Читать книгу The Ice People 33 - Demon of the Night - Margit Sandemo - Страница 7

Chapter 2

Now Vanja had something to devote herself to. She spent more time in her room because she felt that the tiny demon cub needed company. This wasn’t actually the case, but she never knew where he would be when she woke up in the morning or entered her room. He suffered from an insatiable curiosity. Once, she found him in the wardrobe, where he had turned all her underwear out of its boxes. Another time, he had emptied her water glass onto the bed – and he enjoyed rearranging the dolls in the most perverted manner.

Vanja insisted that he wore a pair of doll’s trousers. At first, he had given her a glum smile and snapped at her, but when he tried on a pair of short black trousers with a silver edge, he accepted the humiliation of wearing clothes. Vanja felt that he couldn’t walk about without covering his private parts.

He wasn’t at all nice. She attempted to teach him some manners, but it was impossible. It was a different matter when she tried to teach him to speak, because then he would listen attentively.

It worried her to see how fast he was growing.

One day, he gave Vanja another shock. She was burbling away to him as usual, when she suddenly heard a hoarse, guttural sound. She stared at him.

“You talk a hell of a lot, you silly cow. It hurts my ears! They’re very sensitive, see?”

He could speak! But ... had she really taught him those bad words? Vanja pondered. Come to think of it, she had probably called a neighbour’s wife, who was visiting her parents, a silly cow, but the little demon wasn’t supposed to hear that, was he? She might also have used the expression on one or two other occasions, but “hell”? Oh, perhaps she had sworn when he poured the water into her bed. She had better be more careful in future. The little demon was bright and quick to learn.

She called him Tamlin, after a figure of Scottish legend. Perhaps that wasn’t the best name she could have chosen. Because the Scottish Tamlin was an elf who took the virginity of all the young girls who strayed into his forest. But Vanya thought the name fitted her little demon perfectly.

He was awfully keen to see the rest of the house, but Vanja wouldn’t allow it because something might happen to him. He would hide when her mother Agnete or anyone else entered the room. But, of course, he managed to slip through the door a few times when she opened it to go out. Then Vanja would search for him and get very worried until somebody asked if she had lost something.

The honest answer would be, yes, my little demon, but she couldn’t very well say that, could she?

Each time she would return to her room in despair, then she would see a swift movement across the floor and before she had time to close the door, he would be sitting in his favourite place on her little desk, laughing.

“Ah, you like my company, don’t you?” she would say happily. “You little imp!”

Once it happened that he was out on a forbidden excursion with Vanja when they met Henning and Agnete.

Vanja stiffened.

“What’s wrong?” asked Henning. “Why do you look so surprised?”

They couldn’t help but see him, could they? He had jumped up on her shoulder, where his sharp little claws were digging into her skin. Tamlin seemed just as frightened as Vanja.

Agnete said gently: “What’s the matter, Vanja? Did something just occur to you?”

They couldn’t see him. Vanja relaxed and said with a smile: “Oh, it’s just some homework that I’ve forgotten to do.”

Tamlin stood up on her shoulder, poked his thumbs in his ears and waved his hands while he stuck out his tongue at the others. Vanja couldn’t help laughing.

So the rest of the household probably couldn’t see him either, and now he had permission to move about in the house, provided he behaved himself. But then there was Benedikte ... She was one of the stricken. Vanja kept Tamlin at a distance from her, but one day they entered a room and found Benedikte standing there. She turned towards Vanja so quickly that Tamlin didn’t have time to slip away. “Oh, there you are. I wanted to know whether you can look after André for an hour or so?”

Tamlin stood on the floor at Vanja’s feet, no longer the size of a squirrel but more like a cat. But Benedikte saw nothing.

Vanja thought: I’m the only one who can see him. It must be because my grandfather was Lucifer, the fallen angel. The other Ice People don’t have the power to see Tamlin.

However, Heike, Vinga and Tula had all seen demons, and so had Ingrid and Silje. No, not Silje, because she wasn’t one of the Ice People, and the demons she had seen in her dreams and when she was awake were the demons that belonged to the Ice People. So why was it that Benedikte, a stricken member of the family, couldn’t see Vanja’s little demon?

It was Tamlin who answered that question for her.

One afternoon, when they were alone in the house, Vanja raised the matter. He was sitting on the desk in front of her. “Shit demons,” he hissed, full of disgust. “The Ice People’s demons are shit demons!”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I know who I am.”

“How do you know?” she asked. “The first time I saw you, you were just a little grey ball on a pillow, no bigger than a chicken’s egg.”

“I’m no chicken,” Tamlin hissed in his gravelly voice. “I know because somebody imprinted it on me. It was already in my thoughts.”

“Very well, fair enough. Who are you then?”

“A demon of the night.”

Vanja paused for a moment. The little demon was obviously waiting for her to react, particularly by being impressed.

She said: “You’ve got airs. The question is: what does that involve?”

“A demon of the night plays a part in people’s nightmares. It’s an invisible being. My mother was one of the most distinguished of them.”

“And your father?”

“He was a storm demon. And who can see the wind?” His voice sounded as if it came from a hollow space, as if he didn’t have the same kind of vocal organs as humans. It was a strain for him to speak.

Vanja was a strange girl, a little precocious in her conversation. She asked him matter-of-factly: “Are the Ice People’s demons just ordinary then?”

“Shockingly ordinary. There are millions of them.”

“Now you’re exaggerating!”

“Yes, because you’re asking such a damn stupid question!”

“Now, now, you mustn’t swear!” said Vanja.

Tamlin’s cheeky eyes gleamed. “That’s something you’ve taught me.”

“Yes, you’re right. But how did you end up in my room?”

He corrected her. “In your house. It was a coincidence that it was in your room. It was only because there was a suitable cupboard here. No one reckoned that you would be able to see me. Who the hell are you anyway?”

“I’m not telling you. How did you end up in this house?”

Tamlin said: “I shan’t tell you. If you’re going to keep secrets, so can I!”

“Let’s trade secrets, shall we?” asked Vanja.

Tamlin measured her up. “No. I mustn’t tell anyone anything. But, of course, you can tell me your secret.”

“Oh, thank you. Why aren’t you allowed to say anything?”

Tamlin grew angry and poked his small, evil face right up into hers. “Because I have a task, you old cow!”

“I’m not an old cow, I haven’t yet turned twelve!”

They stared at one another, prepared to fight. Vanja knew she would lose anyway, so she gave in.

She got up and left. There was no denying it – she had become so attached to her room-mate that she no longer found him ugly. He had begun to grow some hair on his head, stiff green hair, which she would soon need to cut. What would he say to that? He was naughty all the time, but somehow Vanja sensed that he accepted her. He regarded her as an ally, a playmate he could tease and be cruel to.

Vanja took great care that her family didn’t discover anything, because she was afraid that somebody would take Tamlin away. He wasn’t to take an interest in anybody else in the family because he was her little imp. She enjoyed taking care of him, with a nicely made doll’s bed, a mirror in which to admire himself – which he liked a lot – clean trousers and his hair neatly brushed. Now and then, he would be infuriated by her attentions and strike the hairbrush or bite her hand so that it nearly bled. He was never nice to her. Even when Vanja was trying to make him look smart, she couldn’t help feeling that this small child had devilry on his mind, or let her carry on only because he got something out of it. Of course, he would stretch her kindness to the utmost, but Vanja let it happen because she loved to have somebody to spoil. He liked to talk. Or rather, he loved to tease her in order to see how far he could go with his bad manners. He was at his happiest when he made her cry.

They were like chalk and cheese: one full of goodness, the other quite the opposite. But it seemed to work, because it was what both of them wanted; each was allowed to develop his and her qualities in the way they wanted.

Vanja’s family couldn’t help finding her quite entertaining. She tended to spend most of her time at home and was no longer so keen to play with other children.

“What on earth is she up to?” Agnete laughed one day as Vanja went into her room with a book under her arm. “Now she’s passionate about reading about demons. She reads everything she can lay her hands on on the subject.”

“Demons,” scoffed Henning. “Perhaps she was too young when we told her the history of the Ice People? But then, all the children of the Ice People more or less drink it in with their mother’s milk.”

“She took an enormous interest. She insisted on reading some of it herself, which she has. I suppose she wants to know a bit more about Tula’s demons now.”

“Yes, she’s strange! She isn’t all she makes herself out to be. She’s certainly not a delicate piece of porcelain. Oh, the Voldens are on their way – we’d better start celebrating your birthday!”

Agnete smiled. “Everything’s ready. I’m quite prepared to receive gifts!”

Henning and his second wife, Agnete, were happily married. In her anguish she had turned to him when she was pregnant with Vanja. Or, more precisely, it was he who had asked permission to take care of her. She had never regretted that she had accepted his offer. Friendship and affection can turn into love.

When everybody was sitting at the kitchen table waiting for the joint to be ready, Henning said casually, with his eyes fixed on the festive table in the adjoining dining room: “I had a horrible dream last night.”

Agnete laughed quietly. “You don’t normally suffer from nightmares. It probably means nothing.”

“Yes, it does,” Henning replied slowly, “because this time it was ... different.”

“How?”

“It was about Tengel the Evil.”

“Oh, dear! But isn’t it quite natural? That you Ice People should dream about what you fear the most?”

Henning said, almost as if to himself: “He was here, and yet he wasn’t.”

“Do you mean to say that his spirit was here?” asked Viljar.

“N-no,” said his son, hesitantly. “It wasn’t his spirit. But even so, I felt that I was being ... watched.”

“Do you know something, Father?” said Benedikte, who was sitting with young André on her lap. “I’ve also felt that lately.”

As quick as lightning, Henning turned to her. “Have you? That’s serious, because you’re one of the stricken and therefore more sensitive than the rest of us. Tell us about it!”

“Well there’s not much to tell. It’s nothing but some vague dreams and a hoarse voice asking questions. I can hardly remember them when I wake up in the morning. I just think ... we should ... pay attention.”

“Yes,” said Malin. “I’ve had the same feeling. Now and then, I wake up and register a certain anxiety in my body. And I’ve dreamt that somebody is looking at me.”

Henning was surprised. “You as well? And you don’t even live in this house!”

“That doesn’t mean anything. Christoffer also complains of nightmares, and he’s generally such a healthy boy.”

“Yes,” agreed Christoffer. “It’s as if I see somebody in my dreams, and answer them. As if somebody wants to know what I’m doing, and what I think about this and that. That doesn’t sound very horrible, but it is!”

Now Viljar was concerned. “From what you’re saying ... It’s not Tengel the Evil. It’s something much ... smaller.”

The others nodded.

“Nevertheless,” said Henning, “my instincts tell me that Tengel the Evil is involved in it.”

Agnete straightened her back. “It would seem that it’s those who are of the Ice People who are suffering from nightmares.”

Benedikte, who was holding young André tightly, shuddered. “Oh, dear, I hope André will be allowed to sleep in peace.”

“He always sleeps like a log. But what about Vanja?”

Belinda, who was sitting in the corner of the sofa, a wrinkled relic from a bygone age, said: “Yes, where is she, by the way?”

“I assume she’s in her room,” replied Henning. “She spends a lot of time in there. She’s doing her homework.”

Agnete smiled. “She’s started playing with dolls again. She’s never been so particular about keeping her dolls and their stuff so neat and tidy as she is now. She washes bed linen and sews new clothes like a proper housewife.”

Benedikte laughed. “That’s been going on for quite some time.”

“Yes, for several months. Could it be that she’s lonely?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Agnete replied. “She has many friends in her class and they walk to school together. And she plays with them when they drop by and ask her. But you’re right: she does like to spend time in her room, doing her homework or playing with her dolls. She never invites her friends to come here.”

Benedikte got up. “I’ll go and fetch her. She ought to join us.”

“Yes, let’s sit down to dinner,” said Agnete. “It’s ready.”

“I expect she’s deeply absorbed in a book on demons,” Henning called to Benedikte with a smile on his face. “What will become of that child?”

Benedikte came back. “She’ll be in in a moment. You were right: she was sitting at her desk, reading aloud from the book. She started as I walked in. I agree with you, Father: whatever will become of her?”

Per Wolden, Malin’s husband, laughed. “Homework and dolls and demons! What a mixture!”

“Judging by her grades, homework is the last thing she focuses on!” said Agnete.

Henning added: “Yes, they’ve become really bad over this past year.”

They sat down at the table.

“But Vanja is intelligent, isn’t she?” said Per. “Childish and precocious at the same time.”

Henning agreed: “Yes, she’s very intelligent.”

“And an exceptionally nice girl,” said Per emphatically.

Vanja came in at that moment, with a blissful, dreamy expression in her eyes. She was a strikingly beautiful child with hair like polished copper, a peachy complexion, and tiny freckles on her small nose. Her features were elfin and she seemed to float instead of walking. She had a neat figure – flat-chested, of course, because she was still only a child, but it was promising. Her whole personality was extremely pleasant, with elegant movements and a fleeting smile. Her voice sounded like delicate bells, and there was something defenceless about her that affected everybody.

But Vanja was far from being defenceless. She was one of the most complex of the uncursed Ice People, and nobody knew her true personality. She could baffle those around her with her intelligence and mental strength, which nobody expected. The first impression you got was of a slightly confused, sweet little bird-brain, which was totally untrue. Vanja was extremely clear-sighted (most of the time) and she had great courage. She just knew that she appealed to the protective instincts of others, and she played on this consciously when there was something she wanted. Even so, she was as good as only someone of the Ice People could be. She had discovered long ago that her personality was split, which she blamed on her mixed parentage. Her mother was a priest’s daughter, her father had been horribly stricken, a black angel – Lucifer himself – was her grandfather, while the wonderful, chosen Saga was her grandmother. Just because Henning, her foster-father, was the world’s nicest, most solid farmer, didn’t make her background any less complicated.

There was a bit of all of them in Vanja, perhaps the least from her father, Ulvar. There wasn’t a trace of evil in Vanja, just a certain preference for the mystical, such as demons.

Of course, there was a reason for that.

But now she sat down and the birthday dinner could begin.

During the meal, Christoffer asked, rather casually: “Have you also been suffering from nightmares recently, Vanja?”

She started. “Pardon?”

The others weren’t all that eager to raise the subject again, but Christoffer, who was a young man of twenty-one, was insensitive to their silent signals, stony faces and stiffened body language. He ploughed on. “Nightmares! We’ve all had some unpleasant experiences. As if something horrible is keeping a watchful eye on us during our sleep.”

“For heaven’s sake, Christoffer!” murmured his mother, Malin.

Vanja bent her head over her plate. “No, I haven’t had any nightmares.”

“Thank goodness for that!” said Henning. “Everybody else has experienced more or less the same dreams. All the Ice People, I mean.”

She looked up. “All ...?”

She didn’t want to seem left out. “Well, now you mention it. Actually, I also ... Let me see ... There was something the other night ...”

Belinda interrupted. “Now I really think we should talk about something more pleasant. After all, it’s Agnete’s birthday.”

Vanja lowered her shoulders. At first she seemed relieved, but then she grew nervous again during the main course. But when Henning made a speech to his wife, she relaxed and listened, touched and happy on behalf of her mother.

The dessert was put on the table and everybody admired the delightful savarin. Malin had made it, and the praise made her blush with pride.

The atmosphere was jolly and relaxed until Vanja suddenly stared up at the splendid chandelier hanging from the ceiling and yelled:

“TAMLIN!”

The others put down their spoons and glasses and stared at her in surprise. She looked away from the chandelier and gave everyone a sheepish look. “It suddenly occurred to me this very moment. The name of the elf from the Scottish forests was Tamlin, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” replied her mother, “but surely you don’t have to frighten us like that, do you?”

“What do you know about Tamlin?” asked Christoffer with a twinkle in his eye. “I wouldn’t have thought that it’s a legend for an eleven-year-old.”

“I’m almost twelve,” she corrected him. “What’s wrong with that story?”

“I’ve told her a slightly adapted version,” muttered Agnete. “Would anybody care for some more cake?”

But Vanja didn’t give in. “Wasn’t Tamlin nice to all the young girls that had lost their way in his forest?”

Christoffer clapped his hand to his mouth to stifle his laughter.

“Nice? Well, I suppose you could say that!”

“Enough of that!” said Per Volden sternly.

When everybody was focused on the dessert, Vanja’s glance moved back to the chandelier. She looked sternly at it, with a warning frown. Then she stood up. “Oh, I’ve forgotten to close the window in my room,” she said breathlessly. “I’ll be back soon.”

She hurriedly left the dining room, after making a discreet movement with her hand as if she was waving at somebody. Nobody noticed it.

“Vanja’s so sweet,” said Malin. “But rather absentminded.”

Agnete nodded. “She lives in a world of her own. Sometimes she seems to find it difficult to wake up to our humdrum world. Why don’t we all have coffee in the next room?”

Vanja hurried through the hall and into the oldest part of Linden Avenue, where her room was situated. On the walls were Silje’s portraits of the four children – Sol, Dag, Liv and Are – now restored but just as precious to the new generations. Benedikt Maler’s stained-glass window still cast multi-coloured light on the floor. As she walked past it, she whispered angrily: “How dare you enter the dining room when everybody is gathered there? And up on the chandelier too! Pulling down your trousers like that! You cheeky little brat!”

Tamlin pattered next to her, trying to keep pace, giving her an evil smile.

“I just wanted to listen to your empty talk. And to pull your leg a bit. It’s so amusing.”

Vanja opened the door to her room and let him in. She was really fed up. “And what are you doing in their dreams?”

“Tricking secrets out of them! You know I’m a demon of the night. We belong in bad dreams.”

“What do you need their secrets for?”

Tamlin understood that he had gone too far and answered breezily: “I’m just curious.”

“Then how come you’re not in mine? Now I’ve been forced to lie to them, which isn’t at all funny.”

Tamlin’s face lit up in a cheeky grin, and he sat down on the desk in front of her. “Why would I be in your dreams? You’ve no secrets from me. Besides, I haven’t said anything about the fact that you can see me. So just stop scolding me!”

Vanja stiffened. “Said? To whom?”

Tamlin lowered his eyelids over his yellow eyes. His glance turned cunning. “Nobody. Just the other demons of the night.”

“Do you meet with them?”

He twisted and turned. “Of course not! We just exchange thoughts.”

Vanja didn’t really know what to believe. “You can’t be trusted; you go behind my back.”

“Of course I do,” he replied with a proud smile. “It’s what I enjoy the most, you damn cow!”

“You’re not to talk to me like that. I’ve told you before, haven’t I?”

“Why not? After all, you’re a lot older than me.”

She regarded him pensively. “I’m not so sure about that. I’m really not so sure.”

He had grown a lot. Tamlin was no longer a dear little baby. He had grown and his face was beginning to take shape: the broad cheekbones, the narrow chin that ended in a point, the glistening yellow eyes that were now conscious in a completely different way, the long arms that ended in sharp claws, the hair that now grew down over his forehead and neck ...

He was no longer a little tot. But nor was he grown-up, not even a young man. Vanja imagined that he was around the same age as her, or a bit less. Although he was no taller than a two-year-old, he behaved as if he was eight or nine.

How could he grow so fast? He had only been here about a year, and to begin with he had been no bigger than a squirrel.

It had been a fantastic, wonderful year when she had been responsible for this little imp. Now, however, she was beginning to be concerned.

Tamlin scratched his back.

“What’s the matter?” asked Vanja. “Is it fleas?”

“Hell, no! Scratch me!”

He turned his back to her, and Vanja scratched him where he told her.

“Heavens, Tamlin! What do you have here? A couple of knobs under your skin.”

“They’re my wings, you fool! Have you ever seen a demon without wings?”

“Are they growing the way they should?”

“Of course! Just like the molars you’re griping about such a lot!”

Vanja sat there, completely perplexed. Then she laughed quietly.

“It isn’t anything to laugh about!” he hissed, trying to slap her.

“Ouch! If you don’t behave, I’ll put you out in the cold of winter!”

He bared all his pointed white teeth in a devilish grin. “Do you think you can? I’ll simply return in your dreams, and they won’t be anything to laugh at!”

“You ...! Oh, I’d better go back to the others, otherwise they’ll wonder where I am. Now you be a good boy! No mischief!”

“Yes, yes,” he teased. “Lots of mischief. You won’t be able to recognize your room!”

Vanja gave him a furious look and slipped out before he had time to follow her.

Magdalena Backman passed away: she had been Christer’s widow, and the last member of the Ice People clan in Sweden. And Vanja inherited all Saga’s belongings, which had been in her home. She also inherited Saga’s fortune, which was now immense.

She wasn’t allowed to touch her money. But she got some nice things, which she put in her room, taking care that the room didn’t become overcrowded. Vanja really appreciated these priceless objects. There was a beautiful little rococo desk – Tamlin declared grumpily that it wasn’t as comfortable as the old one – and a rococo chair, and a new bedside table. The knick-knacks, books, furs and jewellery didn’t interest her. She placed them in a bank vault for any children and grandchildren who were keener than her.

“What do you think, Tamlin?” she asked one day as she stepped out of the closet wearing a brocade dress that had been Saga’s when she was a young girl. Vanja would always change in there: she didn’t like to appear half-naked in front of her small room-mate. Now she had pushed her hair up and was gazing happily in the mirror.

Tamlin sat on the table and sniffled. He looked away, full of contempt. “You look ridiculous,” he said, so cockily that it revealed his insecurity.

“No, I jolly well don’t, you snotty brat,” she replied, hurt, waving her hand as if to hit him. He grabbed her arm as quick as lightning and his claws dug into her skin as he stared at her with a horrible, almost murderous look in his eyes.

“You’d better remember that what I say goes!” he told her in a threatening tone.

“If that’s the way you want things to be, our friendship must come to an end!”

“Friendship? I only use you because it suits me. No, but you look all right,” Tamlin said with a gesture towards her clothes, and Vanja smiled.

A few months later – just as Vanja turned twelve – she noticed something she ought to have seen a long time ago: Tamlin was now so tall that his legs dangled over the end of the fairly big doll’s bed.

“You can see for yourself,” he moaned. “You must find me a proper bed.”

Vanja teased him: “I thought demons didn’t sleep in proper beds?”

“No, and they don’t wear trousers either,” he retorted angrily. Then he stretched out in bed. “I love to lie like this. I’ll become a truly decadent demon.”

She stared at him. “You certainly didn’t hear me use that word!”

Tamlin didn’t seem at all guilty. “Oh, I suppose I must have picked it up somewhere else.”

“You’ve been out among other people! You mustn’t ...! How did you get out? Can you reach the key? Because I always lock my door from the outside when I go out!”

“Dead simple!” he said wearily, because that was an expression that Vanja used often. “Doors!”

“Yes, what about doors?”

“Listen here, hell-cow! What do you honestly think a demon is? A baby?”

Tamlin got up and walked over to the door. He walked straight at it and disappeared. Then he came back with a triumphant smile on his face. When he smiled, it was from ear to ear in his slender face. His narrow lips seemed to stretch as wide as he wanted. His nose was quite small and was actually the only human feature in his horrible face.

“Abracadabra,” he said happily.

“And here am I looking after you so carefully!” she moaned. “So why on earth do you stay in my room?”

“Because it’s comfortable,” he said breezily. “That way I’ve got somebody to tease. You’re just so incredibly stupid!”

“Oh, thank you! Well, you can go where you like, you little beast. I don’t intend to be at your beck and call!”

Tamlin just laughed. “Get me a new bed!”

“Oh, you’d like that, would you? You can jolly well sleep on the floor.”

“So I’m back in favour, am I?”

“Have I any choice? I can’t let you walk about among the others day and night, can I?”

Then she turned her back on him. She heard him pull his bed linen and mattress down onto the floor.

Vanja had almost fallen asleep when she suddenly stiffened. Something was quietly creeping into her bed behind her back.

Tamlin whispered hoarsely: “The floor is so uncomfortable.”

“But you can’t just ...”

“Oh, yes, I’m fine here,” he replied, arching his back.

He was quite cold. He placed one hand over her chest while his bony knees dug into her back.

Somehow, Vanja couldn’t help feeling touched that this small, lonely creature didn’t have anywhere to sleep. She turned over and tucked her arm under his neck, which made him creep closer and breathe in the warmth from her throat. Just like a little child, she thought.

“What on earth are you wearing?” she whispered. “These aren’t your doll’s trousers, are they?”

Tamlin chuckled quietly. “They got too small. They felt tight around ...”

“That’ll do, thank you! I don’t want to hear bad words. I suppose you’re right, the trousers must have been uncomfortably small. What are you wearing instead?”

“Your nice white scarf. It makes an excellent loincloth – far more suitable for a demon than those ridiculous trousers.”

Vanja sighed heavily. “My best scarf!”

“You’ve only got yourself to thank. I’d prefer to be without it. But since you’re such a prudish young person, who can’t stand the sight of a healthily built ...”

“Tamlin!” she hissed, but didn’t manage to drown his horrible little word. “Oh, you little beast! What am I to do with you?”

“Oh, you’ve nothing to complain about; you’re all right,” he said smugly. “Let’s try and get some sleep, shall we?”

“I doubt whether you sleep at all!” she murmured.

“That’s none of your business,” he replied cheekily. “Now go to sleep, stupid.”

Actually, it was quite nice having somebody else in her bed. It was just like when young André lay next to her. She felt protective and also touched. She pulled Tamlin closer to her, stroking his stiff hair. She could feel that he was chuckling – a mocking laughter.

In the middle of the night, she was woken up by a sensation in her body she had never experienced before. It was a wonderful, ticklish feeling between her thighs: something smooth and gentle had slipped in. Vanja turned quite stiff, thinking that she had a snake in her bed.

Then she remembered Tamlin, who was lying next to her, apparently peacefully asleep. His tail had slipped into the most secret part of her body and was rubbing back and forth between her thighs. Suddenly, the small, heart-shaped tip found its way to the opening right in front, vibrating like the tongue of a lizard on an extremely sensitive spot she hadn’t even known she had.

With a swift movement, she pulled it away. “Out! Out of my bed,” she whispered hoarsely. She could hardly say the words because she felt such strong sensations all across her abdomen and right down her thighs.

Tamlin woke up drowsily. “What are you doing with my tail?” he asked her in a reproachful tone of voice. “Leave it alone!”

“You aren’t asleep! Out you go, I don’t want to see such bad manners!”

“What sort of manners? Am I to blame for what my tail gets up to when I’m asleep?”

This remark showed very clearly that he knew perfectly well what had happened. “Dear Vanja, it will never happen again! It was an accident. My tail wasn’t used to lying so close to an unexplored being. Forgive its curiosity. Now it knows what you look like. It won’t happen again. Can we sleep now?”

“Will you promise?” she asked, still so agitated that she was shaking all over. The worst thing was that she would have liked the tail to carry on, which made her feel ashamed of herself.

“Of course, I promise,” he replied. “On my word of honour!”

What might a demon’s word of honour be worth? However, afraid of revealing how shockingly aroused she was, she didn’t dare insist on throwing him out.

“Tamlin, if that happens again, you must know that it will be the end of our friendship because I won’t want to see you again. Understand?”

“Yes, yes, Vanja, yes, yes,” he muttered, creeping down beside her again just as before. She relaxed. She didn’t see Tamlin’s smile. Because he had also discovered a new, exciting game that was surprisingly pleasant.

He sighed with satisfaction. This big warm bed was really nice!