Vale of the Vole (2 page)

"The what?"

"Never mind. Mortals can't hear them, generally. But they drive demons crazy. They've gotten really bad recently, there in the Vale of the Vole, despite all we've done to eradicate them. So I've had enough; I've moved to where I can be comfortable, after my fashion."

"But you're trying to take the place where / can be comfortable, after my fashion," he protested.

"So sue me."

"What?"

"It's a mundane term. It means 'What are you going to do about it, stink-nose?'"

"I don't understand. Is Sue a girl?"

She laughed, her whole torso jiggling. "I suppose we're stuck here together, junior. Might as well make the best of it. Maybe we'll even get to like each other, though that may be stretching a point. Come, let me initiate you into the ways of demon sex." She advanced on him.

"No!" he exclaimed.

She stopped. "There's that magic of yours again! I really wasn't going to hurt you, you know, this time. I can be very affectionate, when I pretend to be. Let me demonstrate."

"No." He was afraid of her now, as he had not been before, and ashamed for his fear. It wasn't because he thought she would use a pretext to get close to him and then try to choke him again; it was because he was afraid she would do exactly what she threatened, and that he would like it. He didn't trust a demon-stration.

She eyed him speculatively. "How old are you, Esk?"

"Sixteen."

"And I'm a hundred and sixteen, but who's counting? You're old enough, in mortal terms, and I'm young enough, in immortal terms. Why don't you let me buy this den from you, and pay for it with experience? I can show you exactly what it's all about, so that you will never have to embarrass yourself by being clumsy with a mortal girl."

Esk barged by her, dived out the door, and headed for home. Only when he was well away from the hideout did he ask himself why. Was he afraid that she would somehow lead him into some much worse embarrassment than he could guess? Or that he thought that what she offered was simply wrong? But was it wrong? He wasn't sure.

He thought about asking his parents about the matter. But then he'd have to tell them about his hideout, which he didn't want to do. Also, he suspected that they just wouldn't understand. His mother had never said much about it, but he understood that a male demon had once approached her, and that she had been horrified. He could guess how she would react to news of a demoness's approach to her son. She might even throw one of her tantrums at him, and that would hurt. His father loved those tantrums, because they reminded him of ogre slaps, but an ogre slap could knock a grown tree askew or put a network of cracks in a rock.

So he kept silent. Maybe Metria would tire of his hideout and go away. Demons were known to be inconstant, after all.

Several days later he ventured again to the hideout. He entered cautiously. There was no sign of the demoness. But he knew that she could be concealed as anything; only time would tell whether she really was gone.

He sat on the pillows, and there was no outcry. He shook out his blanket, with no protest. He found a piece of redberry pie and ate it without event. He began to hope.

It was surprising how quickly boredom set in. One thing about his experience with Metria: it had been interesting, in more than one way. Now that it was too late, he wondered whether he had been mistaken in turning down her oifer. She might have provided him with some phenomenal experience!

He dug out his game of pebbles. His collection of stones had served well in past times to while away dull hours. They were of several different colors, and he had fashioned a game by drawing them out of the bag one at a time and setting them down on the floor in patterns. Each stone had to be set next to one of its own color to form a line or curve. The object was for one color to circle another. He might draw several red stones in succession, not looking at each until it was clear of the bag, and Red would make progress against White; then White would produce several and reverse the advantage. Blue and Green and Gray were also in there fighting. Sometimes the colors made alliances, ganging up against each other. The game could get quite exciting, as he animated the personalities of the colors in his mind. The patterns could become quite convoluted.

He brought out the first stone. It was glistening black. He set it down, starting the game.

"Hey, freak, what do you think you're doing?" the stone asked.

He snatched it up and thrust it back into the bag and twisted the opening tight, trying to seal it in. But smoke issued through the material and swirled before him, and soon Metria was there. "I thought you'd given up and left it to me," she remarked.

"I thought you'd given up," he retorted.

"Demons never give up unless they want to. Come on, I really want this place. Can't we deal?"

"No." But then his foolish curiosity overcame him. "Why are you so insistent on this place, instead of just becoming a bird and perching on a branch or something?"

"This place is secluded and comfortable, and other creatures don't

know about it. We demons need to spend most of our time in solid state, and it's easiest to do it while sleeping, so a good private place is valuable."

"I thought demons didn't need to sleep."

"We don't need to sleep, mortal. But we can sleep if we choose, and often we do. This is a perfect sleeping place, so I mean to have it."

"Well, I don't mean to let you have it."

Her lips formed a pout. "I'm trying to be nice about it, Esk. It's an effort. Suppose I give you two great experiences?"

"Two?"

"Sex and death."

"You already tried to kill me!"

"I mean the other way around. You can kill me, after you enjoy me."

"Demons can't be killed." But he found himself guiltily intrigued.

"We can't die, but we can do extremely realistic emulations of dying. You can choke me, and I'll gag and turn purple and my eyeballs will bulge way out and I'll struggle with diminishing force until finally I sag down and stop breathing and my body turns cold. It will be just like throttling a living woman."

"Ugh," Esk said, revolted.

"Well, what do you want, then? Three great experiences? Name your stupid price."

He was tempted to ask about the third experience, but decided that he probably would not like it any better than the second. "No."

"I'll even throw in the first one free," she said. "Just so you can fully appreciate what I offer. I can assume any form you wish, just to make it interesting. Is there any particular mortal girl you've been wanting to—"

"No!" he cried.

"Look, there's no obligation! I just want to demonstrate my good faith! I really want this den, without getting bothered all the time. I know an awful lot that you could hardly learn in a year, let alone in a day, and—"

"No!"

"Don't be so stuffy." She inhaled, making her breasts stand out splendidly, and leaned toward him.

"I said no three times," Esk said querulously. "Why aren't you stopping?"

"Because I'm not doing, I'm persuading," she said. "And you want to be persuaded, don't you, Esk?"

He was afraid that anything he said at this point would be a lie. He lurched out of the hideout, ashamed of himself. He had to get rid of the demoness, before she succeeded in corrupting him!

He stayed away a full ten days this time. But he felt out of sorts without the use of his hideout, and realized that he was actually giving it up to her without a fight. He had to go there and pester her until she left, instead of allowing her to do it to him.

He braced himself and went to the beerbarrel tree. All was quiet, outside and in, but he knew this was no certain indication of her absence. He sat on the pillows, shook out the blanket, ate a scrap of cheese, dumped all the colored stones out on the floor, and poked everything he could think of. There was no response from any of it. Could she really be gone this time? Or was she merely lying low, waiting until he relaxed, before appearing with some new offer? How many such offers could he resist, before he succumbed to the temptation. How many did he want to resist?

Already she was corrupting him, and she wasn't even trying!

Still, if she never manifested, then the hideout was his, even if she was here. Except that if she should be watching and listening to everything he did here, how could he ever really relax? He had to be sure she was gone, and not just out doing some temporary mischief elsewhere.

He heard something, faint in the distance outside the tree. He held his breath, listening.

"Eskil! Eskil!"

That was his mother's voice! She was searching for him, calling his name, and if he didn't show up soon, she was apt to discover this hideout! He scrambled out and ran to her, not directly but in a roundabout way, so as not to give away the location of his secret place.

"What is it, Mother?" he called when the direction was suitable.

Tandy turned to face him. She had kept much of her nymphly figure, and was a pretty figure of a woman. There was the corruption of the demoness again: How could he presume to notice such a thing about his own mother?

"Oh, Eskil," she said. "You must come home right away! It's horrible!"

He was gripped by sudden alarm. "What's horrible?"

"Your father—some other ogre smashed him, I think, and—"

His alarm became horror. "He's hurt?"

"He may not survive the hour! We have to get some healing elixir before it's too late!"

"I know where there's a spring!" he cried. "I'll go get it!" He took the little bottle she carried, and charged off through the forest, his heart pounding from more than the exertion. His father, dying!

He reached the spring and swooped with the bottle dipping out the healing elixir. Then he ran back toward the house.

He charged in. "Where is he?" he cried, panting.

Tandy turned from the table, where she was preparing leftover soup. "Where is who, dear?" she inquired mildly.

"Father! Smash Ogre! I have the elixir!"

Smash emerged from another room. He was in his human mode. "You called me, son?"

Esk looked from one to the other. "You—you're not hurt!"

Tandy's brow furrowed. "Whatever gave you the idea your father was hurt, Esk?"

"But you were just telling me, out in the forest—"

"I have not left the house all afternoon, dear," she said reprovingly.

"But—" But obviously it was true. His mother never interrupted leftover soup for anything short of a dire emergency, and it seemed there had been not even a mild emergency. How could he have thought—?

Then he understood. Metria! She could emulate anything or anyone! She had pretended to be his mother, and he had been completely fooled.

"I—I guess I had a dream," he said awkwardly. "I thought Father was hurt, so I fetched some elixir—"

"That was nice of you, dear," Tandy said, and returned her attention to her soup.

"But save the elixir," Smash said. "Never can tell when that stuflTll be handy."

"Uh, sure," Esk said, looking for a stopper for the vial. But now the vial fuzzed into vapor, and the elixir spilled to the floor. What a fool he had been!

Next day he returned to the hideout. "Metria!" he bawled. "Show yourself, you damned demoness!"

She appeared. "Why, I do believe you are having a change of mind," she said. "You never complimented me like that before."

"You made me think my father was dying!" he accused her.

"Of course, Esk. If one thing doesn't work, I try another. How else am I to be left in peace here?"

"You mean you're going to keep on doing things like that? Making me think my folks are in trouble?"

"Why of course not, Esk! Obviously that didn't work either, because here you are again."

He didn't trust this. "Then what—"

"I'll just have to do something real to your folks, so you won't have time to bother me."

It took only a moment for him to grasp that, despite his quarter-ogre heritage. "No!"

"That's a category denial, Esk. You know you can't enforce that. I'll get your folks one way or another, in time. You can't watch them both all the time."

He leaped at her. She started to dematerialize, then reconsidered. Instead she met him, flinging her arms about him. "But I'm still willing to deal for the den, and even to give you the free sample, if—"

The force of his leap was carrying them on, and now they landed together on the pillows. Metria wrapped her legs about his body and her arms about his head, hauling him in to her for a kiss. "I'm really being more than reasonable, for my kind," she whispered against his cheek. "All I want is to be left alone in my den."

"My den!" he gasped.

"Which I am offering a generous price for," she said. "Most men would grasp most eagerly at the chance, not to mention the flesh. Now just let me get these clothes off you—"

He wrenched himself away from her. "No!"

She sighed. "Well, no one can say I didn't try. I really have nothing against your folks, because they don't even know about the den. But if that's what it takes to—"