Candy Kisses

Candy Kisses

Chapter Fifteen

“I Can’t Live
With Or Without You”
-- U2

Kale rested the tip of his knife against Marzi’s lips, light as a kiss, and watched as Marzi’s breath fogged its long, silver blade. It was his favorite knife, the one he’d used to cut out Pepper’s heart. He wouldn’t slit his lover’s throat with anything less.

Marzi, however, appeared oblivious to Kale’s intentions. The fever had ravaged his body, leaving him too exhausted to even mumble fragments of the visions that boiled inside his head. Eyes closed, he slept. And each breath dragged him deeper, dragged him farther away, like a ship gradually sinking beneath an ocean of fire.

One way or the other, he will be your undoing. They always are.

Kale’s hand twitched and the knife nicked Marzi’s lip, drawing blood. Shocked by his loss of control, Kale jerked the blade back. He was going to pieces. Raedeman had been right. He needed to end this now, end it decisively, end it on his own terms. If he didn’t, it meant that a human had defeated him. And if one of them could do it, what would keep the others from swarming over him, tearing him apart like ants? Slowly, Kale raised the knife.

No. Not yet. He would give Marzi one more chance to be reasonable. Setting the knife down, Kale placed his hand across Marzi’s forehead. Sweat no longer soaked Marzi’s skin. His body had wrung all the water from itself hours ago, and now he was dry, parched as an endless desert. For a moment, Kale forgot the purpose behind his touch, and simply stroked his lover’s brow, lost in Marzi’s beauty like a traveler in a foreign land. Then he remembered. And, softly, began to speak the incantation.

Kale was no healer. But he carried demon blood, and fire was his element. Although he couldn’t cure Marzi’s fever, he could control it, temporarily push it back.

After a few minutes, Marzi blinked, the movement of his lashes as slow and weak as a butterfly emerging from its cocoon. He seemed confused to find himself back in reality after days of fiery delirium. Then his gaze rested on Kale, and he smiled, his eyes full of love and trust, like they had been during the first precious weeks of their relationship. Kale’s heart nearly broke to see that expression on his lover’s face. To be reminded of everything he had lost, everything he had destroyed with his own hands.

“Kale...?” Marzi whispered. “I just had a dream...a terrible dream...”

“Did you?”

“I dreamed that you did things...bad things...things that hurt me. I dreamed that everything went wrong.”

Kale bowed his head. Did you dream that I murdered your sister? That I left you to die? Please, my treasure, don’t make me regret those decisions. Because guilt is a slippery slope, and if I begin to mourn my sins, I have a lifetime of bloody deeds to repent. And that’s more than any soul can bear. Please, my treasure, don’t make me cry these tears. Because if I start now, I may never stop.

“What a silly dream,” Kale chided, barely able to keep his voice steady. “You know that I’d never hurt you.”

“I know.” The fingers on Marzi’s left hand twitched, and he seemed to realize that he was bound. But his smile never wavered. “Have we been playing? I forgot. Everything seems so blurry this morning...”

Despite himself, Kale sunk to his knees beside the bed. “Damn you,” he hissed, as his hands curled into fists. “How did this happen? You were supposed to be my pet. My toy. My slave. At what moment did you make yourself my master?”

“Perhaps...love makes slaves of us all...”

“I don’t love you!” But even as he screamed the words, Kale knew they weren’t true. He loved Marzi. Loved him deeply, desperately, and hopelessly. Kale had devoted his entire life to blasphemy. He had spat on crosses, and pissed in holy water, and believed that each act proved his triumph over God. But God hadn’t been beaten. God had just been waiting for the right moment to strike. When Kale least expected it, he found his world ripped apart, and his heart thrown open like the doors of a church. And that was what really fueled his fury -- not that Marzi had defeated him, but that God had.

“So what am I supposed to do?” Kale demanded, staring heavenward. “What the hell do you want from me? Am I supposed to crawl back to you, to beg for your divine mercy? Do you want to prove your benevolence by forgiving me? Well, fuck that!” With shaking hands, Kale snatched up the knife, and held it poised over Marzi’s chest. “Fuck you! Fuck your plans! If you wanted me to be good, you should have made me part angel, not part demon.”

Marzi gazed up at the knife, but didn’t seem particularly bothered by it. As if he thought it was just part of the game he couldn’t quite remember. “Maybe...we’re all a little bit of both. Always falling one moment...then ascending the next. Maybe...heaven and hell...aren’t permanent destinations...just moments that we find in our hearts. You may carry demon blood, my love. But you showed me paradise. Doesn’t that make you an angel...?”

And Kale knew that God had him by the balls. He couldn’t live in a world without Marzi. Whatever came next, whatever terrifying and painful things awaited him, they were preferable to that. With two swift strokes, Kale brought the knife down. But instead of striking Marzi, he cut the ropes that bound his wrists to the headboard. Then he gathered Marzi into his arms and clutched him close, as his tears dropped onto Marzi’s skin like thirty-five years of unspoken prayers. “Alright. Alright, you win. You’re free. As soon as you’re well enough, you can go home. I won’t try and stop you. But please, let Sylvia heal you. Please.”

“Of course...and it’s about damn time...”

Startled by the sudden change in Marzi’s voice, Kale drew back and gawked at his lover. Marzi no longer seemed disoriented and confused. Instead, his lips were curled into a triumphant smirk.

“Son-of-a-bitch,” Kale exclaimed. “You played me!”

“Like...an expensive violin.” Relaxing in Kale’s embrace, Marzi winked. “Don’t act so surprised. You’re the one...who keeps insisting...that I’m wicked.”

“You—you--”

“I had to...show you. Make you...understand.” Marzi’s hand trembled as he lifted it. But he still managed to catch a strand of Kale’s rust-colored hair and caress it between his fingers. “I know you’re scared. I’m scared, too. But love...is so much more than...weakness. If you give it time...I know that you’ll see that.”

Slowly, Kale nodded. He felt foolish for having been so easily manipulated. But he also gazed at his lover with fresh admiration. He had forgotten the courage of the young man who drank poison to win him. The passion of the lover who gave him what no one else ever had. Magic or no magic, Marzi was a force to be reckoned with. And maybe that was enough. Maybe it could get them through this. “I know I’ve said it before. But you truly are an exceptional human, Marzipan Penicandey.”

Marzi smiled. “Thank you. But right now...I just feel...like an exceptionally sick human. I haven’t been faking this fever.”

“Of course. I’ll get Sylvia.” Gently, Kale took Marzi’s hand, kissing it. “Everything is going to be alright,” he promised. And, to his surprise, for the first time in so long, he actually believed that.

*****

“Do you have any tens?”

Dragging his tongue across the icy sweetness of his banana-flavored popsicle, Marzi attempted to keep it from melting onto his hand of cards. He sat propped up in the stained glass bed, with a mountain of pillows behind his back, and a folding tray balanced over his lap, on which rested all the pairs that he and his opponent had managed to accumulate thus far. “Nope. No tens. Go fish.”

With a good-natured shrug, Sylvia reached out to draw another card. But before she could, a faint chiming sounded from downstairs, and she rose to her feet. “The doorbell. I’d better get that.”

“Can’t Kale afford a butler or something?”

“He’s tried. Butlers, maids, secretaries -- you name it. They never stay. After ten years, no one has ever stayed. Except me.”

Marzi gazed at Sylvia and wondered what it was that they shared, which bound them both to such an unlikely master. Then, the feel of something cool and sticky dripping onto his fingers jolted him from his thoughts, and he raised his hand to his mouth, licking the banana-flavored syrup from his skin. “Well, while you’re up, could you get me some real food? Maybe a steak? Or spicy Thai noodles?”

“Eat your popsicle. Until I’m completely convinced that you’ve recovered from the dehydration, liquid food is all you’re getting.”

Marzi stuck out his tongue -- which was, thanks to the food coloring in the popsicle, tinted somewhat yellow. But he offered no more arguments as Sylvia went to answer the door.

Left alone, Marzi set down his cards, and ran his fingers over the strips of gauze Sylvia had used to bandage his wrists. Absently, he let this thoughts drift to Kale. Kale still seemed to be avoiding him. And during his few, brief visits, his manner came across as deferential, almost shy. But Marzi understood. They’d both fought their way through the darkness. However, the light remained unfamiliar territory, and they still hadn’t figured out exactly where they stood.

“Marzi? There’s someone here to see you.”

Glancing up, Marzi saw Sylvia escort a familiar figure into the room. Nicholas looked somewhat worse after his adventures, unwashed and unshaven, but Marzi still wanted to jump out of bed and hug him. Weakness kept him from rising. However, it didn’t keep the enthusiasm out of his voice. “Nicholas! You’re alright!”

“Yeah. I guess I am.” Avoiding Marzi’s eyes, Nicholas prodded the floor with the toe of his shoe. “Um. I’m sorry. About drugging you and everything. You’re probably going to fire me now, aren’t you?”

“What? Fire my sister’s sweetie? I’d never hear the end of it.”

“But I--”

Marzi shook his head. “We don’t always intend the evil that we do. I, of all people, know that.”

“Thank you.”

“Just make Pepper as happy as she deserves to be. Speaking of which, where is my dear sister? I assume that you didn’t leave her behind.”

“Of course not.” Nicholas reached into his pocket and pulled out a makeup compact, which he carefully placed in Marzi’s hand. “There she is.”

Not quite sure what to expect, Marzi pushed open the compact, and found himself staring into a very familiar pair of green eyes. “Pepper?”

“Marzi! Oh god, it’s good to see you, big brother. I’ve missed you so much.”

“Pepper...” Marzi knew the gesture didn’t make any sense, but he couldn’t help himself. Pulling the compact to his chest, he wrapped his arms across it, and hugged it with all his strength. “I’ve missed you, too. I feel so lonely and empty when you’re not with me.”

“As soon as you’re strong enough, I can come back. If you still want to share a body with your little sister.”

“Of course I do.” But then, like an insidious whisper, he heard Kale’s voice inside his head. It turns out that you’re not really a Penicandey at all, my little foundling. And Marzi remembered that Pepper’s blood was not his blood, and he had no right to bind her to him. “Pepper? There’s something you need to know.”

“Yes?”

Marzi’s hand trembled so much that he had to clutch the compact to keep from dropping it. “I’m not your brother.”

“What?! What the hell has Kale done to you now?”

“Actually,” Sylvia volunteered, “Marzi is correct. Up to a point. The records I found do indicate that he was adopted.”

“Oh, is that all? I thought maybe he was a robot. But I suppose robots have more sense.” Although Marzi could only see Pepper’s eyes, staring at him with stern intensity, he could imagine her hands resting on her hips as she lectured him. “Do you remember that Halloween when I was too sick to go trick-or-treating? You went to every house with two bags, explaining that you were collecting candy for your sister. And then, when you got home, you helped me put on my costume, and sat in bed with me while we sorted through our loot. You even let me trade for all my favorites. I don’t care what a damn piece of paper says. Even if, by some bizarre twist of fate, you really were a robot, you’d still be my brother. And I would still love you. Idiot.”

When she’d finished, Marzi smiled, amazed at the way she always lifted his heart. “Why do I even bother arguing with you? I never win. I never even want to win.” Tenderly, he rested his fingers against the compact mirror. “Welcome back, little sister. Welcome home.”