Like this house, Charles' body was something of a fixer-upper. It had been worn down by a sedentary lifestyle, rich foods and wines, and stress. So much stress.
Charles tried to counter the damage, by infected gym use and popular diets
It did not quite work.
The difference was that unlike Charles I knew what I was doing. By rebalancing Four Humors with the use of some crystals, I could greatly improve his health and even prolong his life by years.
And I knew where to get some quality crystals. Delia had quite a collection. She just had no idea how to properly use them.
Symmetry pleased me. Time given for time stolen.
Perhaps a younger host with fewer attachments would have been better. But Charles provided with one unique advantage. He owned this house and the surrounding property.
This meant once I acclimated to the host, which could take some time, I would be able to raise wards and claim the land as my own.
That had been a pleasant surprise. It seemed that spells for Tohsaka family wards were not part of Tohsaka Crest but inscribed on my very soul. Until I managed to retrieve my body, Magic Crest was temporarily out of my possession.
"Mars, Mars, Mars," I incanted in a borrowed voice.
A flicker and Archer appeared before me. He looked around and dropped into a battle stance, ready to create his usual swords. Except he could not.
To my surprise, the summoning worked as intended on the first try.
"How? Who?"
"You should be able to smell my Od. There is little of it, but you always had a very sensitive nose." I offered him my hand.
"So, it is you, Rin."
"I didn't expect that to work. I thought it would need to be said by an actual living person. And in your actual presence. If that fool was capable of lateral thinking, I could have lost the bet."
"But you still tried it."
"Testing such loopholes is only natural for a Magus. And in this way, your celestial name remains unknown, to any save me."
"How is stolen flesh?"
"Somewhat heavy but very invigorating. You should try it. But there are no other living males under this roof. I wonder does possessing a female count as crossdressing?"
"A question I will happily leave unanswered."
"We should go to the village. I am sure we could find you someone to wear. Possession is the easiest skill for ghosts to learn. It is almost instinctive. I just slipped in. No need for any prep work."
"I would make a dirty joke of it, but it's too obvious to be funny." He paused for a moment, sighed, and continued. "Possession. Stealing someone's life. There were times when I would have been utterly appalled by it. You are lucky that I have grown more flexible with age."
I knew how flexible he could be. I was ready to put it to the test again. I leaned forward, my hands moistening. Ah, the physical desire. How I missed you. But to be fair, I should get him some flesh first.
"It is a but temporary measure. I don't plan to steal Charles's life. I want to regain my own. Preferably my own body and Crest in it. And for that we need magecraft. There are other ways for us to gather magical energy, but they are even less ethical. Devouring souls, draining mana from land…"
"I see. Well, if we must. To the village then."
"Yes, but first I have one simple request. It has been such a long time since tasted food. Make me a sandwich."
Like all food Archer made, it was more than a good sandwich. Not his absolute best, considering the indigents he had on hand, more than sufficient.
I bit into it as we walked out of the house. The sand squeaked as walked on it.
Sand?
We were in a strange desert populated by root-like plants that I could not recognize. There was a giant planet in the sky that was an impossible indigo color.
But there was no time to admire alien scenery. Because we were not alone.
A fin sprouting sandy ground was moving very quickly toward us
"Landshark!" I cried out, calling to Archer.
When it busted out of the ground, preparing to swallow up both, it turned out that I had been wrong, it was not a Landshark.
It was a sandworm.
A sandworm size of a small bus, with sharp teeth, and two sets of mouths. For some strange reason, it also had a tongue. Normal worms lacked those. Why was I fixated on the tongue when it was coming for us fast?
We had no weapons. Archer had no Od, and only I had trickle.
But we were not helpless. We had power that extracted no price. A divine blessing.
He bought iron, creating massive black spikes to guard us.
I broth forth quicksilver, to cover the iron spikes with glittering poison.
The sandworm impaired itself on our construction and bellowed in pain. But it was not enough to kill it. It twisted uncaring that it was making its wounds worse.
"Door!" Archer yelled, pointing from where we had just come.
And there it was, the front door of the house hanging in the air.
There was a terrible screech of metal, as the worm was slowly but surely freeing itself.
We flew upwards towards the door. Archer soared upwards like an eagle, while I floated more slowly, like a balloon. The trouble was in the flesh. It had substance. Weight. It made flying much slower, and more tiring.
That was almost my doom.
The sandworm had freed itself at last, and I was still some distance from the door.
It was a race between me slowly edging towards the open door, and the worm jumping fast to take me in one bite. the race I was losing.
The horrid tongue was almost licking my feet when Archer grabbed my hand and pulled me in at the last moment. I could smell the fetid breath of the sandworm.
We managed to close the door, just, at last, gaining a good to the worm's gullet. Well, if we were even a moment later, we would have gained an even better look at the worm's insides.
Leaning on the door, Archer shot an incredulous look and asked, "Landshark?"
"There was a fin?"
He began to laugh, and I joined it. It was not that funny, but we just couldn't stop. For me, I blamed the flesh. It brought hormones. I laughed so hard, that I was out of breath. Yet another weakness of the flesh. But not enough for me to abandon it.
"We cannot leave the house. That is a problem." He said after we both calmed down.
There was a note next to the landline phone. On it was sloppily scrawled just two words: delivery and Dean, and a phone number. "And I have found a solution."
One phone call later and we got to meet Dean. Archer got all the cooking ingredients he wanted. The excuse was needed and it was not that Charles lacked money.
I was not stealing since I planned to use it to feed his body, as well as his mistress and daughter. Archer's food was superior to anything else I have ever eaten.
Dean was in his mid to late twenties. Long and thick dyed black hair, with blond roots peeking underneath held back by the headband with pentacle drawn upside down, artfully torn jeans, with a leather belt. Above he had a black T-shirt and leather jacket.
From his build, it was that had used to work out but has been less diligent lately. Some muscle remained, but a lot had gone to fat. His blue eyes could have been described as pretty if they were not so bloodshot. The reason for that was obvious, he smelled of pot.
In conclusion, a useful idiot would make a good pawn or sacrifice.
I gave him money for groceries, with a nice tip. Then I began to make a second pile of cash saying, "You have a very nice body, have you thought about renting it?"
He looked me over, his eyes especially lingered on Charles's expansive watch. Nice to see which of my attributes were attractive to him.
"As long as there are no pictures."
Archer emerged from Dean's shadow, at his back.
"I am sure we can come to an arrangement."
The consent was not strictly necessary, but it helped with the claim. So as Dean took the money, Archer took him.
Archer's smirk really fit Dean's face. "At least I can be comforted knowing you are his type."
"Handsome and sophisticated?" I asked, fishing for compliments.
"Rich."
"Well, I am a gentleman of wealth and taste. If I'm paying for it, I want to taste the merchandise. Come here."
In the cold embrace of death, I had forgotten how much lust could really burn. There was a reason I named my riding crop searing kiss.
The taste of him. So better than even that sandwich. It was so much better than stale memories that were invoked when I kissed him as a ghost.
This was wrong. One thing to take just what we needed, but this was so much more. But I didn't care. I couldn't care.
I wanted it this far too much. And I was not the only one.
And it was not rape if they never remembered it.
"Charles, where are you? You have been gone for hours." Delia spoke somewhere from behind. Then the sound of something ceramic breaking and she cried out. "NO! Not again!"
I sighed as she ran out and said, "I got to sort this out. Wait for me."
The room she had chosen for herself was that large, but I suppose she mostly had it for appearance's sake. To hide her and Charles's affair from Lydia.
There was a bed, on which she was currently softly sobbing. But the whispers brought my attention to the commode with a mirror, and a large collection of various crystals, some worked in jewelry and some raw, draped all over it.
Mostly common ones, like clear quartz, obsidian, and amethyst but some rarer types like one large piece of moldavite. Not many that were really expensive, although I could see, and hear a few small rubies.
"She cherishes us, she believes in us", crystals sung in thousand chimes. They were stained by her unwavering faith and thus made slightly more mystically potent.
Slightly. Because like her, her knowledge of the occult history and properties was shallow. And because that process took time, longer than a single human life, generations to create a potential for true wonders.
Scattered among crystals were also bottles of etheric oil, some colorful candles, chimes, bells, and unlit sticks of incense. And one bottle of valium drops, half-empty.
I sat next to her on the bed, gently taking her hand.
"We need to talk Delia."
She raised her head and looked at me with tearful eyes.
"Nothing good from those words. Lydia's vision was right."
"Lydia had many gifts, but foresight is not among them. I know that you are upset by what you saw…"
"Why does this keep happening to me? Every single time I finally feel like I start to belong, it's 'Goodbye Delia' 'You're out of the band Delia' 'Vishnu doesn't need more disciples Delia!'"
It would be so easy to get rid of Delia now. Just a few words and she would be gone. It would make Lydia happy and would remove one of the variables I needed to track in the house.
But I had potential use for her. In this World, it was possible for a ghost to leave the Spirit World by marrying a living person. I knew for a fact that it wasn't true for the others, for I had spells that depended on such arraignment, and they never had a resurrection as a side effect. I would have certainly noticed that.
But that was the plan of last resort. Eleven marriages had no "till death do us part clause" and the last time Elf had remarried after the death of his spouse, it took permission of Valar and ended rather badly.
I was unsure that Archer and I truly counted, but I would try other solutions before taking that risk.
Still, if I would need a living candidate for necrogamy, better Dalia the Lydia. One more path toward living would be rebirth, in that case, I would need a mother.
In conclusion, Delia needed to stay, so I applied the easiest, although not the most ethical solution.
Such meager qualities of Od, but enough for this. I looked her straight in the eye and gathered almost half Od I had and moved to my eyes and vocal cords shaped magical energy properly, and said, "If you are so upset by what you saw, why you don't just forget it."
Hypnotism was the basic tool in almost any magecraft user's arsenal. Also, probably was the reason why Magi dismissed ordinary humans. Without awakened magical circuits humans, save for a few rare exceptions, were completely helpless against such a basic spell.
It was taught to almost every practitioner, whether Magus or Spellcaster, for the purpose of preservation of Mysteries, in other words keeping the supernatural secret. But almost everyone abused it for personal gain.
Her eyes clouded as the spell took effect, and the pain was replaced by confusion.
"Charles, I seem to be crying, but I don't know why."
"I am sure it's just the nerves, we have a big event tomorrow. And I know that my daughter is being difficult. But I believe that you are helping her more than you know. Go rest a little, you will feel better in the morning. I will see you at breakfast. I have hired a new cook."
"A new cook?"
"A local boy, Dean. I tried the sandwich he made; it was to die for." I stood up and went to the commode and made a show of inspecting the content. "You have quite a collection."
"As my guru, Otho always says: maybe you can't buy happiness, but you can buy crystals. But you have never shown interest before."
"It is as if they are calling to me."
"You have found your frequency. I am so happy for you."
"Do you mind if borrow a few?"
"No, if they call to you, they were meant for you. I am more than happy to share."
I took a large piece of raw crystal quartz. Ordinary yet extraordinary, colorful and clear, Quartz crystals were the most common and abundant in any world I visited so far, comprising the largest and most diverse family in the mineral kingdom. Clear Quartz, pure silicon dioxide, is also called Rock Crystal or Ice Crystal, from the Greek word "krystallos", meaning "ice", because crystal was believed to be water frozen so hard it could never thaw.
Since the beginning of time in nearly every culture, Clear Quartz crystals have been held sacred and magical and universally accepted as a source of power. Nearly every culture extolled the virtues of Clear Quartz for medicinal healing. It was used in Rome and medieval England for cases of dysentery and colic, for glandular swelling, and pain, and held against the tongue to reduce fever and slake thirst. It was also reputed to be astringent, to produce an abundance of milk, good for gout and for breaking up stones in the body. In the Scottish Highlands, a crystal set in silver and worn around the neck was considered effective for diseases of the kidneys.
In other words, it would make the perfect base for my planned health Mystic Code.
Next a chunk of raw amethyst. According to Ovid, the Roman poet, Amethyst was a nymph pursued by Bacchus. Desperate to escape him, she called on the goddess Diana who rescued her by transforming her into a shiny stone of "pure, cold crystal". Furious, Bacchus threw his glass filled with wine on the stone giving it its purple color.
Greeks and Romans used it constantly to protect themselves from excesses of overindulgence in food and drink, which made useful components to address that kind of damage to Charles's body.
Then I took a bloodstone brooch. Bloodstone was known in the ancient world as Heliotrope, from two Greek words signifying "sun-turning," and was applied to this stone for the notion that when placed in the rays of the setting sun it reflected the color of blood, or when immersed in water changed the sun's image to blood-red. The most widely known legend of the Middle Ages claims it was formed at the crucifixion of Jesus Christ when the blood of His wounds dropped on the dark green earth and turned to stone. Ancient and medieval writers held Heliotrope in the highest esteem, declaring it preserved the mind and bodily health of the wearer.
Its purpose in the planned Code would be to boost the immune system and purify the blood, spleen, liver, kidneys, bladder, and intestines, neutralizing and eliminating toxins from the body.
I also saw a jasper with an image of a wolf carved on it. That was meant to protect from guile and to prevent one from spouting wild claims. It obviously didn't work for Dalia. But considering her, it would take something much more potent to do.
I could improve when I had time. It would make her less irritating. I took it too.
And I appropriated that piece of moldavite for a different purpose.
About 14.8 million years ago, a large meteorite crashed in what is known today as the Czech Republic. The impact was estimated to be 6 trillion megatons, which was stronger than all the atomic bombs currently on earth combined. The collision caused the meteorite and the terrestrial rock to evaporate into a gas which in turn rained down in liquid form and cooling, condensed, and solidified on its way down as it hit the crater. This newly formed glass is what we call Moldavite today.
Tibetan lore claims that the stone originated from the constellation of Orion. The stone was said to be so powerful that it was sent away to Shambhala for the Lord of the Earth to own.
Link to Orion would allow me to turn that gem into insurance.
"You know, after breakfast, we should meditate together. All three of us."
"I love nothing more. But I am not sure about Lydia."
"I have faith that you will be able to convince her. This one should be appropriate."
My finger briefly lingered on a four-sided obsidian pyramid. Its song was harsh, like a glass knife carving a stone wall.
Born of volcanic lava and hardened so quickly that it had no crystalline structure, that stone had no boundaries or limitations, responded rapidly to great power. It revealed to those who dared to see…the past, the future, or one's own inner demons and darkest truths
John Dee, the famous astrologer to Queen Mary, used an obsidian mirror of Aztec origin to communicate with angels to learn the language of creation.
Not exactly what I had in mind, but thematically close enough to work. I needed to talk to Lydia as Mercury, without leaving Charles' body. After all, she still had my phone, and there were things on that were not for her eyes. And not only porn.
"Obsidian! For grief and letting go. You have very good eyes, Charles. Why didn't I think of that?"
That was a very optimistic view.
It was possible to use obsidian as a grief counselor. But it was also possible to use an ax to open a locked door. If one did not care much about the door. And considering that in that this metaphor door was within consciousness…
It was fortunate for Delia that she had no occult potential. Otherwise, with her open mind, something nasty would have probably taken residence. Not that ignorance had helped Charles or Dean much.
"I just thought that Lydia would like the color. Good night and sleep well."
As I was leaving, I saw that she was reaching for valium. Well, she would have a peaceful night at least.
On the way back to Archer, I passed by the Maitlands' attempt at haunting. They were running around wearing bed sheets with eyeholes cut into them. It was so embarrassing that I did the kindest thing I could and completely ignored them. Their instructor was not with them. I could completely understand it. If my students failed so drastically, I wouldn't want to be seen around them. Even if I was completely invisible.
"You have sorted everything out," Archer said to me when I returned.
"She won't remember anything. But we should be more careful, I don't have Od to waste. Where were we?"
"While you were busy, I acquired some laundry rope, clothespins, and olive oil."
"I would suggest that we got to Charles' bedroom and put those things to good use, but Adam and Barbara are attempting to haunt the house, so we have to be more discrete."
"You go first. And I will sneak in later."
While I was waiting for him in my room, I used spit laced with almost all of my Od to draw sigils on the door and walls. I left just enough that I could catalyze Bounded Field. One of the simple aversion ones, I just added a few additional parts to include ghosts in it. The house was, however incompetently, haunted.
I really wanted no interruptions at what was about to happen. It has been far too long since I have tested the pleasures of the flesh. Mostly because I had none.
I activated the Bounded Field as he entered, spending the last of the Od.
The room swayed, and Archer caught me before I fell.
"Are you hurt?"
"No. Just a dizzy spell. This body is unused to Magic Circuits, and I have been using them a bit too much."
"Perhaps you should lie down."
"And waste that Bounded Field I set up. It won't last that long, half an hour at most. Then you will have to sneak out. Now strip."
Archer had spoiled me. Whether a boy or a spirit or an elf his body had always been a work of art. Dean's less so.
But then again, I was wearing Charles and his body was even worse.
But even if the shape wasn't familiar, the way he moved was.
Particularly when I began to use a rope. Unless Dean was a contortionist, the way he bent and twisted was all Archer.
There was no doubt that Dean dyed his hair. With arms stretched and bounds to the bedhead, his armpits were exposed showing pale blond hair. That was not the only undyed hair exposed. His legs were spread wide open and pulled upwards with roped tying to them to the bedposts, exposing every private part.
So deliciously vulnerable.
"I must say this is a very nice look for you. Are you comfortable?"
He just nodded since I had him gagged with his own underwear. Briefs were musky and unwashed. Dean must have worn it for a few days in a row. How could I resist putting them in his mouth?
A flick of riding crop at bare chest, softer than I was used to. A kiss, a lick. The salty taste of sweat, soft silky skin. Then a cloth pin, to mark where I had been. A moan from him, stilled by the improvised gag.
From nipple to nipple in an arc, two lines on the side under the armpits. The lack of hard muscle made pinching easier.
I stood back and looked at him, and purred, "Such a pretty picture you make."
There was one important part that I had yet to pay attention to. I inhaled the heady scent of musk, my nose almost touching his hard and leaking member. I too had an erection but mine, imprisoned as it was by my pants and underwear, painfully throbbed.
It was not yet time to free it. Being fully dressed, while he was nude. There was a sense of power in it. And pain made pleasure burn even brighter.
I could now fully understand what Archer once told me. After the hollowness of existence without flesh, I hungered for almost any sensation. Not that I minded a little pain before. Both inflicting and receiving it.
Dead hunger for life. As a student of necromancy, I had known that academically, but now I was more intimately acquainted with that grim fact.
How that could sap, sanity, will, and morals.
Lost to sensation, I smelled, I kissed, I licked, I bit. Pale globes, soon covered in bite marks, balls covered in fine blonde hairs.
I blew softly on his hole, but I didn't plan a penetration. Not tonight, that required more preparation, or we would make a mess.
Then a riding crop, one strike after another, until his ass was no longer pale, but bright red, and warm to the touch.
I freed myself, pants and underwear pooling at my ankles. The scent of olive oil, and then the sensation of coving my hands and my hard organ. I pushed our members together, and then grabbed them both with hands slick from oil.
Friction, such wonderful friction. Faster, more. I pushed my hips in tempo with my hands. He tried to wriggle, but I had bound him well, so he could only make small movements.
Our cum mixed as we came together.
I would have loved to cuddle the rest of the night, but he had to leave once I untied him.
Sleep. How long has it been since I slept? Far too long.
There were no dreams.
"This house is haunted. And ghosts who live want you gone," were the first words Lydia said as she joined us at the breakfast table.
"And good morning to you, pumpkin." I had heard Charles calling her that. And then I proceeded to ignore what she said. "I am glad that you have decided to join us for breakfast. We are having a traditional Japanese breakfast. I have hired a local cook."
"Is he Japanese?" Delia asked.
"Only in spirit," I replied.
"Did you not hear me? There are ghosts living in this house!"
Lydia was persistent. And right. But that mattered little. Charles would never believe in the supernatural, and I was pretending to be him.
I replied, "Lydia, there are no ghosts living in this house. Ghosts are by definition dead."
Fortunately, before she could say anything else we were interrupted.
A delicious aroma heralded Archer's arrival and put a pause to our conversation. My mouth watered at the smell. I had missed that.
I didn't know where he got that apron and chef's hat, but I admit that they suited him, even in Dean's body.
With efficient movement, he proficiently sat at the table. A bowl of rice, a clear soup, pickled cucumbers, and a grilled salmon. As I have said, traditional Japanese breakfast.
There was also tea for the girls and something special for me.
"Your energy drink, sir." Archer said, placing a glass next to me, and silently added, "A mana potion. Fresh."
Because he had Magical Core, Archer would generate more Od in Dean's body, than I could in Charles in the same amount of time. It was a very nice gesture, and very tasty too. Among the herbs, I could taste his essence. Salty and a little bitter, but so delicious.
Gentle warmth spread through my body as magical circuits were refilled.
The meal, although lacking that special ingredient was exquisite. Rice was melting in my mouth, and the fish was just right. Crispy with just a taste of lemon.
There was little talk as we all descended like a pack of starving wolves.
"You have gotten much better with chopsticks Charles," Dalia praised me, once the food was gone.
"I practiced. Delia, why don't you tell my daughter, what we will be doing after breakfast."
With a lot of enthusiasm, Lydia's life coach began to explain to her the planned joined mediation session. Delia had expanded the simple meditation session, adding scented candles, incense, and some bells. She had turned it into a complex but utterly nonsensical rite. She finished her now lengthy explanation with, "As my guru, Otho always says, sadness is like kale salad. No one likes it, so just throw it away."
"This is so stupid," the girl in black wearily said, "Father, you can't really mean that we need to join in this foolishness."
"I think it would be good for us to do things together, as a family."
Even as I said that I knew that it was a mistake.
Lydia bristled like a cat whose tail got caught under a rocking chair and shouted, "Delia is not family!"
She tossed her chopsticks on the table and run upstairs.
"I'll go after her."
"No, I will do it. We should talk, father to daughter. Set things up for when we both return if you please."
Lydia was not in her room. I had to search for her. The house was not that big. It didn't take me long to discern her location.
The noise from the attic clued me in. The first I heard Lydia since she was being rather loud. Then once gotten near, I discovered that she had company. A known male voice. Adam and presumably Barbara.
It seemed that they have met. It was not an unexpected outcome. After all Lydia's ability to see the ghost had helped me gain a foothold in the living world.
I knocked twice and entered the attic.
"Pumpkin, are you done ranting at the empty room?"
"It is not empty!"
"I suppose that your ghosts are here now. Let's make a deal, I will believe in your ghosts if you give Delia's thing a chance."
"They're not my ghosts and they are real!"
"Well introduce me then."
"Adam and Barbara, my father Charles. Father, this is Adam and Barbara."
"Hello." I made sure to wave about half a meter left of the undead couple.
"Hi."
"Nice to meet you. Do you think you would mind leaving and never coming back?"
"Adam!"
"What you were thinking it too."
"What about Lydia?"
"It was nice meeting your friends, even if they are both old and dead, but we have that thing to get to."
"Do you want to know what they said?"
"Not really, pumpkin. They are your friends, not mine. I have nothing to say to someone who lived in this stupid house before I renovated it. Come, we had a deal."
"I'm sorry, I have to say it, this house is not stupid. It's a classic Victorian with the original crown molding." Adam ranted. I completely ignored him. After all, I was supposed to not be able to see or hear ghosts. Very useful in this instance.
"Adam," Barbara tried to interrupt him
"And you, sir, have made some big mistakes with the interior design!"
"He can't hear you," Barbara said. "And you can't ask Lydia to repeat that."
"You said that you believe me," Lydia said.
"I do believe you, pumpkin. I just see no point in talking to them. No come, we shouldn't leave Dalia waiting. She has abandonment issues."
Someone less skilled them me in mediation would have problems focusing with all of the distractions Dalia was providing. I had no problem ignoring her.
I took a deep breath, ignoring the myriad different incense she had lit.
I linked my mind to the obsidian pyramid and then drew both my and Lydia's consciousness into it.
Formless darkness, then a dim red light revealed a recognizable underground path. The cloying scent of incense was replaced by brimstone. Cracks of Doom, or at least a memory of it.
I was not alone. Dressed in her mourning clothes Lydia looked as if belonged to this place. Another wraith enslaved to darkness.
She was looking around and was yet to notice me.
I approached and said to her, "We meet again Lydia. Did you enjoy playing with my phone?"
"Mercury. What is this place?"
"A memory. A bridge. It is a memory place of great power, and some would say great evil. My memory. It is also a place we could meet."
"How did bring me here? Why did you do it?"
"Well, you have been using obsidian, and I have taken the opportunity to contact you. You are borrowing my phone, so I had to use more traditional methods."
"Wait. You are saying that Delia's bullshit with crystals actually works?"
"The first historical references to the use of crystals come from ancient the Ancient Sumerians, who included crystals in magic formulas. For those who have proper knowledge, crystals are the pathways to many abilities some would consider unnatural."
"Can I learn such things?"
"Not from Delia. But before we make another deal let's finish the last one. I did say I would be back for my phone."
"About that. I want to speak more to Mom. Can I keep it a little longer?"
"We had a deal."
"Can we make a new one?"
I could feel it. There was weight for this very moment. I knew what I had to do. I knew the part that led to rebirth. And it began with temptation and ended with a lesson. But would the lesson be in acceptance or defiance? I could teach both. In the end, it would be her choice.
"I suppose so. But I want, let's call it a guarantee that you will eventually return it."
"And what do you want?"
"Something that you have lost, but you have yet to miss it."
"Can you be more specific?"
"Not really. A well-read young woman like you should be familiar with how such requests are traditionally framed in fairytales."
"And I do know that all who made such deals tend to regret them."
"Is that a no?"
"I didn't say that. Yes, you can have whatever that you meant, but only until I return your phone to you."
"You drive a hard bargain." I made of show of thinking about it. "It's a deal."