Over Night, Julie Steimle [world of reading .txt] 📗

He was known as a fop. He was also called a dandy. Whatever name they gave Teris Lamarc, he was a man who loved to party.

And why not?

Teris looked at himself in the mirror, adjusting one hair to his already perfectly combed do, touching up every strand so he was a dazzling figure of high society.

Yes, why not? He contemplated it to himself as he prepared to go to yet another party. Emanda Ilkins would be there, and so would the rest of the young aristocratic crowd. Teris was born to privilege. He would inherit the land his father owned—sole heir since he only had sisters and no brothers. His sisters would get a handsome dowry and marry well. And since he never abused that privilege he was born to, treating his serfs and slaves well, Teris did not see anything wrong with splurging the excess. It promoted the Brein Amon economy after all.

“Teris! Hurry already!” His friend, Dendi Welkens of the upper crust family Welkens, was tapping his watch and hanging on the doorknob. He was also standing in the open doorway.

Hunching over and peering out, Teris smirked, fixing his tie. “One more second. We can’t go to the party looking like beggars, now can we?”

Dendi rolled his eyes. He was a lazy dresser and considered Teris’s preening a waste of time—especially since they intended to get drunk and loosen their ties anyway.

“The wine will be all gone by the time we get there,” Dendi said slumping against the door as if he were already drunk.

Teris still took his time. He knew there would be plenty to drink at the party besides wine, as all parties among the high bloods go. Of course in his town, that of Kolden in the north, they drank for many reasons and always had liquor on hand. Some said it was because of the rough winter weather that they drank so much, but Teris suspected it was simply because they liked to drink and they had more excuses than most others places.

A honk echoed on the street. Looking up, Teris smiled again, brushing his hair back one last time with the palm of his hand.

“Hear that? That’s Frad. He’s going to be there before we do!” Dendi hopped up, ready to run out the door and go by himself. Generally speaking, no one did that. He was only bluffing. Even Dendi was not impatient enough to walk about the dark alone. Demons were always about when night set in.

Taking five long strides to the door, Teris clicked his heels and bowed. “I am your humble servant. Let’s go.”

“Don’t talk nonsense,” Dendi said.

They both walked down the steps of the front door, letting the butler shut and lock the gate behind them when they reached the road.

Stuffing their hands into their pockets, the two high blood dandies strolled up the hill two blocks to the lavish home of Jenerus Grae. Like all parties in Kolden, Jenerus hired a caterer with extra serving staff to supplement his already large number of Sky Children slaves. They could already see the glass lanterns hanging from the wrought iron hooks, the little fireflies flickering inside. His lawn beyond the rock wall that divided his property from the road was covered in creeping vine, parted only by a stone slab step path that meandered upwards to his front porch. There was a butler standing at the gate, greeting everyone. Another stood on the porch, directing them with a regal hand to take the stepping stone path around the house to the back garden. As they walked up and around the house, both Teris and Dendi lifted their heads, listening to the string orchestra playing in the gazebo near the pond. Putting on grins, they strolled in, greeting the ladies.

Dendi went for the wine first after making his verbal remarks to the host. Teris sought out the gin. Both men were soon drunk and laughing with the women on the back porch, telling horror stories to give them a thrill—bypassing the highbrows that were chatting about elegant matters of the political state. As it was, Dendi was an expert in retelling horror, like a fashionable fop should be.

“And so the man looked up, his eyes glowing blue. He dropped the shriveled corpse in his hands to the ground, grinning as he looked at the young woman with lust. Her lover was no more. Now this demon had his face. She had seen it all. He reached out to her.”
Dendi grabbed the nearest girl. She screamed.

Laughing, he continued. “And he said to her, ‘Sleep with me, or I will kill you.’”

Many of the women shuddered. Some were smiling, enjoying the thrill. It was taboo to talk about such physical trysts among their own, but in stories as a demonic threat everyone took their chance to display their hidden lusts.

Dendi leaned closer to one of the ladies. “What could she do? The Cordril would have sucked her dry and left her dead as he had done to her lover. The lady took him into her bed, and when he was done she was with child.”

Teris sighed as if bored. He glanced out into the garden, wondering if there were couples in the dark doing more than just kissing. Unfortunately, his lady of choice had gone off with Quinny Worth. He had decided that Emanda Ilkins was too flaky for him anyway. Of course he was quite ready to change his mind if she ever returned and flirted with him for the next hour. Besides, these ladies here were too much into Dendi’s story to be of use to him anyway. Glancing over at him, Teris was sure Dendi would make out with at least one, if not three, of these women before the end of the night.

“And on the day of the child’s birth, she saw that it had blue eyes—the same as the demon that impregnated her—and stabbed herself,” Dendi said.

He nodded quite seriously, into his own story and the dramatic tension it brought. The women were enraptured, leaning in, giving him opportunity to look down their dresses, though they did not know it or perhaps didn’t care in the party atmosphere.

“As for the child—no one knows what happened to it. Some say the Cordril came back and ate it. Others say it walked the day it was born and sucked the life out of every animal from Pringsley Village to Hinze Town.”

“What rot,” Teris said at last.

The ladies moaned, glaring up at him. Dendi also frowned.

“It is not rot,” Dendi said, sitting up. “I happen to know this is a true story. If you go west to Pringsley, they’ll tell you all about it.”

Shaking his head, Teris stood up, staggering a bit. He shook his head again. “Rumors, old boy. First off, you got your demons confused. Cordrils don’t leave corpses, Sky Children do—or did before they lost their abilities and were made slaves. Cordrils just suck a person dry until there is absolute nothing left of him, bones and all.”

“Same thing.” Dendi got up and then dropped in the love seat next to the girl he had been angling to get all night. She giggled, scooting over to make room.

“It is not the same.” Teris glanced back at the garden again. “Don’t confuse your demons.”

“Same difference,” Dendi said, leaning his head on her shoulder. He looked ready to take a nap.

Teris swayed over the porch, leaning on a railing. “Is not. Stop talking nonsense. Tell a scarier story. Or no, let me tell you about this demon I heard of in the south. It is called a spider parasite.”

Dendi yawned, cupping his hand over his mouth. “Boring. Teris, if you are going to try and scare us, tell us about the last Night Stalker sighting. I heard one was seen in Ladis City.”

Teris made a face. “No, demon worms were in Ladis. You mean Harmas.”

But one of the ladies squirmed, moving from her seat. “No. No Night Stalker stories, please. They really frighten me. Some have been spotted in Kolden once or twice, and my grandfather was killed by one.”

Both men straightened up. The other women sighed, losing the opportunity for a truly scary story.

Teris bowed. “My apologies.”

“I won’t mention it again,” Dendi added with a nod.

But they did not get into other horror stories. Dendi soon wandered off with the lady of his choice, and Teris found a bottle of schnapps. The music continued to play and the party raged on as the stars shone brighter overhead and the lower town went to sleep.

Teris staggered off to the far garden, following the small lanterns set out here and there for the lovers to find their way among the vines and bushes. He wandered further where gardens of several aristocrats joined in a more wild area of underbrush, a secluded place of rough pebble-stone paths and the uncovered brook. The trellised bridge wrapped in creeping vine was a place he liked to sit when he was just a bit too drunk, and he was feeling it that night. No one would mind if he vomited over the side into the brook. Better that than on the perfectly trimmed grass.

Squinting in the darkness, he stumbled on the path to the bridge, patting the carved stone monument along the way. He looked up once, scuffing his shoes on the wood planking, drawing in a deep breath. Placing his hands on his hips, trying to control the reflex, Teris stared across the lawn.

Moonlight shone down over to Mr. Stanish’s property. A little corner touched on Mr. Duvay’s land. Lilacs grew in the shadows along with roses and ferns—a perfect place to bring a lady in the daytime for a romantic jaunt. He drew in a breath and stared blearily there, wondering if Emanda Ilkins was free now to sneak off with him next.

Blinking in the moonlight and shadows he saw some motion. There in the thorny rose bushes about a few yards away he saw a head lifting up. The face was familiar.

Wobbling with a step forward, Teris blinked. The man did not see him, his back to the young fop. The man’s hand was lifted. Light glinted off of the thing he was holding, shining like silver or steel. Then immediately he brought it down. His hand lifted again, repeatedly plunging downward and upward again. Shining red now, the thing in the man’s hand dripped.

Tottering back, Teris grabbed the railing to the bridge. Retching, he doubled over, closing his eyes.

“Who’s there?” the man’s familiar voice whispered out into the darkness.

Dropping back, Teris wiped his mouth. He stumbled back down the bridge staring at the wide-eyed face of a man he knew but was straining for a name to match it.

Snapping into focus, Teris’s drunken memory awoke. He blinked. “Mr. Felap?”

A face emerged from the shadows. Mr. Felap it was. He stared at him, trying to walk calm like to the bridge. “Mr. Lamarc. You must be lost. The party is over there.”

Teris shook his head. “You killed…who is that man you killed?”