Chapter 8
The full moon is so bright that it casts long, eerie shadows along the road to the graveyard. You feel a shiver run down your spine as you come up upon the church. It’s a squat wooden building, with a short bell tower. Even though it typically isn’t a very impressive building, in the moonlight it seems otherworldly and dreamlike, almost supernatural. While the atmosphere is deeply unsettling, you feel oddly at peace.
The only thing dumber than going to a graveyard in the middle of the night is going to a graveyard in the middle of the night to meet a strange man, who could possibly also be an outlaw. However, something about the adventure of it all has captured you. Plus, if you hadn’t gone, you might have spent the rest of your life wondering.
You slowly turn the corner, emerging into the small graveyard behind the church, and there he is. Octavius.
His back is turned to you, and he’s leaned up against a large crooked chestnut tree smoking a cigar. You had forgotten how formidable his form is, and you feel a twinge of uncertainty as you approach him, which you ignore.
You’re just about to greet him when he speaks, blowing a cloud of smoke into the air.
“You’re late.” Then, he turns to you, smiling warmly. Then, he pulls an elegant gold pocket watch from his coat. “By twenty minutes, or so.”
“I’m terribly sorry, I had to help my father-” you begin to apologize, but he chuckles softly.
“I’m only teasing, pet. Although, I was beginning to wonder if you might have changed your mind about seeing me again,” he muses. You feel your cheeks grow warm.
“I wanted to see you again, I’m curious about you,” you explain sheepishly. Octavius raises an eyebrow at you.
“Do you find me curious?” he asks. You laugh.
“I most certainly do, although perhaps intriguing would be a better way to phrase it,” you confess.
“And what about me could possibly intrigue a sweet young lady such as yourself?”
“Well, uh,” you feel your face grow even hotter, and you look down, unable to meet his eyes. “There’s something magnetic about you. Like, something that makes me wish to know you, wish to understand you. I want to be close to you.” He laughs softly, his voice a warm, melodic sound. Then, he passes the still-lit cigar to one of the mechanical arms, stepping closer to you and gently taking your hand. You look up at him, eyes wide.
“Is this close enough?” he asks. His eyes are bright, like moonlight on the desert sand. They gaze at you with intrigue, and with unspoken challenge. His lips are full and smiling, parted slightly.
“I wouldn’t mind if we were closer,” you say, grinning. He gently runs his palm along the side of your face, cupping your chin, turning you up towards him. Up close, his eyes are even more intense. You feel lost in them, much to your delight. He is an unfinished story, an infinite sky, a deep ocean. He’s so close now that your noses nearly touch, and you feel his warm breath on your cheeks.
“How’s this?” he asks, his voice a whispered tune.
“Almost,” you tease. You close your eyes, leaning slowly into him. His lips meet yours, and fireworks of color explode behind your eyelids. He’s so warm, so sweet. He tastes like mint and spice, and he kisses you slowly, gently. As if he’s savoring you, like a fine whisky. The hand that was on your cheek tangles itself in your hair, drawing you into him.
You pull apart slowly, and your eyes flutter open to look up at him. He looks back down at you, a smile playing across his lips, eyes lidded.
“Ah, my pet,” he murmurs. “How sweet you are, how dangerous.”
“I fail to see how I’m the dangerous one,” you laugh. “You’re the only one with a pistol.” He smiles sadly.
“A girl like you, so innocent and sweet, has a power over others. Like the most bountiful blessing, or the most abominable curse.”
“And what curse would that be?” you ask, challenging him. He steps back, and the metal arm hands him the cigar. Leaning again against the chestnut tree, he takes a long draw from the cigar, blowing the smoke out with a sigh.
“Love, my pet.”