The Tattooed Heart (Messenger of Fear 2)

I said nothing for so long, and stood unmoving for so long, that I suppose my acceptance was obvious. But Oriax either wanted or needed more. “Say yes, Mara.”

I nodded jerkily. “A touch. Yes.”

She took a half step closer and now I felt again the full Oriax effect. It was as if she were a stove top and had turned the flame all the way down but now twisted the knob so that the blue flame became a flower of fire.

I was trembling before she slowly raised her hand, her perfectly manicured fingers with their green-tinged polish.

She laid her fingertips with exquisite gentleness against my cheek.

I dropped to my knees, bent forward, took a deep shaky breath, arched my back, threw back my hair, and cried, “Oh! Oh!”

Oriax’s hand withdrew. She knelt before me, eye level, met my wondering gaze, and said, “Messenger serves the goddess of justice and wickedness. I serve the god of pleasure and denial. Are you really going to spend your days in carrying out grim and thankless duties without a thought for your own needs?”

At that moment I wanted two things. One, that Oriax leave, leave now, immediately.

And the other, that she touch me again.

Oriax’s face was so close. It was all I could see. I forced myself to bring up memories of her mocking song as Derek burned alive and screamed in agony. I forced myself to remember that she was evil. But memory was a weak antidote to the physical reality of Oriax, and the still-reverberating pleasure that had swept over and through me at her touch.

I can barely bring myself to admit this, but at that moment, I wanted her to kiss me. And she knew it. Of course she knew it.

“No, Mara. You’re not ready for that, yet. My kiss is not lightly bestowed. It cannot be forgotten. It will change you forever. Just ask Messenger about Oriax’s kiss.”

She gave me a lascivious wink, and was gone, leaving me alone with the fitfully sleeping Graciella.

I should have moved forward in the time line, should have learned more of Graciella. But I lacked the strength to do anything. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to push all of it away, forget everything. But I could not forget poor, shivering Graciella. And neither could I forget what had happened to me at the moment when Oriax touched me.

I did not forget her offer.

I did not forget her lips.

Her eyes.

Even much later, when I had learned and experienced so much more, I never forgot her first touch.

“What did you learn about Graciella?”

I jumped. A wave of guilt sent blood rushing to my face and neck. It was dark, though the rushing car lights were bright again.

Not much, I thought. But I learned a great deal about Oriax. I nodded toward the sleeping Graciella. “She’s up there.”

He nodded, not surprised. “Anything of significance?”

Did he know? I could either tell him or not. I sensed a turning point. If I lied to him a gap would be opened between us. No doubt this is what Oriax intended.

“Oriax dropped by,” I said.

His eyes flickered. All he said was, “Ah.” He asked no follow-up question, so I offered no further details. Hadn’t Messenger taught me to be taciturn? Wasn’t I therefore justified in telling him only what he asked to know?

“We will be joined soon by the apprentice Haarm,” he said. He did not say “my” apprentice.

“Yes,” I said, and waited for him to say more.

“It is a very unusual situation,” he said.

“Is it?” I resisted the urge to laugh.

“I will fetch him,” Messenger said. “Go to your abode, we will assemble there.” He didn’t seem happy about it.