Slayers Fan Fiction ❯ Flam Gush ❯ Chapter 12

Flam Gush 12

“Why do I have to carry her?” Gourry groused as he shifted Lucilla to his other shoulder, trying hard—and rather unsuccessfully—to ignore the throbbing in his temples. “Can't you just levitate her or something?” At least the sun was down, now. Although the bright light made his headache worse, squinting was almost as bad.

“Give me a break!” Lina shot back. “Levitation takes a lot out of me.” She turned and gave him an arch look. “I suppose if it's too much for you, I could Ray Wing us the rest of the way.”

Gourry refused to rise to her bait. “Why is it that one is any different than the other?” He mentally kicked himself. Ten-to-one she was going to try to explain it.

“They're totally different spells!” Lina exclaimed. “Okay. Both of them require you to manipulate the wind, but in totally different ways.”

Sometimes, it really sucked to be right.

“With Levitation,” Lina announced as she started her lecture on the merits and applications of one spell versus the other, “you manipulate the wind to make it support you. It's easy to control, but it's very draining. There's no limit to the amount of wind that you have to manipulate, and all that air gets heavy after a while. Ray Wing, on the other hand, produces a wind barrier around the caster. You have to concentrate to maintain the wind barrier, but in order to fly, all you need to do is manipulate the wind barrier, instead of a limitless amount of air. If you want vertical mobility, but you need to be able to cast other spells, Levitation is the best choice. Levitation also works well if you need to stop yourself from falling because it's so quick to cast. But if you want speed and distance for the duration, Ray Wing works better.”

He tried, really he did. Not that hard, but he did try. But as soon as she started talking about air being heavy, she lost him. How could air possibly be heavy? The whole thing sounded convoluted and completely over his currently pounding head.

“Gourry!”

“Huh?”

“Are you even listening?”

“Um . . . yes?” Technically he supposed he was listening. He knew she was talking, at least. Mostly though, he was wondering how much longer he was going to have to lug Lucilla around. “We shoulda just left her tied up in that shack,” he muttered under his breath.

Either Lina's hearing was better than he thought, or he was muttering louder than he had intended. “Oh come on!” she burst out, stopping to glare at him. “Honestly how heavy can she be?”

“Honestly?” Since Lina had stopped anyway, Gourry decided to take advantage of it. He sat down and dumped Lucilla off his shoulder, letting her fall inelegantly onto the ground. “Why don't you carry her for the rest of the day?” He rotated his shoulder, trying to get the kinks out.

Lina stepped over behind him and started kneading his shoulders. “You're totally knotted up!” She steadily increased the pressure, focusing on the area right around his left shoulder blade. “She doesn't look much bigger than me, and you've carried me a lot further than we've gone with her.”

“I think it's the dress . . .” Gourry fished around for an excuse. Lina was right. Lucilla was very close to her in size, although the dress did make a bit of a difference. It was more that his skin cringed away from her, and he found himself carrying her so gingerly, trying not to think about the way her body was pressed up against him. Since he had her slung over his shoulder, her arms hung down his back, and they swayed against him with every step he took. He found himself contorting his back and shoulder, trying to avoid the feel of her arms moving against him.

Another part of it was her perfume—a not-so-subtle scent that made him think of rutting cats for some reason. Maybe she thought it was sexy or erotic, but having it so close to his nose for so long was making him sick to his stomach. Or maybe it was just the headache? Regardless, for once he was actually grateful that their supplies were running low. Lunch had been pathetically light, but now there was less sitting on his stomach.

The other part of it was her attitude. Even in her enforced state of sleep, there was something about her that set his teeth on edge and made him more than a bit nervous. Maybe it was just that she knew his name. He had no idea why she thought she knew him, because he was practically certain that he had never seen her before the day she had staged her murder.

“Well, that's easy enough to fix,” Lina commented mildly. “We can just cut the skirt off. Then you won't have to lug all that extra weight.”

No, that was not an option. Just the thought of having to touch her exposed skin . . . Gourry shuddered. “Why do we even need her at all?” he demanded.

“What do you suggest, then?” Lina shot back. “If we left her tied up in that shack, it'd only be a matter of time before she got free. Zel might come looking for her, if no one else!”

“Are you sure it was Zel?” he asked yet again. That was probably the craziest part of the whole day, even stranger than Lina frolicking through the forest barefoot, wearing nothing more than a shift. He knew the guy was mercenary, but cozying up to Lucilla? The only way Gourry could see it was if Zel thought it would somehow lead to his cure.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” she bit out from between clenched teeth as she dug her fingers painfully into a particularly tense knot of muscle.

“Ow! Lina!” Reflexively, he reached over his back to bat away her hands.

“It's not like I want her with us,” Lina said sullenly, thrusting her jaw in the general vicinity of Lucilla. “It's either bring her, or kill her. I don't want her sneaking up on me again.”

Gourry muttered sourly under his breath, but he knew Lina was right. She was inept, but even a clumsy oaf could get lucky. And killing her was out of the question. He had no qualms about defending himself or Lina if the situation required it, but even then, it was rarely necessary to actually kill anyone. He knew he would never be able to force himself to cut down an unarmed foe in cold blood.

“Look,” Lina said after taking a deep breath. “It's only about an hour more `til we get to the village. We can put her in the public stocks and let the villagers find her.” She started working on the knots in his shoulders again. “I'm sure they'll keep her occupied for a while.” She sounded smug and vindictive at the same time.

The plan was to sneak into the village in the middle of the night, dump Lucilla in the town square, and search the room where he had found the tapestry. Lina was positive that Lucilla would sleep until dawn, and by that time hopefully they would be long gone. Gourry sighed a bit and tried to relax. Lina's fingers were strong and sure as she methodically worked her way across his shoulders and up his neck. If they came up empty after searching the room in the inn, then they would lay low for the next day and break into Deremar's keep the next night.

Lina altered the pressure of her fingers, making her touch a light caress. Then she echoed his sigh and draped her arms around him. Gourry closed his eyes and leaned back into her embrace. For just a moment, neither of them moved. Time slowed—held its breath. He could feel her warmth behind him, encircling him, giving him strength, telling him not to worry, that everything would be fine. True, he was her protector, but at that moment, he was fully aware of how much he depended on her strength as well.

Time caught up with them and the moment was over. With a slight squeeze and a rap on his chest, Lina released him and wandered over to the small brook they were following to refill their water skins.

Gourry fished around for a quick snack, taking further advantage of their impromptu rest-break. Although they had gotten a very late start, they had made good progress. Lina was probably pretty close in her estimation of how much further they had to go. There was no point in rushing either, since they were counting on the cover of darkness. As he gnawed at a scrap of jerked meat, pretty much the only thing they had left, Gourry pulled out the main gauche replica of the Sword of Light. With practiced ease, he removed the blade from the pommel, catching the braid of hair that came tumbling out. His fingers carefully traced the pattern of his mother's hair as it wove around three separate strands of blond—one vibrant and supple, the other two as fragile and lifeless as ash. He still had trouble believing that his mother could really be alive. Oh, he had no doubt that the charm was still active. No, it was more that he was afraid to believe. He had been so sure that he was the only Gabriev left. There was no keep, no Sword of Light to protect and pass on. When he had relinquished his claim on the Sword of Light, he had also given up the last thing tying him to his past. If his mother was alive, things were going to change. Not that that was a bad thing . . .

“Gourry?” Lina appeared at his elbow, handing him a water-skin. She watched him, almost clinically it seemed, as he drank in long swallows.

“Thanks.” He restoppered the skin and dropped it on the ground next to him. “D'you suppose she's thirsty?”

Lina shrugged. “How thirsty do you get while you're sleeping?”

“What d'you think the village will do when they find her?”

Lina shrugged again, and abruptly changed the subject. “Can I see the tapestry again?”

Her question caught him off guard. “Why?”

“I just want to see it again,” she said innocently. Her tone was bland enough, but her eyes were snapping with excitement.

It took him a while to find the tapestry—he had put it at the very bottom of his sack, doubting that he would need it any time soon. Lina hovered at his shoulder, peering over him with obvious impatience. “Why do you want to see it again?” he asked as he pulled it out.

“Let me see it first, and then I'll tell you. I've got an idea.”

He no sooner smoothed the tapestry flat than Lina cast a light spell. He winced and squinted his eyes against the sudden brightness, but not before Lina noticed. “What's wrong?” she asked.

He waved his hand dismissively. “It just took me by surprise.”

Lina looked at him sharply, but then turned her attention towards the tapestry. Once again, she traced the figure that was meant to represent him, and then she leaned in closer, so close in fact that her nose was almost pressed to the fabric. Apparently satisfied, she sat back on her heels, and then she glanced back and forth between him and the tapestry a couple of times before doing an obvious double-take.

“I thought you hated having your hair braided up,” she said accusingly.

“Yeah, well . . .” Somehow, he doubted it would be a good idea to explain that he had braided it up to make her eyes stop jumping around. “So, what's your idea?”

Lina's brow furrowed a bit as she stared at his hair, but she turned her attention back to the tapestry, and Gourry mentally breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, I was thinking about how Lucilla recognized you.”

“Yeah?”

“You found this in the room in the inn, right?”

“Yeah,” Gourry repeated.

“Well, what if that was Lucilla's room? I mean, we already know she's loose and free with her favors . . .” Lina paused and a rosy blush spread across her cheeks. She cleared her throat and continued. “If the room was hers, she'd be familiar with the tapestry. There is enough of a resemblance that she might be able to recognize you, just based on it.”

Gourry considered. It made sense, but something about the idea seemed off. Unfortunately, he had no clue what it might be. “I guess . . .” he said slowly, his gaze sliding over Lucilla.

“It would also explain why the room was so tastefully decorated—not that she has any taste,” Lina said derisively, clicking her tongue.

She had no taste in perfume, at least. He could attest to that much. “Why would the lord's niece play the whore, though?”

“I don't know,” Lina said exasperatedly. “You got any better ideas?”

“Well—”

“I didn't think so!” She cut him off curtly and he caught a fleeting look of worry in her eyes before she whirled around and started rolling up the tapestry.

******************

With a quiet snick, Lina slid the bolt that held the stocks closed and added her own special touch to keep it locked in place. Then she stepped back to admire her handiwork. Lucilla was still fast asleep—after all, it just would not do for her to wake up and alert the whole village—and would likely remain so long enough for them to sneak into the inn and search.

The stocks were located just at the entrance to the village, at the end of the short road that connected Deremar's keep to the village square. She surveyed the buildings that formed the square: inn, brewery, general store, and smithy. Beyond, she could make out the shadows of peasant huts. The entire village seemed to be asleep: not a single light flickering in any window as far as the eye could see. Lina shook her head again. Why on earth had Deremar thought that someone was going to attack him when they were obviously in the middle of nowhere? And if he had been nervous enough to hire them and pay their considerable price—if you wanted the best of the best, you had to be ready to pay for it after all—how could he neglect to set guards? Especially after the abortive attempt to capture them. Lina actually found herself hoping they found nothing useful in Lucilla's room. She was itching for an excuse to pump Deremar for answers.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Gourry surreptitiously rubbing at his temples. How long had he had his hair braided up? It bothered her a bit that she had just noticed it earlier this evening. She must be more pre-occupied than she had thought. He still had it up now, even though it was obviously giving him a headache. Oddly enough, it was both annoying and a relief. She shook her head, dismissing the entire line of thought. There were other things for them to do besides standing around by the public stocks, pondering hairstyles.

“C'mon,” she whispered. “Let's get moving.”

Gourry snatched his hand away from his temple and grunted softly.

Even if it seemed like everyone was asleep, there was no point in getting cocky. She and Gourry stuck to the shadows and moved slowly. Gourry was especially careful to keep his armor from clanking. They had wrapped him up in a dark blanket to help muffle any inadvertent sounds. Actually, that had been quite the argument. Gourry hated wearing anything that impeded his mobility, and even though Lina had pointed out that cloaks and capes hardly slowed either her or Zel down, he had still grumbled about the situation.

As they hunched in the shadows behind the smithy, Lina ground her teeth in frustration. They were moving along so slowly, she was willing to bet it would be morning before they were there. In spite of his sullen resistance about wearing the blanket, Gourry seemed to have infinite patience as he guided them towards the inn. She knew that his hearing was much better than hers, but still, did they absolutely have to freeze in the shadows every time an owl hooted or a wolf howled?

Finally, they made it to the back door of the inn without encountering a single soul. Although the door creaked distressingly loud on its hinges, causing both of them to freeze and melt into the shadows, no one came to investigate, even after several minutes. Once inside, they made their way through the kitchen—Lina ripped a generous chunk out of a loaf of bread sitting next to the stove—and into the common room.

A banked fire glowed in the fireplace, providing a modicum of light. They both stared at the dim shadows of rushes strewn across the floor. “What do you think?” Lina whispered as she shoved the last of the bread into her mouth.

“You didn't even get any for me?” Gourry asked softly with a mournful sigh.

“Get your own!” Lina retorted in a low undertone.

Gourry held up his hand, and Lina could hear something rustling in the common room. She strained her eyes and ears for some other indication of what was out there, while shrinking back into the shadows.

After a moment, Gourry leaned in close and whispered, “I think it's just a rat or something.” Lina felt a shiver run up her spine at the feel of his warm breath on her ear. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Lina just mouthed the word as she nodded. “I'd better levitate us across,” she whispered.

Gourry took another look at rushes on the floor of the common room and nodded shortly.

It was probably an unnecessary precaution. This was an inn, after all, and some noise was to be expected as guests moved around. Under normal circumstances, they probably would have walked right in without all the skulking about. Of course, these were hardly normal circumstances. Not that Lina really cared if they got caught—her magic could make short work of anyone unwise enough to challenge them—it was more a matter of practicality. It would probably be much easier to search through Lucilla's room if no one knew they were there.

Besides, doing it this way gave her the chance to work out the kinks in her new levitation variation. By the time Lina landed them softly outside of Lucilla's room, she thought that with a bit more work, she would master this variant, and then she could use it and still be able to cast other spells. Although it took a bit more concentration, in many ways, it was easier to support Gourry with the magic, rather than with her arms.

Much to her surprise, the door to Lucilla's room was unlocked, a fact she remedied as soon as she got the door shut behind them. As Gourry pulled the heavy drapes over the single window, Lina added a magical lock to make sure that the door would stay closed and they would have no interruptions. She finished in time to see Gourry light the lamp sitting on the mantle.

The room looked much as she remembered it. The huge bed still dominated the room, and she felt herself flush at the memory of what they had done on that bed. A warm tense feeling pooled low in her belly. As she glanced sideways at Gourry, she realized that they were alone—truly alone—for the first time in a long time. No one knew they were there, thanks to all the sneaking, and even if someone, by some strange quirk of fate did discover that Lucilla's room was currently occupied, there were only two ways in: tear down the wall, or find a sorcerer more powerful than she was. As much as she had complained about the excruciatingly slow rate Gourry had set, they still had plenty of time—several hours at least—before false dawn . . . She wondered if it would be difficult to persuade Gourry to make use of the bed once more. Who knew when they would next have the opportunity—not to mention the assured privacy—the room afforded?

“Gourry?” she said softly as she touched his arm to get his attention. “What—” she broke off abruptly when she noticed the new “decoration” gracing the wall above the mantle.

******************

“Well . . . that's certainly . . . interesting . . .” Lina sounded calm enough, if at an uncharacteristic loss for words.

Gourry's glance whipped between her and the wall. “Interesting?” he asked in a strangled tone.

“Original?” she offered.

“It's sick.” Gourry said flatly. “How come you didn't take `em with us?”

With a grimace and a slight flush, Lina sank into one of the overstuffed chairs. “They were ruined. No point in packing them. And we were in a bit of a rush, if you remember.”

The items in question were the remains of Lina's clothes. The memory was seared in his brain: the feel of Lina writhing against him, the sound of the water sloshing in the tub . . . the snapping of wire tight control as he gave in to the demands of needs too-long denied . . . . the feel of cloth rending beneath his determined grasp . . . the reward of Lina's bare flesh as she surrendered to his touch . . . He flushed guiltily. If only he had demonstrated just a bit more self-restraint, if only he had packed them instead of wadding them into a ball and shoving them into a corner of the room . . .

Both the yellow under-shirt and her leggings had been carefully mended. In fact, you could hardly tell that they had been ripped in the first place. They were currently pinned to the wall in a fashion to suggest that they were being worn, which was strange enough. What made the whole display grotesque were the daggers that had been impaled through the clothes in strategic locations: in the “heart,” at the crotch of the leggings, and at the end of a long gash down the “torso” of the right side. The effect was highlighted by dribbles of some bright-red substance meant to emulate blood.

Gourry removed the dagger from the “torso” and glanced over at Lina. “It's the same place, isn't it?”

“Yeah, seems like it,” Lina replied shortly with a slight wince.

He had vivid memories of helping Shella clean out the gash that stretched from Lina's ribs down to her hip. It had been on her right side.

In an uncharacteristic burst of anger, Gourry ripped her clothes off the wall and tossed them, along with the daggers, into the fireplace on top of the neatly arranged kindling just waiting to be lit. Throwing caution to the wind, he grabbed tinder and flint to spark the fire, not resting until he was sure the blaze would hold. He turned around to see Lina staring at him.

“What if I wanted to wear those again?” she demanded indignantly.

“You want to wear stuff that's been ripped up with daggers?” he returned with heat. “Too bad!” He turned around and poked at the fire, and then tossed on another log for good measure.

“Too bad?” Lina echoed angrily. “And who gave you permission to make decisions about my stuff?”

“I'm your protector!” he bit out, taking a step towards her. His head was throbbing and it hurt to think, but even he could recognize the danger implicit in someone mutilating Lina's clothes. He refused to believe that she could be blind to it.

“What's that got to do with anything?” Her hands were balled up into fists, clenched tight at her sides.

“I know you're not that stupid,” he growled. “Even I can tell it's a curse.” He held her eyes, daring her to contradict him.

Abruptly the anger visibly drained out of her, and he felt himself relax a bit as well. With a sigh, Lina ran her hands through her hair, pushing it back from her face. “It could be . . .” she said slowly, “but I really doubt it—”

He moved to her side and traced the line of her scar, across her midriff. “It's the same place.”

“I know,” Lina sighed again. “It could just be coincidence, you know.”

“How?” he asked flatly.

Lina's eyes gazed off in the distance. “If this is Lucilla's room, we already know she hates me.” She held up her hand to forestall him when he took a breath to interrupt. “And, we also know that Lucilla and Deremar had connections with those bandits, right?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly, unconvinced.

“I think it's more likely that it's just wishful thinking,” Lina said thoughtfully as she continued to stare at nothing. “She probably heard what had happened and added that detail . . .”

“You don't know that,” he accused.

“Look,” Lina said, looking him in the eyes, “We know that no one around here knows magic—clearly Lucilla doesn't at any rate—and no magic means no curse. Besides, the gash on the side is the only thing that's happened. If it were a real curse, I'd be dead, right?”

It made sense . . . up to a certain point . . . although Gourry had a hazy memory . . . something connected with an annoying high-pitched laugh . . . he tried to coax it out to the front, but his head was pounding so unrelentingly that it made it even more difficult than normal to think straight. He felt pulled in multiple directions and it was hard to decide which way to go. There was Lucilla, who obviously had it out for Lina. Then there was Lina herself, and the demons she refused to acknowledge. Add his mother to the mix—and the guilt that he had been unaware that she lived for all these years. On top of everything—and macabre display of Lina's clothes aside—being in this room, and the memories of the last time they were here, made it distressingly difficult to concentrate on anything. The entire situation was making him feel decidedly surly.

“C'm'ere,” Lina said softly, gently tugging his hand and urging him to sit on a low upholstered footstool. “It's not like you to worry like this, you know,” she said soothingly as she started unplaiting his hair.

Surly or not, headache or no, there was a reason Gourry was wearing the braid, and in a moment of panic, he tried to snatch his hair out of Lina's grip, but she batted his hands away, tugging painfully on braid in the process, and increasing the intensity of his headache at least a dozen times over. With a sigh of resignation, Gourry capitulated. He may end up bald sooner than he had thought, but anything had to be better than the pounding.

He shivered at the release of pressure on his scalp. “Headache?” she asked as she ran her fingers through his hair.

“Mmm,” he mumbled noncommittally. “We really should do what we came for and get out of here, before someone notices.”

Lina laughed softly. “I locked the door. No one's coming in—or going out—until I open it.” She pushed his hair to one side and nuzzled at his exposed neck. “I really think we should take advantage of it, don't you?”

When Lina set her mind to it, she could be extremely persuasive. A half-dozen reasons why this was a bad idea flitted through his mind too quickly for him to pin them down, and he felt his resistance—not that there had been much to begin with—crumbling. He tugged her onto his lap. There was just one thing . . . he held her at a slight distance as he searched her eyes for any trace of that wild and panicked look.

“What?” Even though she was backlit by the single lantern in the room and her face was cast in shadows, he could see the smoldering look—the open and eager invitation—in her eyes.

“Nothing,” he said, as he cradled her in his arms and carried her to the only bed the two of them had ever shared.

******************

Lina snuggled closer to Gourry, savoring the languorous after-glow and the silky warmth of his skin against hers. She held onto the lazy feeling, content to relax and just be. Gourry seemed equally content, and the arm that held her was heavy and relaxed. They both deserved—no, she amended, they had needed—this interlude.

“Gourry?” she whispered into his chest.

“Mmm?”

“What do you think it would be like, if we could be like this forever?”

He pushed himself up onto his arm and looked down at her with an indulgent—and slightly possessive—smile. “Never work,” he announced. “You'd get bored too quick.”

“I didn't mean it like that,” she said with some asperity as she propped herself on her elbow.

“Oh, what did you mean?” he asked as he pushed a sweat-soaked lock of hair out of her eyes.

“I don't know . . .” Lina struggled to articulate the half-formed thoughts in her head. “I guess, I just thought it would be nice to have a place we could call our own. You know, a place we could go to from time to time. Some place where we wouldn't have to clear out unless it was on our own schedule . . .” she trailed off. As much as she enjoyed the freedom of their current lifestyle, it would be so nice just to be able to fall asleep next to Gourry in a comfortable bed.

“Lina Inverse, wanting to settle down?” Gourry asked incredulously.

“I didn't mean it like that!” she protested. “More like a place we could always go if we wanted. I wouldn't want to stay there all the time,” she mumbled.

Gourry captured her free hand in his and brought it to his lips. “I think it would be wonderful,” he said in a thick voice. “Like a slice of paradise.”

“Mmm . . .” she murmured, reluctantly pulling her hand away. “We should probably get up?”

“Yeah,” he agreed regretfully.

As Gourry faced away and sat up on the edge of the bed, Lina hastily pulled on her tunic and scrambled about the room to find her scattered clothes. She shot him a glance of gratitude when he resolutely faced the wall as she dressed.

Once the demands of modesty were addressed, they turned their attention to searching the room for possible clues as to the whereabouts of Lady Gabriev. Although it was sumptuously furnished, there were few personal belongings in evidence, unless you counted the tapestry Gourry had lifted and her clothes. In all honesty, Lina was not exactly sure what she should be looking for. After watching Gourry wander aimlessly around the room, she got the feeling that he was just as clueless as she was.

Finally, she took pity on him. “Why don't you start with the bed-side table,” she suggested as she turned to look for hidden panels or compartments.

About half-way around the room, she found a slight gap between the wall-boards, suggesting that there was a hidden door. “Hey, Gourry,” she called excitedly as tried to figure out how to trigger it to open. “Come take a look!”

“Uh huh.” His response sounded almost automatic and decidedly distracted. Lina turned to see what had captured his attention, wondering if he had found something significant as well.

It turned out that he was in the middle of reading a small book bound in black leather, and as she walked over, he turned a page, swallowing hard as he did so.

“What're you reading?” Lina asked from his shoulder.

Gourry jumped, as if she had startled him, and quickly closed the book, stashing it back in the drawer. “Nothing.” He avoided her gaze, but she could tell that his eyes were just slightly glassy and unfocused. “Find something?”

“Yeah,” Lina said slowly, as she stared at the ornate pull on the drawer. She had a pretty good idea of what he had been reading, and it surprised her that she felt a flash of annoyance. Not that she minded him reading it, but if anything was going to drive him to distraction, it had damn well better be her, and not smutty trash stashed in a whore's bed-side table!

With a kind of morbid curiosity, Lina pulled the drawer open.

“Uh, Lina?” Gourry asked uncomfortably as she retrieved the book. “I . . . uh . . . I don't think . . .”

“What's wrong?” Lina asked innocently as she thumbed through the book, trying vainly to suppress a blush as a few salacious phrases caught her eye here and there. “After all, you were reading it, right?” She struggled to keep her tone light, even as she realized that the book was a positive treasure trove of information. After reading a particularly vivid description, she wondered if it was even possible for two people to contort themselves like that.

Gourry muttered something indistinct under his breath, and Lina shooed him away. “I found a hidden door or something over there,” she said with a vague wave, “go check it out.”

She was barely aware of Gourry grumbling as he moved off, but she did retain enough self-possession to realize that she had other things to do besides read . . . even if said reading material was so seductively enticing. Forcing herself to ignore what the actual words said, she flipped through the book, looking for clues. It was written in a neat and very readable hand, although the brown ink was just starting to fade, particularly at the outer margins, where who knew how many hands had gripped the pages. Based on the script and the quality of the ink, she estimated that the book was probably written about half a century ago, maybe as much as a century. The occasional marginalia appeared in several hands, some neat and tidy, some in barely legible scrawl. From what she could tell in her quick perusal, the notes amounted to little more than brief comments about how well various techniques had worked—or not worked, in some cases.

The last page of the book proved to be the most interesting. Scrawled on the flyleaf in a long slanted hand was written, “For my wife, on our wedding night.” Strange enough to think that someone would give their wife porn on their wedding night, but the unattributed dedication was rather uninformative. However, Lina noticed that there was a rather suspicious bulge underneath the flyleaf.

As she examined the flyleaf closely, she heard Gourry sigh softly. “Find anything?” she asked.

“Nah,” Gourry replied in disgust as he sank into one of the overstuffed chairs. “Just a bunch of pillows and blankets and stuff. What about you?”

“I think there's something under here.” The flyleaf was securely glued on three edges, but she quickly found that the edge closest to the binding was unattached, forming a sort of pocket. She ran her finger under the edge and shook the book. A folded sheet of fine parchment reluctantly slid out. Lina carefully smoothed it open. She absolutely loved finding secrets! Maybe it would be a treasure map or a lost spell . . . but even if it turned out to be a recipe for making soap, someone had hidden it away for a reason, and she was sure she could profit from it somehow.

At first glance, the parchment was covered with thin lines that led out from a central hub. For all the world, it looked like someone's drawing of a spider's web. Lina brought the sheet over to the lamp on the mantle to get more light.

“Well?” Gourry asked from his chair.

Lina shrugged. “I'm not sure yet.” With better light, she could see that someone had annotated the lines in a very tiny script. She would practically need a magnifying glass to read the text. “But, I think it's a map of some kind.”

“What kind of map?”

“Dunno. It's too hard to read it in this light.” She folded it up and put it in one of her pockets. “I'll take another look at it in full daylight.”

Gourry's shoulders slumped. “So. A linen closet, a book, and a map?”

“Not much to go on, huh?” Lina replied with a sigh. She sank into the chair closest to the fire. “You know, we're probably going about this all wrong.”

“How so?”

She stretched her hands out towards the fire. The heat felt good. Although the day had been warm and pleasant, the night had a chill bite to it. “We're looking for objects, but objects can't talk. What we really need is some straight answers.”

“You mean Deremar?”

“Actually, I was thinking of his greasy steward. If anyone knows what's going on around here, it's gotta be him.” Lina ticked items off on her fingers, “He was the one who hired us, the one who paid us, and he tried to rehire us, right?” She paused until Gourry nodded in confirmation, and then took a deep breath. “He led the villagers against us, and he showed up again with Garik in tow in Levahn . . .” She raked her hands through her hair. “We had the perfect opportunity to question him then and we let it slip right through our fingers!”

“We were kinda busy at the time,” Gourry pointed out softly.

Even though there was not even a hint of accusation in his tone, Lina still felt as though she had been kicked in the gut.

“Lina?”

“What did you say to him,” she asked, mainly to distract both of them. She knew she would rather not think about Ryan's sudden appearance, the murder of Garik, or the miniature replica of the Sword of Light that had belonged to Gourry's father.

“What?”

“You never told me,” Lina pointed out in what she hoped was a calm voice. “What did you say to Elfred back in Levahn?”

“Oh, that. Um . . .” Gourry ran his hand over his head. “I think I told him that if we ever met again, I'd disembowel him.”

“You what?!” Somehow, in a million years, she never would have thought Gourry capable of vicious threats.

“I wanted to get rid of him quick,” he replied with a self-deprecating shrug. “It seemed to do the trick.”

Lina laughed weakly. “I guess so.” As loath as she was to move, she pulled herself up out of the chair and put out the lamp burning on the mantle. “Shall we go?”

They crept down the stairs, which creaked and groaned, but they were less concerned with alerting anyone on the way out, now that they had accomplished their initial goal. Even if they had to blast their way out of the village, and the entire place was on alert the next day, it would hardly matter. Kidnapping—uh make that inviting guests for pleasant and informative discourse—required considerably less finesse than searching a room for unusual items.

Lina had already started planning their infiltration of Deremar's keep when Gourry suddenly pulled her up short at the entrance of the common room. In addition to the dull red glow from the banked fire, there was now a small guttering candle burning on a round table. The meager illumination revealed two figures seated at the table. The first, who wore a familiar cloak and hood, lifted a tankard to his lips as they entered. With his other hand, he toyed with a dagger thrust into the wooden tabletop. The other figure, a woman from the looks of it, was also cloaked and cowled, and sat with hands folded daintily on her lap.

“Zel?” Lina whispered in shock, and she was just about to move forward when Gourry's hand clenched her shoulder spasmodically.

“Still the same old predictable Lina, aren't you?” He pushed back his hood, revealing a face that was horribly scarred on the left side, and took another long draught from his tankard.

Somewhere in the back of her head, a voice started babbling incoherently. A thousand panicked images demanded her attention. He was the one . . . He was the one . . . No. No, not now, please not now. It was done, and she did not want to remember! It was all his fault! Everything changed, and it was all his fault! “Erik,” she snarled, trying vainly to ignore the cacophony of memories pounding in her head.

Erik smiled, then. It was both lazily sensual and full of malice. She could feel Gourry tense up behind her, but he made no move to draw his sword. She wanted to collapse into a heap. She wanted to run. To get away, to let Gourry take care of this. She ruthlessly told herself to shut up and stand her ground. It was harder than facing down Shabranigdo himself. If Luna could see her now, she would be so disgusted—even worse, she would be disappointed. Lina forced herself to stand taller. She would make Luna proud of her, no matter what it took.

“Hmm,” Erik commented mildly, “maybe not so predictable after all.”

Even in the dim light, Lina could feel his eyes moving over her, lingering like an unwanted caress. “You have no idea how long I've waited for this,” he said in a voice tinged with longing.

The memory of the child she used to be whimpered and curled up into a tiny ball. She was scared out of her mind. She was furious. At him. At herself. The flames licked at the edge of her consciousness, begging her to come and dance, promising her power and an end to all pain.

“Lina.” Gourry's voice behind her steadied her. The whimpering quieted, and the flames receded ever so slightly.

Erik quickly shifted gears. “Ah, this must be the famous protector,” he said in an oily voice. “I've heard so much about you.” He smacked his forehead. “But I've been remiss in my manners. Allow me to introduce you to my companion.”

At Erik's words, the woman who had been sitting passively throughout the entire exchange, reached up and pushed the cowl off her head, lifting her face to the light. Lina heard Gourry's sudden gasp behind her, and she struggled to suppress her own. Like Erik, the woman was horribly scarred. Deep grooves ran diagonally from forehead to jaw-line, as if some creature had clawed her across her face. Her eyelids were puckered and sunken, and it was clear that someone had plucked out both her eyes.

With a strangled cry, Gourry pushed past Lina and started towards the woman, only to pull up short when Erik pulled the dagger out of the table and held it at the woman's throat. “I see you, at least, recognize your Lady Mother,” he said with a cruel laugh.

“What do you want?” Gourry growled, his hand instinctively clutched around the hilt of his sword.

“I think you know,” Erik hissed intently through clenched teeth. Lina felt her entire world tip crazily at an angle. “I want Lina Inverse.”[Author ID1: at Wed May 25 18:55:00 2005 ]