A Nightingale's Tale

Chapter Eighteen

Lydia bounced uneasily in the middle seat of the truck. The awe of riding in the truck had worn itself out and the only thing she felt now was nausea. Killian sat next to her staring out the fogged window. Lyon was an even worse driver than Killian. He barely held onto the steering wheel as he tapped his fingers to the beat of the music on the radio. Ash from his cigarette fell onto the leaf-covered floorboard.

The city was different this time. The pleasantries that Lydia had enjoyed earlier that evening were gone. It was late now, and people huddled around one another on the outsides of buildings around trash cans filled with fire. She felt as if everyone was watching her now instead of the other way around. They pulled up to a square metal building with black streaks climbing up the sides. The smell of burnt metal and coal assaulted her senses as Lydia stepped from the truck. The building looked like an old, tin cigar box that had caught fire and was still in use. Lyon pulled out another cigarette and headed for the building. There were people standing outside the door smoking, drinking, screaming, and kissing. Music echoed through the walls as if it were trying to escape out to the streets. Lyon didn’t put out his cigarette before entering. A man, that Lydia could have sworn was a troll, stood in a small hallway that blocked the entrance to the main part of the building. He looked at Lyon and said, “Wait here.” A few minutes later he returned with a woman. Her head was covered yellow tattoos where hair would have been. The yellow tattoos, which jumped off her dark skin in contrast, ran down her neck and onto her arms Turquois necklaces were stacked against her chest and up to her chin. The giant of a man left them alone in the hallway.

“I wasn’t expecting you back so soon. I don’t have a list for you,” she said.

“That’s not what I’m here for. We need your help, well, she needs your help. This is Lydia, she’s from an old law coven,” said Lyon with a smirk clearly appealing to her in a certain way.

“What? You found one?” she said as she swept her hand through the air as if Lydia was a dream that could float away.

“She found us.”

She walked around Lydia like she was a show dog to be inspected.

“She’s not what I thought they would look like with all the inbreeding.”

“Excuse me,” Lydia said stepping away from the woman.

“Wendy,” Lyon said.

“How odd. But what could I possibly do for you?”

“Her friend is missing, and I thought maybe he could help us.”

“He is not some palm reader with a crystal ball, you can't just use him whenever you want!”

“I brought you something,” he said with a smile and then he whispered in her ear. A devious, greedy smile stretched across her face, exposing three golden teeth on the bottom row of her mouth.

“You come with me, you two stay here,” Wendy said pointing to Killian and Lydia.

They went through two swinging doors that led into the main part of the building which let in a loud boom of music as they existed.

“What is going on?” Lydia asked Killian.

“Lyon does some work for her.”

“What kind of work?”

“She gives him lists of things she needs and maps of where they might be, and he gets them for her in exchange for human money.”

“In the other realm?! He sells magical items to humans? Have you lost your mind? That’s extremely dangerous, they don’t know how to use that stuff! How could you be so careless?”

“Look, we need the money. How do you think I paid I for all that stuff today? We need it to survive. Besides it's not like they’re magic they can’t even really use that stuff. They can make menial potions but that’s it, it’s nothing really.”

Wendy stuck only her head back through the threshold and said, “Alright you two, follow me.”

Lydia shot Killian an irritated look and followed behind Wendy. They walked into a packed room of dancing people who moved violently to loud music and lights. The air was humid and hot which made Lydia even more uncomfortable. She wanted more than anything to find out where Arabella could be and get the hell out of there. They went through an ‘employees only’ door and up a back staircase. A large loft over-looked the dance floor. The room had a desk, a large dining table, a stocked bar, and many couches and chairs throughout. Two young, mischievous looking men lounged on a red felt, “J” shaped couch. They looked almost identical. They wore the same style of black and grey clothing with leather holsters strapped across their chests like outlaws in old western movies. They watched as her party moved in front of them with too much interest. Lydia immediately noticed all the artifacts arranged on shelves against the walls like trophies. She studied a beautiful green Fabergé egg.

“It’s a dragon egg,” the woman said to her.

The egg was far too small to be able to contain a dragon, but Lydia didn’t correct her. Most of her items were fake, which didn’t bother Lydia. It was the real items Wendy had that concerned her. A corroded silver flute made Lydia’s stomach turn, she knew an old story which one similar ended the lives of thousands of children. A small red potion bottle, labeled “Love Potion,” that smelled like cherries. Those had real power and Lydia didn’t want to draw any extra attention to them.

“This is Pierre and John,” she said and motioned to the men on the red couch. “This is my son, Demi and I’m Wendy,” she said as she gestured to a small boy, or what Lydia assumed was a boy, that sat on a pillow in a corner of the room.

Demi had features like his mother, but his skin was white instead of brown. His eyes were pink and unmoving as he stared forward across the room. He had long white hair that

went down his chest. He was so tiny Lydia thought he might fall over dead at any moment. She was concerned about such a young child being subjected to a place like this as the music vibrated the floor beneath them like hundreds of miniature earthquakes.

“Sit, I’ll read your fortune,” Wendy said.

Lydia was skeptical of the woman but sat at the large black table in the center of the room. Everything in the room was black, deep purple, or blood red which made Demi stand out that much more. He was like a white candle glowing in a dark graveyard. Wendy began shuffling tarot cards that were already on the table. The table was spotted with alcohol stains and melted wax.

“What would you like to know?” she asked.

“Where my friend is.”

“Something about yourself, dear.”

“How do I find her?”

“You’re not very fun, are you? Ok, I’ll ask the questions then. Let’s see…oh, when will you find your true love?”

Lydia was annoyed, this was a waste of time.

She flipped over the first card. A creature with horns and wings was on the card.

“Strange for a first card. The devil.”

She flipped another over. The same image was on the second card.

“What?’” Wendy said. She flipped over another. Same image. Then another. Same image. She turned her entire pile over and they were all the image of the devil.

“What have you brought here?” she said standing up abruptly and throwing cards toward Lyon.

“I told you,” he said nonchalantly while pouring a drink for himself.

“Fine, if she wants to play games,” she said and walked toward Demi, Lydia followed her.

Wendy sat at her desk and lit a cigarette. She nodded at Demi.

“Well? Ask him what you want!” Wendy was obviously annoyed and put off by whatever had just happened.

“Really?” she asked.

She nodded again.

“Hi,” Lydia said to Demi as she crossed the room to him. The men on the couch shifted for the first time since they had entered the room.

“He doesn’t speak, to anyone other than me,” said Wendy, “Do you have something of hers, your missing friend?”

“Oh, yes I do,” she said pulling at the fairy necklace she had on. Killian came behind her to help her take it off. He smiled at her as he handed it to her. She placed it in Demi’s tiny hand. The boy was still in a daze. It was if he didn’t even know there was anyone else in the room. He stared forward without blinking in an unsettling way.

“Come on, honey. Tell the witch what you see,” Wendy said before sipping on a martini glass.

He was unmoved.

“Demi, Demi focus,” she snapped her fingers in his face, “Goddammit child.”

“Please, Demi,” Lydia pleaded to the boy.

“If he can’t see her she’s dead,” Wendy said.

“She is not dead,” Lydia said with more anger than she had realized.

A few artifacts on the wall began to rock back and forth like a window had been opened. Wendy shifted uncomfortably at her desk, she was scared of Lydia. Lydia composed herself and went to Killian’s side. This woman was a charlatan, she couldn’t help Lydia.

“She’s a fake,” Lydia said in a low whisper.

“Yea, she is but Demi isn’t. She does it to protect him. We knew this might not be anything. We’ll try something else. There has to be a way to find her,” he said.

“How?” she asked desperately.

“I don’t know but we’ll figure something out.”

Lydia rested her forehead on his chest. Lyon and Wendy had congregated together and were speaking about a different subject than Arabella. Lyon was trying to whisper but Wendy’s voice was incapable of being quiet.

“A demon in town? Yea, yea there’s been one around. Onyx I’m pretty sure. Sexy man,” she said.

“Yes, that’s the one, Onyx,” Lyon said trying to keep his voice down.

Lydia had had enough, Lyon didn’t give a damn about helping her. He just wanted to find out everything he could about Onyx.

“What did he want with her? Oh honey, what have you gotten yourself into? Who is she that a demon is searching for her?” Wendy said loudly.

“Lyon, can I speak to you for a moment?” Killian said.

Lydia went to retrieve her necklace from Demi while they argued in the corner. Wendy went to the bar and made herself another drink. Lydia extended a hand toward Demi to get the dangling necklace when he reached his other hand out and grasped her wrist.

“They’re here,” Demi said while staring into her eyes. She could see tiny blood vessels popping in his eye as he spoke. She jerked her hand away with the necklace clasped tightly. She stared down at the child with such shock, it took her a moment to realize he had spoken. He was still and staring forward again. Lydia wondered if she had just imagined what had happened but the small scratch on her wrist told her otherwise. Wendy interrupted her train of thought, “You know, honey, I know where he is, your demon. If you want to see him I can tell you where he is,” Wendy said from behind her with a martini glass in hand.

“Lydia, let’s go,” Killian yelled from across the room. Lyon was already heading down the stairs. Lydia paused wanting to talk to Demi.

“Here,” Wendy said scribbling something down on a napkin. Lydia looked back at Demi, hoping for a sign he would speak to her again. He was as completely unmoved as the moment they had walked in. Lydia took the napkin and left with Killian holding onto her arm.

The street lamps lit the inside of the truck bed every time they passed one. Lydia just wanted darkness. The light hurt her head. She was pleased the further away they got from the city and the fewer street lights there were, until there were none.

“A lot of help that was,” Killian yelled at Lyon.

“I don’t know how that kid works. I come see her every month and she gives me a list, if he sees something. He doesn’t always see things. I tried ok.”

“And you never mentioned the Lafitte bothers were involved!”

Lyon was silent.

“Surprised I know who they are? Well, I do. Everyone does. I suppose it’s safe to say most of the things you brought back weren’t just things you found already abandoned, were they? What else have you been lying about?”

“Oh please, we needed the money. You knew where most of that stuff was coming from!”

“No, I didn’t. I said from the beginning, no stolen items! Only things found in deserted villages.”

“Right? Like anyone would leave behind a perfect chest of potions and herbs,” Lyon laughed condescendingly.

“I’m sorry Lydia. I really thought he could help. We’ll figure something out,” Killian said.

“How did you do that?’ Lyon asked.

“Do what?” Killian replied.

“Not you, her.”

“What?” Lydia asked.

“That thing with the cards? Making them all change the same thing. I knew she would try and test you, but I didn’t think you would do something like that.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You didn’t do that?” Killian asked.

“No.”

“What about the shaking? You know the stuff on the shelves?” Killian asked.

“I didn’t do anything.”

No one said anything for a while.

“What were you talking to Wendy about?” Lydia said.

“Oh, nothing, she just…she mentioned something.”

“What?”

“Really, it’s nothing.”

“I heard you asking about Onyx.”

“You were listening in on my conversation from across the room?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, yes I did. I would like to know all I can about a demon that’s hunting you.”

“He isn’t hunting me.”

“So, you say.”

“Why ask her?”

“She knows everything that goes on around here.”

“Like what she mentioned to you?”

“If you heard the whole conversation why are you asking me?”

“Because I want you to tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell. She mentioned it, I’m choosing to not listen.”

“Can someone explain what you’re talking about?” Killian asked.

“She mentioned a man to Lyon. He cut her off and asked about Onyx.”

“You could hear them talking?”

“She enhanced herself magically because she doesn’t trust us,” Lyon said.

“I didn’t want to miss anything, and it seems like it was a good thing I did. The magician in the swamps, who is he?”

“A worthless source.”

“Why did she bring him up then?”

Lyon sighed with agitation. “He’s a magician. He keeps up with magical realm news or something. I don’t know, I’ve never met him she’s only told me about him.”

“And how would he be of any use?”

“He wouldn’t be. That’s why I didn’t bring it up.”

“Lydia, I’m sorry. I really thought they could help or I wouldn’t have brought you all the way back there,” Killian said.

“This again! When are you going to let up? I don’t even have to help her. The only reason I’m even…”

“I want to go see him, the magician in the swamps,” Lydia said.

“Lydia, that’s probably a dead end. I mean you saw Wendy…” Killian started.

“She’s helped us out a lot,” Lyon yelled.

Lydia’s head throbbed.

“This is useless,” she said in anger.

“Why don’t you get the demon to help you?” Lyon said under his breath.

“Lyon,” Killian protested.

“I tried,” Lydia said.

“What?” Killian said.

“He’s who I came to the mainland for help. He wasn’t there so I went to the camp.”

“Why would he help you?” Lyon asked.

Silence.

“Fine, I’ll make a trade with you. I’ll give you the map to find the magician in the swamp but I want to know everything you know about the demon.”

“I don’t know anything.”

“He’s come here to find you and you claim he would help you if he had been here so yes, you do know something.”

“Everything he’s said has been a lie according to you so what I do know is probably false.”

“There’s often truth in lies,” Lyon protested.

Killian was still next to her, he wanted to know also. The truck came to a stop in the field. The ride back to camp seemed much longer than the one to the city. They both looked at her as if she owed them something.

“Fine then, I’ll be packing. I want the map tomorrow morning. I’ll tell you what you want to know then.”

Lydia jumped from the truck before either of them could argue. She didn’t want to talk about Onyx, not then and not ever. Killian yelled at her but she just ran to her tent. She was exhausted mainly with herself. How can one person fail so many times in such a short period of time?

“Lydia,” Killian said at the tent entrance.

“Killian, I want to be alone, please. I just want to sleep.”

“But you…”

“Killian go! Please.”

He stepped in the tent, refusing to listen to her, and walked close to her.

“Who is he?” Killian said as he held he watched her eyes for any sign of deceit, “The demon, who is he to you?”

“Killian, it’s not something you will understand,” she offered.

He turned his neck as if it were giving him pain.

“Who is he?” he said again, accentuating each syllable.

“He’s not what you think he is,” she begged.

“Lydia, why was he here? What is he to you?”

“I loved him. Is that what you want to hear?”

He swallowed and averted his eyes from hers.

“Killian…” she almost cried out.

“You loved him? You love that thing?” He spat the words with disgust.

“Killian, I didn’t know what he was…”

“You…. didn’t know…what was he? One of the most powerful witches I’ve ever encountered, and you didn’t know what he was?”

“You don’t have to believe me, but I didn’t. I didn’t know he was a demon.”

“Do you still love him?” he asked.

“It’s not…it’s not that simple.”

She didn’t know how to answer him honestly. Yes, she still loved the Onyx she had originally met. The one that rubbed a sponge against her back in the bathtub to relieve the aches. The one that calmed her anxieties with a cup of tea and a kiss on the forehead. The one that made her tense but stirred when he touched her under her dress. How could she ever explain those feelings to Killian? She felt differently about Killian, but she couldn’t tell him that. Killian spoke to a piece of her that she thought died long ago with her mother. Killian held onto her, not like a father holding a child, as she often felt with Onyx, but instead she was his strength. He looked at her as an equal, as a partner, someone to dive into the depths with, knowing they would always be there. And his touch, no it wasn’t as electric as Onyx’s but it was equally as an intoxicating. What she felt was love, comfort, and a reason to keep going. A still storm inside her, as the waves of his ocean, swept her back and forth and back and forth until they both collapsed into each other. How could she ever compare the two? Onyx was her weakness while Killian was her strength. Onyx made her feel invincible, but Killian made her feel strong, as if nothing could stop her without having to be invincible.

“It’s a simple question. Do you still love him?”

“I….I don’t know.”

She couldn’t figure out what the look he gave her meant, anger, pain, disgust? He retreated from the tent and shut the flap behind him. She heard a loud bang against a tree as if he had kicked or thrown something hard. As she lay her head down on her pillow, she wanted to be thinking of anything other than Onyx, and yet she couldn’t.