Read Drinking Midnight Wine Online
Authors: Simon R. Green
Drinking Midnight Wine (23 page)
The tea had become wine, coffee, Cherry Coke, and was now something that smelled suspiciously like urine. Toby would have liked to put the cup down, but he didn’t know what he’d do with his hands if he did.
“Very nice,” he said, smiling politely. “What do you do here, Luna? To keep yourself busy?”
The question clearly confused her, and she leaned back in what was now a rocking chair, patting her white-silk-gloved hands together in a distracted way. “What do I do? I have enough trouble being myself, without trying to achieve things as well. Objectives require timescales, and time . . . time is a trouble to me. Yesterday is tomorrow is yesterday, with hardly any time to be today. Did you come here before, or am I just dreaming of what will happen after you come? Sorry, sorry. I drift, you see. My anchors cannot hold, my self . . . is variable. It’s all the fault of The Serpent In The Sun. He broke my connections. I used to know what he was . . . but he did something bad to me, so bad, long and long ago. I had to forget it, so I forgot him . . . and so many other things. He hurt me. And now you’re here because . . . because . . .”
“There are things we need to know,” said Gayle.
“Yes! Yes! I’m not stupid, not senile! Not yet!” Luna leaned forward in her chair to snap at Gayle, her eyes sharp and piercing and entirely otherworldly. “My mind may not be what it was, but I’m still Luna, your little sister. I am a Power and a Domination, just like you, and I know secrets that are hidden from everyone. The night is still my domain. Even you must bow to me,
Gayle,
on occasion.”
Gayle,
on occasion.”
She changed again. The room was now blinding white walls, with steel and glass and high-tech consoles, and Luna wore a sharply cut chauffeur’s outfit in black leather, complete with a peaked cap over a pure white quiff. She wore tight black gloves and thigh-high black boots, dark as the night, and her jacket hung open at the front, baring high, firm breasts. Her nipples were as black as ink, standing out starkly against her pale, almost milky skin. Her face was sharply defined now, almost foxy. She had long, heavy eyelashes, and lips of darkest red. She reeked of sex, an almost painfully erotic presence. Toby was having trouble breathing. He couldn’t have looked away from her now if his life depended on it, and she knew it. She smiled coldly at Toby, and it was all he could do to keep from groaning.
“I know that Nicholas is back,” said Luna, in a slow, sultry voice. “The Hob. The Serpent’s Son. I know about the changes in the world’s weather, and the way the sun is acting. I know that Angel has joined Nicholas at Blackacre, and that he is tearing the dead from the town’s cemeteries. Do you want me, Toby?”
“Leave him alone,” said Gayle, but her voice was a small, distant thing.
Luna smiled, a wicked, abandoned, awful smile. “How could I not know Nicholas was back? The wolf always returns to the fold, and the murderer to the scene of his crime. Or the dog to his vomit. Perhaps he’s just come back to foul the streets, because it’s been so long since he marked his territory.”
“This town was never his,” said Gayle. “And never will be. You and I have always seen to that. Can you see what his purpose is?”
“He’s been talking with his father,” said Luna, stretching slowly in an unbearably sensual way that brought beads of sweat to Toby’s forehead. “They think I don’t know, but I know . . . Nicholas was always ambitious, but in the end he is still his father’s son, and will follow the Serpent’s will. The old Enemy is planning something, something new, and he has summoned Hob back to be a part of it. Something bad is coming . . . something terrible . . .”
“Yes,” said Gayle. “But
what
?”
what
?”
Luna fixed her blue, blue eyes on Toby, and leaned forward so that her breasts seemed to surge toward him. “Do you want me, Toby? Do you long to trail the tips of your fingers along my pale flesh? To sink yourself in me? Men have always wanted me, even as I drew and maddened them. It’s been so long since I was allowed anything for myself, just for me . . . Toby, dear; I could just eat you up.”
“You can’t have him,” said Gayle, in a calm, steady voice. “He’s a focal point.”
Then Luna was back in her pastel dress in her rattan chair, and her eyes were just eyes and her smile was just a smile. Toby felt the tension run out of him like a fading pain; he sat slumped in his chair, breathing heavily. Luna looked at him sadly.
“Must be nice, to be a focal point. To be so ... focused. To have such a straightforward role to play.”
“But I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” said Toby. His voice was weak but steady, like someone recovering from a harsh illness. “I’m also supposed to be Humanity’s Champion, but no one will tell me what that involves, either.”
“I know just what you mean,” said Luna. She looked at Gayle, her eyes suddenly clear, her mouth firm. “The solar flares are signs that the Serpent is stirring. Sometimes I hear him when he talks to Nicholas. Even after all these years, after everything I’ve done to myself to be free of him, we’re still connected. By what he did . . . and what I did later. The Serpent plans to change everything. Veritie, Mysterie—everything and everyone. You’ve got to do something, dear sister.
Do something
. I would, but . . . I’m just me, poor broken Luna. Even holding myself together long enough to talk like this takes everything I have.”
Do something
. I would, but . . . I’m just me, poor broken Luna. Even holding myself together long enough to talk like this takes everything I have.”
“What do you think I should do?” said Gayle. Her voice was quiet, unusually subdued.
“Kill him. Nicholas. The Hob. Kill him, if you can. You know I can’t.”
“Yes, I know.” Gayle frowned, and Toby realized with a slow chill that she was seriously considering the idea. Killing a man in cold blood, because it was necessary. “But what if that’s what the Serpent wants me to try? Because I’d have to change to do it, become my true self, my whole self. And I was happy being human, damn it!”
She got up and turned away from them both, her arms crossed tightly across her chest, scowling at something only she could see. Luna looked kindly at Toby and he almost flinched. For a moment, back then, he would have done anything, anything at all, just for the touch of her, the taste of her. Even though he knew, on some deep, primal level, that she would have chewed him up and spat him out, ripped the heart out of his chest—and made him love every moment of it.
“Gayle remembers when this town was new,” Toby said slowly, searching for safe ground. “What do you remember, Luna?”
She laughed breathily, a happy, guileless sound. “I remember when it was all new. We had such plans then . . . such hopes. Oh, yes. The things we were going to do . . . But the Serpent, the Old Enemy, wouldn’t let us. He was so much older than us, you see. We depended on him. It took us so long to break free of his will, to make our own lives, our own destinies. It was mostly her, even then. I was never strong, like her. This world could have been a paradise. It
should
have been a paradise. But the Serpent has always had his own plans, so afraid of anything that might challenge his power . . . And then, of course, there was the Hob. Nicholas. Dear, damned Nicholas.”
should
have been a paradise. But the Serpent has always had his own plans, so afraid of anything that might challenge his power . . . And then, of course, there was the Hob. Nicholas. Dear, damned Nicholas.”
She sat brooding for a while, and then glanced at Gayle, still lost in her own thoughts. “You love her, don’t you, Toby?”
“Yes,” said Toby. “Even though everyone tells me it’s a bad idea.”
“Oh, it is,” said Luna. “Really. You can’t conceive how bad. You’re afraid of me, but you should be much more afraid of her. Still . . . she’s not a bad sort, not really. She’s just been hurt so often. Be kind to her, Toby Dexter. Not many are. I can almost see the skeins of fate connecting you two. The chains of destiny and purpose. Don’t turn away, Toby. You’re capable of much more than you think. Eventually you’re going to have to face Nicholas and Angel. And if Gayle can’t or won’t give you the support you need, try Jimmy Thunder. He’s always been a generous man to those in need. And you may find it easier to trust a man like Jimmy rather than Gayle, who is so much more than a woman.”
And then her eyes went vague again, and her speech became hopelessly confused and rambling. She could tell she wasn’t making sense anymore, tried to pull herself back together and broke into loud, wet tears when she couldn’t. Gayle immediately snapped out of her mood and tried to calm her sister, but what little coherence and clarity Luna had been able to summon had slipped away. She didn’t even know who Gayle and Toby were anymore. So they said their good-byes and left, leaving Luna mumbling querulously to herself as she and her room changed, again and again and again. Out in the street, Toby looked furiously at Gayle.
“What the hell did the Serpent do to her, to make her like that?”
“He raped her,” said Gayle.
Six
The Comforts of Strangers
I
N THE DEAD WOODS, in the dead house, in the dead room, Nicholas Hob and Angel were drinking winter wine. Old wine, cold wine, wine so cold it frosted the outside of their glasses, and snowflakes swirled endlessly in the ice-clear liquid. Not a drink for mortals, poor delicate mayfly creatures born to die too soon. Winter wine had the delicacy of snow crystals and the strength of glaciers, and a taste like all the cold drinks on all the hot days that ever were. Hob and Angel drank their wine in slow appreciative sips, and their breath steamed thickly on the hot air in the rotten room.
N THE DEAD WOODS, in the dead house, in the dead room, Nicholas Hob and Angel were drinking winter wine. Old wine, cold wine, wine so cold it frosted the outside of their glasses, and snowflakes swirled endlessly in the ice-clear liquid. Not a drink for mortals, poor delicate mayfly creatures born to die too soon. Winter wine had the delicacy of snow crystals and the strength of glaciers, and a taste like all the cold drinks on all the hot days that ever were. Hob and Angel drank their wine in slow appreciative sips, and their breath steamed thickly on the hot air in the rotten room.
Blackacre farmhouse was in an appalling state, held together by spite and inertia, and the parlor was particularly foul, with its seeping walls and filthy floor; but Hob found the presence of so much corruption consoling, and Angel was above or beyond noticing such things. The room attracted flies, which buzzed aimlessly back and forth on the still air, confused by so much decay without a source. Every now and again they’d stray too close to Hob and spontaneously ignite, burning fiercely for a moment before dropping silently to the floor like so much soot. None of the flies went anywhere near Angel. The light from the hanging oil lamps had a sickly yellow glow, and the sweaty heat in the room came from the continuous process of corruption.
Hob and Angel sat at ease in their comfortable chairs, on either side of a hideously valuable coffee table Hob had picked up for a song some centuries earlier, and tried to find things to talk about. Fate, and the implacable will of The Serpent In The Sun, had made them partners and companions, but for all their more than human characters, they had little in common. And, for all his improbable age and ancestry, Hob was still basically human, while Angel’s grasp on her new human state was precarious at best.
“This is good wine,” said Angel. “I like this. The pleasure of its taste is fleeting, but still it has in it hints of immortality.”
“The world turns, but winter always returns,” Hob said smoothly. “Winter wine would be one of the wonders of the world, if the world only knew it existed. It’s rarer than gold or frankincense or myrrh, but you can find pretty much anything in Mysterie, if you know where to look. This fine vintage came to us courtesy of Ultima Thule Distilleries, the old firm, purveyors of the coolest booze in this world or any other. The price for such a treasure of the grapes is normally a lien on your soul, or someone else’s, but Ultima was kind enough to send me a whole crate of the stuff, in the hope of . . . future considerations. They can feel changes beginning in the patterns of fate, in the warp and weft of destiny, and like others, they are hurrying to hedge their bets by establishing credit with as many sides as possible. Not that it will save them from my father’s plan, of course.”
“Of course,” said Angel, draining her glass and pouring herself a fresh libation. Hob winced, just a little.
“Do try to savor this one, Angel. I swear, the subtler pleasures are wasted on you.”
“Pleasure,” said Angel, licking frost from her dark lips with a surprisingly pale and pointed tongue. “An interesting concept. Much like pain. So much is new to me, filtered through this body’s senses. You tell me some things are good and some are bad, but I have no background against which to judge your conclusions. I have to try them for myself, to see what they are, what they mean . . . and my senses are such limited things, now.” She scowled suddenly and glared at Hob. “Why do we have to stay here? I’ve seen so little of this world since I was exiled here. I want to go out and play with things. Hear them laugh and scream and praise my name. I want to do other things . . . and I don’t even know what they are yet. I don’t want to be here, in this place. It smells of failure.”
“We’re here because we’re following the Serpent’s plan,” said Hob carefully. “Everything’s going as it should. You have to be patient.”
“I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to! You keep talking about your father’s plan. Why can’t I know what it is?”
“It’s dangerous to say some things out loud,” said Hob, holding her unsettling gaze with his. “You never can tell who or what might be listening. Even in this dead place, behind all my shields and protections, there are still presences who could hear our faintest whisper, and perhaps even some of our louder thoughts. You’re just going to have to trust me, Angel. I tell you as much as I can, as much as I dare. There’ll be work for you shortly. Bloody work. The kind you like best.”
Angel stirred in her chair, glaring sulkily into her wine. She was restless. This was a new sensation, and therefore intriguing, but she was pretty sure she didn’t like it. Hob sighed quietly to himself. Sometimes Angel was like a small child, who has to be kept endlessly fascinated and placated with new things, for fear she’ll throw a tantrum. Or go wandering through the town again, freaking the locals.
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