Ode to Spirits.
XX Sorry for the completely too long hiatus! I was working on another piece, and I know it's not the best thing I may have written, but I'm happy to say I finished it in less than a month, yet the characters have imprinted themselves in my mind more so than any other characters to me. It's called "Hunter" just in case you're interested! (It's nothing like this, however) Anyway, I apologize for the long break! I'll be sure to get started right back into this! XX
"Someone's going to notice us," Eve pointed out to Samael bluntly, close to screaming for help in the packed crowd. Foreign smells infiltrated her nose and distracted her, however, and so that was the end of that. "What do you suppose smells so…interesting?"
They were not long off the boat, walking through the crowded, dirty streets of Istanbul's market like a couple. A couple, of course, that had been forced. Samael kept a tight grip on Eve's arm at all times, and Eve had a sneaking suspicion that even if she wanted to, she would not be able to run away from him.
Samael, in his human guise of an old penny-banker, glanced at her with shrewd ebony eyes.
"It's food of course," he explained, as if she were nothing but an errant child. "Dolma, Sarma, Kebabs…olives?" Eve only knew olives specifically; she'd never heard of the other foods. "You lived in India for most of your life; did it not always smell like this?"
"Pardon me, but I didn't happen to live in the filthy streets of the marketplace," Eve quipped, avoiding his new eyes nervously. She disliked that he could now stare at her. Even though he could before, it was a whole lot more obvious to the poor girl now.
Samael had grown more exasperated with her by the day, but still he tried to tolerate her. Perhaps if he were more generous. Maybe then the insolent woman would warm up to him.
"Well, you must try Turkish Coffee," he told her, his tall frame beaming down at her. Eve was instantly wary of his offer. Why did he want her to have anything? Wasn't he only using her to gain control of other kingdoms? She was plenty offended enough by that fact alone, but now he wanted to treat her decently?
The time to treat me with respect was the minute we met, Eve thought coldly, ignoring Samael's offer. "I don't like coffee," she replied monotonously.
"Aye, that's too bad then," said Samael, mocking her with fool's sympathy. "We're stopping in a tavern anyway. I've some business to call to my attention, and a friend of mine will be meeting us there."
Eve almost sneered in disgust. So. Everything in this journey had been planned down to their steps. Samael laughed out loud when he saw her scrutinizing face.
"You think I planned our being stuck here," he said knowingly. "Sorry darling, but even I'm not that meticulous. I just happen to know a friend of mine who lives here, who can sweep us off our feet to India in an instant."
"I hate when you goblins do that," commented Eve with a sullen expression. "Can't you just be polite and leave my thoughts alone?"
"Now tell me," inquired her goblin companion, "where is the fun in that? I so do enjoy teasing you. It's one of the few things I can tolerate about you," he added wryly.
In response, Eve smiled at him brightly before returning to her frown and furrowed brow. This trip, she thought, was becoming stranger by the minute. What would happen next? Would he be kinder than a searching bachelor and let her go?
She could always hope.
"We are going to get caught," she mentioned again, desperate for someone to overhear her. If only the general public knew about these clever little goblins. Then, at least, she'd feel a bit safer.
Samael yanked her along, looking remarkably handsome in his disguise. He appeared exactly as an Englishman should, perhaps even better. Eve knew better, however, than to trust how someone looked anymore. Looks were only what concealed what was on the inside, and most of the time the insides of many people were rotten to the core.
The goblin turned sharply to the right, bumping into Eve with his full weight. Eve was reminded yet again of the ugly creature underneath his charming ruse. She followed him though as he ducked under an awning and entered an awfully shabby looking tavern. The sign above the awning was written in a foreign language, but it was obvious that it was a tavern from the stale smell of spirits and ale that wafted from the entrance.
Eve bit back small choke of disdain and bravely kept close to Samael. Even if the goblin had kidnapped her, he wouldn't let her be harmed, would he?
XX
Well, it had only been a matter of time before Muriel and Luke decided to venture into the poorer parts of Istanbul. One could only take so many offers of opera and so much fine dining. Luke, being adventurous, wanted to scour the streets like an anthropologist, hoping to discover how the citizens of Istanbul lived. Muriel on the other hand just wanted to be closer to the docks. She wanted to get out of the Ottoman Empire the minute ships were allowed to disembark again.
They set off into the lower parts of the city on a sunny afternoon, having grown tired of their host's hospitality. Muriel had worked all morning braiding her hair and organizing it back into German braids. Luke waited for her patiently, complimenting her politely when she emerged from her room.
"You certainly look lovely," he said brightly. Muriel blushed but smiled coyly.
"Really? Well, thank you," she replied shyly. Silence spanned between them until Luke cleared his throat uneasily.
"Ready to go?"
"Of course."
Out they went into the bright sunshine, admiring Istanbul's architecture. It looked nothing like England or Germany. It was so much more ornate and elegant than other regions of Europe. Tall buildings in awkward stances stood all around the city, towering over slums. The yellowish plaster did a number on the eyes, but Muriel and Luke found it breathtaking to look at.
The tall gothic towers were not all that attracted the visitors. "I hate to bother you Luke," Muriel said in a moment of silence between the two, "but I'm quite parched. Do you think we might be able to find a place to drink?"
Luke glanced at her uneasily for a moment before his eyes crinkled kindly.
"Why of course Muriel," he replied in a light tone. "Why don't we try some of that Turkish coffee the concierge suggested?" Muriel shook her head blandly.
"No, I mean something to drink," she repeated, eyeing him carefully until he understood exactly what she meant. Luke's lips twitched into a grin and he rested the crook of her arm in his.
"Ah, yes!" cried Luke, ushering Muriel down the cobbled lanes toward where the taverns were kept. "Of course we shall have something to drink. If you so desire it then you shall have it."
Muriel could not help but smile at the charming young man who was accompanying her on this awfully long journey. He was such a gentleman, she decided, to accommodate her so well.
Off they went, until Luke stopped at a shabby looking tavern and glanced up at the wooden sign, muttering something in Turkish under his breath.
"This seems like an authentic place," he remarked, opening the door for Muriel and letting her inside first. "The sign says this tavern has been around for nearly two centuries. That's quite long for the Empire, if you've any idea of their shifting history."
"I can't believe how much this poor Empire's been through," Muriel murmured as the pair strolled through the crowd of smelly bodies in the dank tavern towards the bar. "First they must deal with insane leaders and now all this wreckage over borders? Pray tell, Luke, what the world is coming to when all we carry out is fighting for certain territories?"
"That I do not know my intelligent little companion," Luke quipped, leaning against the counter of the bar, "but I'll tell you one thing; Britain would certainly never do such a thing. India and Britain will remain strong for as long as the sun shines above India, and the clouds rule over English land. Now, what would you like?" Luke turned back to the bar to get the bartender's attention, while Muriel smiled and replied that she would like a gin and tonic, of course.
While Luke had his back to her, Muriel's eyes drifted across the throng of commoners in the bar. She inched closer to Luke for safety's sake and watched the customers with interest.
They were all older than her, it seemed, but none were dressed as well as she and Luke. Many customers were staring right back at her, actually, and so her eyes continued to roam aimlessly to make sure she did not attract more attention than she'd already managed to get.
As her plain brown eyes gazed, suddenly they were fixated upon one person in the bar and one person only. Well, two for that matter but she recognized them instantly, even though they seemed…different than before.
"Luke!" she hissed, clutching her companion's arm quickly. "Luke, it's him!"
Luke turned, unaware of what Muriel meant. He frowned and squinted at the crowd of customers, trying to discern who she was talking about. "Who am I supposed to be looking at?" he inquired.
Muriel bit her lip, trying not to point out the obvious in such a crowded place. She pointed in the general direction of two Englishmen seated at a shaky table.
"The taller man," she began to explain in a hushed tone. "That man…he is Eve's husband."
Luke took in the man that Muriel was pointing to, his frown deepening into a menacing expression.
"So," he remarked, "that is the man I have to thank for stealing our poor little elf away from us?"
"Well no," Muriel replied. "Actually, maybe…Oh, I'm not sure! She made me leave before I knew exactly what had happened, but I know for a fact that he is one of the men who tried to kidnap her!"
The taller man, a handsome blonde Englishman who seemed to be in his mid thirties or so, seemed to have sensed Muriel's accusing finger though, because he turned his head to stare at the young lady with all the manners of a market boy. A moment passed, and recognition filled his face before he stood and turned to his companion, telling the younger, surlier looking man something.
Both ambled over to Muriel and Luke, who was busy trying to free his clamped jaw so he could raise a fuss over this man who was supposedly Eve's husband.
"It seems the sheep has been wandering all over the continent as well," Aram declared, "hasn't she?" Crystal blue eyes bore into Muriel, and from her point of view, it was almost as if she could see through Aram's disguise as a professional looking Englishman.
"Now see here," Luke jumped in, pushing himself in front of Muriel as an act of protection, "I won't stand for you harassing this young lady! It is bad enough that you've stolen my only sister!"
Immediately Aram's face darkened and he took a step back from Luke and Muriel. Always at his side, Christian took one small step back as well, nearly knocking himself into a sour looking group of commoners.
"What do you mean; I've stolen your sister?" Aram inquired, his voice dangerously edgy. "I've done nothing of the sort." He glanced at Muriel, blue eyes suspicious. "Girl; who is this boy you've joined company with?"
"I am Luke Brigham," Luke announced with clarity, stepping towards Aram bravely. "I am the last son of James Brigham, and I am in search of my sole sister, who had been kidnapped by your lot according to my sources. Tell me now sir; I demand to know where she is!"
The tavern hushed with thrill and danger as customer's watched the two men face off. Aram only smirked, however, placing typical human hands above average hips.
"You think I stole the woman who is rightfully bound to me?" he asked, shaking his head. "You simple minded fool; your lovely sister has been kidnapped of course, but not by me. In fact, I am only here because I am on my way to rescue her. She is, as your companion informed you, my wife. I intend to save her from the perils of whom you might know as Satan."
Despite the language barriers, nearly every one of the customers in the bar understood the ominous word that Aram's lips had uttered. Grown men crossed themselves while others cried out to God for holy assistance.
And despite Luke's polite upbringing, he couldn't help but spit at Aram's feet and snarl, "Do not kid to me about my sister's whereabouts! We are on a very serious journey, and your frivolous manner will get us nowhere!"
Christian let out a short bark of laughter, stepping in for his ruler. "You think the king would joke about his own bride?" he asked Luke bluntly. "Do you have a wife? Maybe we could take her from you and see how you'd feel!"
Luke hadn't been prepared for such a tone to come from Christian. His face paled and Muriel pulled him back in concern.
"Please, we mean no harm," she explained to Aram and Christian. "We've been on our way to England to look for Eve, but…if she's not with you, then where is she?"
Aram dismissed the earlier conflicts with Luke and sniffed the air for a moment. He glanced at the door and shrugged.
"I would say they were here less than a half hour ago," he informed the girl.
"They?" Muriel squeaked, her own face growing pallid. "Who might 'they' be?"
"Samael," Christian told the girl darkly. Aram nodded in confirmation.
"He used one of my own men to take my wife, and now I believe Samael is headed to India with her for his own reasons. But they're in Istanbul," he assured Muriel, sniffing the air again. "I can smell Samael's foul aura. He's very close, as well as Eve."
Muriel's own brow furrowed and she glanced at the door uneasily.
"Well now Luke," she murmured, "it seems we won't have to delay our search any longer. Eve is inside the city with us as we speak."
With new hope in her heart, Muriel abandoned the men in the tavern and dashed out onto the street on her own, keeping her eyes wide open for any sign of Eve, any sign at all.
Luke followed suit, but Aram and Christian stayed inside the tavern, sitting back down at their table.
"I didn't know you lied," Christian remarked, a little confused. "I thought lying was only for humans or…the weak."
"Samael and Eve will come back here in a half hour," Aram explained, tapping a tall glass on the table. Turkish currency immediately poured from his suit's sleeve and onto the table. "I merely sent those two on a fruitless chase through the streets. They'll be back as well. For now, my dear friend, we wait for Satan himself and my poor Elven wife to come back. They know we're here. Samael will want to confront me, as is his usual style."
Christian nodded his head, but he wasn't entirely sure about the plan. Of course, this was his king talking so he had no real say in the matter. He could still voice his worry, however, and so he did.
"I don't see why he'd come back, but as long as you're sure…" Aram eyed Christian warily.
"He'll be back," he assured confidently. "The friend he visited earlier is under oath; Ikiz will lure Samael back for me.