December 22nd, 2015
|06:14 pm - Velvet and Fire (3), Post #85|
We continue onward in the story of Vanessa, Ramon, and a date-night in St Augustine.
Last time we saw them, a small dog leapt out of the shadows. Now...
Vanessa thought the dog was Caro’s little Schipperke Matilda, somehow gotten loose and come to find her. But even as she bent down to investigate, she saw the dog’s unnaturally red eyes.
Worse, in the exhalation from the dog’s open mouth Vanessa almost thought she saw flames.
She had no time to react. Ramon stepped in front of her and said something in a language she didn’t know – except it wasn’t anywhere close to Spanish. The dog, still snarling, stopped in its tracks.
“Dispossess that which you don’t own,” Ramon said next, powerful and quiet, and he took his hand out of his pocket and showered a kind of powder, or dust, or something, over the dog. The stuff glittered in the dim light from inside the shop and the nearby streetlight.
The potted palm trees on either side of the bookshop doors rustled once, twice, thrice. This wasn’t a fragile sound, but an aggressive one. Vanessa remembered cutting a palm frond the previous spring and the bloody welt it had made in her palm when she’d picked it up, as if she’d closed her hand on the blade of a sword.
But then the little dog whined and sat down, and Ramon grabbed her by that same hand that had been wounded. Her skin throbbed against his once, an old secret wound pressed, before she linked fingers with him. The pain went away.
“Come on,” he said, even as the phone in her purse vibrated louder than the rustling of the world. “Inside.”
He touched the doors lightly – not using his keys or the doorknob – and they swung open.
She looked down as he pulled her along after him. The dog was Matilda, but once again the usual sweetly wild girl whom her grandson Buster loved to torment, not the possessed creature Ramon had just dosed. She yanked on his hand before he could pull her over the threshold. “It’s my daughter’s dog, Ramon.”
He sighed something that this time was Spanish, then said, “Bring her in too. I’ve taken out the demon, it should be safe.”
She scooped up poor Matilda, who burrowed into her side with her sharp foxy face, and crossed the threshold. The doors swung shut as soon as she was in –
And outside, the potted palm trees burst into flame.
|Date:||December 23rd, 2015 10:00 am (UTC)|| |
Thanks, mate. The conclusion will be waiting for you when you get back from your holiday. :)
::settles in happily awaiting next update::
The conclusion of this will be up this evening, ALH. :)
Cheers and thanks, as always, for your kindness!
The rest of this will be up this evening! And thank you so much for reading, my friend. :)