“The thread goes in, and the thread goes out, into your larynx and out of your mouth,” I sang to that macabre old tune and let my voice carry magic that I used to work the needle through flesh in what the shadow declared was beautiful work. Despite the fact that I stopped singing, the song continued on, echoing about in an eerie facsimile of my voice.
“Were he a doll, his head would be stitched up no finer.” It caressed about my ankles and slid along my arms, touching almost seductively. The bulk of it rose along a wall, horns ofmany types curling and forking from its head. “But it is not your soul I desire.”
“Then what is it?” I left his body and rummaged about for gauze and chlorohexidine wash. I wet a few pads with it and wet them in a sink, daubing at his wound as the burned flesh and cut healed.
“What’s the holdup?” Draevus lost all composure, his tone nervous.
“Tell the horned one that I, Ausmius, offer you the oldest contract of all. Say my name.” The shadow snickered.
“Saying your name isn’t going to cost me, is it?” I cut my gaze toward the shadow he threw up on the wall as clawed hands spread, and red eyes glowed in his form.
“Only a whisper of your breath to say it and the time it takes to do so.” As honest as a demon could be.
“Ausmius has given me his name and told me to inform you he has offered me the oldest contract of all.” I knew of several old contracts. The contract of a firstborn, the contract of marriage, of gold, and life.
Draevus’s face hardened. “Do it, mage. I will make sure your place in hell is paradise. On my honor.”
“What is this contract I’m offered?” I pulled the thread taut as the shadow snipped it with finality, a reminder that it had physical presence in this world.
In tandem, Draevus spoke with Ausmius, “Eternal union.”
I took my still-bleeding thumb and circled it over his heart, making sigils that burned as I drew them out. A mate ship. A life partner that would go beyond the veil. “Even if you believe I am the cause of his suffering?”
I bided my time. I wouldn’t do such a thing without consent, and the price I would pay for refusing would be eternal damnation. Draevus would ensure it. If Esmeray refused, I would trade my life for his, in hopes that I would earn leniency inexchange for the meager years I, as a mage, could offer, years he wouldn’t be able to wield a demon’s power.
I drew a circle for heart, a circle for health, a line pointing north that strayed over a pebbled nipple, a line south that descended just below the other. I gave the rune for exchange, a rune for breath. A temporary spell that I connected to another circle, smudging my blood into archaic symbols that connected him to me in the most intimate of ways, with blood and life, calling upon the power of a greater demon, Draevus Faust. And then I drew one last circle, which I gave a weak connection to the first. The circle was smaller, simpler, the cardinal directions notched in and an ancient symbol for balance and exchange. If he rejected me, my life would be forfeited.
I wondered who’d feed my books once I was gone. Surely, they’d grow lonely without sampling pieces of gaze and interest. They’d starve and could go feral… I prayed the guild would take care of it.
“There are too many circles, mage. What are you doing?” The crack of urgency lifted his pitch to an unmanly one that I understood, desperation and love.
“Giving him a choice.” I slammed my hand onto the main sigil, and Esmeray’s entire body bowed off the table, back arching, fingers clawed as the thickest, rattling breath drew in.
“Esmeray. Listen carefully!” I drew my hands to his face, black eyes wide and wild as they blew open. “Do not waste this breath. You are dead. I can revive you at the cost of binding our lives eternally. We will be mates. I will be your husband in all things for all time. Or I can give you mortality for as long as your demon body holds out.”
The shadow hissed and swarmed, blocking off the room’s door as Draevus shouted something that drowned in a sudden scream from its nonexistent mouth.
He exhaled slowly, breath rattling, and he only had that one breath. Once it was gone, there were no more. True death would await.
“Answer me! You’ll die. It’s forever or not.” I stared as the breath rattled on, his dark eyes lightening as they met mine before slowly rolling back. “Esmeray!” I pressed on his chest, trying to squeeze a little more air through him to prolong the breath.
“You,” he spoke on the last whisper of breath, and the spell lit brilliantly, traversing to the next sigil where our very essences entwined.
Ausmius howled with ecstasy and threw solid darkness all around us, eyes opening all over the room, their red intensity staring at us from a thousand facets. Aramaic faded into Avestan, of all things, whispered and hissing from unseen mouths. Shadows stabbed into me, sharp tendrils penetrating flesh as each needle-like protrusion went through my blazer, crisp linen shirt, and through many layers of flesh. I’d had worse and stilled. Any shifter unable to fully take their animal form could tell how painful an incomplete shift was, and I did it multiple times a day. Some pinpricks were nothing, even as the shadow swam in my veins, entering one side of me, leaving the other like the very stitches I used to heal his neck.
Apologies, Diana and Bast! My soul comes with accessories now.
I took a deep breath as Esmeray breathed in and out, air sawing free of him as his flesh regained color, eyes evening out to a typical shape, whether glamor or not, I would come to know one day, I was certain.
“Esmeray!” Draevus shouted from the door, his posture slacking. Calling upon his power for such a thing had to drain him.
Esmeray didn’t look over as the pumpkin-orange glow of his eyes reignited. He stared in awe at me. Cherubic lips parted, pale face flushing. Whispered words traced his breath in a single statement. “I’ve always wanted to be loved. Really loved.”
I couldn’t promise I ever would. I couldn’t promise I’d try, either. I could only swear to him that I would share my life in all ways our bond demanded. Instead, I reciprocated. “Me too.”
I straightened his sheet and tucked it around his hips as he lost consciousness. His shallow breaths rose and fell as our heartbeats synchronized in a way I could feel through my soul. I caught my hand wandering to find his, our fingers curling together as Ausmius retreated into Esmeray’s body. But some part of Esmeray was gone, and a presence lingered about him, offering power for service. The nagging sensation of a god’s impatient words made my skin prickle.
“Ho—unholy shit.” The terrified and probably traumatized male stood still as Draevus forged his way forward, face a mask of anger.
