When We Were Still Human Vaughn Foster (the kiss of deception read online .txt) 📖

The man sat back on some invisible seat, crossed his legs, and took a sip from a cup she couldn’t see—pinky out. “I was visiting…” He scratched his chin as if searching for the word. “A friend! Or acquaintance… maybe enemy?” He looked at Val as if for confirmation, but she only stared back. He shrugged.

“Can you take me home?!” Val blurted. It was a long shot, she knew that well, but she didn’t know how long she’d have until he disappeared. Anyone with the power to enter Le Ciel on a whim had to be able to leave just as easily. Her plea got an eyebrow raise out of the visitor, but that was all.

“No.” He spoke with poignant defiance, like a child refusing a parent.

“Why not?” Val stepped closer. She scanned his face for some crack of sarcasm or even wicked satisfaction. There was none.

“Well, if you were an angel, or human, or something with magic then it’d be possible, but right now…” He took another sip, then waved over her with his free hand like motioning to a messy room.

Val opened her mouth to object then stopped. He was too scatter brained and time was limited. She shifted her approach.

“Can you get this off of me?” She pulled down her shirt to reveal the black V and etched runes below her collar bone. Again, the magician was unphased.

“No,” he said in the same disinterested tone. “But…” He tossed the ghost-cup over his shoulder and quickly leaned forward. “Talk to the elves.”

“Elves?” Val shouldn’t have been surprised, given she’d already encountered angels, ghouls, stars, and a vampire. Still, the thought of little people with pointy ears and cone hats stomped out any alternative imagery.

“Yes, eleves. Go to Álfheimr. Well actually, no.” He drew something in the air with his finger. “Not Álfheimr anymore, forgot about the dragons.”

Val was about to ask something else when a knowing smirk flashed across his mouth. The next thing she knew, she was back in the dark study. The flickering reverse-light of the candles burned in the corner of her eye. She turned away.

On the desk, atop papers and notes, was a large giftbox sealed with a silver bow. Everything said to leave it there, exit the room, and find someone to tell her about elves. Instead, her eyes found the Ace of Spades tucked into the top ribbon. Her fingers quickly undid the bow and pulled off the lid.

You might need something more equipped to raid castles, deary.

The words echoed in her mind like he had actually spoken them. In the box were neatly folded clothes. She touched the fabric and crinkled her brow. The charcoal black pants were as soft as silk, rough as stone, and textured like leather. She rapped a fist on the pocket and skinned her knuckles. Despite this, when she placed a hand down the waist, the material moved like any other pair of pants.

Checking over her shoulder to ensure that the door was still closed, Val quickly shed her hospital attire and donned the magician’s gift. The pants fit snuggly. In fact, she couldn’t tell if she was wearing armor or jeans. Pulling the top over her head, a frown creased her mouth. The half-sleeves and shoulders fit alright, but the torso hung airily, waiting to be filled by a larger bust.

The material must have realized she hadn’t grown since high school, because before she could try to adjust it, the top compressed. The three black panels across the chest slithered into their ends, constricting the shirt until it fit perfectly. Val stretched and flexed in the impossible material and found it glided with her body like a second skin.

Her fingers found the cowl and flicked it over her head. It was a bit silly, in a dark room with black candles, but it felt appropriate, nonetheless.

A loud creak snapped Val’s attention to door. Light from the hall sliced through the dark room. New shadows were splayed across the wall and floor. She could feel him before he even rose from the darkness and took human form.

“What are you doing here?!” he hissed. She had expected a haughty reprimand or sarcastic banter, but Vladimir genuinely seemed at his wits end. He motioned frantically to the desk, then the painting, then the bookshelves, seemingly unable to voice panic into words.

“Th- this room is sealed!” he finally managed. Val cocked her head and met his darting eyes with cool ease.

“So?”

“So?” He ran a hand through his dreads, stumbling back into a wall. He began to pace, in one book case, out the other, into floorboards, then continued on the ceiling.

“So?” he repeated again. He stepped out of the shadowed floorboards and sighed. “This was Daemon’s study. You don’t know what kind of spells, or curses, or dark magic could be laying around. Do you know how bloody danger—”

“The Seph Ọkan sent me here with one of his feathers.” At that, Vladimir paled and stepped back.

“You met Dove?”

Val was leaping for joy on the inside at seeing him this flustered. Instead, she replied with a short nod. “He said I may find something useful here.”

Vladimir closed his eyes, racing to come to terms with the new revelations. A moment later, his shoulders slumped and the familiar nonchalant demeanor returned. “Did he give you the clothes too?” He motioned towards her.

“Yes,” she lied. Ignoring him, she glanced about the room. Daemon’s study… It didn’t surprise her. It sure enough explained the strange runes and bubbling dark magic. Even still, knowing she was where the king of demons had worked cast a strange sensation over her. Turning back to the vampire, she lowered her hood and brazenly walked up to meet his eye.

“I’m going to see the elves. Teach me the spell to travel to Álfheimr.”

Val wasn’t sure what she was