CampNaNo: Silk and Steel
And here’s Spyro’s reaction after the doctor has left… (I hope this isn’t becoming too disjointed! XD )
Spyro maintained his composure until he was certain the doctor had left the building, then he locked his study door, flung open the whisky cabinet and, hands trembling violently, poured himself a drink. He knocked it straight back, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and immediately poured another. Then he loosend his cravatt and sank down to sit on the floor with his back against the wall, shaking uncontrollably. This was it. This was the end.
He was found out. Undone. His past had, afterall caught up with him, he knew it as certainly as he knew anything. The only thing that had stopped the djin’s hand was the sight of blood. That had caught him off guard, of course, but it wouldn’t be long before the intelligent alchemist began to wonder what was going on, and what if he pieced the threads together, and found out the truth? Then no place in hell would ever be safe for Spyro Mendicci, not ever again.
It wasn’t the first time in his life he had felt caught by the very strands of web he had woven himself. True, he had a city of assassins and other cutthroats at his disposal, but his threats to use his many influences and connections to have the doctor killed were idle. And the doctor knows it, he thought to himself. He saw the bluff for what it was. The doctor was the most feared and respected member of the city – both on society’s surface and beneath it – no one could touch him. No one would touch him. And they both knew it.
There was a soft knock on the study door and Spyro ran a hand over his eyes and struggled to his feet. He could smell Ros’s perfume through the frame as he crossed the room and so he didn’t ask who was there or adjust his dishevelled appearance before opening it. It might be true that no one in the whole of Hell could trust Rosamund Noir, but Spyro knew that things between himself and the Jai’yantra were completely different. They had no secrets between them, had helped eachother rise, hand in hand, from the very bottom of the underworld, to the very centre of everything, they would not have got half this far if they could not trust eachother completely.
“I’ve made a terrible mistake.” he whispered, his lips trembling as she cradled his head against her neck.
“Need me to put it right?” she crooned, her breath soft and warm against his ear.
He shook his head, letting her fingers comfort him, make him feel secure as they trailed gently through his dark curls. “He knows.” he whispered into the soft black lace of her high collar, “the doctor, he knows I bleed, and he knows I’m neither a demon nor demon-bound… how long before he starts asking questions… and if he finds out the truth…”
Ros stroked his hair and cradled his head to her shoulder. “So many questions,” she soothed, “what does it matter Spy? Even if the doctor were to dicover who you really are – and I don;t for a moment think that he will, love, what could he do about it? The man in the moon is far, far away, the gods are all dead, there is no one to stop us, no one to come between us. You are jumping at shadows because we are so close to achieving all we have worked so hard for these many years, that is all.”
Spyro continued to shake his head. “I feel something.” he whispered, “I can’t explain it, like hair rising on the back of neck, footsteps faint when all is quiet, I feel like he’s here, watching, waiting for the right moment…”
“It’s just your nerves, love,” she said soothingly, crossing to the cabinet and refilling his glass, “Silk and Steel have weathered every storm, together we are unshakable.”
Spyro smiled and rubbed a hand across his bloodhsot eyes. Ros was a true friend, he reminded himself, and a powerful one as well, with her by his side perhaps they could take on even the doctor – even Pan, though the last thought made him shudder and he knocked back his drink quickly and held out his glass for Ros to refill it.
So you’re starting to feel jumpy are you, little spider? Ros thought, allowing herself a smug little smirk as she turned away from him to refill his glass. Perhaps you do have something to worry about, afterall. There had been rumours of late, not solid ones but rather the idle mutterings of market gossips and lamp blacks, the ghost tales street urchins, something was unnerving people, something strange abroad on the dark city streets… perhaps his past was catching up with him and could this be her chance to finally be rid of the greedy, manipulative bastard, she wondered? He had served his purpose years ago in getting her here, to the centre of her delightful little web, now he was nothing but a leech with which everything – and everyone – must be shared.
One last grift. She told herself as she smiled sympathetically at him and handed him his drink. Once this last beautiful plan is completed and Ziga and I are finally where we deserve to be – I will cut the threads that bind us together Mendicci and if Pan wants you, he is welcome.