Bound & Bound – the Curse and the Captives – - 32. Chapter 32: Molybdomancy

Chapter 32: Molybdomancy

Okay, time to face facts; I am scared. At least with Sil by my side I feel I don’t have to try and lie about it anymore.

Having left the castle in a hurry, we drove to our Bed and Breakfast, collected our things, and checked out. Yes, they were offended – we hadn't even stayed a single night there.

Anyway, we peeled out of town and found another place to stay that looked more like a European pension. This one did not cater to foreign tourists, but Silviu speaking the language got us in with no problems. The good thing about it was they offered three meals a day, if we wanted them, and it was holed up in the wooded outskirts of town. We got our key, pulled the car around back to hide it, and thanked our lucky stars that Sil had used his 'Hans Schnyder' persona to rent it. The lawyer was surely monitoring my every move with my credit card activity, and it was a relief to think I hadn't used it since Sighisoara. My dad must have given Sil that card specifically because Ronald had no access to the account – at least, I hope not.

Now Silviu and I are alone in our rather sterile but clean room, and dinner is sitting heavy on my heart. I pace the floor in front of the bed, and out of the corner of my eye see a moody Romani protector sitting with elbows on his knees watching me from the end of it.

My roving glances at him grow annoyed. "At least this place has a safe. That's good, but damn! I fear the lawyer has been tracking us this whole time – he's known our every move!"

"Well, not every – "

"I mean, think of it! How else?" I tap my forehead a few times, each blow growing more adamant. "Shit, shit, shit – something in here kept telling me not to take a picture of the letter with my phone, I just didn't know why."

"Yes, baby. Listen to your instincts. But, think of it this way. This is confirmation that he does not know the contents of the letter, or else he would not be so anxious to see it."

"So?" I get snarky, but do not slow my pace.

"So, that means we have the upper hand. He's probably been wondering if your father revealed his identity to you, and if he did, then maybe this whole time he's been cautious because he doesn't know if you are the one leading him on, maybe into a trap or something."

"You really think so?"

"Yes, Emeric, and the proof is that the vamp kids did not take your pendant. If they knew it was connected to your father, they would have ripped it off of you first thing."

I stop. "Whoa. Fuck. That could be." I start pacing again. "Fuck, you're smart. That food…I just don't…"

"Emeric – "

"Is your stomach okay?"

"Emeric!"

"What?" I stop moving.

His face is all tender compassion. "My aunt will help us. We'll go see her tomorrow. But Emeric, please. You are frightening me."

I glance down at my hostile stance; I have hands on my hips and I suddenly feel the deep-furrowed scowl on my face. When I look over to him again, he seems profoundly dejected. He lifts up his arms to me, and his fingers slowly ask me to come to him.

Damn. He's such a sweet man, and hot too.

I gradually glide to stand between his knees. His arms lock around my waist and draw my tummy to his head. His legs tighten around me.

This soft reassurance – this unspoken 'Things will be all right' – is better than any litany of words.

I feel my heart rate slow. I let my hands and lower arms slide down the outside of his tee-shirt and along his shoulders and back.

I rest my cheek on the top of his head. "I'm sorry – "

His "Shoosh" cuts me off. "No sorrys. You feel afraid, and so do I." He squeezes me harder with the beginnings of a rocking motion. "But, we will work this out."

I stand tall, feel his hands locking support for me about my lower back, and lean away from him so that I can see his baby blues.

"I love you, Silviu."

"Oh fuck, Emeric. How I love you too – I don’t think you even know." He appears to be on the verge of tears.

I grab his flushing cheeks in my hands and feel his first real smile of the day crack. "What," I tease in the manner of a little kid. "You love me so much you wanna marry me or something?"

He blinks. "Oh Fuck, Emeric. Don't tease me. You know I do."

I feel one of my patented smirks sneak across my lips as I rub his cheek. Then I slap it as softly as a cotton ball, and imitate his way of speaking: "Oh fuck, you know I do, is that your idea of a proposal?" I laugh.

Silviu however, does not laugh. He uses a palm on my sternum to gently push me back, and in the same motion, falls to his knees before me.

He holds my confused gaze and fumbles with one of the rings from his fingers. He speaks with tear-clogged emotion. "Emeric, my love. I will never be the man I want to be without you next to me to build a life with."

He latches onto my left hand, and singles out my ring finger. Then he positions the silver band he has just plucked from his own bodily warmth to hover lovingly over the tip of it. I glance at the ring and his fingers to see them trembling a bit. In the same follow-through glance, I shift my attention to his expectant eyes.

"Will you," he asks breathlessly. "Be my husband? Will you take me as your own?"

I could feel my lips purse in a slowly building fit of amazement. Nothing had ever felt so right in my whole life, so – even though this had started not too long ago – the impact was beyond that of one mere lifetime.

I slowly nod. "We were meant to be, Silviu. I will marry you, gladly. If you think I am worthy to have you as my man."

He bites his lower lip and looks at my finger; the ring slips on, and millimeter by millimeter, the friction he feels seems to raise both his smile and a new sparkle in his eye.

I make him stand, and we kiss.

It is the kind of kiss a parent and child share after the two have been separated and become lost. Yes, my studly Romani protector is now my studly Romani fiancé.

"Oh shit," I joke and push back a little.

"What..?" he chuckles.

"I just realized, I not only agreed to marry you, but your entire, crazy family!"

"That's right, you just did." He cracks up, and shuts up that wicked mirth with another smooch.

Sil grabs my hand and climbs on the bed. He tugs on me as he sits with legs straight out and his back against the wall. He lifts his right arm, and I snuggle in to rest my head and hands on his chest. I kick my leg over his and glance down to see our contrasting denim rub over one another – somehow that is like us: his material is deep, exotic and luxe, while mine is off-the-rack, ordinary and a bit care-worn. I move my lower limbs to embrace his more fully and love the little clacking sound our seams make rubbing over each other. My arm goes behind his lower back and I hug him tight, trying to latch onto this moment.

"Feel better?" Silviu asks.

I nod, and the truth is, I feel somewhat hopeful.

"You know, baby…" He begins to stroke my hair. "I want wedding bells as soon as possible."

"And you're not going to leave me at home while you chase guys?" I joke, hugging him tighter. My hand flattens on his chest, and then swipes slowly down his arm, just hovering above his skin as I raise goose bumps there. I finally interlace my fingers with his. His chunky silver band on my ring finger feels awesome as I use it to play with the one on his thumb.

"Baby," he croons tenderly. "When you and I stand to take our vows, I will mean it. You will be the only man I ever look at or touch again." He chuckles, adding, "No matter how cold you act towards me."

I use the forearm I have behind his back to push off a little; I hold his mercurial gaze. "You think I act cold? To you..?"

Sil apes some hurt feelings via a brief shrug and a pouting smirk like one his little brother might raise.

I extract my arm and hand from behind him and pull up my other hand from his. I place both of them squarely on his shoulders and kick my knee over his thighs so I can straddle his waist.

I lean in close; our lips almost brush as I repeat, "Am I ever cold to my baby..?"

"Sometimes, baby."

His mouth comes out to linger against mine.

I push back a moment. "Maybe it's just you are so hot, a little coolness from me balances us out."

I sense his fists reposition themselves at my lower back. He slowly raises them and expertly puts pressure on my back to make me lean towards his face with my own. He keeps going until we are locked in a tender kiss. As our lips part, and some steamy breaths caress our cheeks, I go deeper and feel him moan directly into my lungs.

We part again and his stroking grip slips around front to touch my thighs.

My beautiful Romani man looks as giddy as a schoolboy on the last day of classes. He tells me, "I can't wait for my sister Corina to have our kids for us."

"But no kids until the curse thing is 'unbound.'" But then I puzzle a moment. "You want me and your sister to – "

He cut me off. "NO!" Then he cocks his head and grumbles through his grin, "No – I'm thinking turkey baster. But, I want to be the one who makes you give up the 'donation,' so to speak."

His hands move up towards my waist, and there is no hiding my erection from his touch as I let the image of the scenario he's just described sink in. I mummer, "You mean a sort of, you plant your seed in me, and we plant mine in her?"

"Yes. That's exactly it, babe," he says and seems to take pleasure in rubbing my 'sore spot.'

"But Silviu, why?"

His hand stops its movement. He suddenly looks like he's about to break down. "Because, all kids should be conceived in an act of love, don't you agree..?"

Oh damn, does he want me to cry too?

"Okay, Silviu." I stroke the side of his ear. "I understand, and that's the way it should be." I have come to love the spicy-sweet smell of my man.

He wraps up the whole 'moment' with a sham display of bravado. "But if I hear you ever laid a finger on my sister – "

I burst out laughing. "Macho till the end. But the fact I'm sleeping with one crazy Romani is enough drama for a lifetime."

He reaches up and takes my hands off of his shoulders. He forces our fingers to intertwine and holds them up in the air. "And, I'm enough to last you a lifetime? You'll be happy with me, really?"

I shake his hands gently. "With what we've been through, I could die tomorrow and think I've lived enough. Especially if I have to do it to save you."

Silviu pulls me down into a hug by drawing his arms out and away. I have to release his hands and hold onto his upper body, our cheeks come to rest on one another.

His arms come up to squeeze me so tight, and rock me so tenderly, that I am not surprised to feel his tears on the side of my face.

"Don’t talk of dying, Emeric. Our life together has just begun."

"Yes, Silviu. I'm sorry. We'll beat this curse, and then we'll build our happily-ever-after."

He begins to sob.

"Don’t cry, Sil!" But I don’t say what I think, that I'm not worth the salt of his tears, that maybe no one is good enough for this man's tears.

My mind flits back to the image of the turkey baster in an attempt to find something that will make him smile again. I push myself back to the upright position and nestle my backside firmly over his crotch. I ply my hands against his pecs, nipples and chest over the top of his tee-shirt. His fingers lock behind his head as he stares frankly at my face.

I lick my lips and tell him, "Okay lover, future husband. We'll make love and place that in your sister's womb. Imagine that Thanksgiving! October will never be the same for me."

I use my thumbs to dry his tears.

He slips on an open smile. "You card. It’s the following October that I'll be thinking about. Our first Thanksgiving with our son or daughter. That will be the best Turkey Day ever…"

I kiss him gently. "I want to make your dreams come true, Silviu."

"Me too baby, for yours. And we will – just have some faith."

I nod slightly, then fall on his chest so I can turn that motion into a passionate flow of kisses for the man I love. He knows me too well already, and he knows faith and hope are the two things I lack the most. But I don’t lack them in him.

˚˚˚˚˚

The road is narrow, slippery, and glistens like lead beneath the rainy forest light.

I'm driving our rental car, and can feel the tires hydroplaning from time to time. The windshield wipers provide an intermittent moment of clarity, then draw down to let the glass be obscured again, drop by speckling drop.

The woods are right there. The margin to the left and right of this glassy pavement is broken by the occasional incursion of a sturdy tree trunk.

"Damn, Silviu! Could this aunt of yours live on a more treacherous road?"

He smirks in my direction, and his warm palm lands reassuringly on my thigh. "First of all, this is Transylvania! What did you expect, strip malls psychics? And secondly, this older woman is my mum's great-aunt, so I don’t know what that makes her to me. We all just call her Beebee Daiana."

"Bee-bee?"

"Yes, you sexy fiancé of mine. Beebee means aunt."

"Ahhhh." I grip the wheel tight. Suddenly the tires slide, and I have to fight the urge to slam on the brakes. I know that if I do that, we'll crash, so instead, my foot comes off the gas and – as we de-accelerate – I let the steering wheel glide into a neutral position to align with the back tires. The slide stops; I'm back in control.

My heart beats fast, my berthing is thready, but slowly I become aware of my man's hand massaging my leg.

I glance at him quickly. "This is rough. How much farther?"

"I don’t know. Daj said it will be a white house in a clearing with a red fence and gate."

I peer up at the sky through the windshield. "I'll keep going, but we better be extra cautious going home. It looks like the weather is only getting worse."

Just at the moment, lightening cracks. Instantaneously, the gut-jolting rumble of thunder shoves the car to the side, like it's the plaything of a mini earthquake.

"Yes, Emeric. Do please drive safe. We're cursed enough."

"Ha-ha, smart ass."

"Love you."

"Humph."

˚˚˚˚˚

My future in-law, great, great-aunt twice removed Daiana is a scary old bag.

The white house turned out to be a white tumbledown shack, inside of which we are now sitting around an open hearth.

While Silviu and she exchange family banter and updates in Romanian, it gives me a chance to look her over.

She is not exactly the old Hollywood image of a 'Gypsy Fortuneteller,' but close. Short, stooped, and doddering, her shock of grey-white hair is combed straight back and cut right across where it meets her shoulders. The skin of her face is deeply furrowed with wrinkles, and although gaunt about the cheeks and withdrawn mouth, it hangs in baggy folds on her forehead and jowls.

A small fire of wooden charcoal sputters where we sit on the floor around the focus, and her hands are busily attending to the sooty smoulder. An iron basin of water gently steams to the side. Still talking to Silviu, she offers me a toothless grin, and I have to turn away. Her clothes are sombre and patched: a black skirt, a white chemise with long sleeves, and a dark-coloured vest or doublet of sorts swaddled by a long shawl of indeterminate texture and hue.

Her hand comes out to touch mine. It is just as wrinkled as her brow, and much tougher-looking, for overall it seems swollen. The knuckles are distended, perhaps from rheumatism, and the fingertips and nails smudged and ringed with blue-black grime.

"You, young man," she said with a heavy accent, but in perfect English. "Are in love, aren’t you?"

I involuntarily swallow and glance at Silviu.

"Yes, my boy – you think I am some mind reader!" She begins to cackle, and much to my chagrin, Sil joins her. Beebee's hand grips onto my flesh a bit harder, and the edges of her grubby nails threaten to dig into me with good humour. "No, no, my boy! I did not read your mind, but Silviu just told me you two are engaged."

"Oh…" I stammer. "Yes, as of last night."

"It's wonderful. Blessings be upon both of you and your marriage." Her tone is warm and sincere. "But, you have come for another matter, haven’t you?" Aunt Daiana removes her hand.

Silviu speaks up. "I have told her about the curse too. She knows."

"Yes," I inform her. "We are seeking the next step in our journey to kill it. Can you help?"

"Yes, my boy. I can try."

She rises with some effort, and Sil springs to his feet to assist. He tugs at her under the arms and shawl.

Once she's standing, Silviu sits again, and we both watch her totter her way over to a wall shelf. On it are some small trays and a highly polished, but minute silver saucepot. It stands out in the entire smoke-stained house as unique. She comes back to us: in one had is a tray, and with the other she grips the pot that I can now see has a long handle.

Sil takes the objects as Beebee Daiana resettles herself by the hearth. She places the pot on a trivet over the glowing coals, and then holds the tray out to me.

"Choose one," she says with mystical gravity.

Is this some sort of joke? My gaze questions Sil, who furrows his brows and nods at the objects on the tray.

They are toys. Miniature everyday household fittings, but all cast in the same lead-like metal. There is a candlestick, a mantel clock, a woman's old-fashioned boot, a man's top hat, a chair, a bed and a cradle.

"Choose one," she repeats.

My fingertips linger over the bed. I mumble, "How do I know which one is best?"

As I continue to stare at them, glancing over each one in turn, and then starting over again, Sil's round tones find me in my stupor. "Pick the one that attracts you the most, at this moment in time."

I latch onto the cradle.

Aunt Daiana draws the tray away and hands it to Silviu.

She takes the leaden baby crib and drops it with a clink into the bottom of the now searingly hot silver pot.

I slowly peer over the rim. The metal toy gradually dissolves into a pool of molten metal. It resembles a puddle of mercury.

"This, my boy," she says, reaching for the saucepot. "Is molybdomancy, or the art of divination through melted lead."

Dramatically, she raises the pot high and pours a thin line of the liquid metal onto the surface of the water in the basin.

Small sputters produce tiny tuffs of smoky vapour, which gradually lift to reveal tufa-like chunks floating on top of the water. These congeal and bump into one another to form rough little continents on a primordial sea. Suddenly, even I can see the little molten form is spiking off limbs from its more or less rounded core.

The seer, old woman, and great-aunt, preens into the basin and starts to intone words with an otherworldly intensity. "Your fate awaits you in a clearing in the woods, a deep wooded track with a circular clearing."

Right before my eyes, the molten mass in the water takes on the hideous shape of an arachnid spinning a paralyzing web around a hapless fly.

I rise to a standing position, staggering back until my back hits the wall.

The old woman looks amazed that I have seen it as clearly as she has, but she says it out loud anyway. "Doomed. It is all doomed: your chance to kill the curse, your life, your life together…"

I clench my hands over my ears and begin to rock in panic. In another moment, I feel Sil's strong arms grapple with me.

"Silviu…" is all I can manage to say before he shooshes me.

˚˚˚˚˚

The rain pelts our car in relentless sheets; the windshield wipers are on full bore. Silviu is behind the wheel because he knows intrinsically that I am in no condition to drive.

Lightning cracks.

He divides his attention between the road and me.

Boom!

"Emeric, don’t think that – "

I cut him off. "That this 'seeing' stuff is not real! Is that what you're about to say?"

"I mean…" He grips the wheel tighter as the car momentarily slips sideways. "That nothing is ever set in stone. The knowledge of a thing is enough to affect the outcome."

"Silviu, please – "

His tone is commanding. "Stop it. Just listen to me, right now."

I sigh and look out the passenger window. I have a sinking notion that someone is watching us, plotting something.

"Look, baby," he tells me in a more regulated manner. "Most curses are bullshit – not this one, I know – but most of them are only effective through messing with the victim's head."

Trees slip past us on the side of the road. Licks of lightening suddenly make some branches burn white-hot, and I fight down the impression that they are reaching towards me, that they want to grab the car and drag me kicking and screaming into the woods.

"Emeric?"

Crackle; Boom!

"Yeah, yeah." I turn to him, feeling peeved. "I'm listening."

As he continues, my sight re-drifts onto the road's margin, and I again find myself thinking the foliage looks alive and menacing.

"Curses, Emeric, only work if the victim considers his case is hopeless. That way, society, his family, and eventually even the person himself shuns his own company. This isolation and withdraw into the self does all the work of the so-called curse by making the victim do away with himself. Do you get it?"

Lightening burns his face brighter than the sun for a moment as I look to his face. "But this thing, Silviu, is real."

Boom!

"I know…baby…but…what I'm saying…"

Silviu's voice grows fainter and fainter. I watch his attention dart in slow motion from the road in front to the road in back via the rearview mirror.

All of a sudden, it seems like the lighting is behind us too. Shadows in the winding twists of the road ahead flicker a searing whiteness in the trees and shrubs.

I twist within the confines of my seatbelt and glance out the back window.

Racing up behind us are a pair of headlights.

I feel the car's engine rev below my feet; Sil must have stepped on the gas.

We speed up, and Silviu grips the wheel tighter.

I look again. The lights behind us are less than a car-length behind us now. I shield my eyes. The pursuer's high beams flash on and off.

"What the fuck?!" I ask Sil.

His only response is to accelerate, and I feel the tires slip in protest on the slick pavement.

"I don’t know, Emeric. But it ain't good."

I reach around the front of my man, grab for the end of his undone shoulder strap, and click his seatbelt in place.

Taking advantage of a curve to look back, I can see that what's following us is a black truck. The windows are all tinted, and even the lightning licks cannot shed any light on this vehicle's dark intentions.

I feel scared, and that sensation rises all over my skin like a chill that will not go away. Silviu is a good driver, but one wrong bit of timing, one tap of the brakes too hard, and, and…

The truck's engine roars as we come into a straight stretch of road. Its sound advances to us through the pelting rain, the whir of our own motor, and the frictive drone of our tires over the pavement.

I look back just in time to see the truck's lights and bumper accelerating into us.

Pow!

Our car jolts to the left. Sil steps on the gas, and keeps us straight as we enter a tight curve.

Pow!

The truck slams into us again.

Our car goes careening just as Silviu slams on the brakes.

In an agonizing moment of white-knuckle fear, I glance to my fiancé as a tree trunk comes slamming into the drivers-side door.

˚˚˚˚˚

Blackness, and then fear.

Groggily, I pull my mind up a ladder to consciousness; my only concern is for Silviu.

I feel something silky and sweaty at my fingertips. I lift them slightly and open my eyes. I am holding a white bag of sorts. 'Airbag' pops into my brain.

The interior light of the car is on; a door must be open. I glance to my right and see my entire door is missing.

'Sil…' I think.

My head feels so heavy, it has to fall back onto the headrest. I rotate to the left and perceive out of the corner of my bleary eye that not only is the interior light on, but there is a blinding light rolling up behind our car.

I hear parking brakes engage, doors open, and feet walking over the sloshy roadway.

My consciousness begins to fade, a rising sound slowly replaces thoughts, but I focus for a second.

Silviu is slumped in his seat, his upper body loose and draped over his shoulder belt. Deflated airbags dangle from the steering wheel and side panel of his door.

I try to form a word. "Silviu…" but, as my hand attempts to reach up, I feel myself get lost. The ringing in my ears is persistent and heavy – it makes me want to close my eyes.

As my head lolls against the headrest facing away from Sil, two dark shadows approach my side of the car.

I close my eyes; the acute pain and sadness I feel fade away into a murky pool of formless dread.