Patience idly wondered what Schuler was doing today. When he returned her home yesterday after their modest foray into the west, he left before she could start supper. He made no mention of any plans. Patience sucked on her tongue. No matter. Right now it was her time to unwind.
After a breakfast of biscuits and eggs, she settled into the parlor. Patience was nearly finished with the book Anax had interrupted almost a month ago. Meanwhile, Anax snaked a tendril to the shelf to select his next literary conquest. The creamy pages flitted through her fingers as she searched for where she had last left off reading. A smile crept over her lips when her eyes fell on the first line of the final chapter.
At that moment, a vigorous rapping came from the door. An echo that was Patience’s heart immediately followed. She placed her book down on the cushion, abandoned again. A knot formed in her stomach. Striving for ghostly silence, the girl tiptoed to the window. She felt the blood pulsing through her ears as she shakily peered out between the half-drawn curtains to see who was there to knock so violently. A flash of silver caught her eye.
“He’s HERE! He found us!” Patience wheezed, ducking down to the floor.
“Hmph. He’s good,” Anax calmly noted. “This is your house. You know where to hide me.”
Patience gulped and nodded. She pushed the skull away from her own. Crawling to the fireplace, she reached a hand up into the chimney. Inside was a brick ledge just wide enough to support Anax if he leaned against the wall. Many years ago, she had discovered this spot in her quest to hide the sun-dried body of a snake from her mother.
If there was one creature Frances Firmin could not stand in the house, dead or alive, it was a snake. Ultimately the carcass fell victim to an infantile lapse in memory, becoming sacrifice to a cold night’s fire. For a brief moment Patience questioned the combustibility of Anax, but she had learned her childhood lesson. The girl placed him there, taking care to unsettle as little soot as possible.
The rapping continued impatiently, shaking the very pins in the door’s hinges. Patience bounded to the kitchen to dunk her hands into the sitting water of a bowl she meant to clean later. She wiped her hands on the seat of her pants and finally attended the door. As it swung open, her greatest fear was confirmed. Valon stood before her. He wore a familiar glower.
“H-how did you f-find me?!” Patience stammered.
“I’m a hunter,” said Valon.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
The man snorted, “Firmin was a name I heard a few times during that meeting of the hunter’s association. Your father was a master taxidermist, correct? There aren’t many Firmins around.”
“Y-yes,” admitted Patience. She regretted giving him her real name. The girl began to sweat now that the predator was at her throat. She was cornered. All the moisture from her mouth evaporated.
“That day we had coffee, I noticed the corner of a train ticket peeking from your pocket. Then under the guise of a concerned uncle looking for his runaway niece, I asked the stationmaster where you were headed. Once in Haverston, it was but a simple task asking for the Firmin residence.” His boot tapped on the front step. “But let’s get to the point. I’m here to ask for your help,” Valon stated.
Her help. Some sort of switch within her flipped. Patience plumped her lips to appear fuller than they normally were. He still sought her. He had not even once asked about Anax since he arrived. She relaxed a little, lowering her shoulders and enhancing the presence of her collarbone. Patience sidled up to him, swirling her tongue to coax more saliva into her mouth.
“So soon?” she crooned.
He raised an eyebrow. Patience persisted, stroking Valon’s chest. Her nails gripped into the wool. She tugged him her way, inviting him inside.
Valon’s nostrils flared. He sauntered to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair. Without breaking eye contact, he undid his pants, sliding them down. His leer no longer felt like hellfire to Patience. It was now a sinful lock between them, burning and setting her insides ablaze. He pulled his drawers down and sat upon the seat with his right arm on the table and his left upon his thigh.
“Strip,” Valon demanded in a soft voice with an edge of aggression.
Unable to refuse him, Patience obeyed. A breath of a chuckle escaped her nose as she smirked. “Yessir.”
[Next episode with be Mature!]
Comments (23)
See all