Chapter Nine
I didn't notice my first successful listening session had been interrupted by a summoning until the sound of crickets and peeper toads exploded into the silence I had been focusing on.
When I opened my eyes, I found myself on a very small deck. On three sides, a low wooden fence outlined the space, attaching to a building on the fourth where a glass wall contained a sliding door into someone's home. The lights were on inside, but the shades were drawn, blocking my view of the interior.
The circle below me this time was the same as the one the Matron had used, except the triangles were not empty. A line at the top separated the tips from the rest of the shape. By process of elimination, I knew this had to belong to the Follower, but she was not waiting nearby.
Since the others had used me to inflict suffering, it felt safe to assume her deed would be similar. It also seemed likely that she had summoned me to the home of her intended victim but didn't have the heart to stick around and give me instructions. Of the three, she was the most timid, and I could see her having a hard time commanding me to violence.
I walked to the sliding door and tested the handle to find that it was locked. If I was going to enter the home, I would have to find something to break the glass. It was too dark to see beyond the fencing, and I didn't want to climb over in case the drop was farther than just one level, so I lied down flat on the deck and reached through the slats. There was no ground below.
The sound of the door being pulled open brought me back to my feet. Standing in the open entryway was the Follower.
Seeing the Matron and the Princess outside in the real world had been strange at first, but once I came to understand that the only thing that had changed was the location I had been brought to, I settled into the familiar unfamiliarity of being summoned. The Follower's demeanor suggested something different. Raised eyebrows and a friendly smile shaped her face, and although it did nothing to hide the wealth of nerves that shone out from underneath, it was clear that she was trying to hide the unusual nature of our relationship and force the mood of the evening into something more normal.
Like the others, the first thing she did was hold out her hand, but instead of showing me a circle drawn on her palm, she offered it to me to take. When I did, she led me inside.
We entered the home into a large dining area. It was closed off from the rest of the house but still felt open and welcoming. Various end tables and a sideboard lined the room and every surface had something on it, be it decorative or functional. The walls were covered in a floral design that never repeated. It wasn't wallpaper. The motif was hand-drawn onto the paint.
In the center of the room was an antique wooden table with eight chairs. Only two place settings had been fully made up and she gestured me toward one. "Please sit," she said.
It wasn't a command, but it was what she wanted. I sat.
Without saying another word, she left the room and returned quickly, carrying a cake and a large knife balanced on top of a glass stand.
She set the dessert down on the table between us. "It looks wonderful, doesn't it? You'll have some with me, won't you?"
Something had always compelled me to do what these women told me to do. Whether it was the power the circles had over me or some other supernatural force, I was unable to disobey. None of that was in effect that night. In that room, staring at the Follower and her cake, I was not a demon. Don't get me wrong, I was still a demon, but I was myself, the same myself I was at home or work. I didn't feel like I had to answer her in any specific way.
"Please," I said.
A slice of cake sounded nice and not just because it did look wonderful. It was the polite thing to say and if I was going to finally have a real conversation with one of my masters, being polite seemed like the best route to it.
Her smile widened and she picked up the knife, plunging it into the pristine icing of the dessert. She cut two perfect lines in a wedge that met precisely in the center and then, as if she had done it a thousand times, dove the blade underneath and slid out a perfect slice. I lifted my plate so she could unload it and she proceeded to cut another for herself before sitting down beside me.
I picked up my fork and aimed it at my portion, but before I could select my first bite she reached out and put her hand on my wrist, stopping me mid-motion. Her mouth flattened out and the skin around her eyes tightened. "I didn't bake it myself. I bought it. Is that okay?"
Store-bought cakes were the only kind I had ever eaten and up until that moment it hadn't occurred to me to wonder where this one had come from. "Of course," I answered, not sure how else to respond.
Her smile returned and she leaned back in her chair. "I can bake," she said. "I just-- I can't bake this well." She nodded to emphasize the point and poked the fork she was now holding into her own piece.
I decided to take a chance and try to ask a question before I lost the opportunity. There were so many stored up that it was hard to pick just one to start with. I settled on the most basic. "Why am I here?"
She reached out with a free hand and touched me, sliding her fingertips gingerly up my arm. "Tonight, I want to indulge a fantasy. I want to share a dessert with a young man and get to know him a little."
The Follower had answered the question I asked and not the question I meant to ask, but I had lost nothing. I put my hand over hers. "This is really good cake."
She laughed suddenly and squeezed my arm, then slid her chair closer to mine. "I know, isn't it? This one is my favorite, but I don't get sweets often. I don't get out much and I detest exercise so the best way to manage my figure is watching my diet." She stood up suddenly and twirled around. "I know I'm a little soft, but for a woman my age I've done a good job, don't you think?"
I looked her over to be nice. "You take good care of yourself."
She sat down again and slid her chair another inch closer. "Am I too old for you?"
The woman did appear to be twice my age, but that was less of an issue than the circumstances under which we had met. I also had to consider the fact that I had already gone down on her once and had not found it altogether pleasant, though that wasn't necessarily her fault. I wanted to answer her honestly, but I didn't want to hurt her feelings. Instead, I split the difference. "You remind me of a teacher I had a crush on when I was in middle school." That statement was true, just not necessarily relevant to what she had asked.
