Chapter 11: Chapter Eight : Rotten Craving

“What did I tell you? Men are less than pond scum.”

~~~

He left soon after she finished. Left her with a whispered word and a gentle encouragement for her to rest. That only drove it deeper to Hazel that this was all wrong. He couldn't even stand to stay by her side. In her eagerness, her craving, she had made a horrible mistake. She listened for the door to latch, then buried her head in the pillow and wept.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed into her pillow. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

She twisted her legs, trying to will the pleasant ache away. Trying to forget how good she felt. How he had acted with such skill. It meant absolutely nothing to him. The bed no longer smelled of dust and neglect, but her warm sweat and citrus.

She flinched when the door opened again, but it was only Edelweiss returning. She groaned and buried herself deeper as he leapt up on the bed. Edelweiss paused, then paced back and forth atop her back, sniffing.

“You reek of him,” he stated plainly. He nuzzled against her neck, prodding her bruise. “If that man has taken anything more from you, just say the word, and I will end him.”

“Oh, Edelweiss…” Hazel mumbled.

She grabbed him by his slender middle and squeezed him tightly to her chest. He squirmed and protested, but with a huff accepted his fate.

She slept, but her dreams were filled with anxiety, her emotions in turmoil. She didn’t remember what she dreamed, but when at last she woke, she woke restless and frustrated, her head pounding. She tugged at the fabric of her mind, and it eased the headache somewhat. But she couldn't deny the heaviness of pains old and new on her shoulders.

With a sigh, she popped open her trunk of things. She dressed more comfortably in a long skirt and long-sleeved cotton blouse. Hazel had worn trousers while traveling, but she enjoyed the loose and floaty feeling of a good skirt much better. Edelweiss wove in and out under her skirt, playing with the long fabric. And at last, she plopped her familiar old witch’s hat on her head. Black, just as a witch’s hat should be, with a white ribbon held in place by a pin bearing the Father’s crook and book – the symbol of a Delland-certified Healer.

As she walked, she realized she still ached below. It wasn't unpleasant… It was like a stomach ache, her body gently asking to be filled again.

“What a mess,” she groaned softly. She shoved the thought away, and tried not to let her thoughts wander back to her… escapade.

When she exited her room, she noticed a new smell. The smell of cooking, and strange spices. There was a sizzling sound from the kitchen below. She went down the stairs, and realized it was late afternoon already. A full twenty four hours since she arrived…. Gods above and below, far too much had happened in that time.

Before she even reached the bottom of the stairs, she noticed Zinnia was peering mischievously up through the bannister, spatula in hand.

“Hayyyyzeeeee,” she crooned, smile growing wide and toothsome.

Hazel laughed nervously as she descended. “Heeeeyyyy Ziiinnn….”

“Oh ho ho ho ho….” Zinnia laughed “I. Spy. A. HICKEY!“

Hazel yelped “OW!” as a warm spatula slapped over the bruise on her neck.

“Ooh, that was loud,” Zinnia said, still grinning. She circled around to the foot of the steps and grabbed Hazel’s lapel. The giddy witch hissed sympathetically. “Wow! Dearest roomie… do you like biting?”

Hazel slapped her away. “Zinnia stoooppp!”

Zinnia just cozied up closer, smug as a cat. Her oversized hat once more threatened to knock Hazel’s straight off her head.

“So…” Zinnia said. “How was he?”

Hazel let out a high pitched whine and covered her face with her hands. That just made Zinnia laugh again.

“Girl didnt want thirdsies,” she said. “She wanted the golden boy allll to herselllfff…”

“I’m sorryyyy…” Hazel cried.

“Nope, no apologies!” Zinnia smacked Hazel's bruise again and Hazel yelped. “Toldja he was a manwhore! Of course he would gobble up a lonely little girl like you!”

Zinnia gave an exaggerated, dramatic cry, slapping the back of her hand against her forehead. Holding that pose, she slipped off to the kitchen, waving Hazel along behind her with a twirl of her spatula. Edelweiss gallumped after her, only pausing to see that Hazel was actually coming.

Hazel pressed her palms against her eyes, and groaned, “I can doooo thiiisss…”

She walked like a normal person into the kitchen, and was enveloped in warm and spicy smells. The heat from the stove mixed strangely and unevenly with the cool radiating from the Soppmoss, and Hazel briefly wondered if the moss would be damaged by the heat. Then Zinnia pushed a mug of warm brown liquid into her hands, and when Hazel took a sip, she realized it was far too sweet to be coffee.

Hazel cried, “Chocolate! That’s—!”

“Not nearly so expensive in these parts,” Zinnia said, returning to a steaming pot on the stove. “Just making some dirty rice for dinner, enough for you, me, and the manwhore. Stupid and simple.”

Hazel slipped into one of the tall chairs set against the island, and said into her cup, “If you’re mad, you can tell me,”

“Hmmmm?” Zinnia tittered. “Why would I be mad?

“I’m mad at me,” Hazel cried. “I didn’t mean anything to him. And yet I… I just let him…”

Zinnia quietly stirred the spiced rice, smiling slowly fading to a small smirk.

“Okay, I’m a little mad,” Zinnia admitted. “Would’ve been nicer if either of you asked permission first… but I can’t judge you for some rebound sex with a grade A hottie. So Hazel,” She set down the spatula and leaned over the island to pat Hazel on her good shoulder. “Don’t take it personal that he treated you like a dime a dozen handkerchief.”

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“Zinnia!” Hazel cried.

“Whaaaat?” she cried back, her catlike smirk returning as she pulled her hand away. “You’re the one who decided she wanted to go play hardball with the city’s number one batter! Should’ve picked something easier! Maybe a quiet library type like yourself. Now… Oh yeah!” She clapped her hands as if she had a sudden thought. “How’d you like the Princess’ Kiss?”

Hazel stared at Zinnia, dumbfounded. “The what?”

“That weird mouthwash he uses.” Zinnia mimed drinking and spitting. “Makes his kisses all hot and tingly. Goes all numb after a while, but damn, what a weird rich person aphrodisiac huh?”

‘Ah, so that’s how he explains it,’ Hazel thought. She remembered the same feeling of hot, tingly numbing spreading when she was bitten… she instinctively crossed her legs and squeezed. ‘Must be a property of his spit.’

“It was… unique?” Hazel said uncertainly.

“Might bit powerful isn't it?” Zinnia said casually. “When he was licking my —“

“Nope! No thank you! No details!”

Zinnia laughed, loud and pure. She took the pan off the burner, and cut the heat by turning a knob with a heavy thunk.

She continued, “Aurelius is down in the basement doing Father knows what. Bring him up, we’ll talk expectations and boundaries and all the good stuff over some dirty rice.”

Edelweiss jumped up on the counter and sniffed the rice in the pan. His wings perked up.

“Ooh, that smells lovely,” he said. “Is there some for me, Lady Scarlet?”

“Sure, little guy!”

“Lady Scarlet, my name is not ‘little guy.’ It is Edelweiss.”

“Ahhhh you little goof!”

As Zinnia roughly petted and tickled a squirming Edelweiss, Hazel set down her cup of hot chocolate and moved towards the pantry. Edelweiss escaped briefly to give Hazel an unreadable look, but he was quickly dragged back into a tackle hug. He squealed and squirmed, but Hazel knew he would be okay. Maybe. Hopefully.

When Hazel descended the steps into the basement, she almost didn’t recognize the place. Aurelius had turned it into his own little apartment. Rugs were thrown down, the room lit by dozens of candles. Multiple armchairs and battered wooden tables had been arranged around a large wooden board with multiple papers nailed to it.

And sitting in the most plush armchair was a man nearly unrecognizable from the marble statue she knew.

He had pulled back his long curls into a short little ponytail, tied with a thin white ribbon. His clothes looked far less sensual and far more comfortable. A reddish brown waistcoat, along with loose breeches that cut off at knee-high stockings. A white lace cravat hung loose around his neck, untied.

When she approached, he almost looked like he was sleeping. But then she saw the open makeup case on the table next to him, and saw he was delicately brushing peach-colored paints onto his face.

Hazel’s heart squeezed, the space between her legs pounding in vacant ache. Craving overwhelming heartbreak.

How could she possibly be normal around this man?

“You bled,” he said, eyes still closed.

Hazel stammered and stumbled. “Hwauh?”

“When we made love,” he said. He lifted the brush away, opened his eyes, and smirked at her. “Darling! Was I your first?”

Hazel blushed and looked away. “Uh. Well. No. It’s… Well I suppose you were. It was my first time with a man.” She took a deep breath, trying to calm the hammering in her heart. “Did I not say? My old lover, Lily, was a woman.”

“Oh!” Aurelius’ face lit up. “I’m sorry, is that your preference?”

“Well, if I had to say I had a preference… then…” She rolled her shoulders and shrugged. “Both?”

Aurelius shot up excitedly in his chair. He nodded sharply, grin so bright it was practically glittering.

“Exactly!” he shouted. “Both are good!”

“I know, I know!” Hazel babbled. “Women are nice, soft and warm and so soothing to the soul… But the solidity of a man, the dominance… ”

She buried her face in her hands, face hot. How could she be having this conversation with him? The fond memories of Aurelius’ love was fresh in her mind, as was the terrifying sight of that meaningless black.

“I don't understand people sometimes!” Aurelius cried, picking up another brush. “Why limit yourself to half the world’s delights??”

“Mm-hm!” Hazel squeaked. “So you like both… what a relief…”

“Still thought I was still pining for my old love?” Aurelius said, leaning back and applying a thin line of black above his eyes. “Perish the thought. My heart is in your hands, my beloved angel.”

‘Liar,’ Hazel thought savagely. She took some steadying breaths and pushed the anxiety from her mind. She didn’t want to talk about it. Not now.

So instead she asked, “Must be pretty hard applying makeup without a mirror.”

“Time and practice is all it takes,” Aurelius said.

Hazel came around to sit beside him on another armchair. Up close, she could see he applied the layer of peach paint down to his neck, added bit of blush and a very subtle red lipstick. He just finished with a thin black line above his eyelashes, just a subtle emphasis when he blinked.

“You practically look alive,” Hazel commented. “When I first saw you, I got the impression of a marble statue.”

“That look was his preference,” Aurelius shot. He took a breath, and calmed his voice. “I thought I’d try something new.”

He picked up a brush from a jar of black paint and savagely dabbed a black mark under his left eye. The hairs of the small brush crushed and scattered, leaving a mark like a tiny multi-pointed star.

“Did you used to have a mole there?” Hazel asked.

Aurelius shrugged. “Who knows. Hey. If you dig through my memories, can you dredge up what my face used to look like?” He laughed lightly. “Never mind. I don’t remember things like that…. Oh. Except for one.”

He leaned forward and reached up behind his back to an awkward spot between his shoulder blades.

“There was one around here. A big one, in a really annoying place to scratch. It was always catching on my clothes and peeling. Frankly, I’m glad it’s gone. Would have removed it myself once I had the coin to spare.”

“Hm…” Hazel poked the spot. Aurelius’ shoulder blades twitched under his shirt. “Want me to draw it on for you?”

He cocked his head. “Why?”

“I don’t know...” Hazel shrugged. “Spite?”

Aurelius laughed brightly. “Well! I can agree with spite!”

He undid the top few fasteners of his coat and adjusted the strings of his undershirt. He pulled off his cravat and wiggled the collar of his coat down just enough to expose a little bit of skin under the nape of his neck.

Hazel picked up the brush thick with black paint. She looked at the little nob at the base of his neck, and slopped on a big blob with a few broad circles.

“There,” she said, fanning it dry. “I hope it’s suitably annoying.”

He buttoned up his shirt and tied his cravat loosely. Hazel snapped to awareness, realizing she had been staring.

“So um,” Hazel started. “Zinnia wants us to join her for dinner and talk…” She mustered up the courage to stammer, “About the relationship between us three… Should we um… tell her you’re a vampire, or…?”

Aurelius’ smile finally slipped from his face. He looked away, expression cold.

“Do you want your friend to live?” he asked flatly.

“Um, yes?” Hazel replied.

“Then she should leave the city,” he said. He began roughly washing and drying his brushes. “A witch she may be, but you saw her spells. She’ll only be a burden, or worse. She could be captured, used against us. She’d be safest in her homeland. Or maybe up north in Old Makkabaya.”

Aurelius words echoed in her head. ‘Slaking my master’s thirst.’ Hazel exhaled out her nose.

“I don’t know how to convince her of that,” Hazel admitted.

His smile returned. He snapped shut the makeup case and he splayed his long fingers across his chest. “Don’t worry, that’s my specialty.” He clapped his hands and heaved himself to his feet. “Now! Let’s—!”

Whatever he was about to say died in his throat. Both he and Hazel froze on the spot.

Because the secret door behind them just clicked, and a towering figure stepped through.