Terrors and Tea

Royal quickly set to work following Kole’s orders, knowing that any hesitation could precipitate a similar blow to his own head.  Tibias calmly took a sip of his tea, only to grimace as he realized that Kole’s theatrics had chilled the steaming cup to room temperature.

“You know,” Tibias continued dryly, “if she wasn’t unconscious we could already know what she wanted.”

“Or we could all be dead.”  Kole responded, in a voice others would have used to read a grocery list.  “In the meantime, I suggest we discover everything we can about our visitor.  Keera, bring me the backpack and anything else you can find on her.”  After several moments, there was still no response.  Kole turned from his desk.  She was sitting against the wall with her eyes closed, obviously ignoring him.

You know how unwise it is to test me, Keera.  This, of course, was only another example of her growing brazenness.  He had already broken her once; he had hoped he would not have to waste his time and effort to accomplish it again, but she gave him little choice.  Her insubordination had cost innocent lives in the past.  Keera needed to be reminded of who she was and who was in charge.  Kole started to murmur under his breath.

Keera had sat down as soon as Kole had dealt with the intruder.  Her stomach was churning and her legs felt weak.  She hadn’t wanted to collapse right in the middle of the office.

The adrenaline from the day’s activities was wearing off.  Her body ached.  The acrid aroma of demon blood made her mind reel.  She struggled to fight off the tide of memories brought to the surface by the sharp smell that covered her body.  Screams and demonic shrieks, long silenced, filled her ears as images flashed past her eyes, each scene worse than the one before it: a sitting room, littered with corpses and smattered with blood.  A wave of demons crashing down around her, smothering her, their red eyes glowing brightly in the darkness.  Tibias, looking at her with a demon’s smile before collapsing to the floor.

Keera wanted to run, wanted to scream.  She wanted to jump into the sky and lose herself in flight, soaring far away.  She wanted to open her eyes to discover that it had only been a nightmare and it would fade into oblivion as the sun climbed, but she knew that everything was painfully real.  She wanted to cry.  She wanted to…

A strange sensation shot through Keera’s body.  The spell that bound her in servitude to the Coucil of Draelin took hold.  Her limbs stiffened, suddenly rebellious to any of her attempts to move them.  Through no will of her own, she rose and began walking back towards Kole.  Her mind struggled to regain control of the errant limbs, but it was useless.  Unable to close her fists, Keera’s jaw clenched in frustration.  That bastard.

Blood flushed Keera’s face as she felt the eyes of the others boring into her.  Kole had used the spell to assert his dominance before, but never in front of others.  Her legs buckled beneath her and she fell to her knees at Kole’s feet.  Her pulse quickened in fear as she felt him looming over her, but she could not raise her head to meet his gaze.  The temperature plummeted as he engulfed her in shadows.  The icy metal of his scythe pressed gently against her throat.  Every impulse in her being screamed at her to escape, but her muscles refused to cooperate.

“Must we really repeat this little episode every few months, Keera.”  Kole’s voice was laced with annoyance.  Keera didn’t trust herself to respond.  “Remember: you are a criminal and you survive only by the grace of the Council of Draelin in order to do whatever they see fit for as long as they see fit.”  Keera waited in silence, wondering if she would soon feel the blade bite into her skin.

“Kole,”  Tibias’ voice broke the silence, his tone firm.  “We’re wasting time.”  Keera crumpled as the spell withdrew without warning.  Her head slammed into the hardwood floor.

“Royal,” Kole barked, “bring the girl’s backpack to my desk.”  Keera slowly sat up as the dull thuds of a cane hitting the floor announced Tibias’ approach.

“Are you alright, Ms. Trean?”  Tibias asked gently.

“I’ll be fine.”  Keera looked up to find Tibias offering her a cup of tea.  A bit quizzically, she accepted the mug.

“After years of working with Mr. Tarrant,” he said with a smile, “I’ve found a cup of hot tea to be an effective way of warding off his chilling effects.  That’s assuming you can keep him from turning it into iced tea before you can drink it.”  Keera took a sip.  She could feel the warm liquid running down her throat, radiating heat into her chilled body.

“Thank you” she murmured.

“Keera, Tibias,” Kole called from his desk.  “You should both see this.”  Keera stood, careful not to spill the tea and the pair joined the others.  Spread across Kole’s desk was a book on fighting demons and two copies of The Art of Demon Whispering.