The Devil's Smile

Chapter 42

Rebecca's small frame seemed to weigh tons as he brought her into the fresh air and moonlight. "It's not right. The first time moonlight graces your skin in nearly a decade and you're not able to feel it," he whispered as he laid her gently on the cold stone. He stood over her for a short time, unable to remember the words to the prayer that his people said over the dead. It had been too long since he had heard it. Death is too constant around me. If I were to begin reciting the words I would never again be able to say anything else, he thought despondently before turning back to the darkness and solace of the caverns.

Returning to her rooms, Moras stood beneath the shaft, reached up and closed the heavy wood and wrought iron door. The hinges creaking echoed down the halls and thudded with finality as he forced the latch into place.

Reaching up through the cobwebs Moras took hold of the latch. Gripping it tightly he pulled. Nothing happened. Years of disuse rusted it in place. Grim determination pushed Moras on. Taking hold of the handle with both hands, Moras's eyes darkened to black and his skin paled. One solid yank from the monster forced the rust immobilizing the latch to crumble, raining down on him in orange metal flakes. The sound of scraping metal screeched down the hallway, echoing out the main door and through the caverns. Latch finally open the heavy door groaned on its hinges as Moras swung the door wide. More than a century of accumulated dead leaves and rotting vegetation dumped onto Moras from the neglected doorway to the outside.

Brushing himself off, he peered up the shaft into the night sky. Rebecca's skylight wasn't as deep as his. The moon seemed a bit closer as seen through this shaft and it didn't take quite as long for the night air to filter down into the room. Fresh night breeze washed away the still stale air in the bedroom.

Rebecca's room was exactly the same as the day he carried dead body out, with the exception of layers upon layers of dust and hanging cobwebs. "I really have my work cut out for me," he grumbled to himself. He walked to the table in the corner where Rebecca had left the dress she was sewing that night. Picking it up sent a cloud of dust billowing across the room. Moras choked on the air, but continued his task with determination.

Chills ran down Amina's back as a screeching metallic noise woke her. Sitting bolt upright in bed, her mind raced. She wasn't sure where she was or how she had gotten there. Slowly her eyes adjusted to the dim light dancing around the room from the fireplace. As the details of her room came into focus Amina, remembered with eerie clarity the last thing she did before falling asleep. Or perhaps I should say passing out, she thought.

"Moras," she called into the darkness. There was no answer. "I wonder how long I was out this time." She could smell stew simmering in the kettle in the fireplace and there was a full pitcher of water and a cup on the stand next to her bed.

Amina sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Picking up her dressing gown from the foot of the bed she pulled it onto her naked body and slid off the edge of the bed. The frigid stone floor sent chills through her and she quickly found her slippers. Memories of the first time she woke up after his feeding rushed into her mind. It surprised her to find that she didn't feel too badly at all this time. She began moving about the room lighting candles. She ladled some stew into a bowl and placed it on the table before going to get some bread, cheese, and a bottle of wine from the storeroom.

Amina couldn't decide if she was disappointed or relieved that she didn't wake up in his bed. Her body tingled with the memory of what had happened just before she fell asleep. A smile crept across her lips with the thought.

After she ate, Amina warmed herself a bath and then went about trying to get back into her routine. However, she found that her mind continually drifted back to that night in Moras's bed. She considered going to him again, but embarrassment held her back. Eventually, she wandered down to the study with all the books; half hoping she would run into him. But the halls were silent.

When she returned to the room she took her silver whistle and sat down on her bed. After an hour of unsuccessfully trying to distract herself from the insistent tingle between her legs, Amina set the whistle aside. Nervously she scanned the shadows for any hint of movement that might reveal Moras watching her.

When she was relatively satisfied that she was alone, Amina laid down on her bed. Hesitantly, she pulled her skirt up her body. She briefly considered how embarrassing it would be if Moras caught her, as she slid her hand into her underwear. A soft moan escaped her lips when Amina's fingers slipped across her mound and into her wet heat. Slowly she began stroking her clit, running her fingers in long satisfying caresses. Closing her eyes, she pictured Moras sitting between her spread legs, his fingers exploring her p***y. Amina bit her lip and tried to hold back the whimper, as her body began to shake.

Amina lay there after the waves of pleasure calmed. It would have been a lot more intense if Moras had done it, she thought, with some disappointment.

Cleaning Rebecca's rooms took Moras far more time than he first expected. Every night that week he returned to his own rooms and turned his bath water black with dust.

He stood in the middle of the main room examining his handy work. There wasn't a trace of dust, the rusted latch on the shaft cover had been replaced, he brought in new blankets, took all of the things that had been Rebecca's to a storage room down the hall, he filled the store room with fresh food, and brought in wood for the fireplace.

Moras left the shaft open to allow fresh air to circulate through the chambers, and he left. Striding down the hall, pleased with himself, Moras decided that he had earned some sword practice. It had been a while since Moras swung his sword. Over the past month he was either not in the mood or busy with something else.

Moras lit the candles in his practice room, shed his clothing down to his breeches, and selected a well used sword from a rack on the wall. Swinging it back and forth, loosening the muscles in his arms, and rolling his head along his shoulders, Moras approached the armored dummy. Shortly the sound of clashing metal on metal rang out down the hallway.

Book in hand, Amina walked down the hall toward the study. She wasn't sure what she wanted to read next. There was that book of stories about dead leaders or that book about the creation of the sun. Amina was suddenly snapped out of her thoughts by the sound of metal striking metal. A smile crept across her face. Without thinking she passed up the door to the study and continued to the end of the hall and the large wooden double doors.

Amina could see the light emanating from cracks around the door. She pushed the door open, and light spilled out into the hallway. Standing in the doorway, Amina watched Moras sparring with the armor clad dummy.

Moras only barely registered that the door swung open, but he rarely missed a change in his environment. That type of observation had long since become second nature to him. Continuing to batter the dummy he waited to see if she would approach, a smile on his face.

Amina was contemplating what excuse she was going to use for seeking him out and interrupting him while he was practicing. Just as she was turning to disappear back down the hallway he called out to her.

"You came all this way, Amina, presumably looking for me. Is there a reason you've changed your mind about whatever it was?"

"Shouldn't you be at least a little out of breath after all of that," Amina asked nervously, trying to change the subject.

His warm smile virtually pulled her into the room. "I don't tend to get out of breath."

Amina walked up to him, her mind grasping for a good excuse. Why didn't I think of this before? I'm going to look like a complete fool. "Uh, I was just wondering if the rugs in my rooms would be replaced," she sputtered, in what she believed to be a sudden stroke of genius.

Moras stared into her eyes. He knew she was hiding something, but he couldn't figure out what she could possibly be trying to keep from him."

"Actually, I intended to talk to you about that." Moras leaned his sword against the dummy and picked up his shirt from the arm of the chair where he had left it. "Come with me." He started walking toward the door pulling the white shirt over his head as he went.

Amina felt her heart begin to race. She hated that he was putting on a shirt. "Where are we going?" Moras didn't answer her. He just looked back at over his shoulder in the darkness. Amina couldn't see the excited glint in his eye, but it was obvious that he was pleased with whatever he was doing. They approached a door that Amina only vaguely remembered being there.

Moras stopped outside the door with his hand on the latch. "I asked you how badly you wanted to see outside and you never answered me."

Confusion surged through her. She looked at the door he was standing in front of. The implication was pretty clear that behind the door there was something to do with outside. He didn't sound as if he was angry or annoyed with her. "I know. I don't really know how to answer that."

"I have a gift for you."

Amina's heart pounded relentlessly against her ribcage. "I don't understand."

Moras smiled in the darkness, as he lifted the latch and pushed the door open. He held it aside for Amina to go in.

Cautiously she stepped past him and walked down the short hall to the bedroom at the end. The open shaft immediately drew her attention. Fresh air pouring into the room drew her closer. Standing beneath the open shaft she stared up into a starry night sky.

"If you move the bed to the right spot you should be able to see the sky as you're falling asleep."

Amina turned to look at him, tears in her eyes, afraid to say anything.

"You don't have to move into this room. There is no music room, or any of the other rooms that your current quarters have. Originally I never expected companions to remain in their rooms all the time. That situation developed over the years. This room is more like mine: the bedroom, a bathing room, and a small storage room. In the beginning the rooms that you're currently living in were meant to be a separate area to go to for entertainment. The room that is your bedroom used to be a library." When Amina still didn't respond Moras became concerned and added, "Like I said, you don't have to move into this room. I just thought you might like it better."

"I do," Amina finally said, a catch in her voice. She walked haltingly toward him and without hesitation wrapped her arms around his neck, buried her face against his shoulder and began crying into his shirt.

"I hope those are good tears," Moras said with concern, stroking her hair gently.

"Very good tears," she sobbed.

Moras loved the feel of her warmth against his cold body. He held her while she tried to get control of herself. When Amina finally looked up, Moras cupped the side of her face with his hand and wiped a tear away from her cheek with is thumb. She's even beautiful through tears.