Dark Redemption chapter 35: My Favorite Bathtime Gurgles

Beneath the gleaming skyscrapers and picturesque facade of the City of Redemption lies another city; a community of dark and ancient magic populated by creatures of the night. Dark Redemption is a shared-world novel based on an online role-playing game by James Crowther.

Strephon MacKenzie, a semi-immortal half-fae, has been commissioned by the Queen of Faerie to investigate fae activity in the city. He has quarreled with Cassandra True, a mortal who is unaware of his true nature and whom he finds himself increasingly drawn toward.

Strephon sighed as he lowered himself into the warm, soothing water of his bathtub. Had he a mortal pair of lungs and upper respiratory system he would probably had developed pneumonia by now. As it was, his ancient legs ached and made him doubly grateful for the blessed warmth of the tub.

Some of the steam from the tub wafted away from the tub and began to curl into a recognizable shape. Strephon frowned. "Devon?"

The mist resolved itself into a human shape. "I hope this isn't a bad time," Devon said.

"Do you mind? Can't a man expect a bit of privacy in his own bath?"

Devon rolled his eyes cielingward. Then he made a theatrical show of covering his eyes and turning his back to Strephon. "There. Are you happy now?"

"Hardly. What do you want, Devon?"

"What do I ever want? The Queen is asking for progress. What have you learned? Or have you been able to pry yourself from your busy social life."

"My social life, as you call it, is none of your business. If you must know, Miss True has decided to end our acquaintance, so you shan't have to worry about her distracting me."

"Ah." Devon shifted his feet uncomfortably. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Strephon snorted.

"No, I really am."

Strephon ignored him. "Miss Cooper turned out to be a blind alley. She knows little of the current political situation in the city. She did, however, confirm that the Reavers wolf pack is acquiring fae artifacts from some unknown source."

"Melchior."

"Not Melchior. Lord Melchior has his own dark designs to be sure, but the wolf packs are only incidental to them. I believe someone else is dealing with the Reavers, someone who wishes to upset the balance between the wolf packs."

Devon adjusted his sunglasses and scratched his nose. "Why would a fae care about the wolf packs?"

"Because some of the pack leaders are on the Council. Change the balance of power among the packs and you affect the Council. Get a foothold in the Council and you can control the city."

"Perhaps," Devon conceded. "But it's still a city of mortals."

"No, it is a city of magic. A city of werewolves and vampires, ghosts and demons; and yes, of humans too. It is a city of dreams and nightmares; and that, my cousin, is a currency the fae appreciate.

NEXT:  New Girl on the Features Desk

Dark Redemption chapter 34: Some Of My Best Friends Are Dead

Beneath the gleaming skyscrapers and picturesque facade of the City of Redemption lies another city; a community of dark and ancient magic populated by creatures of the night. Dark Redemption is a shared-world novel based on an online role-playing game by James Crowther.

Plucky Girl Reporter Cassandra True and her roommate Cecilie have gone to the Club Cyba-Netsu, a local cyber-cafe. There, Cecilie was picked up by a cute guy who turned out to be Greg Hans, a murderer who had been killed by the police a week earlier. The opportune arrival of the club's owner, Aoi Kurayami, sent the malevolent spirit fleeing.

"That guy was a ghost?" Cecilie squealed. "I almost made out with a ghost! Wicked!"

"Cecilie!" Cassandra gasped. "The man was a murderer and a serial rapist!"

"Well, yeah. That part is kind of creepy."

"And he's dead!"

"There are many ghosts in this city," Miss Kurayami said serenely as she sipped her tea. "Some continue to walk the earth in a mockery of their former life."

Cassandra shuddered, but she could not help be intrigued in spite of herself. "Do many ghosts come here?"

Lady Kurayami favored her with a cryptic smile. "Perhaps."

"Any cute ones?"

"Cecilie!" Cassandra scolded. Then she turned back to Kurayami. "If a ghost haunts this place it must have been important in its life, right? Did Greg Hans come here often when he was alive?"

Kurayami's smile ceased. "Greg Hans was a sick and diseased animal. A beast with no sense of restraint. My club was only one of the places he sought his victims. You are not going to write about this, are you Miss True?"

Cassandra froze in the process of fishing her mini-recorder out of her purse. "Uh, well, I think the ghosts of Redemption would make an interesting story, don't you?"

"I cater to people with dark tastes, Miss True; people who relish the bizarre, the unconventional, the mysterious; people whom some would call monsters. Greg Hans, however, was a true monster. I would not like to have my establishment associated with such a creature as he."

"Oh. Yes. I can see your point of view." Cassandra fidgeted with the recorder. She found something about the small quiet woman to be extremely intimidating; but she braced her nerve and added, "Perhaps you know of some friendly ghosts? Ghosts you wouldn't mind associating with?"

Lady Kurayami pondered the question. "Perhaps..." she conceded. "Mind you, I can make no guarantees. Spirits are extremely fickle."

"See if you can find one with a nice bum."

"Cecilie!!!"

NEXT:  My Favourite Bathtime Gurgles

Dark Redemption chapter 33: The Spirit is Willing

Beneath the gleaming skyscrapers and picturesque facade of the City of Redemption lies another city; a community of dark and ancient magic populated by creatures of the night. Dark Redemption is a shared-world novel based on an online role-playing game by James Crowther.

Plucky Girl Reporter Cassandra True has quarreled with her friend Strephon over a job offer from Simon Knox, publisher of the prestigious Morning Star. Cassandra's roommate, Cecilie, suggests that she forget about Strephon and go with her to a club.

By the time she and Cecilie reached the Club Cyba-Netsu, Cassandra was having second thoughts. "Can't we go someplace else?" she asked.

"What's wrong with the Cyba-Netsu?" Cecilie asked. "It's a fun place."

"It's just kind of creepy, that's all."

"We've been here before and it's never bothered you." Cecilie frowned. Then she nodded and gave Cassandra a knowing grin. "Oh! I get it! Last time you were here was with him!"

"That's not it!" Cassandra couldn't very well tell her about the vampire; she'd just laugh. Cassandra wasn't even sure herself what she saw last night. It was all mixed up in her mind with Strephon and that weird Kurayami woman. "Couldn't we just go someplace normal, I mean?"

Cecilie grabbed her flatmate by the shoulders and shoved her through the club's entrance. "Girl, you need some danger in your life! Normal is the last thing you need!"

Cassandra hesitated as she entered the club. It looked the same as before; the same mix of goths, neopunks and ravers; fetsihists and eccentrics; but this time Cassandra could not help but feel something disturbingly wrong. The biker with the little fake horns glued to his forehead; were those really fake? The girl with the spiked collar who licked her lips as Cassandra passed, was that tounge forked? Cassandra shook her head and told herself to relax.

They sat down at their usual table. Cecilie ordered a Dark Delight. Cassandra ordered a Fuzzy Navel. Cecilie tapped out electronic greetings on her seat's laptop to one or two people whose usernames she recognized. Cassandra just sat and lurked. She didn't really feel like socializing. Her puppy avatar smiled at her from her computer screen. Why did she have to choose such a dippy avatar?

Cassandra felt extremely self-conscious, as if everyone in the club was staring at her. She was probably the only person in the whole club drinking a Fuzzy Navel. She glanced furtively around the room.

Someone was staring at them.

Cassandra tapped out an IM to Cecilie. She recalled Strephon's comment on how silly it was to send an electronic message to someone right next to one, but she felt safer this way; she did not want to be seen exchanging whispers.

CassE: That guy at that table over there is watching us?

Cecilie looked around. Then sent:

 SinGrrl: Who? iz he cute?

CassE: Across the dance floor. In the corner under the Guinness sign.

Cecilie saw him; a small man in a grimy coat with dark stains on his t-shirt. He grinned in her direction.

SinGrrl: i don't C a username logged in at hiz table. 

Cecilie waved at him and gave him a wink. The guy grinned back. Cecilie stood up.

"What are you doing?" Cassandra hissed, forgetting to use the computer.

"I'm going to see if he wants to dance."

Cassandra grasped her arm. "Don't," she said.

"Don't worry about me. I'm a big girl. I won't leave you alone, I promise."

Cecilie's carefree laugh did little to calm Cassandra. She was certain she had seen that guy before, but she couldn't place his face. She watched Cecilie go over to the guy's table. They chatted a bit, and then he rose and led her to the dance floor.

"Would you like another drink miss?"

The waiter came up behind Cassandra so silently that he nearly scared the wits out of her. She gasped as she recognized Ricky, the green-haired waiter from the night before. The vampire...

"What? Oh, no. I'm fine," Cassandra said. "Er, tell me. Do you know the name of the man who was sitting at that table over there? The one who's dancing with my friend?"

The waiter looked in the direction she indicated. "There has been no one at that table all night." He scanned the dance floor. "I do not see your friend."

Cassandra gave a terrified squeal. She had just remembered where she recognized the man's face. It was Greg Hans, the murderer and rapist; his picture had been in the Oracle only the week before.

She rose abruptly, knocking over her glass. "Excuse me!" she said and bolted towards the dance floor. Creatures of the night stared at her as she blundered through the dance. Through the flickering lights and bobbing heads she caught a glimpse of Cassie near one of the exits.

Franticly, Cassandra tried to weave her way through the dance floor. She reached the exit and burst through the door. The guy had Cecilie up against the side of the alley, apparently just chatting her up. Then he pulled the knife out of his coat.

Cassandra screamed. The guy turned to face her and she now saw that the stains on his t-shirt were bloody bullet holes. Only then did she remember the story that went with his photo: Greg Hans, suspected rapist and murderer, shot to death while resisting arrest...

"Hans, what are you doing here? You don't belong here." The icy tone made Cassandra's flesh creep. She whirled and saw Miss Kurayami standing behind her.

Kurayami slid past Cassandra like a wraith and confronted the dead man. "You are no longer welcome in my establishment," she said, her mask-like face stern and unforgiving. "Go."

The dead man's face twisted in rage. His lips mouthed a curse, but no words came out; only a thin, piercing moan. Then his body dissolved, like a forgotten mist.

"Good evening, Miss True," Kurayami said, turning to Cassandra. "I am sorry we had to meet again under such distasteful circumstances. I will have words with my doormen. In the meantime, please come back in and enjoy the hospitality of my establishment." She inclined her head in a courteous, but not obsequious bow, and gestured to the door.

Cassandra glanced to Cecilie. "You wanted danger?

NEXT:  Some of My Best Friends Are Dead

Dark Redemption chapter 32: Psychology 101

Beneath the gleaming skyscrapers and picturesque facade of the City of Redemption lies another city; a community of dark and ancient magic populated by creatures of the night. Dark Redemption is a shared-world novel based on an online role-playing game by James Crowther.

Cassandra True, a reporter for the Daily Oracle, has been offered a job with the prestigious Morning Star by owner Simon Knox. Her friend Strephon MacKenzie, who unbeknownst to her is a semi-immortal half-fae, knows that Knox is a sorcerer allied with the sinister Lord Melchior, and tried unsuccessfully to dissuade her from taking the job.

"So what did you do?" Cecilie asked, leaning over the table with greedy ears.

"What did I do? Why, walked out on him, of course!" Cassandra said, indignantly.

"Is that all?"

"Well... I also broke a carton of eggs over his head."

Cecilie giggled. "You didn't!"

"He deserved it! Can you imagine the gall of that man?"

Cecilie straightened and took a sip of her tea. "He's obviously mad about you."

"Mad, I will grant you."

"Seriously. He's clearly suffering from feelings of inadequacy due to his disability, you as much as said so. On top of that he has a big load of angst over his wife's death. So he's built up these defense mechanisms to seal off the rest of the world. But now his feelings for you are starting to overcome those defenses and so automatically responds by acting like a horse's arse."

Cassandra gave her roommate a bland stare. "This from the girl who barely passed psychology."

"I know men," Cecilie insisted. "Trust me."

"So he's either an emotional basket case or a jerk. Either way, I'm better off without him."

Cecilie arched a cynical eyebrow. "Right. And you don't have any feelings for him yourself?"

"Pul-leeze, Cecilie! He's just another in a long line of relationships that just didn't work out. I'd rather just forget all about it."

Cecilie jumped up from the table. "Then what you need, girl, is a night out."

"What?"

"A night on the town is just the thing. Have some fun; have some drinks; meet some guys. You'll forget all about Steven."

"Strephon," Cassandra corrected.

Cecilie smiled. "Ri-i-i-ght. No feelings for him at all."

Cassandra colored and reached to grab her coat. "Let's go," she said.

NEXT:  The Spirit is Willing

Dark Redemption chapter 31: Friendlee Conversation

Beneath the gleaming skyscrapers and picturesque facade of the City of Redemption lies another city; a community of dark and ancient magic populated by creatures of the night. Dark Redemption is a shared-world novel based on an online role-playing game by James Crowther.

Strephon MacKenzie, a semi-immortal half-fae living among humans, has been charged with investigating Melchior, a fae noble posing as a computer game manufacturer. His investigations have involved him with Cassandra True, a reporter for the Daily Oracle, and to Strephon's discomfort, the two are becoming closer than he would like...

Strephon could not prove that Devon had been snitching his biscuits, but someone certainly had; his cupboard was empty. Fortunately, the Friendlee-Mart on Fitch Street was only a few blocks away and so he wouldn't need to call a cab. Which was just as well. Strephon did not want to be carried or ferried or helped. He wished to do something himself.

Most of all he wanted to get out of the house.

A half a block from his house the slate grey sky dissolved into a light drizzle. The rain on his face felt rather pleasant and he told himself he didn't need to go back for an umbrella. By the time he reached the shelter of the Friendlee-Mart he was cursing his own stubbornness and happy to escape the downpour.

He picked up a package of biscuits, a bottle of milk, some eggs and a couple other items and wheeled over to the checkout. Grandma Simms sat behind the cash register, reading a copy of The Daily Oracle. A row of stuffed toads sat on the counter in front of her; each one adorned with a colorful bandana and representing, if local legend was true, a gang leader who had annoyed her.

"Good day, Mister Strephon," the Jamaican greeted him. "And how be you today?"

"Just fine, Grandmama."

"And what of Miss True? How is she doing?"

"I couldn't say."

Grandma Simms raised a skeptical eyebrow and turned the page of her newspaper. "You had dinner with her just last night," she observed.

Strephon frowned. "Have you been spying on me?"

"I'm looking after you. Some folks are too stubborn to look after themselves. I hope you been treating that Miss True right like I told you to. It's about time you had another woman in your life."

"With you looking after me, what other woman do I need?"

Mrs. Simms snorted. "Don't talk foolishness. She's a nice girl; better than an old fool like you deserves, so take care of her."

Just then the door to the shop opened and Cassandra walked in. She shook the rain from her dripping umbrella and folded it up.

"Why look! We been just talking about you!"

"Hullo, Grandma Simms! Oh, hello, Strephon!" Cassandra waived cheerily.

"What are you doing here?" Strephon asked.

"Ooo, I just happened to be in the neighborhood. Well, actually I came to see you."

Strephon glanced at Grandma Simms, but she quickly retreated behind her newspaper and an extremely satisfied smile.

"I wanted to tell you," Cassandra continued. "I had my interview with Simon Knox this morning! He wants to hire me!"

"Oh." A chill struck Strephon. He still hadn't figured out how Knox fit in with Melchior's plans, but he knew the two were allied. Why would a man like Knox take a personal interest in a fledgling reporter like Cassandra? Strephon could think of only one reason: her connection with him.

"Have you accepted?"

Cassandra grinned. "All but. I said I'd think about it. But when I get back to the Oracle, I'm going to tell Cyril Potts where he can stick his Page Three bimbos. Isn't this wonderful, Strephon?"

Strephon squirmed uncomfortably. "Um... Cassandra..."

"Yes?" She regarded him with large, expectant eyes. Why did she have to make things so damned difficult?

"Don't do it."

"What?"

"Don't take the job."

Cassandra blinked. "I don't understand! I thought you wanted me to escape Page Three!"

"I do! It's just that... well, I don't think Mr. Knox's intentions are honorable."

She laughed. "Sometimes I think you really are from another century. This isn't the Victorian Age, you know."

"I am reminded of that every day."

She placed her hands on the armrests of his chair and leaned over him. "Strephon, don't tell me you're jealous!"

"I am not jealous!" Strephon took a deep breath. "Cassandra, listen to me. I don't want you to work for Simon Knox."

"And why not?"

Strephon glowered at her. He couldn't exactly tell her that Knox was some kind of sorcerer in league with a sinister faerie and that she was putting herself in danger. "I... don't think The Morning Star is right for you."

"Are you saying The Oracle is all I'm good for?"

"I didn't say that!"

"Well, Mister Knox seems to think I'll do just fine!"

"Mister Knox is just hiring you to get at me!"

Strephon hadn't intended to say that, but it just blurted out. Cassandra gaped at him for a moment. "Strephon MacKenzie," she said in an icy tone. "That is the most egocentric thing I've ever heard!"

"Cassandra..."

"Of course my writing ability couldn't have anything to do with it!"

"Cassandra, If you'll just listen..."

"You self-centered, chauvinist jerk! You just don't like the idea of a woman having a successful career, that's it!"

"That is not it! I'm only thinking of what's best for you!"

"Oh yeah? Well don't do me any favors! I can handle my own career myself!" She grabbed the carton of eggs off the counter and broke it over Strephon's head. Then she stormed out of the shop and into the rain.

Grandma Simms looked over her newspaper critically. "That was not what I had in mind."

NEXT:  Psychology 101

Dark Redemption chapter 30: Ghosts and Guilt

Beneath the gleaming skyscrapers and picturesque facade of the City of Redemption lies another city, a community of dark and ancient magic populated by creatures of the night. Dark Redemption is a shared-world novel based on an online role-playing game by James Crowther.

Strephon MacKenzie, a semi-immortal half-fae, has found his mission to investigate fae activity in the mortal world complicated by Cassandra True, a reporter for the Daily Oracle who is unaware of his supernatural ancestry. After entering her dreams once to protect her soul from a magical attack, he now finds that he quite literally cannot keep her out of his mind.

Strephon sat in his cold, damp room stirring his tea. The tea was weak and tepid and he could not bring himself to drink it. Still, he stirred it, concentrating on tracing methodical figure eights with his spoon; anything to keep his mind off the window.

Outside the window the sun was shining; a bright, tropical sun blazing over an azure sea. Warm waves lapped against the white sands of a perfect beach.

The tea. Concentrate on the tea.

The door to his room opened and a woman entered. What are you doing, dear?

Strephon looked up. Phyllis? But you're dead!

Not in your memory. That's all that matters.

Strephon nodded. Of course. I'm dreaming. She looked as young as she had when they'd first met, her lovely face wreathed in strawberry curls.

She sat down on the bed, next to his wheelchair. What are you doing inside? It's so lovely out. Strephon did not reply. You're hiding, aren't you.

I am not hiding.

Then why did you construct these walls around your mind? You wish to keep someone out, correct?

I thought it prudent.

My ever prudent Strephon. The sweet music of her laugh made his soul ache. You know, she is a nice girl.

Strephon followed her gaze out the window. He saw Cassandra, standing on the beach all alone, wearing a raincoat and staring across the sands at him.

I'm only a memory, Strephon. You're not going to hurt my feelings if you look at another woman, I promise. I never expected you to remain in mourning for the rest of your life. I want you to be happy.

I am happy.

You certainly don't look it. Why did you decide to remain here in the Mortal World instead of going back to the Unseen Realm?

Because I preferred reality to illusion.

Then why are you talking to a memory when reality is waiting out your window?

He gazed out the window. Cassandra was still out there, looking wistfully in his direction. His hands grasped the windowsill. He knew it wasn't really a window, but rather a psychic barrier constructed to prevent her mind from entering his dreams... and to prevent his from crossing over into hers. He realized that Phyllis had left him and he suddenly felt more alone than ever. His fingers pressed against the windowpane. He knew what he must do.

He woke up.

He was lying in his own bed. His shades were drawn. Outside the full moon shone over the city. He lay there for a long time listening to the distant din of the wolves.

NEXT:  Friendlee Conversation

Dark Redemption chapter 29: Bangers and Fettuccini

Beneath the gleaming skyscrapers and picturesque facade of the City of Redemption lies another city; a community of dark and ancient magic populated by creatures of the night. Dark Redemption is a shared-world novel based on an online role-playing game by James Crowther.

Strephon MacKenzie, a semi-immortal half-fae, has found his mission to investigate fae activity in the mortal world complicated by Cassandra True, a reporter for the Daily Oracle who is unaware of his supernatural ancestry. Against his better judgement, he has accepted an invitation to come up to her flat

Cassandra's flat was a small, two-bedroom affair with a pleasantly cluttered untidiness about it. A brown-haired young woman wearing a t-shirt bearing a distressingly vulgar slogan greeted them as they entered. "Hullo, Cassie. You're home early. Oooo!" She came over to Strephon and cooed over him as if he were a budgie Cassandra had picked up at a pet store. "You must be Steven!"

"Strephon," he corrected her.

"Stephen. Right."

"This is my roommate, Cecilie," Cassandra explained. "She's a sales clerk at Darling's." Strephon had never shopped there himself, but he recognized the name as that of a popular department store chain.

"You're right," Cecilie said, "he is cute. So how'd your date go? I thought you'd still be at the Cyba-Natsu." Her face suddenly widened into a knowing grin. "Ooooh, so that's it! Well, congratulations! It's about time, Cassie!"

"What?" Strephon blinked.

Cecilie grabbed her handbag. "Don't let me get in your way. I was planning on being out all night anyway. Don't wait up for me. Have fun!" Before either Strephon or Cassandra could protest, she ducked out the door.

Cassandra turned to Strephon and gave him a helpless smile. "I'm sorry about Cecilie. She... she thinks I ought to get out more."

"Ah. Well. There's nothing wrong with a good healthy social life."

"Yeah." Cassandra sighed. Then her eyes grew large. "Dinner! I forgot all about dinner! Omigosh, Strephon, you must be starving!"

"No, the mistake is mine. I should have had Tobias take us to a restaurant."

"Oh, phoo!" Cassandra bit her lip and thought for a moment. "Hang on a moment. Let me see what I have in the fridge." She darted into the kitchen and began bustling about.

"That's really not necessary," Strephon protested.

"Oh no, I insist! How does fettuccini alfredo sound?"

"Er, that sounds quite nice, but..."

"I'm afraid all I have to go with it are bangers."

Strephon sighed. "Sausages will be splendid."

As Casandra busied herself in the kitchen, Strephon passed the time by looking around the flat. The furniture had the shabby look of something which had once been modern but had fallen out of fashion and then regurgitated again by the whims of style. The entertainment centre was new; probably top-of-the-line at Darling's; and flanked by a tower of CD's on one side and a video cabinet on the other. He noted a framed  Mucha print with some approval. Undoubtedly one of Cassandra's. The unframed poster of the shirtless movie actor in tight leather trousers no doubt belonged to her flatmate.

"I hope I'm not putting you out," Strephon said.

"Oh, not at all. I like cooking. I taught myself in college. It's a lot cheaper than fast food. Of course, a lot of my cooking is kind of experimental."

"Hence the bangers and fettuccini," Strephon murmured. He noted several bookshelves crammed with paperbacks. He noted one splayed over the arm of the sofa and picked it up. The title read, Handicapped Hearts and the cover showed a nurse bending to embrace an open-shirted Adonis seated in a wheelchair. "Oh my." With a sense of mingled curiosity and dread, he glanced at the open page.

She tenderly stroked his cheek and brought her lips close to his. "Only your legs are crippled, not your heart."

Strephon frowned. The passage seemed familiar. Then he remembered: Cassandra had said the same thing to him in his dream the night before.

He dropped the book like a viper.

"I hope you don't mind; the place is a terrible mess," Cassandra called from the kitchen.

"That's all right," Strephon replied. He saw another book on the coffee table; a library book entitled Dreams and the Unconscious. That one did not particularly surprise him. He now realized that he made a mistake when he invaded her dreams the night of the wolf attack. Then when he followed her into the virtual reality game at Melchior's party, the mental bond between the two of them had strengthened. Now, despite his best intentions, their dreams were as intertwined as their lives.

"This has to stop now," Strephon said. "She's in terrible danger and doesn't realize it."

"What was that?" Cassandra came out of the kitchen with a fistful of silverware and brushed a stack of mail and catalogues off the dining table.

"Oh, nothing."

She brought out the dinner and set it on the table. "I hope you like it."

"It's lovely," Strephon said, wheeling himself to the table. As a matter of fact, the fettuccini was delicious, and the sausages tasty, if unconventional. Had he a mortal coronary system he might worry about the cholesterol. Cassandra apologized again for the wine, a vaguely reddish liquid decanted from a cube.

"Now you're the one who's apologizing too much," Strephon said. Cassandra laughed, and once again Strephon silently cursed himself. He did not want to be charming! How the devil could one sever a relationship with a woman who persisted in taking delight in one?

"Strephon...? May I ask a personal question?"

"Hm? I don't see why not. I shan't promise to answer it, though."

"About your wife. You said you were married once."

"Ah. Yes. Phyllis. I lost her." Strephon averted his gaze from her and concentrated on bisecting a piece of sausage.

"How did she die?"

Strephon paused. "Heart failure," he said truthfully.

"How terrible! To happen so young! Did she have a condition?"

Actually, Phyllis had been seventy-eight at the time she died. It was still too soon. "Something like that." He vigorously attacked another sausage.

"And you've been living all alone ever since?"

"Yes. Yes, I have."

Cassandra hesitated, trying to choose her next words. "Don't you think, Strephon, that..."

"That it's time to move on? I hear that from my mother all the time. No, I am quite comfortable as I am right now."

"They say there's nothing wrong with a good healthy social life."

Strephon set down his silverware, perhaps a little too forcefully. "Cassandra, you are a sweet, lovely girl, and I know what you're doing. You see this poor, wounded man in a wheelchair and you want to take care of him. It's terribly nice of you, but I don't need a nursemaid. I already have a mother, not to mention numerous cousins and aunts. You're too nice a girl to squander your affection on an old man such as myself."

"You're not old!"

"I'm older than you may think. And I'm a tyrant, and terribly set in my ways. Do you know, I used to beat my wife?"

Cassandra stifled a giggle so that it came out a snort. "I don't believe it!"

"Then I tell outrageous falsehoods to gain sympathy. Can you live with that?"

She placed her hand on his. "Strephon, tell me truthfully. Don't you ever get lonely...?"

YES! he wanted to shout. Or rather, no! But the word would not come out. Somehow, when she touched him his fae gift of deception fled and he was left with the burning, uncomfortable truth.

He wanted her. He needed her. He desired her presence as a dipsomaniac desired drink. The realization of this struck him like a blow and it terrified him.

He pulled his hand away from hers. "I am quite happy," he said thickly.

NEXT:  Ghosts and Guilt