Page 30 of The Deer and the Dragon
“How much time?”
His chest moved with his deep inhale and exhale. He extended a hand, asking, “Do you want it or not?”
I looked at his outstretched palm uncertainly, then back up at him. I scanned the clean, modern lines of the apartment as if hoping Caliban might be waiting, but I knew better. I’d told him to leave. I’d told him not to come back. If I wanted to see him again, I’d have to find him. And in order to find him… If I took Silas’s hand, if I bonded myself to the shimmering stranger…
From the shadows came the coo of an airy female voice. I made out the subtle hourglass edges of hips and legs as she stepped into view. Her musical words were laden withan unmistakable smile as she said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Silas dropped his hand. A renewed string of curses bubbled from him with an angry, male snarl as he said, “Ah, for fuck’s sake.”
Chapter Eleven
“She’s one of ours,” said the lithe female shape stepping from the shadows. The living room flooded with the cloud of fresh-cut pine, a splash of the sea, and the tingling feeling one only encounters near ice. The loose fit of her burnt-red bohemian pants swished around her, clinging to the wide curve of her hips as she came forward. “I know you can smell it on her.”
Silas took a defensive step forward as if squaring up for battle. “Barely! It has to be, what, an eighth? If that?”
“It’s enough,” the woman said. She was too beautiful to be real, as if she’d emerged from a painting. She turned to me with both grin and apology as she said, “I’m sorry we had to meet this way. Cute place, by the way. I’m Fauna.”
She extended her hand as if I was meant to shake it, and my eyes bulged at the gesture. I struggled to keep from raking my hands through my hair, convinced the mad-scientist fluff wouldn’t make me look any saner.
“Who the fuck are you people!”
I could barely even look at the ethereal woman who stood in my room with supernatural grace and beauty. She was little more than curved lines and incomprehensible splashes of brass and diamond. None of it made sense. Part of me longed toslip into ignorance once more. It would be so much nicer to resume believing they were fictional.
Silas muttered to me, “Told you there might be something in your closet.”
The woman shot him the middle finger before offering me a sympathetic pout.
I must have looked as shell-shocked as I felt.
Fauna’s icy white hair was divided by a block of copper. Her pale skin was smattered with freckles of both ginger and pearl. She did indeed look every bit her namesake, like a baby deer had shifted into beautiful human skin with an attitude. She folded her arms over her chest and sank her weight into a hip. I was caught between the desire to throw on all the lights to soak in every detail and the gratitude that only the hall light and orange glow from the city illuminated the parties before me.
“This isn’t how I wanted to see you again,” he said to the woman called Fauna.
“And I’m not convinced I wanted to see you at all.” She blew on her nails as if banishing dust, then extended her five fingers, examining her handiwork.
“I like what you’ve done to your hair,” he said. And I couldn’t tell if his tone was mocking or sincere.
She winked as she said, “Of course you do. Change is fabulous. I’ll take it from here, Silas.”
He planted his feet. “She said she wanted—”
“Let me tell the story, sweetheart,” Fauna said to Silas, waving for him to stop talking. Rotating to me, she explained, “Silas here went back to his overlord after your little encounter.” She looked back at the man and narrowed her eyes into predatory slits. “Oh, you don’t think we know already? Don’t be thick.” She returned her gaze to me as she said, “Anyway, his power-hungry divine wasthrilledto hear that such a curious human wanted to bond to hisspecial angel.” Her fingers tapped against her bare arms impatiently as she continued. “It would have been so convenient to have thePrince’s favorite plaything bound to you. Your master would have loved that. Take the time you need to lick your wounds. We applaud the effort, but she’s ours.”
“We have a claim to her.” His retort was like metal sharpened over iron.
Fauna guffawed, gesturing for him to reconsider his words. “What claim! That she asked you first out of desperation? Listen, sweetie, blood is thicker than empty wishes.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. His bright, golden eyes darkened into a flat shade of cold amber as he said, “We have a claim from infancy. She was dedicated.”
I could have sworn Fauna rolled her eyes so hard that it made a popping sound. “Your master makes such a fuss about free will but sends out his little slaves to make more little slaves and have newborns undergo ceremonies, or splash some water or sign life-debt contracts for him long before they know their own name. She’s made no such dedication.”
Through clenched teeth, he pressed, “She didn’t have to. As a baby—”
“Give it a rest.”
I couldn’t decide who to look at. My vision swung between them like the clacking, pendulous silver balls of Newton’s cradle, unable to fix on either. They were discussingme? And what did it have to do with my childhood? I looked between the couch, the blank TV, the island. I wondered how long it would take me to run to my bedside table and what cocktail of meds would bring me back to reality.
“This isn’t your fight, Fauna,” he said, doubling down.
