The Eighth

Delaney was nursing a nasty gash in his side when his master returned. He was ready to fall on his knees, to beg for her forgiveness. He didn’t like not being in her good grace. He wanted her loving affections and her beautiful smiles. He stopped abruptly when he saw the human boy. Her arm was draped around his waist possessively and she seemed perfectly content with the boy at her side. He looked nearly drunken; drunken with infatuation. Delaney had to use a great deal of effort to keep envy out of his eyes.

He could imagine his mistress tangled in sheets with the boy, kissing him and caressing him softly. He struggled to keep the snarl off of his lips. How he wanted to be older. She cast a loving glance over at Delaney as she led her human boy to her quarters. Delaney, my love, tell Caedes that I will expect him to be at tomorrow night’s performance with his Triste. I especially want her attendance. Delaney wouldn’t refuse her. With a sigh, he brought himself to the girl’s house. It was a welcome distraction from his master’s sexuality.

Triste was thirstily drinking a glass of water when she saw Delaney in the corner of her reddened eyes. She had cried for nearly an hour. She wasn’t entirely sure why she had balled her eyes out. But she knew that Sandy was innocent. He didn’t deserve to be killed or infected. ‘It’s crazy that I believe that at all,’ she growled at herself. After having downed eight glasses of water, she couldn’t imagine herself still being thirsty. But still her throat felt dry, as if she had been drinking sand.

“I thought Caedes was with you,” Delaney said bluntly. His bad mood, he knew, would be obvious to her. Whether or not she could read people well, he knew it was blatantly obvious in his every movement and word. He could see the redness of her eyes. He could only imagine that she had gotten into a fight with Caedes. She looked over at Delaney with slight intrigue. She had never seen him so distraught looking.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him softly. He looked away from her for a moment, unsure of what to tell her. He didn’t want to expose himself to her, but she had seemed genuinely concerned when she had asked. ‘My master never acts concerned,’ he thought angrily. She didn’t think he would tell her anything, but, rather, he’d turn the question around on her. She was surprised when he spoke.

“My mistress is being a hypocrite. She can’t stand any of us having anyone other than her in our sights, and yet she can have as many infatuations as she likes. It’s infuriating. I was trapped in this body for her. Yet she shows me nothing other than harsh words and empty actions,” he growled angrily. The hurt and pain was raw in his voice. She frowned when she heard it. Enemy or not, the master was a major bitch to Delaney. No one deserved it.

“If I could, I’d kick her ass for you,” Triste said cockily before she thought her words through. Then, she remembered that she was talking to Delaney, her ever-devoted servant. However, he didn’t seem a bit offended by it. Rather, he laughed quietly, intimately. His spirits rose a bit. Her concern was nearly touching. He reminded himself that he still needed to do as he was told. His side still hurt.

“Where is Caedes?” he asked her. She sighed. He had left after he had put her door back on its hinges, without a word. Her heart ached for him, for some reason. Delaney gauged her expression carefully. Her dark, murky eyes looked like she was pining for him. He made a mental note of it. Though he had grown to like Triste, she was still an enemy of his, rather, his master.

“He left a while ago, after your master came here and took my innocent friend away. Not to mention eye raping Caedes, though he thoroughly enjoyed that,” she said sadly. Sandy didn’t deserve it at all. It then occurred to her that the new consort that had Delaney was angry about was Sandy. Delaney had a calm, neutral expression on his face though; he had regained his composure.

“You must understand that a master’s effect on their servant is great. Whether he wants to feel her pull or not, it will remain present, Triste. Keep that in mind before you speak too harshly to him,” Delaney told her. He wasn’t sure why he was trying to explain away Caedes problem. Triste nodded a bit at his words, but didn’t seem consoled. “Your friend will be blinded by my master’s influence. He will feel no pain, I assure you.” Again, he didn’t understand why he was trying to make her feel better.

“What are you doing here?” Caedes asked hotly as he walked into the kitchen. Delaney stood when he heard Caedes’ voice. Triste’s eyes rose to see him, though otherwise stayed on the glass in front of her. Caedes looked at Triste and Delaney with suspicion. Surely, Triste would not try to seduce Delaney. Or vice versa. He watched them warily. He knew he was being possessive, but he couldn’t help but feel as if he had a right of ownership over his Dea.

“Talking to Triste and looking for you, of course. Our Master wants you at tomorrow’s performance along with her,” he stated quietly with a nod in the direction of Triste. Triste looked up suspiciously at Delaney. “If you’re not there, she’ll be extremely unhappy. She’s especially looking forward to seeing Triste again.” Caedes eyes narrowed on Delaney hatefully. Why Delaney would work against him so was a mystery. However, he knew that Delaney strived to be the best to the master. And spying on Caedes seemed to be the easiest way to be the best.

“Fine. Leave us, Delaney,” Caedes demanded, his voice cold. Delaney nodded and disappeared silently, wishing he didn’t have to work against the girl he had grown accustomed to. He liked her even. Triste looked over at Caedes silently. He was standing across from her, leaning against the kitchen cabinets. He looked as pure as newly fallen snow to her. She shook her head. Surely these weren’t her thoughts. Whether he wants to feel her pull or not, it will remain present, Triste. It never occurred to her that the same could be applied to her.

“Dea, do not be angry with me. I cannot deny my desires for her. She is my master. She created who I am. I serve her. I know it sounds foolish, but I will always remain attracted to her, no matter how cruel she is to me or how much I despise her,” he said gently as he moved forward to her. She watched him move silently. He stroked her cheek when he was close enough. She felt like she had sandpaper for a tongue. She swallowed razor blades.

“I think you have the same effect on me,” she said softly, her eyes focused on the glass in front of her, rather than Caedes. She saw him smile lovingly at her out of the corner of her eye. ‘Surely I’ve gone mad,’ she thought to herself with a sigh. He looked towards the kitchen window and then to the clock above the stove. She looked at him curiously. He caught her eyes on him and smiled. “What?” she asked warily.

“I was seeing how much time is left before sunrise makes you and I sluggish,” he said softly as he pulled her up from the chair she was settled in. Their closeness made her heart flutter a bit. She pulled away from him with a shake of her head and headed up the stairs. She needed to go to bed. Now. Before she died from thirst, or worse, did things she’d regret later. Caedes followed her slowly. She turned and looked at him helplessly when he followed her into her bedroom.

“Caedes, please. I have to go to school tomorrow. I can’t just lie around the house and act freakish,” she said confidently, even though she knew every word she was saying was a lie. He was quiet for a few moments. He was trying to figure her out. He didn’t understand why she was still attempting to classify what happened as being a dream or a hallucination. Her friend had been kidnapped. She had seen it happen. How could it have been anything but real?

“Why do you still deny what happened, my lovely Triste?” he asked gently as he came closer to her again. She sat on her bed with a sigh. Why did she fool herself? She was a freak of nature now. ‘I’m like Superman,’ she thought with a frown. When Caedes sat down beside her, a shiver when down her spine. She was tempted to stand back up, but didn’t.

“Because I don’t want to die. Because I don’t want to be responsible for other people’s deaths. Because I don’t want to believe this at all,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. His eyes were soft and understanding. As if her words required no explanation. He kissed her cheek softly. It made fire form on her skin. Her thirst resurfaced. But it wasn’t a thirst for water; it was a thirst for him.

“My Dea, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t watch you die. You were like a little bird, defenseless. I couldn’t bear the thought or your huge brown eyes on my conscience,” he whispered back, his eyes shameful. She took her hand in his and squeezed it comfortingly, feeling as if she needed to be strong for him. He laughed a bit. “My dear, you do not have to worry of my feelings. I am more concerned for you.” He kissed her again, only this time he claimed her lips. She kissed him thirstily. How good he tasted. Her worries of the coming night disappeared.