Page 19 of The Dame & the Devil

He walks through a room that seems empty save for his destination.

The massive bed is hung with dark red curtains and bathed in the dim glow of a dozen black candles.

I expect him to lay me on the soft mattress and leave. The last bit of tension that gripped me falls from my shoulders as he draws the covers away and lays down, still cradling me in his arms.

“Rest now.”

I’m too sated to argue.

Too tired to question this tenderness.

As I drift to the darkness of that slumber, I swear I hear him softly say, “Perhaps I am the one who should be scared of you.”

Devil to Pay

The bed is empty beside me when I wake, the sheets cold.

I don’t know if I expected him to be there…. But I’m surprised that I’m disappointed.

Slipping from those silken sheets, I stretch my too sore muscles and catch sight of myself in a darkly clouded mirror leaning against the wall.

It feels like too short of a time has passed to have changed me this much.

The dark lines of the tattoos on my arms, the bright splashes of red across my belly, my hip… and the scarred remains of the first name on my thigh.

I almost expect to see the long lines where his claws sliced through my skin, but they healed so quickly, not even the five points from where he removed my heart remain.

The silence of this place is eerie and I peek over the edge of the open balcony he carried me in through.

There’s nothing above or below but darkness.

If I was a different woman, perhaps I would crawl back into that bed and wait for him to come to me….

But idleness never set well on my shoulders.

My gaze travels around the dark edges of the room until an arch catches my eye.

I almost miss it, my avenue of exploration.

A dress of shadows and smoke falls over me as I walk to the dimly lit doorway. There’s nothing to keep me inside the room. No reason to think I can’t explore this part of Hell.

The skirt made of smoke rolls away from me, coiling like tentacles in every direction. One tendril claws to the edge of the stairs and a wick catches light at its touch.

The flame sparks, setting off a chain reaction of hundreds more.

Candles drip and glow on the stairs, wax flowing down the spiral like a hot stream.

I follow the path of the firelight, past countless rooms covered in dust, until I reach the bottom.

The chair and the altar are still in the middle of the room, but the candles lead to a long table piled with food and covered with black tapers that puff to life as I near.

But there is no sign of my Devil.

My Devil…. I doubt I can lay claim to him. Not out loud, anyway.

I sit and eat, picking through the options, waiting for him to return.

But he doesn’t.

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