by Elle Cross
With a heavy heart, I turned to leave, searching for the officer who would escort me back the La Serenissima.
When I arrived home, I let the team of police officers scour my apartment and ensure it was safe and clear. I wasn’t going to be yelled at for being too lax with my personal safety again.
I shut the door, and locked it. Then slumped to a heap against the door. Rajah pressed his head against my side.
He whined, which was the only reason I shook myself out of my fog. "Sorry, boy. I didn't mean to scare you. Want to eat? Did you treat Tracy okay?"
He made a noise in his throat that translated into a sort of, harrumph! Of course I did! I didn’t doubt that for a moment and hoped Tracy didn’t get pulled along the park too hard today.
I stood up to check if Rajah had his food and water. As soon as I did, there was a knock at the door. I had no idea who it could have been.
I looked through the peephole, and was shocked to see Deimos on the other side of it.
I had forgotten about that dinner. Again. I had meant to look up some kind of contact information for him on the drive home, but instead had stared out the window. It must have been well past eight o’clock for him to personally arrive at my doorstep, though I was surprised he’d even do that.
"I know you're there, Ms. Tallinn," his voice pressed silkily through the door. "You've just been escorted home by an army of officers. I would like to know why."
I stood there, frozen. I wanted to say something. Anything. I'm fine! Or, What, me? Officers?
But, every time I opened my mouth, nothing came out, and the longer I stood there, the more awkward I felt.
Finally, I managed to say, "Uhm, hey." Not my best starts, but better than the squeak of nothing.
"Hey." The casual greeting was funny coming from him.
"I'm kind of tired...uhm, not feeling well, so I'm going to have to reschedule."
I didn't see his reaction, but it was like the temperature plummeted to an icy heat. Silver vapors leaked through the door jambs.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
Before I could think it through, I drew out a simple blessing on the door with my blood from the various scrapes on my legs, the only ink I had available to me. A ward. The childlike symbols were buried deep in my memory, linked to a primordial part of me. My earliest memories.
Immediately, the vapors disappeared. Even the feel of him that had begun to weigh heavy on the other side of the door went away.
But he was still there. I knew because he knocked on my door again. Insistently this time.
"Ms. Tallinn? Are you all right? Vesper?"
There was an urgency there that worried me. But I refused to hear it. Didn't want to feel it. Didn't let myself feel it. I swallowed it down.
"I'm fine, I'm sorry, but I need to run now."
I made it to the bathroom just in time. My stomach heaved and my ribs were crushed and tight, and still I retched.
I dragged myself up to my sink and washed out my mouth and ran the cold water over my face. I pressed a towel to my face, and blinked at the mirror. Let myself see what had happened to me when I’d exploded from that shadow figure and landed on the street in Chinatown.
My right cheek was scraped, a red and blue bruise already blooming behind it. My knees tried to scab over, but all the moving and walking made me fight against my body's natural repair, so fresh blood kept leaking around the scabs. For a fleeting second, I was so happy that I hadn't let Deimos see me. And then, a sinking feeling settled in. What if he never wanted to see me again?
A man like him was used to getting what he wanted. He probably hadn't liked being shut out. I wouldn’t blame him for wanting to avoid someone like me now, when there were easier women to be with.
I longed for a shower. My clothes were torn and dirty, and I doubted I'd want to wear them again. Ever. I started to peel them off me.
Out of the corner of my eye, a bright reflection sparkled against the mirror. I looked around to move whatever shiny object caused that dazzle, not needing anything to trigger my light-sensitive migraines. I didn't see anything amiss, so I pushed it out of my mind and turned on the shower to heat up the water.
Now that my shirt was off, I saw the purpling bruise that wrapped around my ribs, radiated out from my right side, which had taken the brunt of the fall. Just seeing it made the dull throbbing pain echo. I tested how far up I could raise my right arm, and stopped at shoulder level when I started to see stars.
I squeezed my eyes shut to breathe through the sharp pain. Another fine layer of sweat coated atop the built up grime on my skin.
This time, something dazzled from the heart of the mirror, and didn't go away until I looked at it. The light faded, and there was a smudge in the middle of the mirror that I knew hadn't been there before. I tried to wipe it away with my finger, but it wasn't on the glass. It was inside the glass, and it grew bigger.
A blot of darkness. I immediately took a few steps back.
It grew, and this time I could sort of see that it looked like a fuzzy outline of a man walking toward me, but I couldn't be sure. Its movements were familiar.
I contemplated putting another ward on the mirror.
The smudge stopped growing, it was about as big as my hand now, but it didn't stop moving. The restlessness there...the figure paced back and forth.
It seemed to want something. And it was patient. Extremely patient.
I exhaled, and reached out, opening my senses, a cautiousness that I hadn't had to tap into for years. Like seeing something only from the corner of my eye. Ozone filled my senses. Pressure weighed against the glass, like the kind that permeated the air before a storm broke loose. Images of lightning clashing through thunderheads filled my head with wonder.
Tentatively, I placed a hand over the smudge. Warmth suffused it immediately.
Rippling harmonies resonated from the mirror, running through my hand. It had the feel of a doorbell chime, someone asking to enter.
It grew in intensity until I swore the mirror rippled like water in a glass.
Something about the way this particular chime vibrated through my body, felt so familiar. Only one person came to mind.
I nodded as understanding dawned completely.
"Come in?" I whispered.
That seemed to be the right thing to say. In a rush of blinding light and colors, the smudge bloomed large and emerged from my mirror.
From the corner of my eye, I glimpsed black and gold.
When I blinked the dazzle out of my eyes, I saw what—or who—I had scented.
Deimos.
His coat fluttered around him like he was in the midst of a constant breeze. He was dressed in a suit tailored perfectly to his frame.
I blinked up at him, not quite sure if he was really here or if I imagined him.
He had his head cocked to the side, a funny animal gesture.
He stepped to me, and I took a step back. Or at least tried to, but I ended up just backing myself up against the bathroom vanity. He took another step toward me, slower now.
Like a hunter.
His movements were controlled and measured, but oh how he seethed, his power surged and whipped, warping the air around him, bowing out the walls. It made me tremble in fear to witness it, even though I knew he wouldn’t hurt me.
"Who did this to you?" His voice was the velvet whisper of night fall.
Oh.
I'd forgotten what I looked like at his sudden appearance. I hadn’t thought about the fact that he would see my face, my banged up knees. Oh, and of course the bruises on my ribs because of course I'd forgotten that I took my shirt off and just stood there in my bra and skirt.
I couldn't say anything, I hadn't processed it all myself. I worried at my lip, then, and ended with a lame one-shoulder shrug. "Me?" There was enough truth in it that it wasn't a lie. But it wasn't the answer he wanted.
He came closer, and angled himself to brace his arms on either side of me.
His gaze roamed my face, then traveled down the rest of my body.
At another time, I'd probably be embarrassed by such close scrutiny, but I was oddly comforted that he was here. Just his scent had been enough to settle my nerves and let go of any lingering anxiety.
I hadn't wanted to be alone, but didn't want to feel weak by asking for help.
He looked up from inspecting my side. Then slowly, reverently, he kissed my left eye, and then my right. Light flutter kisses.
I hadn't realized I was crying. It wasn't the cry of pain, which required your body to heave and convulse. It was the cry of pure exhaustion, when your mind just shut down, and tears leaked out silent and unrestrained.
Something weighed in his mind. Calculation. Decision. He gathered me to him, and rested my head against his chest.
"Tell me what you need, and I will do it," he murmured against my forehead. In the shades of his words, I felt something stir within me. Those words spoken, reminded me of something else that had been spoken to me, in the dark of night, in a cocoon of safety and warmth. Where nothing could harm me.
I breathed deeply once, twice, not really understanding that he was really here, so I focused on his scent. Weighing every nuance of it. Like I'd be able to figure him out one molecule at a time.
He seemed like he could wait for my answer all night. His hand drew light circles on my back, while the other held me.
"I really, really want to take a shower." And I really, really wished that my voice hadn't sounded like a pathetic creaky whine just then.
The laugh that rumbled in his chest filled me with delicious warmth.
"Of course, my darling." He kissed the top of my head and stepped away. I felt his absence.
The steam from the shower poured out when he opened the shower door and adjusted the water temperatures. It was such a mundane task, it was more surreal to see him do that than to emerge from my bathroom mirror.
He came to me again, cupped my face in his hands, brushed the wisps of hair away from my face with his elegant fingers. "Would you like company?"
He asked his offer so practically. Like he were loaning me his car or a cup of sugar. My face flushed and I shook my head. I couldn’t look him in the eye. "No thank you," I said to his chin.
He smiled, that boyish smile that seized my heart.
"How absolutely enchanting you are." With a final brush of lips against my forehead, he said, "I'll be just outside in case you change your mind, and decide you need another hand or two."
I laughed, then, big and full, completely disarmed by him. And I knew that was what he'd wanted: me comfortable in my own skin again. "I'll be fine, I'm sure, but thanks for the offer. Now get out," I shooed him away.
He flashed another winning smile and he was out the door.
I lingered in the warm cloud of my bathroom.
Now that I was in the comfort of my robe, I felt safe.
Untouchable.
Though, it was likely that I felt that way because of the man out in my apartment.
I was torn between putting on as many clothes as possible, or just going out in this robe. Neither of those options would make me feel any less exposed whenever I was in his presence, so I opted for the robe option, though I did layer with my cotton tank underneath. The cotton was as weightless as the steam from the shower, and covered just as well, which was to say not at all.
I wandered out of the bathroom, fully aware that I could hide in there all night, sneak into my bedroom and slip into bed without having to see him at all.
Not like that would have kept him away if he had wanted to see me. Hadn't he been able to get in, anyway? Through this bathroom mirror, of all things?
It had not escaped my notice that he had traveled through the mirror, the same mode of transportation that the Sylphs had helped me discover in Jack's bedroom? Nothing that I shared with Deimos this morning in his office seemed particularly news to him, aside from the fact that Jack had been taken.
If it weren't for his storm clouds and lightning, I'd have pegged him as a Dagan for all my willingness to engage in ritualistic worship with him.
I splashed cold water on my face to nip that line of thinking before my thoughts could wander even further. Cinching the robe tight around me, I stepped out of the bathroom. I heard voices, distinct enough to hear that it wasn't a language I was familiar with and I felt suddenly out of place. Like I would be caught eavesdropping, which was silly.
I didn't realize that I'd stopped moving forward until Rajah trotted to me. The conversation cut off at the same time, and Deimos appeared at the end of the hall while I patted Rajah's head.
"I didn't mean to interrupt your conversation."
Deimos came to me then. "This is your house. You interrupt nothing."
He swept me up to my dining table. To my surprise, we were alone. Even Rajah had trotted off into the guest bedroom, sniffing intently at something along the floor.
Who had Deimos been talking to?
"I was on a conference call."
Oh. Well, that answered that.
"I have a favor to ask."
"Of course."
He motioned to my door. "Would you mind so terribly if this ward is removed?"
I blinked at him a couple of times until I realized that he was serious. I grabbed a cleaner and wiped it off. He smiled indulgently at me, and I somehow felt like I did this big feat.
Almost immediately, someone knocked on the door. Deimos deftly moved in front of me, and opened my door for me. It was a caterer.
Wordlessly, the delivery team took bags into my kitchen. Deimos kind of danced me over to the dining table. I wasn't annoyed as I usually would have been for being told what to do. I was frankly too curious about this entire process to be anything but entertained.
I lingered at the table, not quite sure if I was supposed to sit and where. Instead, I watched as he signed for the delivery, and closed the door. He screwed the top of his fountain pen and slipped it into his inner jacket pocket.
Again, something so everyday seemed so odd.
"You're hungry. Let's get you something to eat."
I was pretty hungry. But I was also tired. And, left to my own devices, I probably would have just gone to bed.
A slight rumbling tremor vibrated through the room at his approach. He whisked away the dinner covers. The food still steamed.
He sat at the head of the table, then gestured to me.
Did he really expect me to sit on his lap?
I had half a mind to just sit wherever I damn well pleased.
But. There was something almost desperate there, behind his eyes. Vulnerable. With his aura wrapped tightly against him in a silver halo.
"I'll sit where you want me to, if you tell me a little story during dinner."
Confusion flickered across his face, a slight crease furrowed between his brows. I could almost see his brilliant mind processing through every one of our interactions trying to figure out what I was alluding to.
I smiled sweetly. "A story that involves how in the hell you managed to waltz through my bathroom mirror and end up here when the Sylphs assure me that travel was restricted."
He smiled, radiating confidence again. "Of course, my darling, that was my intention."
I cocked my eyebrow, but slipped onto his lap before I thought too much of it. It was nice to see him unsteady, even if it was just for a little bit, not that I thought it would have lasted. The rumbling in his chest reminded me of Rajah's happy purr-growl.
"I don't make it a habit to sit on people's laps, just so you know."
"Good."
"I don't expect it to become a habit either."
The corner of his mouth twitched a little, but he said nothing.
I surveyed the food that was set out. There was just one place setting. When the delivery guys arrived, the bags and boxes were from L'Amuse-Bouche. I vaguely remembered that that was the restaurant Deimos meant to take me to tonight.
The food looked delici
ous. It was plated beautifully, on china that I didn't own. The porcelain was so finely made it was near translucent. I doubted it came from the restaurant.
"This looks beautiful."
When I would have reached over to feed myself, Deimos repositioned me on his lap so that my back was nestled firmly against his chest, his left arm draped across my waist.
"Allow me." He picked up an artfully stacked, bite-sized tower of food. He offered it with deliberate slowness. My mouth watered for it by the time he placed it perfectly inside my mouth and on my tongue.
I bit down, and the flavors exploded in my mouth. It was just the right balance of tart and savory. My eyes fluttered closed and I moaned and shivered in unabashed pleasure.
"Another?" he asked me.
I nodded my head vigorously, savoring every last bit of that morsel.
"Open," he whispered against my ear.
I obediently opened my mouth, and let him feed me another bite. "Oh my," I breathed.
His amused laughter rumbled against my back. Made me feel warm and languid.
"Don't think I've forgotten our deal," I said. "You still owe me a story."
"I'm afraid I got the better end of that deal," he said, his arm holding me securely against him when I would have turned to face him. "The Sylphs owe me a few favors. This was a mere tiny payback of one."
"That's it?"
"That's it. They would only allow entrance with your permission, of course. But, there you are. A non-exciting story in exchange for the pleasure of you in my arms. I told you I got the better end of this deal."
I warmed at his words, grateful he couldn't see my flaming face. "Only because you've had more practice wheeling and dealing."
"I won't deny that."
Perhaps it was the intimacy of the setting that made us speak in hushed whispers between tasty bites of food. He told me about what he did today, and I told him about my client. We both seemed to side step around my lost hours this evening, and the shadow forms that had attacked me, or the ongoing nature of Corbin’s case.
Here, with him, I was safe, and what happened earlier was quickly fading away like a distant nightmare that had been long forgotten in the stark light of dawn.