Needful Things, Friday
Leland Gaunt's plans were proceeding ever so nicely. Far better than he had hoped. There were tendrils out in the ether; there were possibilities branching off from one another. He'd known this island was a good choice.
The sign in the window still read:
NEEDFUL THINGS
A DIFFERENT KIND OF STORE
You Won't Believe Your Eyesand Leland Gaunt waited ( Read more... )
The sign in the window still read:
NEEDFUL THINGS
A DIFFERENT KIND OF STORE
You Won't Believe Your Eyesand Leland Gaunt waited ( Read more... )
But Mr. Gaunt understood her.
And he had that book.
A deal was a deal was a deal.
So she reluctantly made her way in, half-hoping Leland wouldn't see her, and that she'd have the courage to leave and put Quezacoatl back where he belonged.
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"Miss Heartilly," Leland said warmly, gesturing her into the shop. "I am ever so delighted to see you once again. Do please come in."
His eyes were large and hopeful, as if he couldn't quite bring himself to ask the words aloud. Had she managed to find it? Did she return with the answer to all of his questions?
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She could just tell Squall the truth when she got home. For now ...
"Yes, I have him," she said, dropping her voice low so as not to be overheard. The squirrels were everywhere. "Can you close the store? Just for a few minutes."
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When he turned around again, it was plainly apparent that his hands were shaking as well.
"I must thank you again, so, so very much, Ms. Heartilly. After all of this time, to finally be so close to having answers..." He lifted his head suddenly, and then held up a finger, bustling around to step behind the counter. There, he had the book set aside, waiting for her to come and claim it. "And you, as well. I can't possibly express how much I hope that this book contains all of the answers you've been wanting for so long."
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If she had told Squall, and Squall had been practical and not let her take Quezacoatl, then what if Leland Gaunt had refused to give her the book.
But it was right there. It was right there and she could run her fingers over the binding, she could curl around it while she slept. She could savor every last page.
Something important, first.
"Do you know how to Junction?" she said. "I mean, can you Draw? I can't -- just hand Quezacoatl to you. He's not a physical presence on this plane of existence."
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He pursed his lips slightly. "Draw... as in siphon magic, perhaps?"
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"If you reach out," she said, "you should be able to see the edge of him, where you can hook on and tug. Pull him from me."
Maybe Leland couldn't Junction; maybe she could simply summon Quezacoatl, and wait quietly while they discussed. She ought to have felt relieved by the idea, but she didn't. What if that meant she didn't get the book?
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He looped his own energy around that hook, and pulled backwards, carefully. If he accidentally ripped this girl to shreds, that would be dull, and he would have blood all over his nice shop.
The bird came smoothly, crackling energy and psionic electricity. How delightful.
"I think it worked," he said, giving what ought to pass for a nervous smile. "Did I do that right?"
What a lovely find she'd brought for him.
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But when she opened her eyes, it was just nice, congenial Mr. Gaunt, looking hopeful.
Maybe his energy just had that air to it. Maybe it was electricity she'd sensed.
"You did it perfectly," she said, still feeling a touch unsettled. "You can have a nice long conversation, now, without anyone else interrupting."
Quezacoatl was powerful. He'd be fine. And Squall had plenty of other GFs, anyway.
"Can I have my book?"
She ought to have waited longer, but she simply couldn't.
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Such a fun little tangle of fibs and tales he'd woven. And now he had a new toy.
"Of course," he replied warmly, pleased that she was already thinking of it as her book, this little diary that she'd agreed only to borrow. How nice. He smiled a little more as he passed the book over to her. "Of course you can, Ms. Heartilly, and I sincerely do hope that you find all of the answers you need within its pages."
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But right now it was hers. She dashed forward and scooped it up, willing herself not to coo to it. It was perfect. It was everything she had ever wanted.
"Thank you," she said, her voice trembling. "I cannot possibly thank you enough."
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"It was, I assure you, entirely my pleasure."
It had been. It always was.
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