In the early morning, Patience and Anax entered the bathroom. After some thought, they deduced the optimal place to hide the skull was atop the toilet’s cistern. It was high, out of the way, and hidden behind the water closet door for most of the day. Without any other guests on this floor, it was unlikely a stranger would come across the skull. Patience slipped Anax off and stood on the lid of the bowl, careful not to knock into the lone sconce affixed next to the toilet. She glided a finger over the cistern top. A light film of grimy dust clung to her fingertip.
“Well, we know the maid won’t check up here,” said Patience. She tucked the skull away and stepped down to the floor. The girl backed herself to the door; from there Anax was hidden. She imagined even if someone taller came in, they would barely notice the dark skull shrouded in shadow, melting into the mahogany veneer of the cistern. “I’ll be back soon, Anax.”
The stationmaster flustered, surprised to see a girl with a heinous burn on the side of her head waiting for him as he unlocked the office. She was quite determined to buy a ticket for the quickest train heading for Haverston. However, the ticket he sold her could not assuage her anxious mind. The next train stopping at Haverston would not come to St. Phocas until Friday, a full two days away. The girl’s entire body drooped, and she thanked him with a sigh. The stationmaster watched as she slowly shuffled back toward the heart of town.
Two days until she could take Anax home. The girl groaned. She had wished to explore a bit more with him, slide down a sand dune or two, try a seafood boil, perhaps even dare to swim in the ocean. Now hours stuck in the hotel room loomed on the horizon. What was a further shame was the nature of the man named Valon. She found him quite striking and, if not for the circumstances, she would have liked to learn more about him.
Lost in thought, Patience ambled down the street wondering if she should buy some food to take back to her hotel. As she rounded the corner, her gaze locked straight into the steel trap of Valon’s. She flinched, immediately feeling her face flush.
“Oh! F-fancy running into you here,” she stammered. She suddenly became keenly aware of her burn now on full display in bright daylight, but the man did not pay it any special attention. Valon’s expression remained unchanged.
He cleared his throat before speaking calmly, “Patience … have you considered my off—” Just then he swayed forward. An electric shock seemingly popped through his body, shaking his arms. He stifled any noises of pain and leaned a forearm against the stone wall flanking them.
“A-are you all right?” Patience asked, extending a concerned hand.
Valon righted himself, tugging at the collar of his coat. His brows lowered. “I’m fine,” he grumbled.
The girl noticed a slight tremor still hackling his left leg. She peered past his broad shoulders and took notice of a coffeehouse down the block. Shifting her gaze to her feet, Patience steeled her heart. She rolled the dice for another gamble.
“Do you want to get a drink? With me?” she asked. Refusing to meet his face, Patience watched the toe caps of her boots grind into the ground. It was foolish to ask, but this might be a chance to talk him down and draw his attention away from Anax.
To her surprise he agreed. “Sure,” he said.
Inching her eyes upward, she flashed him a smile and stepped past him. Relief and dread seeped through her body. She flicked her head back briefly. He was indeed following her. Making sure not to walk too fast, Patience stemmed her pace should he experience another spasm.
Valon quickly fell into stride, his presence bearing down on her like hailstones. Her heart quickened in her chest. Walking next to a wild tiger would be half as intimidating. Patience stiffened her shoulders and kept her head angled straight toward their destination.
The little coffeehouse jutted from the side of a brick building. Its glass-paned doors opened to a verdant patio. Several tables and chairs were set up outside, half of which hosted people sipping tea and coffee, nibbling on rustic pastries. It all looked very welcoming as the morning sun illuminated the vignette in a brilliant gold light.
Patience stepped across the cobbled ground to the counter open to the air. She leaned over the glass case displaying pastries like gems at a jeweler. Valon came up behind her, nodding at the clerk for his attention.
“A cup of Hayastani black for me,” Valon stated, “and whatever the young lady wants.”
Astonished, Patience shot up and whisked her head toward the hunter. He raised an eyebrow at her.
“What sort of man would I be if I didn’t treat?” Valon grunted.
Still awestruck, Patience returned her focus on the pastry case. “I would like an éclair and a cup of hot chocolate, please.”
Valon paid and left to sit at a table outside. The other customers hushed as he walked past them, a few scooting their chairs farther in to give him a wide berth. The daggers he glared diverted the attention from Patience’s burn. Patience tracked him, trying to understand his game. Choosing a table near the back fence, Valon sat heavily in the seat. Hunching over he placed his elbows on the dew kissed table and tented his fingers. His hair gleamed like spun gold, but his face was still cast in shadow. In another time and place, an artist might have painted him here. Patience’s cheeks burned.
The girl seated herself across from him just as the barista arrived with their order. The surrounding patrons noticeably resumed their conversations once Valon began drinking his coffee. Patience briefly wondered if this man ate at all, she had only ever seen him drinking. Over the rim of his cup, he stared at Patience. She meekly sipped her hot chocolate, eyes glued to her pastry, thoroughly oppressed by his gaze.
“So have you considered my offer?” Valon repeated, exhaling over the surface of his coffee.
Patience took the fork provided to her on the plate and cut into the éclair. “I have …” she said, “if only for a second.”
“Have you considered the medical implications if I were to use him, even for just a minute to confirm that I can be healed?”
“And if he can heal you, you’ll just dash away with him. I don’t want to lose him to you. He’s my friend,” grumbled Patience, chewing through the chocolate shell.
Valon chuckled, “Friends … what a sweet notion. Regarding that beast a friend …” He brought his drink to his lips again. “You live alone with him?”
“Yes. Not out of choice … but that is how it is.”
“Do you like living with this creature?”
“I was lonely before he came to me. My parents were gone, my closest friend was away. I appreciate his company.”
“Still, a young woman like you shouldn’t be dealing with monsters,” he said.
Patience took a sip, it was then that Valon was rocked by another spasm. Slamming his cup on the table, Valon gripped his thigh, bracing himself. She nearly spat out her drink in alarm, but she looked away out of respect and trepidation. His episode earned stares and whispers of the patrons surrounding them. The tinkling of porcelain ceased, signaling to Patience that his tremors had abated for now.
This time out of frustration, the man brought his fist down upon the table, causing a mighty clash of cups and plates. Their fellow customers were silenced once again. Patience held her breath, only releasing it once Valon’s eyes locked with hers. Pity nipped at her heart.
“V-Valon …” she murmured.
The man rubbed his temples, his mouth softened from the dour frown Patience was acquainted with. She could have sworn a brief moment of desperation passed over his face. A draught of coffee slid down his throat. He jerked his head at Patience’s plate.
“Eat. Enjoy yourself,” he huffed.
Patience’s eyebrows drew upward. “I …” she began.
“I bought that for you. Eat it,” the hunter demanded.
The éclair would have tasted better had it not been for the immense pressure of Valon’s glare, but it was still very good. She brought a loaded fork to her lips.
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Satisfied, Valon eased and continued, “I’ve spent the better part of my life chasing game, capturing specimens, killing monsters … ”
The weight of his presence sunk into the girl. This man had nearly half a century’s worth of experience tracking and killing everything from deer to the most feared monsters nature had to offer. Undoubtedly, he also had nearly half a century’s worth of skulls under his belt. Countless beasts died at his hands. He was a force attempting to match a dangerous world with his own ferocity.
“Is that what you do? You find and kill the biggest, baddest monsters across the globe?”
“Sometimes it’s about protecting people from a wild beast. Other times it’s procuring an asset for a museum or private collection.” He took another gulp of coffee. Patience shifted her gaze. It was men like him that built her father’s career.
“All that traveling must be difficult on your family,” said Patience, taking another bite of her éclair to placate the man.
Valon grunted, “I had no time to put down roots.” Sighing, he leaned back in his chair. “So in my twilight, I’ve no one to spend it with.”
Patience glanced upward, meeting his grim face. The corner of his mouth twitched. He gritted his teeth, the ire rising in his eyes. He curled his hand into a fist.
“I wouldn’t be bothered if it weren’t for these cursed tremors. I just want to feel normal again,” he fumed, stomping his boot into the ground.
Patience had seen death. Watching any person deteriorate from their once strong form pained her even when she had only known them for a short while. Beat by beat, the fear in her heart churned and metamorphosed into compassion. She reached a hand across the table to Valon’s arm. She expected him to shrug away from the contact, but instead he relaxed into her touch.
Valon rolled his head to the side and picked up his cup. He eyed the empty vessel condescendingly. Standing up, Patience’s hand fell from his bicep. He turned on his heel and returned the empty cup and saucer to the counter. On his way out, he brushed Patience’s shoulder with his fingertips and shot her a passing glance.
“Consider,” the man said. Valon stepped away from the patio without looking back. Patience craned her neck to watch him disappear down the street.
Returned to her hotel, Patience found Anax undisturbed where she had left him. She blew off bits of dust that clung to the skull and put him back on her head.
“Essentially we are sequestered here in this room for the next two days,” Patience explained, lying on top of the bed. She had neglected to tell him of her morning with Valon and hoped he would not search her brain. “I’ll make trips out for food, but I don’t want to risk taking you around.”
“No matter, I can think of a few things we can do inside,” Anax flirted, caressing Patience’s neck with a tendril.
“We could do that at home. We came to St. Phocas to see and try new things!” she griped as she kicked a leg into the air.
“It can’t be helped. Let’s make the most of it!” Anax chuckled. Patience formed a small smile. The fact that Anax remained calm and much like his usual self despite his jeopardized safety reassured the girl. They would make it through this; even if it meant being hermits whiling away their time, all the amenities of a beach town wasted.
With the sun at its zenith, Patience ventured out to buy lunch and supper for the day. She went about it as fast as she could. The less she saw of the town and beach beyond made it easier to shut them from her mind. The deli across the street proved to be convenient once again and the girl purchased a full sausage link, a small wedge of cheese, and a container of crackers. This would do for today.
Unfortunately, the stress seemed to have gotten the better of Patience and her burn lit up once more. Breaking off a chunk of the milky slice Tandy had recommended, Patience wondered how fast it would take to work. A nagging pinch had emerged at her crown and began to multiply across her burn. She dropped the waxy piece into a cup of hot water she had requested from the hotel’s dining room. Patience had considered eating there, but her idea was put to rest after seeing the prices on the menu. After a while, the concoction in the painted china became gelatinous.
“Want to do the honors, Anax?” Patience asked.
“Very well.” He dipped a tendril in the cup and reached it between her skin and his skull.
As Anax spread the gel over her scalp, Patience stared listlessly out the window. The sunny day taunted the girl. Below her, people wound through the streets at a leisurely pace. A familiar flash of red caught her attention. It was Heledd and Bing. This was most likely their day off. The pair of witches were walking with three children in tow, all with their mother’s hair and father’s eyes. Patience thought how fortunate they were.
It was highly unusual for witches to have more than two children in their lifetimes. They simply did not have the same capacity as people without magic running through their veins. Preachers from all sects said it was the price witches had to pay for their gifts. Patience wondered if there was some truth to it. Although magic was innate to them, it did use a lot of their energy.
But everyone had to pay a price, original sin and all that, Patience reflected. Her parents raised her fairly secularly, but she was not ignorant to the various beliefs in Keaton. She rolled her eyes up to her burn. That was her price for surviving the fire. Daydreams of a life with her birth parents have crossed her mind before, but they were quickly supplanted by fond memories of the mother and father who raised her. Still, the girl would sometimes wonder about the people that made her, who they were, what they looked like. A small tug of envy echoed in her heart, all of Heledd’s children bore their lineage proudly. They knew their heritage.
Patience watched the family pass underneath, the children happily skipping around their parents. The youngest, about five or six, hid around her mother’s crimson skirt as her brother, a couple of years older, chased her. The eldest looked to be fourteen and held herself more austerely, but a pronounced bounce in her step exposed her youth. Patience was glad for Heledd and Bing. Although children hardly interested her, Patience felt happy for anyone who desired them and had their wishes granted.
“All done,” Anax announced. The girl thanked him as she drew away from the window.
“Did you ever want children?” asked Patience.
“I never desired them in particular. Was always more taken with the act of creating them than the end product.”
Patience snickered.
“But if I ever did sire pups, then so be it.”
“Would you help raise them?” she asked, unwrapping the food she had bought earlier.
“It is our obligation to rear our young. Although they can walk and feed on their own within minutes of hatching, adults see over them as they develop and molt.”
“What about pups that are abandoned or whose parents have been killed?”
“Should others come across them, the orphans would be taken into a family or band that wants them. Like you.”
A small smile passed over her lips before biting into a hunk of cheese.
Her parents never skirted around the fact that she was adopted, but they steadfastly always reminded her she was their daughter. From a young age, Patience noticed how different she looked from her parents, and from most of the townsfolk. She was between the pale pink countenances of her schoolmates and the rich brown complexions of the Wells. And naturally as a child, she would form questions.
One day after school, when she was about eight, her father took her to his atelier in Keaton. He had received a swan from a man in town who wanted it mounted in mid-flight. He sat Patience down and made her watch as he sliced the bird open. Underneath the snow white feathers was gray and red flesh. Everyone looked the same inside, he had told her. Our outward appearances made us unique, but underneath the hair and skin, we were a mass of organs, muscle, and bone. Thus he began teaching her his craft.
Even though most of her worries over her skin subsided after that, a nag of curiosity would continue to remain in Patience’s mind. Despite knowing she was and would forever be Antander and Frances Firmin’s daughter, she still wondered about the place whence she came. Perhaps her next trip would be to the parcel of land where her father found her as a babe all those years ago. Although it was highly unlikely, something might have been left from a life that could never fully unfold. Patience’s daydreams were cut short when she noticed a tendril slink to the corner of her mouth to taste a bit of cheese.
“What do you think of it?”
“It’s a bit strong,” Anax mumbled.
Patience chuckled. “What about this?” she asked and then quickly licked Anax’s lingering coil.
“Oh!” He eased into a ponderous silence, the tip of his tendril still hovering by her mouth. “I … can taste you … your tongue.”
“I guess most people can with a deep kiss, but since you can’t really accomplish that …” Patience lifted a hand to gingerly guide the tendril between her lips. Her tongue peeked out to take the misty coil in her mouth. It tasted of nothing and felt like a cool spray of water on the palate. Anax gasped. With his shock, the fiber of his being seemed to vibrate and a faint sensation similar to soda water met her mouth.
“You like this?” she breathed between the mist.
“Y-yes,” said Anax. Patience rolled her tongue around the coil. The humidity inside her caused Anax’s tendril to solidify independent of his will and become slick. She imagined this happened as well whenever he lay with her, but she was normally wet enough to not notice. The tendril then began to search her mouth, familiarizing itself with every tooth and divot. Patience began to suck on it, drawing rumbles from the back of her head. She quickly forgot about lunch as she worked her tongue against Anax. But suddenly he withdrew himself.
“Sorry,” he huffed.
“I thought you were enjoying it,” said Patience.
“Too much. Too close to the raw meat of my kills. If you kept going … I don’t know if I could keep myself from tearing into you—to taste.”
Patience paused. She did not know if he meant that as a metaphor for sex, or if he really wanted her blood after losing the ability to eat freshly hunted game.
“Too dangerous,” Anax muttered.
It was a true hunger formed in a phantom stomach.
Patience summarily swallowed her excess saliva. She thought of the space where her skin met her teeth, it was as close to a raw kill Anax would encounter nowadays. Yes, Anax was still dangerous. However, she was slightly charmed by his admission. She was proud of his restraint.
This being that unlocked the carnal desire within her never ceased to amaze her. She wondered how far she could tease him with her mouth, but his tendril was long gone. Every new sultry thought that formed in her mind never ceased to amaze her either. Anax had opened the door to a world with many possibilities, but lifting her from her monotony was his kindest gesture. The girl was grateful the skull was hers.