by J M Thomas
I took another long glance around the peaceful terrace. “It must’ve taken so much work to create.”
Alice gave a knowing nod. Her gaze roved the area for a moment. “When Hugo bought this place, it was a dump. He got a good deal because of how bad it was. This whole area was all weeds and bags of trash.” Her gesture encompassed the entire spot, a frown of distaste weighing on her features at the memory.
It was hard to picture the woven walls of ivy as ever having been anything else, and I told her so.
“Those days were difficult for many reasons.” She took a little sip. “In one way, we felt like we’d arrived—all the scraping up to afford this place, all the dreams that came to fruition. But it was only the first step of many before those dreams would hold our weight.”
She set her teacup down with a gentle clatter, her gaze following where Hugo had gone. “While he worked late into the night inside the shop, getting it ready for opening day, I huffed around out here. I must admit, it was more a labor of defiance than love some days.”
I nodded. “But you created a place where the two of you could have some peace in the middle of those dreams.” But where is Hugo now? Enjoying this space? No, as much as he’d like to be here with her, his dreams still pull him away. His energy won’t let him just be still.
Alice huffed out a little sigh. “Yes, that I did.”
I smiled softly. “Maybe he could hire someone to help around the shop so he can come join you more.”
“Maybe.” Alice nodded, but she didn’t seem convinced that it’d work. “Either way, I’m looking forward to our anniversary. We’re going to see a Broadway show together, get away with just the two of us, explore the big city and Central Park. This busy season will have some payoff for us. It’ll be alright.” She sounded like she was trying to make herself believe it.
“Did you design the little bonsai gardens, too?” I asked suddenly, noticing a similar curve to the edges of the flowerbeds to the one in my little teacup garden from Aeron.
“I did.” Her smile broadened. “Are you the one he sold the park bench one to?”
“In a way.” I couldn’t help but blush a little. “It came to me by way of the one who bought it as an apology for… I’m not even sure what it was. I think he was upset that he went off on me a little. Anyway, he bought it for me, and I’ve enjoyed having it on my desk.”
“I’m happy something I made could be used for bringing people together, then.” Alice poured herself a little more tea and picked up a scone from the plate. “There’s really no better occupation.”
“I agree,” I mumbled from around a bite of my own. A singing bird drowned out what I meant to say for a few moments. A few little cheeky finches and wrens hopped toward our feet, eyes cocked to the side as they hunted for crumbs.
“I so badly want this dating service to help the necros find companionship,” I said, finally as I watched the birds dance. “Maybe I should have some way to help them develop closer connections, encourage them to see the things in front of them that are so important.”
A thin mist coated Alice’s eyes as she nodded. “That would be... a worthwhile endeavor.”
Hugo came bounding out again a few seconds before the trap music started up and moved away down the road. “Alice, my dear, I swear you’re my good luck charm! I managed to sell off that last luminare chalice.”
“You mean the Alice Chalice?” She laughed, leaning back in her chair.
“The very same!” Hugo’s grin beamed. “It’s gone off to a good home, too—a young watchling who hopes to utilize summons energy to lower the cost of recycling. His research might prove invaluable to the community as a whole.”
“That’s amazing!” I gushed, then realized what he’d just said. “Wait… you sold it to a watchling?”
Hugo and Alice stiffened as one, the peaceful atmosphere evaporating like a mist on a hot, summer day. “You do realize he’s a watchling, right?” Alice’s voice cooled as her gaze flicked over toward her husband.
I stammered. “Y-yes, but…”
Her hand had snapped out protectively in front of Hugo. “And why should he not sell them a chalice?
Hugo cleared his throat. “Dear, it’s all right…”
“No, no it isn’t!” Alice’s eyes flashed. “A decade ago, it was all ‘you sold it to a necromancer? You really are a necromancer?’ Now it’s the same hatred, the same fear because you’re a watchling. When’s it going to be enough?”
“There’s nothing to be done but be kind, Alice.” Hugo’s voice was low, but still gentle. “She’s new to all this. How is she to know if no one teaches her?”
“She can go learn it herself.” Alice sat back in her chair, crossing her lean arms over her abdomen.
Hugo let out a deep breath. “I, for one, would rather she hear it from a friend.” He met my gaze, his hollow cheeks flushed. “My wife is quite protective, and for good reason. She’s been my advocate many times, and what she says is true. Now, what is it you’d like to know?”
My mind raced. “I… I suppose I don’t understand. Don and Aeron said you had both in your lineage, but I’d assumed you were simply a necromancer, since you enchant things. Besides summoning puppies, I suppose.” I hung my head. “It’s clear how little I do know about you all. I’m beginning to wonder why I jumped ahead on this project like this. Ethan was right, I really should’ve found out more about these things. But where? Where do you learn about necros and watchlings, what they do and where they come from?”
Alice had gone sullen. She continued to sip her tea and munch on her scone, but her hackles had come up, and it’d take some soothing for her to be disarmed again.
Hugo flashed a sad smile. “You’re right that accurate information isn’t well-databased. The dilution of it all by misinformation means a cursory glance will likely yield you more rumor and misinformation than relevant truth.”
He pursed his lips and thought for a moment, his fingers traipsing up and down the table. “Perhaps your service could be a step in a good direction for that very thing.”
“She asked a question,” Alice prodded with a nudge.
“Right you are.” Hugo took a quick sip, then replaced the cup and tilted it to make the liquid swirl. “Necromancers and watchlings alike find themselves possessed of uncommon abilities due to diluted freak blood in their ancestry. Simply put, the necros got their power from a progenitor who was bitten by a vampire. Watchlings got theirs from the bite of a werekin.”
“I’d caught that much.” My bite of scone suddenly felt hard to swallow. I took a gulp of tea, draining my cup. “It’s just, the way Don and Aeron talked, it sounded like the watchlings wanted the necros dead at all costs, and people like me on a blood farm. You can imagine how I’d feel knowing you just sold one of them something to catch my blood in.” Especially after how we first met.
Alice paled a little, then coughed into her hand. “Oh, poor girl…”
“I see.” Hugo wrung his hands. “I wish I could say that Don and Lyons were wrong in their assessments. Many watchlings do wish for the end of the vampire bloodlines, and yes, they do have a few blood farms still operating to that end, since our blood is useless for magic.” He swallowed hard. “I, for one, would be loath to drop you off on the doorstep of the man I sold that chalice to.”
I leaned forward on my elbows. “Then where did I go wrong?”
His gaze darted around, then finally locked with mine again. “I hope you understand that we’re not all like that. There are many watchlings who are justice fighters, advocates for peace, and kind, harmless souls.” His shrug was apologetic and helpless all at once. “In that way, we aren’t too unlike humans—we really are as much a mixed bag as other kinds of people.”
I nodded, heat radiating from my cheeks. “And it’s not just because you’re also a necro?”
I’d never seen Hugo’s face this serious. “My dear, there are necros who reap blood from innocent bystanders to summon hellbound warriors
from the pit. There are necros whose minds break, and they lay in coffins beside the cold corpses. The legends and the hatred came from real events, from dark practitioners who loved power more than people. You, of anyone, should understand how easy it would be…”
“I get it,” I interrupted, swallowing back tears. “But those are my friends.” Dear friends, for how long I’ve known them. Maybe too dear.
“And they’re my friends, too.” Hugo nodded slowly. “But they’re… we’re dangerous. And the watchlings are also my friends, my brothers. I don’t have to tell you that they’re also dangerous.” He shivered a little, his voice lowering. “Just because you wish to finish up your dealings with the magical world doesn’t mean the magical world will let go of you so easily.”
“Aeron tried to tell me.” I sniffed, wondering just how much of a warning Hugo was giving me with that dark, frightened look. And I gave Aeron sass about it. I swallowed hard. “Hugo… do you know who the watcher, listener, and hand are?”
He stiffened, eyes widening as his nostrils flared a little.
Alice rose sharply. “If you understood, even a little, what those things mean, you wouldn’t ask him such a thing!”
Hugo reached across the table to pat her hand gently. “It’s alright. She doesn’t understand. No one’s told her.” To me, he added, “You’re paying attention and working hard to connect the pieces. But Alice is correct—that piece is not mine to put in place for you. For more reasons than one, you will have to keep looking.”
“I keep feeling like I’m being followed,” I blurted out, rising to meet his gaze again. “Please!”
Hugo’s shoulders sagged in defeat. His gaze softened in a look I could best describe as pity. “If your instincts tell you you’re being followed, perhaps it would be good to listen to them.”
“My instincts?” Do I even have those?
He nodded, backing away. “I wish you the best. If you ever feel like you’re in danger, my shop is neutral territory—no faction can move against the other on these premises. Consider Betwixt your humble Switzerland.”
Despite my heavy heart, gratitude brought a soft smile to my lips. “Thank you, Hugo. That means a lot—probably means a lot to everyone.”
Hugo and Alice joined hands in calming and reassuring clasps, Alice’s gaze carefully cast downward to avoid mine. They returned to their work together, leaving me to see myself out.
Out of this oasis, out of this other world. Back to the cold and the dark.
Chapter 22 – On Men
“Here to celebrate, or take your mind off things?”
I glanced up at the barkeeper. He was a college-aged kid, still a little gangly from growing. His black dress shirt needed ironing, and his hair was slicked a little too hard to his head. I wasn’t about to ask him for a complex drink. “I’ve got a pretty decent excuse for both, actually.” I flashed a smile. “I think a whiskey sour will hit the right notes for both sides of the equation.”
“Whiskey sour it is.” He pulled a clean glass from the backlit shelf and set to assembling the cocktail as I tried to lose myself in the bar’s atmosphere.
I’d picked a cozy one, with mostly groups of friends meeting up to play games or talk a little too loudly over drinks and under dim industrial light strands. There were three or four empty seats at the bar since the happy hour crowd hadn’t yet been replaced with the after-dinner crowd. I didn’t need to spend my last twenty until payday, but after the ups and downs of today, I wanted a drink and a few minutes to process things before I faced another uncomfortable night sleeping in my car.
The bartender handed me my drink, and I took a sip. It was a half-decent attempt. Not going to win any awards, but it was tasty, and it had a blackberry garnish impaled on a stirring straw. The romantic in me warmed. I was such a sucker for the little details like that. I slid the sweet, bitter berry into my mouth and ate it before it could become logged with whiskey.
He leaned over the bar. “So, what are we celebrating?”
“I just finished my first week at a new job.” I raised my glass in a mock toast. “I survived. I made new friends. Earned every penny of my paycheck.”
He grinned. “Hey, that’s worth celebrating.”
I nodded, taking a bigger gulp of the drink. “And as to getting my mind off someone… if I tell you, it won’t be getting my mind off him.” I probably shouldn’t be hitting the whiskey if that’s what I wanted to do, anyway. My smile spread with the warmth of the drink hitting my stomach.
“No, I suppose not.” He replaced an empty bottle he’d just used the last of with a full one from beneath the bar.
“Not that it matters.” I knocked back another swig. “He’s going to be very hard to forget.”
“That fellow over there seems interested enough in trying to make you forget.” The barkeep gestured toward my eight o’clock, where a guy was eyeing me up and down like he was ready to take me on.
Unsure of what to do, I sent an unassuming wave in his direction. At best, it’d let him know I saw him staring, and at worst he’d think I was waving at someone else.
He took it as his open invitation to trot up to the bar and take the empty seat to my right. “Why, hello, there!” His gaze flicked downward, then up again, lips parted in a grin that showed off perfect teeth with prominent canines. “It’s a crime a pretty woman like you has to drink alone on a gorgeous night like this. Mind if I join you?” His thick, dark hair was expertly-styled, adding to a polished look. I’d wager he was a salesman at a mall kiosk, but wasn’t sure how much I’d bet on it.
“Hi, yourself. I’m Celeste.” I turned my attention back to my drink. “I might not be the best company, but you’re welcome to the seat.”
His entire attention was laser-focused on me. “And I’m John. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. You come here often?”
“First time, actually.” I raised an eyebrow that didn’t manage to pull my lips up with it. If he was trying to get a single woman to rethink her stance on men, that line wasn’t going to do it.
Clearly, he thought he was being smooth as oil. “I know a really nice spot up the road a bit that has cocktails more fit for someone as classy as you.” John gave me a wink. “Wanna walk there with me? It’s literally two blocks up the street, and I’d be thrilled to buy you a nice drink.” He held out his hand for mine.
“I, uh, need to stop by the restroom first. Be right back.” I was already frantically searching for the restroom signs on my way out of the seat. Palming my phone, I dashed into a stall to hide, heart thumping in my chest. You’re being ridiculous. Don’t bother him over something so stupid. You had your “the end” moment with Aeron, don’t go starting something up by texting him now.
Indecision froze me for a moment. What’s the harm in asking? Worst he can say is no…
“Hey Aeron,” I typed, then backspaced the message and started again. “There’s a guy here with teeth like Hugo’s. He wants me to go to another bar up the road with him. I’m at the Stir on Fifth. Problem? No problem? I might be overthinking.”
As soon as I sent the message, I felt like an idiot. My face flushed with embarrassment for being such a scaredy cat. Before I could unlock the door, my phone buzzed in my hand.
It was Aeron. “Don’t walk out that door. I’m on my way.”
Now my heart was really pounding in my ears. The song on the overhead had changed from some sad country ballad to a pop number with the synth bass pounding in time with my heartbeat. I waited as long as could possibly be construed as reasonable in the bathroom, then slowly forced myself to brave the bar again.
“Hey, ready to go?”
I jumped so badly I nearly burst into tears. John was right there, waiting for me in the narrow hallway where I couldn’t escape.
“I, uh… actually, I was really hoping to dance to this song first, and finish my drink, if that’s alright with you. I just got here.” I flashed a smile I hoped looked genuine. I’d gotten out of practice faking things alre
ady, spending time with someone so genuine… Stop it, Celeste.
“That sounds amazing.” He took me by the elbow and escorted me toward the dance floor, his eyes already glinting.
I didn’t even know the song, but I took the opportunity to loosen up, shuffling my feet, keeping the fear at bay with smooth shifts of my shoulders and hips.
John nodded, following my every move with his own as he pressed my drink into my hand. His gaze never left me for a second, and it raised the hackles on the back of my neck. Every beat felt agonizingly slow. Despite my exertion, I had to force myself to breathe with his piercing dark eyes watching me. I felt like prey he was ready to pounce.
After the song, I took the last swig of my mediocre cocktail, the final drips tasting more like bitter, sandy water than whiskey sour from the melted ice and poor mixing. I froze, my hand coming up to my mouth a second after I’d swallowed it.
You idiot, you broke the one rule to rule them all. You left an open drink in a room with a predator, then upended it like the sucker you are. Stupid, stupid Celeste.
“Oh no.” I had no idea how long I’d be in possession of my faculties, but from the little I understood about alcohol and date rape drugs, small people who hadn’t eaten dinner didn’t have long. I pulled out my phone again, my hands shaking. I couldn’t even unlock the screen. Aeron, please hurry...
“Want one more dance?” John asked as I deposited my phone in my bag and hid my hands. If he noticed the shaking, he didn’t mention it. I was almost positive he saw it, though, and was pleased with his progress.
I steadied myself as best I could. “Yeah, uh, sure!”
“We’re in no rush, right?” He spun in place, then held his hand out to me again. “The night is young, we’re young, and we can make this a party for two!”
As I pushed off the bar stool, my foot slipped a little. Am I clumsy tonight, tipsy, or has it already started? Oh God, what if I go with him? What if Aeron and Don can’t find me?