Lips Touch: Three Times by Lips Touch; Three Times Read Free Book Online Page A

moon-round face as withered as old
apple peel, half of it colored red like a wine stain. "Remember, my
dear," he replied with a genial smile, "a handful may survive
naturally. Earthquakes are full of surprises. Children still alive, like buried
treasure? It makes the spirit soar to see them pulled out into the
sunlight."
    "Indeed," she said.
    There had been an earthquake in Kashmir. She had sent her shadow
out to see it, and it had slipped among the ruins of villages, relaying the devastation
back to her through its dulled senses. Shadows have no ears, so she couldn't
hear the lamentations of the survivors, which was as she preferred. She said,
"You will give me
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    the children, Vasudev. You know there's no arguing with me on this
matter."
    "Estella, you wouldn't deprive me of the pleasure of our
negotiations, would you? They're what I live for."
    "You haven't been alive for a thousand years. If you
were, you might take less pleasure in bartering for children's souls."
    "Do you think so? I scarcely remember what it was like, being
alive. I recall certain ... appetites. The sight of a woman's navel
could drive me mad. Children, though? I have absolutely no memory of caring
anything about them." He poured tea out into chipped cups and added sugar
and cream to his own.
    Estella took hers and sipped it black, replying bitterly, "I
well believe that." It was Vasudev's particular way with children that
accounted for her being here at all, a lone living human descending each day
into Hell.
    There was a tonic the demons brewed to keep their ancient flesh
whole when they passed through the flames. More than fifty herbs and barks went
into it, along with the mixed waters of sacred rivers. Once, many years ago,
Vasudev had forgotten to drink his daily dose and he'd been burned passing
through the Fire. Half his face had remained this vivid crimson ever since, and
when he went up into the living world, children stared at him. And while
he had never been overly disposed to spare their souls before, he began to
become downright perverse about it, culling the young at every opportunity.
Even when some more likely candidate might be lying by -- an ailing grandparent
flush with memories of a long life, for example -- he would take the child
instead, every time.
    Yama, the Lord of Hell, had seen that some balance was called
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    for, and he had appointed Estella to parley on behalf of the
children. For more than forty years now she had served as Ambassador to Hell.
    She calmly sipped her tea and said, "Ten."
"Ten?" Vasudev chuckled. "How sentimental of you. What would
people say? They'd call it a miracle." "A miracle never hurt
anyone."
    He thought it over. "Ten children clambering out of the
rubble, white with the dust of their ruined village. Those great dark eyes of
theirs ... No. It's too many. It's too rosy. The little beasts will come
to expect to survive. I'll give you five. Or, if you're game," he
said, his small eyes glinting, "we can spice things up with a little
curse."
    "I despise your curses," Estella said with a shudder,
then added, after a pause, "Eight."
    "Eight?" Vasudev scoffed. "No, I don't think so.
Not today. You can have five, or you can let me have some fun."
    Estella felt a weight settle on her heart. Vasudev got in these
peevish moods sometimes, and she knew he would dig in his heels now, and
tomorrow, and the next day, until he had his fun, and she never knew what form
his "fun" might take. He might give her a few extra children in the
bargain, but only on the condition they grow forked tails, or never fall in
love, or wake screaming every night for the rest of their lives. He had endless
imagination for curses.
    Wearily, wearily, Estella asked, "What do you have in
mind?"
    Vasudev laughed and swung his little legs in his chair. His feet
didn't quite reach the ground. "I'll tell you what I have in mind. You can
have your ten Kashmiri brats ... for free ..."
    "Free?" Estella repeated. No soul was ever free.
Every