Téa exhaled a long, ragged breath. It suddenly seemed a terrible effort, just holding her body upright. Her legs trembled like a cheap card table that might collapse if nudged too hard, the space between them pulsing with a heat she fought to ignore. Her breasts felt engorged, heavy and straining, tips still hard. Roughly, she tugged her bra back into place. Her skin still burned, feverish and sensitized, and her lips were swollen from Bakura's kisses. The taste of him still lingered faintly.
She wanted to fall into a heap. She wanted to leap into a shower and scrub herself clean. She wanted to run into the hallway and beg Bakura to do it all again.
She couldn't do any of it. And there was no time. The ticking clock hadn't slowed a whit during the time she'd been ignoring it. The shopkeeper had been very clear in her warnings. The longer it took for her to repair the rift she'd made, the more likely it was that something dark would make its way across from the abysses beyond. If she didn't mend what she'd done before dawn, Téa might not be able to fix things at all.
The first thing was to get some clothes on. Bakura might change his mind, after all, and come back. If he did, he'd better not find her still undressed. Shoving the bundle of clothes she'd snatched from the closet atop her dresser, Téa scooped up the top item, a long-sleeved blue tunic and tugged it free from its hanger. As soon as she put it on, she felt better, less vulnerable. Quickly, she finished through her drawers for a pair of charcoal leggings to go with it, the softest, stretchiest pair she owned. She didn't normally think of herself as the type to armor herself with clothes, but for this particular battle, it was clear that not wearing clothes was a suicidal tactic.
After all, the shopkeeper had been clear on her other warning as well.
"This bond… are you telling me it could actually pull me into the afterlife?" Téa had shivered, suddenly chilled to the marrow.
The shopkeeper's eyes were serious, the lines on her soft, tired face too stark, too deep. "That would be a worst-case scenario, yes."
Téa's mind reeled. "Well… how do I stop that? There has to be something I can do!"
"Grounding will help. The things on your list, your comfort, your focus. They'll be your ballast so you'll be less likely to be swept away. But the most important thing is the bond. Weaken it if you can, although such things are not easily done in haste, but for all that is sacred, girl, don't strengthen it!"
"How would I strengthen it?' Téa asked, puzzled. "And why?"
The shopkeeper gave her a look. She was already a very ordinary looking woman by Téa's standards, not an Egyptian priestess, not a dueling supermodel, no flamboyant clothes, no multi-colored hair, but in that moment, she looked more than ever like one of her mother's friends, or a teacher at her school, or perhaps a well-meaning, but disapproving aunt. Something like a knowing smirk glinted in her eyes, but her mouth was twisted in long-suffering frown. She looked a bit like her dance instructor when girls skipped practice to go on dates and came back pretending to have been sick, a bit like her algebra teacher when students forgot basic math facts, like 18 being divisible by 3, or like her biology teacher when kids giggled over gametes and ovum like there was something naughty about labeling meiosis. Is this really my job?
"Interpersonal bonds can be formed and strengthened in any number of ways, but perhaps the fastest, most surefire way is, er, intimate contact."
Téa could feel herself going scarlet. She didn't mean…. No, she definitely did.
The woman sighed and rubbed at her eyes. "I know I don't know the full situation here, but I do have eyes, and given the unlikely strength of the bond between the two of you, well, it doesn't take Sherlock Holmes."
"I'm not your mother or your guidance counselor and I'm not going to give you a lecture, but you came here looking for magical advice, and I will give you that. If you are trying to banish that…whatever he is, don't sleep with him."
Téa hadn't thought her cheeks could get hotter. They could. "I haven't—" she started to say.
"Good," the woman forestalled her. "Don't."
"No, I mean, really, it's not like that…" She was babbling. "I wouldn't ever…"
The shopkeeper held up her hands. "I don't need your assurances or explanations. I am simply informing you of the kind of thing that strengthens the sort of bond you insist you do not want. These are the things that enmesh." Her voice took on a sing-song quality. "Blood and flesh, life and breath, time and pledge, desire and death."
Desire and death. Téa opened her eyes. It had seemed an ominous pairing back in the half-lit shop with the night pressing against the windows. Somehow, it only seemed worse here in the full light of her bedroom.
It had been easy—embarrassing, but easy— to disregard the shopkeeper's warning back then. Okay, sure, perhaps she'd spent a little too much time staring at Bakura's body, whether wrapped in tight spandex or nothing at all, but that didn't mean anything. She found him attractive, sure. Who wouldn't? But he was Bakura. She wasn't crazy. There were lines you didn't cross, that was all.
But that was before the alley, that was before he had kissed her, before she had kissed him, before she had realized just how blurred those lines could become.
Tea hugged her arms to her chest. She couldn't trust herself. It was an unsettling revelation, to say the least. She'd always thought of herself as a sensible girl, someone who did the right thing, followed the rules, or at least knew how and when to break them. She got As on her report cards, she kept her skirts regulation length. She had secret jobs, but not secret boyfriends. She might go halfway across the world to defeat ancient evils, but she came straight home after school, practice, or work. Home to this cold, empty house, or to the borrowed coziness of the Game Shop.
Was that why? Was what she'd really wanted some private rebellion to tuck close to her heart?
She stood. If it was, she'd gotten more than she'd bargained for, and she couldn't say she didn't deserve any of it. It was time to stop feeling sorry for herself and messing around with destructive daydreams. It was time to take action.