supernatural.
Fairies, being of the world, do not have an afterlife.
The price is paid—we may achieve the true balance of our
natures only by remaining alive until the end of all time, when
Creation shall be undone. That is Our curse for being lax and
allowing the chief Rebel to slip unnoticed into Eden. That is
the curse you now share, a fair exchange for shedding your
mortality. But a cleansing is needed to make you truly of faerie
and allow your full supemature to come out. To do that, you
must surrender to me."
Marge understood now the logic of it all, understood the
nature of the fairies and the soul as few had understood before
her, yet she could not bring herself to yield. Most of her wanted
Page 29
Chalker, Jack L - Demons of the Dancing Gods
what was offered, but there was still that comer of her that
was afraid, that feared tampering with her mind as this world
had tampered with her body.
"Or, to put it another way," the goddess of the volcano
added, "if you don't yield to me, you'll swim around in this
hot muck, frying your little buns off for all eternity." For
emphasis, the pain began, and slowly increased.
A Kauri goddess might be somewhat intellectual, but she
was the mold of the race and not much more patient than her
children. The vision, the sensation, of the classical Hell of
Marge's Christian upbringing was a really persuasive argument.
As the pain continued to rise, she could stand it no longer.
"All right! Take me!" her mind screamed.
The pain ceased, and the entity, whatever it was, assumed
complete control. Marge was aware and fully conscious, yet
not in control of even her own thoughts. Her memory was
triggered and read out in reverse order, every moment of her
past flowing from her and into the creature. Her mind was
incapable of digesting the minutiae that were stored in her own
brain, and she tended to seize upon and partially relive only
brief scenes of major events.
She was outside the volcano. She was walking through the
forest. She was leaving Joe. She was at the entry station, now
back at Terindell, then in the Glen Dinig. In fits and starts aad
in a sort of backward review, she relived the great battle, the
Land of the Djinn, the fight for the Lamp, and the battle at the
pass. Backward, ever backward.
She crossed the Sea of Dreams once more and found herself
totally shorn of hope, direction, or self-interest, walking along
a lonely west Texas road.
His face was a furious red with anger, hatred, and frustration,
and he was beating her repeatedly, all the while shouting,
"What the hell good are you? Can't even make a damned kid
in this Godforsaken hellhole!"
"I, Marge, take thee, Roger..."
"I'm sorry, but less kids means less teachers and lower
budgets. You know how it is. Now if you'd been in math or
science..."
She stood on the steps outside the administration building,
still in cap and gown, holding the diploma up to the bright,
blue Texas sky. "See, Momma? I did it!"
"Mommy! Guess what! Tommy Woodard asked me to the
promt Tommy Woodard!"
It was blood! She was bleeding from there\ Oh, God!
"Mommy!"
"There, there! It's just a skinned knee. Mommy'II put a little
stuff on it and lass it and make it all better ..."
She didn't like playing hide-and-seek when there were boys
playing. They always cheated or ganged up on the girls.
"Eight... nine... ten! Ready or not, here I come!" She could
hear the squeals of laughter and see just a comer of somebody's
Page 30
Chalker, Jack L - Demons of the Dancing Gods
foot behind the bush. She ran for the hider, who, suddenly
knowing she'd been spotted, broke from her hiding place and
started heading for the tree base. Marge felt a thrill and whirled,
trying to beat Mary Frances to the...
Sufficient, a voice said from somewhere. Freeze.
Quickly, methodically, she began to come back toward the
present. All of the events were there, all the traumas, all the
heartbreak, but it wasn't quite
Fairies, being of the world, do not have an afterlife.
The price is paid—we may achieve the true balance of our
natures only by remaining alive until the end of all time, when
Creation shall be undone. That is Our curse for being lax and
allowing the chief Rebel to slip unnoticed into Eden. That is
the curse you now share, a fair exchange for shedding your
mortality. But a cleansing is needed to make you truly of faerie
and allow your full supemature to come out. To do that, you
must surrender to me."
Marge understood now the logic of it all, understood the
nature of the fairies and the soul as few had understood before
her, yet she could not bring herself to yield. Most of her wanted
Page 29
Chalker, Jack L - Demons of the Dancing Gods
what was offered, but there was still that comer of her that
was afraid, that feared tampering with her mind as this world
had tampered with her body.
"Or, to put it another way," the goddess of the volcano
added, "if you don't yield to me, you'll swim around in this
hot muck, frying your little buns off for all eternity." For
emphasis, the pain began, and slowly increased.
A Kauri goddess might be somewhat intellectual, but she
was the mold of the race and not much more patient than her
children. The vision, the sensation, of the classical Hell of
Marge's Christian upbringing was a really persuasive argument.
As the pain continued to rise, she could stand it no longer.
"All right! Take me!" her mind screamed.
The pain ceased, and the entity, whatever it was, assumed
complete control. Marge was aware and fully conscious, yet
not in control of even her own thoughts. Her memory was
triggered and read out in reverse order, every moment of her
past flowing from her and into the creature. Her mind was
incapable of digesting the minutiae that were stored in her own
brain, and she tended to seize upon and partially relive only
brief scenes of major events.
She was outside the volcano. She was walking through the
forest. She was leaving Joe. She was at the entry station, now
back at Terindell, then in the Glen Dinig. In fits and starts aad
in a sort of backward review, she relived the great battle, the
Land of the Djinn, the fight for the Lamp, and the battle at the
pass. Backward, ever backward.
She crossed the Sea of Dreams once more and found herself
totally shorn of hope, direction, or self-interest, walking along
a lonely west Texas road.
His face was a furious red with anger, hatred, and frustration,
and he was beating her repeatedly, all the while shouting,
"What the hell good are you? Can't even make a damned kid
in this Godforsaken hellhole!"
"I, Marge, take thee, Roger..."
"I'm sorry, but less kids means less teachers and lower
budgets. You know how it is. Now if you'd been in math or
science..."
She stood on the steps outside the administration building,
still in cap and gown, holding the diploma up to the bright,
blue Texas sky. "See, Momma? I did it!"
"Mommy! Guess what! Tommy Woodard asked me to the
promt Tommy Woodard!"
It was blood! She was bleeding from there\ Oh, God!
"Mommy!"
"There, there! It's just a skinned knee. Mommy'II put a little
stuff on it and lass it and make it all better ..."
She didn't like playing hide-and-seek when there were boys
playing. They always cheated or ganged up on the girls.
"Eight... nine... ten! Ready or not, here I come!" She could
hear the squeals of laughter and see just a comer of somebody's
Page 30
Chalker, Jack L - Demons of the Dancing Gods
foot behind the bush. She ran for the hider, who, suddenly
knowing she'd been spotted, broke from her hiding place and
started heading for the tree base. Marge felt a thrill and whirled,
trying to beat Mary Frances to the...
Sufficient, a voice said from somewhere. Freeze.
Quickly, methodically, she began to come back toward the
present. All of the events were there, all the traumas, all the
heartbreak, but it wasn't quite
Similar Books
