Interlude 2
Kyle blinked in the waning light, slowly starting to come back to himself. The room reappeared in his sight and he stared the finished painting before him. Well, almost finished. There were a few touches he would want to put on the background, but the lady in the foreground was finished. Oh, it was her. He lost himself in the deep blue depths of her eyes as though she herself were standing in front of him. Those eyes, with their fathomless depths, always just a little bit sad. Why was there always that sorrow there? It showed in her voice as well, the faint stain of pain borne of too much knowledge. She knew something, had seen something that would always haunt her. Kyle reached towards her, fingers stopping an inch away from the wet canvas. The kissable curve of her lips, the silken white skin of her shoulder. . . again he was drawn back to those eyes. He'd make her forget that sadness, if only she'd let him. He'd hold her in his arms, build her a world of safety, a kingdom where the two of them could live away from the rest of the world.
The tape had long since played out. Kyle crossed over to the stereo and hit the rewind button. He'd been overjoyed when Charon's Boat had released their demo for public consumption. It was a great tape, with some of his favorite songs on it, "Shards," "Tristan," "Pit" and a whole bunch of others. Now he could have Kayleigh's voice whenever he wanted. He needed her, during those torturous 3:00 AMs where he was convinced that he would never amount to anything, would always be yet another undiscovered artist sweating out the rent for a tiny little roach motel of a studio apartment, he'd finally die amid his paintings, another New York tragedy. When those late night voices began, he'd put on the tape and there she'd be, waiting for him and woven through even the most pain-filled lyrics was a thread of hope. "Wait," she seemed to say, "I believe in you and it will get better. These arms are here to hold you." He held her to that promise.
Kyle's face darkened, remembering that night at the Limelight. She couldn't have meant it, brushing him off for that . . . creature she was supposedly dating. A woman of her sensitivity couldn't possibly stay interested in a man like that for long. Someday . . . but Marty was always in the way, now. Standing there after a set with his arm around Kayleigh's waist, grinning with possessive pride. Kyle's hand curled into a fist unconsciously. How many times had he wanted to take her hand, to lead her away to where she belonged, watching the smug smile vanish from Marty's face . . . Kyle's muscles un-tensed and a soft smile lit his features. Someday . . .
Kyle's attention went back to his painting as he admired his work. Oh, he had captured her spirit on canvas, the wistful little half-smile she often wore, the mix of pain and serenity and mischief in those eyes . . . He would have to have a good print made of this to send to her, because he could not part with original, even for Kayleigh. He would hang this by his window where the light would touch it softly. Yes, right across from his bed, so that her face would be the first thing he woke to and the last thing he saw before sleeping. Someday, their time would come and she would be all to him that she was meant to be : lover, Goddess, embodiment of his art all rolled into one.
Rhiannon rose from the shadows of Kyle's apartment, still invisible and insubstantial. She walked towards the window and then straight through it, emerging in her own realm on the other side. The young man's obsession was building nicely, fed by a touch of magic here and there. Kyle had no natural resistance to magic whatsoever, so the work was ridiculously easy. Much easier than it would be to tamper with Kayleigh directly. Even unfocused, Kayleigh's magic was potent and Rhiannon knew from her initial surveillance that Kayleigh was under shield and watch by their mother, Lillith. Rhiannon shivered faintly, walking towards her palace. She did not have hubris enough to suppose that she was a match for the woman who sired her. Their faces might be almost identical, but Lillith's years of raining, first with the Daemons, then on earth, had given her an edge that Rhiannon knew she could never match in a direct confrontation. And that was before the matter of Lillith's allies was even considered.
Rhiannon reached her castle and walked straight through the wall without bothering to open a door. Here in her domain, there was no reason to bother hiding her magic. Rhiannon felt a shiver of magical energies on her skin and then the permanent gate in her audience chamber opened. She transported herself directly there and curtseyed prettily to her father.
"Rise, dear. I'm only coming for a progress report." Kharkryn smiled fondly at his favorite child.
Rhiannon smiled sweetly. "I have begun, father, to affect the world around Kayleigh."
"Is your half-sister aware of your interference?" Kharkryn asked, watching her closely.
"No, father." Rhiannon reassured him. "She sensed my work faintly the night I started the events going, but she did now know who it was or what was being done. She is powerful, but mostly ignoring her abilities. Since then I have been careful never to work magic directly in her presence."
"Excellent." Kharkryn nodded his great head and flapped his silvered wings approvingly. "You may resemble your mother, but there is nothing of the bitch in you."
"Thank you, father." Rhiannon kept her tones dulcet and eyelashes swept modestly down over her glittering eyes for a moment.
"I will take my leave, then." Kharkryn stepped close and kissed his daughter's brow with cold lips. "Continue at the pace you feel best for this. If you run into any trouble, contact me at once."
"Yes, father." Rhiannon smiled and waved as the tall, handsome Daemon man stepped through the gate and vanished. The gate flared brightly with his leavetaking, and then died down, light fading out in the crystalline structure. Rhiannon paced down the hall towards her bedchamber, thinking hard. She stopped on the way to signal a servant. "Please serve dinner in my parlor in one hour. I will bathe and retire after that."
The construct bowed and drifted away towards the kitchens. Rhiannon continued on to her suite of personal rooms and seated herself on the couch in the outer sitting room. She could rest now, there was nothing pressing to do for a few days.