Stop it, you silly man!” I said in a stern voice. “You have nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed of. You aremyman, and in my eyes, you are the most beautiful male I have ever laid eyes upon, hump included. The High Seraph himself asked me to be his consort tonight, but all I could see was you. So, cut it out. I will not let you pointlessly suffer.”

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