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AVP, Part 3

By Marla

I

Look, I didn’t know how the Brotherhood caught up to me. Maybe my grandiosity exceeded the boundaries of the salon. Or I lingered too long outside at the worst possible times. No one who worked at Tootsie’s would have betrayed my secret. Coraline sooner would have died before she would have terminated our friendship. Eugene couldn’t have divulged even if he wanted to. And Tully, by all accounts, was harmless; a closet fetish-freak but a harmless one.
However, the Coven required confirmation that no harm could result from him. Tully was the latest salon recruit and he had spent more time with me than anyone else there. If they had captured me, I could have compromised the coven. If I had died, well, that would have been more my problem than theirs.
After the Brotherhood struck, I returned bloodied but clotted. My appearance scared the hell out of everyone. Not Raven, Bianca nor Andre, ever met Tully, although they were aware of him. Their sympathies for my weakened state overwhelmed their judgments.
Five months passed. Tully had survived the winter in spite of Tootsie’s temporary closure. D the Demigoddess concluded that Cora's violent response to the Brotherhood's equally violent assault warranted no punishment. Cora had failed to furnish a new salon facade. No carpenter in town wanted anything to do with our quaint morgue. Bianca suggested that we plant thralls at the salon until they all restored business. Cora disinclined to agree.
Tootsie’s quietly reopened on a Thursday night. Tully had used to work on Thursdays.
I knew Coraline never would forgive me if I implicated Tully. If I had mentioned the investigation to her, she would have denied us her blessing. However, the Coven had to investigate immediately. I had agreed that as long as they would not hurt Tully, they could execute their scheme.
******

Tully had no idea what he was in for. The air was humid and opaque with fog. When he arrived, Andre forcefully ejected him from his crappy little sedan and shoved him like a limp sausage into our taxi.
We of the Coven each wore a mask to protect our respective identities. I disguised myself as the co-pilot and quietly permitted their inquisition. Andre drove marginally above the speed limit.
Raven unsheathed her carving knife and juxtaposed both her feet on Tully’s lap. “If I feel anything poke my feet, I’ll cut it off.”
Tully’s expression in the rearview mirror diluted from fearful to crestfallen.
“Give us your first and last name,” ordered Andre.
“Tully Worton,” he breathlessly answered.
“Are you an employee of Tootsie’s Salon & Spa?”
“Yes, I am!”
“Keep your voice down,” hissed Raven. We just had stopped at a traffic light.
Andre flicked on his blinker. “Does the name ‘Marla Ramala’ mean anything to you?”
Panic struck his eyes. “Yes, she comes to Tootsie’s all the time.”
Raven shifted her upright knees closer together. Tully groaned exasperatedly.
Andre turned left onto the forested road. “How long have you been working at Tootsie’s?”
“Seven months.”
“Did you know Marla before or after you started working at Tootsie’s?”
“After.”
“Has she bitten you since you started working there?”
“Bitten? Ach!”
Raven pressed him underfoot and flourished her blade. “Answer the question.”
“Yes!”
“Show me,” Raven commanded icily.
He extended his hand, and I know which finger he showed her. She took his hand to examine it, and she squeezed him again, much to his torment.
“He’s marked,” she sighed.
“Were you, or were you not, present for a shooting incident right before Tootsie’s closed for the winter?”
“Yes,” he shrilled, “I was at the salon that night.”
“Do you recall that two members of the Brotherhood of Retribution died as a result of the attack?”
“Yes.”
“Did you kill one of them?”
“Yes- No!”
“Yes or no?” Raven growled.
“No! Cora killed him! Marla killed the second one!”
I gasped innocuously. Andre glanced at me before returning to the road. Then, he turned off the headlights without stopping the car. Tully actually squealed with morbid fright. We all sat in darkness while the roar of the engine cooked whatever semblance of peace Tully retained.
Eventually, we stopped at the hovel, as I liked to call it. The front facade resembled Tyler Durden’s “shithole” house in Fight Club. The orange porch lights dimly signaled through the trees the subtle turn-off from the road. Raven relinquished her torture and exited with Andre and I. Andre revolved to the backseat and collected a more pliable Tully over his shoulders.
-

II

The hovel’s one redeeming quality is its abundance of separate rooms. It was a boarding house that until recently had been populated by low-earners, deadbeats, and drug addicts. When the owners passed away, and all tenants were evicted, Raven possessed the house under the pseudonym “Harriet Duquaa,” an unlucky moniker to some.
The front foyer led to upstairs, the kitchen, or the den. Earthen ochres and oranges comprised the faded bare wood finish on almost every wall and floor. Scattered rock music posters and cheap plastic occasionally interrupted this half-baked lumber decor.
My room was not much to speak of. I had a bed of adequate proportions for my height, my computer in the corner, a wardrobe closet with mirror, and no windows. While I was here, and my hours here were few, I preferred to have as few distractions from sleep, getting dressed and checking messages, as possible.
The Coven held custody of Tully on the floor below me. To my knowledge, his resistance faltered.
Next, he needed reinforcement for his cooperation. Oh, how well I knew to tickle his particular fancy! The best part was that it hardly mattered what I wore on top. His eyes only would drift down below. So, I adorned this black sweater I recently obtained and black pants with heart-stopping stirrups.
Satisfied, I opened my door to leave. Coraline stood directly outside. She always reminded me of an indigenous tribal doll with her small mouth and long eyelashes. Her black hair parted messily around her face as though she arrived here in a hurry. Her cheeks had boiled red. I stopped and looked up, confused by this dubious surprise.
She surveyed my costume and scowled, “How - fucking - DARE - you drag Tully into this,” she gritted through her teeth.
“Cora!”
“You freaks almost killed him!”
“Killed him? What are you talking about?”
“He fainted!” Her eyes widened with emotion. “I had just walked in to find out why you all put the “sorry, we’re closed” sign in my window, during the fucking reopening! I watched Andre put Tully down on his feet for five seconds, then he fainted! He almost hit his head on the table in the den!”
“How was he supposed to know that would happe-”
WHAP! She slapped me across the face.
“You little shit, you sat in the passenger seat while that whore and her gorilla almost scared him to death! He has a heart condition!”
“He has a what?”
“He’s prone to fainting! If he gets too exhausted, he’ll pass out and drop wherever he stands! This has happened before!”
“Cora, please, I didn’t know! It wasn’t my idea!”
“I trusted you not to do anything like this!” Her voice cracked with tears. “I depended on you to keep him safe when I’m not around!”
“But Cora-!”
“You’re all a bunch of goddamned monsters!” She may have had more to say but her tears choked them back.
My face stung briefly. “I’m so sorry, Cora.”
Suddenly, she fiercely hugged me and spoke through her anguish. “I was so scared for him. He could have died.”
“Where is he now?”
“*sniffle* He’s on the couch in the den. I told Andre to put him there after he fainted.”
I never had seen Coraline this broken up over anyone.
-

III

“This guy’s got the right idea,” chuckled Andre.
Coraline and I arrived in the den from upstairs. The room was fairly lit by a ceiling fan in the center. The couch Tully rested on opposed a coffee table and a cruddy analog television with two gaming consoles. Raven, her twin sister Bianca and Andre, each sat in armchairs around the table. Both Raven and Andre bore the same red badge of disgrace on their left cheeks.
Raven and Bianca shared the same height of 5’7’’, a roundish nose, wide mouth and eyes, and freckles. Their only distinguishing characteristics besides Raven’s smoking habit were their black and blonde heads of hair respectively. Raven also stylistically wore a black hoodie over a t-shirt versus Bianca’s forest green blouse. Andre towered over us all at 6’2’’, oily brown hair that hung in dirty locks around his face, and a crooked nose that, I swear, could carry glasses some day. He wore a white t-shirt with a blue- and red-striped tie printed on the front. We all looked like whited-out hooligans in this light.
The three of them looked at Coraline and I expectantly. They wore patience and concern over their faces.
“How is he?” she asked.
“Not too bad, I’m sure,” Raven answered.
Bianca hesitated before adding. “He may have landed hard. Otherwise, he’s been sound as a pound.”
Coraline sighed heavily.
“No hard feelings, ma’am?” Andre asked warmly.
Coraline sniffled briefly and shook her head. “Tully is safe. That’s all that matters to me.” Coraline perched on the edge of Tully’s couch and lightly scratched the top of his straw-colored head. “He’s still out of it.”
“Wwwell!” stretched Andre’s arms. “This calls for a drink. This calls for a lot of drinks. You guys want a drink? I’m gonna go get a drink. We need lots of drinks.” Andre left to collect a round of beer, wine, and water for Tully when he rose.
I idled near Coraline and Tully. Tully reminded me of a sleeping child. “He looks so peaceful while he’s sleeping.”
“When he was younger,” quoth Coraline, “His mother had to make sure he got up for school. She told me sometimes, he’d pretend to be asleep. So, she’d start tickling his little feet until he started squirming and laughing. Use to fully wake him.”
The twins and I laughed. I sat down next to Bianca, who then insinuated hopefully towards Tully’s shoes. “Should we wake him up for school?”
I thoroughly enjoyed her penchant for wickedness. “I don’t think tickling is a good remedy for fainting.”
“Is it true that he likes feet?”
“Yes!” answered Coraline, Raven and I, much to our collective amusement. “True as the night is dark,” I added.
“Actually,” Coraline returned, “He used to hug my legs when he was small. I used to babysit him and his sister on the weekends. It was the only proven way he’d fall asleep.”
Raven “hah!”d highly with delight. “You were his babysitter?”
“Yup, ages two to seven.”
This caused much mirthful laughter. Tully rolled over into the maw of the couch.
“AND he almost set the house on fire.”
Raven rummaged for her cigarettes.
Apparently, the little delinquent whose stature stretched across the length of the couch once played with matches over the living room rug. He had watched his dad use them to light the pilot for the kitchen stove, and he wanted macaroni and cheese. Other evidence of malfeasance included the box of macaroni and a coffee kettle half full of water. I quietly pieced together what Coraline related to us.
Then, in the middle of Tully, age seven, locking himself and his sister in an SUV one summer with the windows rolled up, our present attempted murderer clutched his head tighter on the couch.
“I know you’re awake, you crazy bastard,” called Coraline, mock yelling.
“I hope I’m awake,” interjected a returning Andre. “Otherwise, I dunno who put this booze in my hands.”
“Not you, Andy,” said I, “She means comatose on the couch.”
Andre set his cache on the table and joined the crowd. “Hey! Wakey-wakey, time for drinkey!”
Tully finally rolled back over and peeped awake. His face was a miasma of waning fear and warm expectations. He came to slowly and sat up. “My shift. What happened to my shift?”
“Your kidnappers,” Coraline smiled warmly, “hung up the ‘sorry, we’re closed!’ sign in the window. Don’t worry about it.”
Upon hearing this (especially from Coraline), Tully fell back with a sigh of magnanimous satisfaction.
“How is your head?” Coraline asked him.
“Fine. Why? Did I pass out?”
“Yeah, you did.”
“Everything feels fine. I don’t even remember it happening. I dreamt I was in my old basement. A tarantula crept up and circled around me. Then, it pounced but I woke up before it landed.”
I smiled. “I guess that makes you the fly.”
He espied me from his seat. “Hi, Marla.”
I smiled. “Hellooo, Tully.”
-
IV

Bianca did not take her eyes off of Tully for the rest of the night. We all sat and treated ourselves to a drink. Coraline poured herself and I merlot (bleh). Andre, Raven and Bianca, popped a beer each. Tully paused over the merlot before grabbing the only bottled water.
“No hard feelings, my good sir?” Andre extended the neck of his beer.
We all held up our drinks. Tully slowly acknowledged the cheers and led the clinking of glass and plastic. Glug, glug.
Andre laughed weasily. “I’m Andre. Sorry I yanked ya from your car.”
Tully leaned forward and immediately winced with discomfort. Raven must have stepped on him quite forcefully. “I was more afraid that you were the Brotherhood than anything.”
“Oh, believe me,” Andre continued earnestly, “You were right to be afraid.”
“It all happened so fast. How long was I out?”
“An hour,” Coraline answered. So we all agreed.
“Sorry I held a knife up to you,” confessed Raven, “Just know, I would never hurt you. You’re too handsome for me to hurt.”
Tully’s face crackled with pain again.
Raven and Bianca “oh’d” their sympathies. Andre verbalized his outrage. “Raven, you almost squished the poor guy!”
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt him!”
“It’s not that bad,” Tully managed through his half-squinted eyes, “It just aches.”
“They won’t do that to you ever again, Tully,” Coraline maternally assured him.
“No, we won’t,” I ruefully confirmed with downcast eyes, “We acted selfishly, and we neglected the kindness you’ve shown us, Tully. We won’t forget that either. Thank you.”
Tully smiled faintly at me.
“You have to understand, Tully,” Andre explained, “It’s not just the Brotherhood we’re afraid of. No one can ever know our movements. And frankly, as far as anyone outside of this room is concerned, we’re not really talking right now, you’re not in this house with us, and we do not exist, you know what I mean?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Tully ironically responded.
Andre chuckled. “I think we’ll get along just fine.”
“Can I ask why?”
We of the Coven silently deliberated upon this question. The others looked at me as though my authority exceeded theirs on this matter.
“If we tell you,” I cautioned, “You’ll be bound to the Coven in the same way that Cora is now. All that means is you can’t tell a soul for as long as you live. Do you accept?”
“Say yes, Tully,” Coraline urged him, “You deserve to know.”
Tully actually rolled his eyes. “Yes, I accept.”
Silence appropriately preluded my answer.
“It’s because we’re Qapiqaras.”
And he nodded! He already knew. He just needed confirmation. “I guess now I know who signs my checks.”
Andre bursted with laughter. “I love this guy already!” He swigged his bottle.
Coraline gulped some wine and cleared her throat. “Tully, Andre used to masseuse at Tootsie’s just like you (“Yeeeeeap! Good times, good times,” confirmed Andre). Raven used to be our master nail designer (Raven curled her fingernails into a claw shape). Bianca used to switch places with Raven to fuck with the customers (“Did not!”) and maintained our inventory. And Marla also used to masseuse.”
“Yup!” I confirmed to Tully’s glance, “I was the ruby of the back room.”
Coraline drank another wine-full. Confluent redness migrated from her jugular to above her jowls.
“Easy there, ma’am,” whoa’d Andre.
“Omigod, Marla,” clicked Raven’s cigarette against the ashtray. Her dark eyes summoned mine. Tully’s eyes briefly prompted Bianca’s arresting smile. “Who did you used to see at the salon all the time? I can’t remember her name.”
“Shawna,” Coraline and I answered together. The sound of Shawna’s name thrilled my heart.
“Shawna…”
“Wantowski.”
“Oh, I remember her,” Andre assured us, much to our amusement.
“Shawna,” Coraline explained, “Would ask for Marla by name and abscond with her to the red room for an hour.”
I squirmed a little in my seat.
“She was beautiful,” gushed Bianca. She recognized Tully’s interest in the conversation. “You would have loved her. I was jealous that she’d only see Marla.”
“Was Shawna also a former employee?” Tully asked.
I felt responsible for this clarification. “No, no, Shawna didn’t even know about Tootsie’s until I started going there.”
“Has she ever gotten back to you?” Raven asked me.
I shook my head. “The last thing she told me was that her cell phone was about to die. That was over a year ago.”
“Right around the same time Harry Beecher called the cops,” attested Coraline.
Raven snickered.
“Somebody called the cops?” asked Tully.
“Yeah,” answered Coraline, “Harry Beecher used to haunt the parking lot from the privacy of his truck. One night, Raven was outside smoking when she noticed a camera flash from his truck. So, she threw open the door, smashed his camera on the pavement, and beat the living crap out of him.”
Tully guffawed.
“Oh, I’m totally serious. You ever seen a grown man cry? He had bloody scratches all over his face! So, he called the cops, and the cops arrested Raven for assault and destruction of property.”
“It was a nice camera,” shrugged Raven.
“Then! Then, you ASSES broke Raven out of county that same night, so now, to this day, they have outstanding warrants for all of you!”
The three delinquents giggled like schoolchildren.
“For the record, I wasn’t part of that,” I chimed. “I did end up quitting because you all had gone, and Shawna still hadn’t returned.”
“That woman was like a foot magnet,” switched Coraline. We tittered at the image. “We had more customers than ever as long as she sat opposite the front facade so you could see her from the street.” Tully laughed suddenly. “No, Tully, I’m serious. Tootsie’s hasn’t always been as dead as it had been before the attack.”
Andre’s laughter drained of mirth. “Dead? When did that happen?”
“Actually, around the same time Shawna stopped coming in.”
“What!?” cried Andre with alarm, “You mean this whole time!?”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t know!”
“No! I didn’t know!”
“It’s been this way ever since you all left!” She counted on her fingers. “We lost all our regulars, newbies won’t come back, the parlor rooms need repairs, the carpenters I talked to won’t return my calls, and now the goddamn BOR brothers turned my salon facade into a shooting gallery!”
“Well, word never reaches me unless someone opens their mouth!” He angrily chugged the rest of his beer (there wasn’t much left), swallowed, and tipsily set the bottle, which immediately rolled off the table with an airy thud. “Fuck it, I’m coming back to the salon. I love Tootsie’s too much! We’ve had Tootsie’s for too long! I’ll be in uniform, ready to work, first thing tomorrow morning, back parlor, far from the windows. Don’t even try to stop me.”
Coraline sighed. “Andy, no offense but you coming back won’t reverse the situation. We need customers, not hands. Problem is that the customers won’t come to a place where people had died.”
“I can get you customers,” ding’d Bianca, “We all can get people to walk in the door for whatever you guys need to sell.”
“No! No zombies! We can’t have zombies in the salon!”
“They’re not zombies!” she pleaded, “They’re thralls! There’s a big difference!”
Tully’s widened eyes darted from speaker to speaker.
“They’re stupid as shit!” Coraline snapped boorishly. “Have you seen how they behave? The other customers try to have a normal conversation with them, and they just stare -obsequiously - like goddamn mental patients!”
An idea dawned on me. “What if we reserve the salon?”
Coraline grimaced at my objection. Bianca nodded quickly. “Yeah, yeah!”
I elaborated: “If we can keep the public out for just one whole day, we can fill the whole parking lot with cars, get plenty of people in the windows, and make everyone think that you’re back in business.”  I thought Coraline’s indulgence was starting to catch up with her. She breathed deeply before responding. “I don’t want to be dependent on thralls for business. More importantly, the Brotherhood might notice what we’re up to.”
“Oh, if those motherfuckers come back,” vowed Andre, “I’ll rip their heads off and quaff their jugulars! Oh! I’ll tear their throats and mute their slogans! Oh, oh!!”
Raven nodded. “I second that. How many of them are there again?”
Our brains hummed and sputtered with math.
“Minus two as of last night,” I counted while looking at the ceiling, “They’re at least twenty strong. If they all attack us at once, we’d have a hell of a fight.”
“Cora,” Raven snuffed her cigarette. “They caught you guys with your pants down last time. Next time, they’d have to fight us all.”
Coraline made eyes with us all, especially on me. Her cheeks flushed with cortisol and alcohol, and her breathing slowed. “I don’t want anything else to happen to Tully. If anyone of those goddamn maniacs so much as scratch him, none of you will be welcome in my salon ever again.”
Coraline then haggardly set her cup and pertinaciously rested against the couch.
-
V

Tully flitted over his couch companion to confirm that she had fallen asleep. He then sucked a larger gulp-ful of wine.
“That’s some woman you got there,” said Andre.
Tully buzzed into his cup. “We’re not together or anything.”
“I know you’re not together, ya perverted bastard. I mean she’s looking out for you, keeping you safe.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Ever since I was a kid.”
He earned points for buzzing into the conversation and immediately flew towards the wine.
Andre scratched his head. “You guys think she meant it that she would kick us out of Tootsie’s over this?”
We of the Coven all paused on the thought.
“She’s said shit like that before,” remarked Raven. “She used to say shit like that all the time when we were working for her.”
“I think she means it this time,” I said. “Tully wasn’t under her roof in those days.”
“Nothing is gonna happen,” Raven declared with objection. “The Brotherhood is just a bunch of sanctimonious human idiots. If they attack us en masse, we’ll make them extinct.”
Andre looked at Tully. “You still think working at Tootsie’s is a great idea?”
Tully almost buzzed away from the question. “I still like it.”
I beamed. The twins laughed.
Andre pressed the issue. “You know how to use a gun?”
“Andy!” gasped Bianca.
“What? It’s a legitimate concern! If he’s working at a place that’s been targeted by the Brotherhood, it could end up being either him or them.”
“Shut up, Andy,” I flatly commanded, “Did you not hear what Cora just said? It’s not supposed to come to that. Tully is our priority.”
Andre belched loudly.
“Speaking of preparedness,” Raven interjected, “Are we gonna camp in at the salon before daybreak?” We of the Coven agreed. “Andre, can you take inventory on weapons?”
He squinted in confusion. “What? Now?”
“No, not now. Right now!” she said tersely.
“All right, all right,” he stood up cooly. “I broached the subject. It’s only fair that I do it myself.”
Yes! Begone with you! The twins and I all silently watched Andre as he exited. Bianca sprucely lifted her feet onto the table and sighed effusively. Tully’s eyes tensed up. Bianca expectantly eyed me. Her toenails were sticky like claret drops, or cherries on a dish of ice cream. I wondered briefly if Tully recognized similarities between her soles and those of Raven, his former inquisitor. Meanwhile, Raven ignited another smoke, and Tully vacillated between sips of vino and concupiscent glances. His heartbeat accelerated.
“So,” Bianca opened to me with a plip of parting lips, “how would you describe one of Tully’s massages?”
My smile reciprocated her glee. Tully’s face flushed with effulgent trepidation.
“Careful, delicate, concise,” my erudite grin broadened, “bashful, clever, and affable.”
“WELL!” Bianca scrunched her toes, “Tully, your client speaks highly of you! Care to demonstrate the cause of her praise?”
Suddenly, Tully winced with pain. “Certainly,” he said. I almost laughed. Raven did. Her stimulant fueled gaze always had parsed whoever played the submissive one.
He scooch’d forward to better reach his appointed task. His pupils dilated with arousal. Bianca folded her arms across her chest. Raven’s hands supported both her cigarette against the arm of her chair and her conspicuous interest. I stood up to avoid distracting either Bianca or Tully. A farinaceous moan affirmed my choice.
(C# D —C#— B- C#—A———C#—D—-C# B—C#—G#)
“A- long came a- spi—der who wait-ed for the bloat-fly,” I sang in a low register. Tully continued his massage at my left side, where only his peripheral vision would catch me. His arms bristled with goosebumps upon hearing my adaptation of his cadence.
Bianca also hummed the tune. She knew the notes because she heard me transposing it with my voice. Tully glowed with effulgent satisfaction.
What an adorable, simple creature he was. That foot in his hands occupied his entire world. His breathing suggested a considerable amount of self-restraint. I recognized much of myself in him. Although Coraline never would have admitted it, he truly belonged to us.
“(Don’t) strug-gle in vain, myyy dear. Remain with-in my em-brace.”
Perhaps, he felt the vibration of me sitting on the back of the couch where he sat. His scooch forward had provided ample room for me to stealthily sidle up. Coraline continued to sleep.
My feet were perfectly cold from the floor. I spread my legs behind Tully’s back and positioned my feet to within inches from touching his love handles. His transfixion upon Bianca’s feet blinded him from my trap. My smile stretched five feet wide.
Bianca’s confluent eyes agreed with mine. Her toes seized his fingers and pulled his arm towards her. I buried my toes into his sides. Raven lunged forward from her chair to capture his free arm. He immediately gasped and shook from the impetus.
Then, laughter reigned. Beautiful, high-pitched spasmodic laughter! It was like my own little form of retribution. He would rather have Bianca’s feet than MINE, wouldn’t he? I wore this costume just for him! Coraline slapped me in the face for that! Laugh you squishy, wormy bug!
“Sto-hah-hah-op! He he!” he laughed uncontrollably. “I-it’s so-ho-ho-ho co-hohohoho-ld!!”
Surprisingly, Coraline remained unperturbed by Tully’s convulsions. The latter planted his feet against the floor in a vain escape attempt. I held onto both the couch-head and my squirming morsel with little effort.
Bianca’s foot released Tully’s hand. “Raven, grab his other arm,” she told her twin. Raven obliged in time for Bianca to squeeze in front of Tully and between his arms. I raised my feet to his armpits. Bianca’s fingertips resumed the torment upon his tender wings.
Tully laughed so exhaustedly that we had to stop soon before we broke him. His wriggling became lax. His pulse also had peaked.
“Release on ten,” I resolved. “One…”
“Oh-ho-ho Go-ho-ho-ho-hod damni-hi-hi-it!” he breathlessly moaned.
“Two, three, four…”
“Ah-aha—-aha-a hah hah!”
“Five, six, seven…”
Bianca furiously trilled into his love-handles. Tully squeaked more desperately.
“Eight, niiiiiiiiiine… ten!”
We of the coven released him. I stepped down right before he fell back into his seat. His recuperation commenced immediately amid heavy breathing and collapsed posture. Bianca’s smile resumed her seat. Raven cracked her knuckles.
I lingered behind Tully. Warmth founded every sensation from my toes to my teeth. The residue of his heartbeat clicked energetically through my bones.
Then, nostalgia trickled down to the bottomless pit of my stomach! Coraline, how soundly you sleep! Tully glowed like a fleshy cage for his beating heart. Only Coraline’s last waking plea stopped me from devouring his life. His ruffled head of straw hung indolently against the couch-head before me.
My hands both perched around Tully’s head. I leaned in closer. He didn’t seem to notice my closeness. His chest heaved in and out repeatedly. Giggles rolled from his lips like the last drops of wine. The twins both watched Tully and I with great anticipation.
I gently rolled aside his right sleeve. He did not protest. Perhaps, his emotions had subdued his higher reasoning. Or his excitement had dulled his perception of lesser stimuli. I kissed him there twice. He laughed elatedly for a moment.
“Shhhh, shhhhhh,” I hushed. “I do this only because I must.”
Coraline, please forgive me.