The Fire God

Chapter Twenty-One

After the incident, Tiffany invited me to the Altai Mountains weekly. "Blow off steam."
So I did. It helped.
Tiffany had lost weight since we'd started sparring. Her legs were becoming muscular. Tiffany had a pleasing amount of flesh at her waist and chest. She was an odd sort of daughter to me and I daydreamed about the husband she'd find. Syllie too approved of her appearance and had cut his Coke habit to three cans a day. Strictly when he was gaming only.
"Need my caffeine to keep me sharp," he'd say, tapping the controller so the onscreen gun would fire.
Tiffany sat in her oversized jeans with her belt more like a sash tied around her waist. Syllie would have bought her a pair that fit, but she insisted on the holey jeans that were falling apart.
I immersed myself in the pool outside my home. I could both completely flame myself and not be seen as a human torch simultaneously. The fish swam away from the boiling bubbles. I looked like a man swimming in a steaming pond.
"Syllie and I did it," she said.
Her voice was low, but I was meant to hear it and I crossed the water to her. Dripping water all around me, I sank into a spot next to her. I copied her position, stared forward, chin on my knees, hugged my legs to me. A hint of blood came off of her, which I had assumed had been her menstruation.
"If you love him," I said, picturing the flabby teen with red mounds all over his face, "there's no shame in that."
"I'm not sure if I do."
I raised my brow. All of my daughters had married for love. It was something I personally felt strongly about.
But, "In my time, marriage had nothing to do with love. Oh, the Babylonians had a love clause in one of the marriage laws and love certainly happened, but marriage was a business contract. My father had four wives, my mother the last of them. I'm sure my father didn't love any of them. My mother never expressed any emotion similar to that in my presence."
"It's not as bad as all that," she said. She was working the mud with her toe. "I do like him. He's nice to me. He's given me clothes, a home, a purpose. I owe him everything."
She went silent, fixed her dark eyes on the green fronds of a fern Mu had given to me. Not native to the area, but it did well in my little oasis.
I drew Tiffany's attention back to me. "You don't owe him your life."
She was picking at her cuticles. "It'll hurt his feelings."
"I thought you devoid of all emotions similar to pity."
"Oh har-har," she said.
*****
Begrudgingly, I had to admit that Clarissa's plan to teach me the days of the week was working. She had been eager to forgive the burns and, with her forgiveness, the others followed suit. I had learned Monday the fastest, since it included Clarissa's favorite movies, As Good As It Gets, Return to Me, Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind, but also period movies, multiple versions of Pride and Prejudice, Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights. She would stream movies she thought I'd like too, though I was not a stranger to film. I'd seen many vampire and superhero flicks. She put on movies like Gladiator and documentaries on Pompeii and asked me to compare them to the world I lived in. Clarissa was disappointed by my lack of enthusiasm, how I studied the films instead of appreciating the story and the images.
Tuesdays, for our milkshakes. To go to our diner and eat lunch together, pie, a full meal, have endless cups of whole purified bovine milk. Even processed, milk was a delight to me. She talked of the classes she was taking and the books she was reading. She was eager to tell me of working at the library, of loading files onto the computer and helping patrons research projects.
To walk together on a Saturday afternoon. She touched me thoughtlessly, easily, casually, and I had learned to control the vibration that went through me. I hadn't seen Asperia in months, but I often watched for those who might be her minions. It was more likely that Asperia was using the unicorn horn to spy on us. Clarissa didn't know how precarious her relationship with me was, though I'd explained a myriad number of times in the most graphic terms I could.
Clarissa would cook for me on Fridays. And I for her. She would sometimes invite Dirk and Aditi over to eat with us and we four would laugh and joke together, but always the levity would be interrupted by some insult. Dirk would kiss Aditi or touch her as if she belonged to him. Aditi didn't mind it at all. In fact, they would often speak Khalkha to each other. Which I would remind her was rude.
"Papa," Aditi would whine.
"I understand you perfectly, but Clarissa does not. Please, English." Besides, she needed the practice.
Clarissa would tell me to have patience and I would remind her that there was no such god in the Roman pantheon.
Clarissa took my hands. "It's like when you and Asperia would speak the mother tongue. Khalkha is their love language."
Which did nothing to appease me.
When I came in after an evening with Clarissa, Aditi was at the door of Syllie's mansion waiting for me. My hair bristled and I swept Aditi into my arms.
"What's wrong?"
She slipped away from me, led me up to her room. When she sat on her bed, I chose a position next to her.
"Papa, I want you to like Dirk."
I had no wish to fight with my daughter.
"He's a nice man and he's been very kind to me. He tries to be nice to you."
"Yes," I said, though I was suspicious of his motives.
Aditi twisted her lips and crooked her head. One leg was folded under her body. "We did it."
I tightened. I didn't need details. Most of my daughters had this discussion with me when they had chosen to marry a man. Only one daughter had never married. The rest had married between the ages of thirteen and sixteen. As Aditi had reached her second decade, I should have expected this conversation sooner. But I didn't like the words. It wasn't as if all my daughters had been virgins in their wedding beds, but I was galled.
"Papa—"
"Did he hurt you?"
"No," she said. "I wanted to, Papa. I—he asked me to live in his apartment with him."
"He hasn't suggested marriage?" I said, swallowing. The red had to clear from my eyes. I couldn't lose my fire in Syllie's house. Tiffany had done so much to help bring my fever down.
"Papa, we—it's been a while since the first time we did it together. The first time—"
I was up, pacing. "I don't want to hear about it."
"Papa, I'd like to live with him."
I put my hands to my temples and rubbed. A pale, bloodless creature. My teeth were locked, pressure exerted itself in my gums. I could have ground my teeth to dust. Latka had been tainted, raped, when she was thirteen, so she had a harder time finding a suitable husband, but even he had been less of a disappointment.
"Papa, dyad sensi meram, Dirk and I."
I put my hands over my face.
She slid her fingers over my back, massaged my shoulders. "You have been respectful to him, but everyone knows you don't like him. He's Arcadian, Papa. He was given the same training as you—"
I burst into flame. "He has not been given the same training as me. He has not been given the same education. He can't even light that sword. He swings it about like a toy. He doesn't understand Tiffany's joke when she calls him, 'Toga Boy.' He always hisses, 'It's a tunic.' I can't tolerate idiocy."
"Papa," she whined.
I quelled the flames. My clothes were smoky and singed, but not wholly damaged. "If he makes you happy, so be it," I said and left the room.
I had just come from Clarissa's and she was in need of sleep. I had distant memories of fatigue. I told myself to walk, not to veer toward Clarissa's tiny insulae, but I needed to go to her. She was prompt answering the door.
I sobbed into her. As I used to do with Aditi. I don't know what language I spoke. I meant it to be English, but I lose track. Clarissa pet my head, touched the burned edges of my shirt. I think she was delighting in the fact that I was crying.
"I shouldn't be so upset," I screamed and paced across the room. The tears dried up. I wasn't mad at Aditi. I was enraged by the pretender claiming to be the Phoenix. He had no right to the title or my daughter.
"Try to like him," Clarissa said. She was in a robe. "Dirky's a nice guy. He's out of touch with, well, everything, but that's good for Aditi. They've both been sheltered. They're both orphans who know almost nothing of their real parents."
"I don't like that she's allowed him to be with her in carnal ways."
Clarissa's mouth split open and her lips twisted into a wad of pale skin. Her teeth were disastrously white and made the horror of her face that much worse. So Aditi had confided in her before me. So be it.
"Mri, don't go."
"You approve of this."
"Yeah. She loves him, he loves her. Yeah, they're consenting adults. They're both twenty-one. Or at least, that's our best guess, since you don't remember. She's a consenting adult."
I needed a field or a forest, somewhere I could go and let the beast within me rage. I wanted to flame my entire body. Syllie washed my clothes excessively. I didn't trust that they would withstand a second fire.
Clarissa came to me, leaned her head on my shoulder. "Please. I wish you weren't so angry."
I took the knob in my hand, jolted her that I had walked away from her embrace.
"Don't," she cried.
"You don't understand."
The sob took over the hall. I shut the door to quell the echo. I turned to her for no reason other than to silence her.
"Clarissa."
Tears had mutated her face. At times, she was the fairytale angel, but she was the wailing banshee before me. She slurped her tears, hiccuped on her cries.
"You are my best friend," she managed through the mucus.
Not what I expected.
Her broken eyes focused on me through wet lashes. "Dyad sensi meram, Mricul." She choked on the words and my skin crawled. "I didn't mean for it to happen. I mean, after you burned me, my brother would crucify me. I thought, you know, if we were friends, it'd go away. I can't stand it when you leave." Mucous webbed her mouth. "If we broke up, I would die. I needed—I need you. I really meant to be your friend, to understand you. I didn't want—I love you with all my heart."
I opened my arms to her, let her sob on my chest. Her energy was washing over me, sending the familiar sparks to my toes and fingertips. She reminded me of Lavinia. Clarissa was bright, pale, prettier in a way, but the echo, that she needed me.
"I'm stuck, Mri. I can't—I can't stop thinking about it. I dream about you. I spend hours walking alone and thinking of what our future would be and what it'd be like to be with you and I can't stop it. I sit with you on the couch and I hear your laugh when we watch a movie and—the happiness goes to my heart, then it cuts and I can't fathom losing you, being without you. I languish when I realize that my love for you is unrequited."
Unrequited.
"Dyad sensi—" I put my fingers over her mouth, but she insisted. "Dyad sensi meram."
The light shifted outside, got darker. My heart couldn't pulse or beat. No adrenaline. Coldness enveloped me. Even with the tingling, I was dead. I knew how to be a father, but in truth, I'd never been a good lover, partner, husband. As much as I had wanted those things once, I had learned I was a better person without them.
She was snuffling up the tears. "What's the exact meaning?" she said.
The question drew me out of myself, forced me to orient my mind. "Two are unified."
"It's not even constructed like I love you."
"No."
She swallowed, her face gray. She stepped forward, took my hands. "I'd like to learn it, your native tongue."
She had no gift for language. I wasn't optimistic about her success.
I bowed my head, closed my eyes. Clarissa was my friend, no matter what lies I told myself. I should have prayed to Minerva, but I chose Venus. Please, Great Goddess of Love.
She broke from me. "You should go," she said, her voice flat, as cold as mine.
"You have a bedroom?" I said.
"I want you to want this."
"That won't happen," I said. Again, her light dimmed and the rose in her cheek dulled. It was my turn to touch her, to put my fingers to that tender skin just below her eyes. "It's my greatest wish to never see tears in your eyes. You want a romantic relationship. I want our friendship to continue without this stain." My hand slipped to her cheek, cradled it. "I'll never burn romantically the way you dream, but I can love you deeply and give to you as a man should."
Her golden lashes batted and the rose was coming back. She gave one more nod before leading me down the short hallway to her room. The robe was lavender terrycloth. She unfolded the knot, hung it on the hook on the door. Her back was to me and her breaths were long and deep, but her heart was pattering. I stepped forward, placed a hand on her shoulder.
"I can't believe I'm nervous," she whispered. She faced me, her arms guarding her chest. She was in a cotton shirt and pants. I pulled the shirt over her head, her breasts bare for me. Her breaths got shorter, shallower. I leaned down, kissed her lips, massaged her breast in my hand.
She pulled back, took off my shirt. Fair enough.
"Oh god," she gasped and stared at my muscles. "You're a god."
That made me chuckle. I had not disclosed my Mongolian monicker.
Then her fingers danced over my chest, lingered on the hash marks. She had thoughts, but she didn't share them. Her gaze fixed on the indiscriminate scars.
I pulled away the cotton trousers she was sleeping in. No undergarments. Properly, I swept her up into my arms, placed her in her bed, then removed my own trousers. The dragon blade and unicorn horn clanked on the night table and distracted Clarissa, but I wouldn't have that. I stretched out on top of her.
She gave her lips over to me and I hid the wince when she placed her palm over my penis. She worked her hand in a motion that was satisfying and helped me reach erection sooner. I returned the favor by tickling her genitalia. She was fully open to me and when her breaths were deep and her head lolling under my caresses, I slid myself into her. Little spasms went through my body, having full contact with her life that. Each inhale was long, matched the rhythm of my strokes. I pressed my lips to her cheek, lips, forehead.
"Dyad sensi meram," she moaned.
"Yes," I whispered.
She raked her nails over my back. Kept pushing, listening to her gasps. Time mattered little. The motion was good for me, though I bored of it. I still had sensations in my erection, of being inside her body, but it wasn't the same. Even with this feral energy coursing through me, I was numb. I brushed her hair back from her forehead, her clear, unblemished skin. After a time, Clarissa opened her eyes. The room was fully lit. We neither of us bothered with switches.
She was studying me, my face, my eyes. I liked it. She was glowing, truly brighter than she ever had before. Her energy, that little pulse of light in her heart, was calling to me, reaching out, whispering a scream to bind with me.
"You're calescent," she murmured.
Clarissa and her love of strange words. I held the snicker back.
"Not stifling though."
"Good," I said. Heat was a matter of taste. Clarissa was delicate. Her preferences wandered to a mild climate.
She ran her feet up my thighs, teased my shoulders with her fingers.
"How long can you do this?" Her aspirations were controlled, momentary coos and moans.
"As long as you want me to."
"Forever," she groaned.
"I think you'll tolerate a slightly shorter time."
She cackled at me. Then back to the rhythm. The touching, the gaze. She pulled herself up to me, kissed me as our bodies were joined.
It was sometime when her hips started to buck against me. My smile widened. Then her nails clawed into my neck.
"Good?"
"Oh god, yes!" she shrieked.
I tapped again, varied the motion. She howled again. Her mouth locked onto me. Her pelvis pushed into mine. Her screams filled the tiny room, undoubtedly woke more than one neighbor. As she had reached her peak, I forced mine, spilled my useless ejaculate into her body.
I rolled onto my back.
Clarissa lay still a moment, then she said, "I enjoyed that."
"I'm glad."
"But you didn't?"
"I told you before. I don't desire sex."
Her glow dimmed. She slipped her hand between her legs, protected her vaginal area.
"Did I hurt you?"
She jolted up. "No! No." She noticed her actions, pulled her hands into her lap.
I moved to the edge of the bed, gathered up my clothes, singes on the collar and cuffs.
"You're leaving so soon?"
"You need your rest," I said. I drew the pants over my legs, observed each burn. I'd have to destroy these clothes if I wanted to avoid questions. "I took too long. I'm sorry. You were enjoying it, so I indulged."
"I'm glad you indulged. I would have stayed joined to you all night," she swooned, forced me to kiss her.
"That would have been no good." The tunic I pulled over my head. "Sleep, rest, Clarissa. You have work tomorrow. And class."
"I'll skip it," she said, clasping my hand.
"I don't want that."
Tears started again and I let her cling to me. "I don't want you to go. I—I'm so afraid of losing you."
I kissed her again. "I'll be at Syllie's mansion. You'll have class and work, then you'll come to see me. I'll be there."
Niagara Falls gushed from her eyes. "Dyad sensi meram, Mri."
I took her lips, melded with her, leaned her back into her pillow. When she was stretched out, I said, "Sleep, Clarissa. Dream. You'll see me tomorrow."