Page 19 of Envious Of Fire
“Let him rot,” says Mance. “It’ll be the last time that poor soul knows any peace. Do you even know what you’re askin’ me to do?” He turns his harsh eyes back onto Tristan, shining in the fire from the candle below, over halfway melted. “Once we begin this, you will owe a debt to Death. It is the worst entity in existence to owe anything to.”
Raya turns to Tristan, fear in her eyes—a look Tristan has never seen in his friend before. It’s perhaps in this moment that Tristan first experiences a pinch of doubt. Should he have come to meet Mance at all? Was all of this a terrible mistake?
“What?” Mance barks out, voice hardening. “Y’all thought a fuckin’ resurrection would be easy? A resurrection isn’t just a cute ritual to magically invite a soul back into a corpse. It is an act oftheft. When you wake the dead, you risk the ire of Death, the fuckin’ father of nightmares itself. Death is owed penancefor the arrogant act of rearranging its delicate design in your damned favor. Each of us is here ‘cause we’re supposed to be. And the unlucky one you’re tryin’ to steal back from Death, this Brock fella, make no mistake, he’s meant to be dead, and what we’re doin’ here defies every damned natural law there is.” His jaw tightens. “So you better be sure you want to do this at all.”
Silence fills the dank tunnel after the last echo of his words are swallowed into the brick. Between them, the candle burns even lower yet, casting its dying light across the red, sticky path of wine still traced along the floor like a river of blood.
Raya brings her lips to Tristan’s ear. “I donotlike this, I do not likehim, I do nottrusthim, we need toleave.”
Tristan wonders if Raya is right. This is risky, even if they get Mance’s full cooperation and all goes perfectly to plan. Markadian could still learn what Tristan did and punish him greatly for such a direct and insulting violation. But with each passing second that Brock remains deceased, their entire society is threatened by what his powerful family could bring down upon them all.
Does the risk pay off, for the cataclysm it may prevent?
Even if it defies Markadian in the deepest way?
The candle burns low, flame spitting at them, going askew.
Tristan smiles across the ten or so feet that separates them from Mance and the ebbing candle.You say a debt will be owed to Death, but is it we who pay it, or you?
“Let me worry about Death,” states Mance. “You just tell me whether you’re serious ‘bout this or not.”
We’re serious, answers Tristan—ignoring the look of shock Raya throws him.
“Good. And as for what you owe, money’s toilet paper to me, got plenty enough of it to get by, I’m bored of it. What I want in return for my services is … far more valuable to me than any amount of green.”
Tristan had feared that.So what do you want, then?
A look of great and terrible joy spreads across Mance’s face as he sticks the cigarette between his lips. The joy turns his eyes frighteningly dark as he reaches behind his back.
Then presents an item: a cute white box.
Fitting right upon his scarred, discolored palm. Bound by a shiny green ribbon, crisscrossed over the top, punctuated with a matching bow. Suspiciously plain.
“My price is simple,” says Mance. “Deliver my gift.”
To whom?
“Lord Markadian.”
Tristan’s eyes close as the name echoes down the hall. He should have known better than to trust that a sly individual like Mance would make this easy—and not agree to this meeting without a dark ulterior motive.You know I cannot do that.
“What’s the big deal? Call this a belated birthday present. Just put it on his desk, easy-peasy. Tell him it’s from a cousin, or an estranged aunt, or his third grade science teacher … I don’t give a flyin’ fuck what you say. Just give it to him.”
Tristan takes a step forward, eyes opening.Mance…
“Ain’t it such a little price for my services? Just handin’ the man a stupid box? I could’ve asked for your happiest memory.” Mance crouches down, eyes still on Tristan, as he holds a hand over the candle and lets the flame lick at his palm like a puppy. “Or a blowjob. Or an actual newborn’s heart. Though … I bet the blowjob would be the worst by far,” he admits as he gazes up at Tristan and Raya, voice turning melodic with sympathy. “Iloveto make my pleasures last, like sweet little torments … a tiny crank of the stretch rack,mmm, the pain and the pleasure thatcreaksdown the body, one notch at a time … You’d be on your knees for hours and hours, how I love to make it last.” Mance rises, cups his crotch. “And I’m more than a mouthful, too. Can you imagine it? What sweet-ass torture that would be for yourkind, havin’ my throbbin’ blood-filled dick down your throat … without bein’ allowed the pleasure of a single bite. What? Am I gettin’ you hard, Tristan? Makin’ you wet, Raya? I bet y’all’s fangs are poppin’ out right about now, dreamin’ of it.”
Tristan sighs and gives his own face a careless gesture.We don’t have fangs, I’m afraid, as we are not Ferals.
“Ah, right … Ferals … you guys and your elitist shit, actin’ like you’re any different than the wild bloodsuckers just because you drink your blood out of wineglasses and wear suits. You’re just as animal as the others are. Only difference is, you’re in a constant state of self-denial, like a suppressed goody Mormon boy tryin’ not to fuck the brains outta his mission buddy. What aterriblefuckin’ way to live, lyin’ to yourself all day. Your whole society is barely keepin’ itself together and you don’t even see it, all of you fuckers just an inch away from mayhem, just one tiny shove away from latchin’ on to the first throat you see.”
Are you quite done, Mance?
“All of this to say …” His face tightens, losing all humor at once. “Just give Mark the goddamned box.”
Tristan wonders which is worse, to be in Death’s debt, or in Mance’s. Perhaps every soul is in Death’s debt to begin with, accruing since the day their mortal form is born.
If only Tristan had Kyle’s gift, to read whatever Mance is feeling right now, to have that useful information, to be able to sense his misgivings, his excitements, his fears … and to know which threats and statements to trust. He might even be able to get an understanding of what, exactly, is contained in the box.
