Tempt

by Claire Farrell

  A muffled sound from Carl’s throat alerted me. His heartbeat raced. It thundered in his chest as though it would drown out all other sounds. My mouth watered, and I thought I might throw up from the shame of it.

  His eyes flung open and caught my gaze. They widened further, and he glanced around the room, anxiety stinking the air.

  “You okay?”

  He stared at me as though I were the stuff of nightmares. “Who the hell are you?”

  Oh, holy shit.

  I screamed for Eddie, terrifying poor Carl in the process. When both Eddie and Peter ran in, Carl huddled in the bed like a scared child.

  “Hey man, you okay?” Peter asked. His face fell when Carl stared back at him blankly.

  Describing who we were to Carl proved to unsettle him further, and a deadly fear gripped my heart. What if his mind was gone for good? When Carl slept, Eddie explained that the shock of the bond-breaking had traumatised Carl, forcing him to blank out everything that had happened.

  “It’s a survival mechanism,” he reassured us. “As long as we keep him safe and comfortable, he’ll remember things slowly enough for him to deal with.”

  “Is he going to be okay?” My voice was barely above a whimper, and Peter moved closer to me.

  “Only time will tell,” Eddie said, before going back to bed.

  I turned to Peter, but I couldn’t form the words. He didn’t speak, either, only wrapped his arms around me and let me lean on him completely.

  ***

  Over the next few days, Carl’s memories returned slowly but surely. He seemed okay, but a constant sadness dulled his eyes. I kept thinking that maybe his spirit had been the thing that had really broken, that maybe I had killed everything that made him himself.

  The moment he remembered me was one of the worst times. His entire body shook violently until I left the room. He wasn’t prepared to see me again until the following day.

  “It’s hard to process,” he told me. “There are so many images that pop into my head when I see you. I don’t know what’s real and what’s a nightmare.”

  I bit my lip. His nightmares about me were reality.

  After a week, he was less shaky and nervous, but still different. I felt his anxiety all of the time. It never let up, not even when he slept. I wanted to help him… I just didn’t know how.

  Peter stayed with Carl, who seemed happier around him. He was noticeably more comfortable around Peter than anyone else, and I realised how strong a friendship they had developed. I couldn’t help feeling a little left out.

  One day, Carl cried in front of me.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, terrified for some reason.

  “I was so stupid, Ava. What the hell am I doing with my life? I keep nearly dying, nearly losing my mind. I keep getting wrapped up in all of this shit that has nothing to do with me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t. Don’t even say that to me. You warned me, and I didn’t listen. When I was with her… I couldn’t think of anything else. It was like an obsession, an addiction. Being around her was slowly killing me. I mean, I could feel it happen, but it felt like something I had to do. It felt like it was worth it.” He shook his head. “And then you came, and I was trapped again, in the back of my head. I kept trying to break through, but I was in darkness most of the time. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. I felt like I was suffocating. The darkness kept closing in on me, the space was getting smaller and smaller. I could sense that I was losing myself, that I wouldn’t ever make it out.”

  He held onto my hands without even realising it, pinching my skin he gripped so hard. “Then, you set me free again, and I felt like I was on fire. I’ve never been in so much agony. It was awful. I wanted to die. Then, the darkness came again, and it swallowed me up. I couldn’t break free. I kept trying. I couldn’t give up, and slowly flashes of light came through. It was like I dug holes in the wall, and eventually, I broke through completely.”

  “And now?”

  He stared at me, his lips trembling. “Now, I want to go home, Ava. I just want to go home. They won’t take me back, not after everything I’ve done. Maria won’t even take my calls now. I’ve screwed it all up, and look where it got me. You know how I feel about you and Peter, but right now, I wish I’d never laid eyes on either of you.”

  I would have done anything to take that hollow look out of his eyes, the bitterness from his voice. But he turned his back on me and asked me to leave, saying he needed some time alone.

  I took the opportunity to go home for a change of clothes. When I returned, Peter was on the shop floor, waiting for me. My heart sank when I saw his face. He moved closer to me and hesitated.

  “What’s wrong?” I tapped my wrist in agitation.

  He held on to my fingers to stop me. “Carl doesn’t want to see you.” He said it in such a low voice, I hoped I had misheard him. I shook my head, not knowing what to say. I’d done everything I could for Carl, and now he didn’t want to see me again.

  “I tried to help him. Even when I nagged him to death, I just wanted to protect him. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” Even I winced at how pitiful my words sounded.

  “I know. Trust me, I know. I had to watch you leave the country and deal with Becca alone when all I wanted to do was go over there and sort the problem out for you. But I had to let you go.”

  I frowned. “I came back, though.”

  He squeezed my fingers. “Don’t look at me like that. Please don’t look so sad.”

  I attempted a smile. It didn’t quite work. I blamed it on the bond.

  “He just needs a break from all of this. You’re the biggest reminder of the worst things. He’ll get over it.”

  “I don’t think he will. But it’s for the best, right? At least he’ll be safe away from me.”

  He didn’t answer. I tried to stretch my fingers, but he held them too firmly.

  “You can let go now,” I whispered.

  He did. We faced each other awkwardly. With the immediate danger over, I felt a little embarrassed by how much I depended on Peter, and we still hadn’t dealt with the blood-drinking.

  “About before,” I said.

  “We’ve forgotten about it, Ava. We’re not talking about it. Ever.”

  The coldness in his voice disturbed me, but I knew how much it had cost him to help Carl. I knew how much it was still costing him, even though there wasn’t a scar, and I had made sure not to ruin his tattoo.

  “I’ll go then,” I said, feeling at a loss.

  “Keep your phone on loud. There’s a house up for rent that I think would be perfect for you. It needs a little work, but I could help you.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What are the neighbours like?”

  He laughed loudly, sounding a little relieved. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

  I left the shop, feeling a mixture of emotions. Becca was gone, and the succubus had been dealt with, but I still had a lot of things to do. I had a lot of things to make up for.

  Epilogue

  I rapped quickly on the door, seeing no bell. The sound seemed to reverberate in the air, so quiet was the neighbourhood. The place looked like heaven compared to the hell of my flat, and I couldn’t believe Carl had been so willing to throw it all away.

  The young woman who answered was tall, pretty, with dark hair and eyes. She pulled open the door breathlessly, as if she had been waiting for someone. Her face fell when she saw me, a stranger.

  “Can I help you?” Her tone wasn’t particularly friendly, but I put that down to stress.

  “Maria?”

  “Yes,” she said warily, looking at me through narrowed eyes.

  “I’m a friend of Carl’s.” I watched fire spark in her stare and knew I had to tread carefully. “I need to talk to you about him. He’s… ill.”

  “Ill? What’s wrong with him? Where is he?” Her anger turned to panic, and I knew she cared deeply for him. I only hoped it wasn’t too late for them.
/>   “He’s staying with a friend. He wants to come home. He’s been… afraid. He had a bit of a breakdown, you see. He didn’t want you to see him like that, but I thought you should know that he’s been away from you through no fault of his own.”

  I was almost certain I wasn’t lying. I had convinced myself that the succubus had gotten to Carl long before he truly succumbed.

  “What are you talking about, a breakdown? At his age? What on earth does he have to break down about? I should be the one breaking down here!” Her voice rose into a shrill cry.

  I wanted to run. “Look, all I can tell you is he’s pretty much mortified by his carrying on. He ended up with a bit of an addiction, and he’s been trying to shake that before he saw you again. He hasn’t been doing well. He even lost his memory.”

  Her mouth gaped open. “Why isn’t he in hospital?”

  “He was looked after by a… professional. Now, he’s recovering. I’m really sorry we couldn’t contact you sooner.”

  “Why didn’t you?” she barked. “Why didn’t anyone come to me or his family?”

  “Oh. Well, I told you. He lost his memory for a bit. It was hard to get anything out of him there for a while. But like I said, he’s getting better now. Maybe you could call him? Maybe let him come see you when he’s up to it?”

  Her stony expression softened. “He’s not up to visiting? Is he okay?”

  She believed me so easily. She latched on to any reason to forgive him. “He’s still quite weak,” I said softly. “It’s nothing to worry about. He just needs to build up his strength.” I played to what I figured was her personality type. “He probably needs someone to take care of him.”

  “And that isn’t you?” Ah. I felt her jealousy in spurts, mixed between gratitude at my telling her about him.

  I tried to laugh. “Definitely not me. He’s like family, but I’m not the one to take care of him. Don’t worry.”

  We shared a moment then. Two women worried about the same man. Two women with very different places in his life. I was almost certain that once Maria claimed him, Carl would leave my world forever. I couldn’t blame him, and I couldn’t forget the fear and pain in his voice when he had finally opened up to me. He might not want me around, but I could hardly blame him. I had played an active role in everything that had gone wrong in his life. The least I could do was help him get back to the people who truly cared for him. The people who would never lead him into danger or suffering. It had taken more near-death experiences than I could count, but finally, Carl was seeing the light. It took more than enthusiasm to survive in the other world, the underground one. Only time would tell how much of himself he had lost in the darkness.

  ***

  As soon as the taxi pulled into the sunny cul-de-sac, I knew I wanted to live there. A direct contrast to my flat, my destination was located in a bright, well-kept area of the city. It didn’t look like part of the city at all, and there was a feeling in the air of safety and protection. I guessed the landlady wasn’t human. Not that I minded.

  A row of sweet little cottages lined the pathway on either side of the street, and I admired them all as I passed. The cottage I was looking for was at the very end. When I saw the number, I laughed out loud. Fourteen. Perfect.

  It was a little dirty. It definitely needed a few repairs, as well as an industrial-strength lawnmower, but something about the place drew me. It attracted the sun.

  I stood in the front garden while I took in the surroundings. A bit of paint and a lot of cleaning, and the cottage would be perfect. The walls were redbrick, and the paint on the door was peeling, but I felt excited about the house becoming my home.

  “Is this my lost soul?” an elderly voice behind me croaked.

  I whirled around, surprised that such an old woman could sneak up on me. She was tiny and haggard-looking, her back noticeably hunched. Despite her age, her dark brown eyes were clear and gave her a mischievous air.

  “I’m Ava. I’m here to view the cottage.”

  “That you are. I’m Mrs. Yaga, the landlady. Do you want to take a look inside?” she asked, squinting in the sunlight.

  She opened the cottage to let me look around, but she waited outside. The home consisted of two tiny bedrooms, a miniature bathroom, a duck-egg-blue kitchen, a sunny space for a living room, and a sprawling back garden, again with the need for a lawnmower. A thick layer of dust and dirt covered the entire house, but I couldn’t wait to get stuck in.

  “I’ll take it,” I said as soon as I went back outside to Mrs. Yaga.

  She gave me a crooked smile with more gaps than teeth. “Don’t you want to know how much it is first?”

  I glanced at the house. It was home. Nothing else mattered.

  Two days later, I got on my knees and started scrubbing. Every inch of the house uncovered something about myself, cleared away something bad. All of the guilt and anger and self-pity, I washed it all away, convinced my new home was a fresh start.

  I revealed a spotless cottage, and a new me, a me that was more than ready for a start over. It felt as though I had shed a skin. Everything was so much lighter.

  Mrs. Yaga definitely wasn’t human, and I had a strong suspicion that she and the cottage had something to do with the change in me, but I felt only gratitude. All of my neighbours were a mixture of species and races, and there was something peaceful about the whole area. Security of the entire cul-de-sac seemed tight, and I felt no need to secure my own house.

  I had a hard time packing. Leaving the flat terrified me. Change unnerved me. But I had been making some big decisions, and I took great pleasure in packing the blood bags into a cardboard box and dumping them off at Gabe’s bar.

  “Tell him never to send me this crap again,” I told a bemused Finn.

  With Peter’s help, I moved all of my things to the cottage—without a backward glance—as soon as the place was clean. I barely unpacked because I wanted to paint it first. Peter came through on that count, too.

  “You’re going to have to stop being so dependable,” I teased as we gave the living room a second coating.

  He flicked paint at me in answer. “What are you going to do next?”

  “The kitchen, I think,” I said as I admired my handiwork.

  “I meant in life, idiot.” More flicked paint.

  “I’m going to dump the whole tin over your head,” I warned.

  “I’ll shake myself off in your precious kitchen. Really, what are your plans?”

  He looked so serious, I tried to think about everything I’d been conveniently putting to one side. I had a lot to consider, and my stress level automatically began to rise, but I hadn’t counted once since I’d found the cottage. I kept that to myself.

  “Gabe’s got some work for me. I made some friends in Liverpool that I’d like to help.”

  He faced me. “You’re going back?”

  “If I have to. I kind of made a fae deal.”

  He groaned. “Trust you.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” I protested. “I want to help them.”

  “Well, next time I’m coming with you. Drove me mad last time.”

  I held his stare, wondering what he meant. “That deal kind of fits in with a deal I made with Gabe. I’m going to find an empath to help me with that mess. And I’m going to figure out a way I can be strong without drinking blood.”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “I mean it,” I said vehemently. “I’m never drinking blood again, Peter. Never.”

  He didn’t say anything for a few minutes, and I wondered if I had freaked him out. Then, he turned to me with a thoughtful look on his face. “You’re already strong. You’re going to be fine. No matter what happens.”

  “Well. Thanks.”

  He shrugged.

  “For everything.”

  His frown didn’t scare me. Much. “We’re not talking about that.”

  “Coward.”

  He stepped up to me, too close. My stomach somersaulted.

&
nbsp; “Who’s a coward?”

  “You are,” I whispered.

  He took my hands, his paint stained thumbs swirling my skin in circular motions. “No succubi marks on me this time,” he said with a half-smile, but his gaze turned serious.

  “There were never any marks on me,” I reminded.

  He grinned, slipping his arms around my waist to pull me closer.

  “Besides, she didn’t make me do anything I didn’t already want to,” he said softly. I lifted my face to his, feeling completely at ease for a change. His lips pressed lightly against mine, and the doorbell rang.

  He grinned against my lips, and I pushed him away.

  “The universe is seriously fucking with me right now,” he muttered as I hurried to answer the door, the butterflies in my stomach feeling as though they were on speed.

  Esther and Carl stood on my doorstop. My mouth dropped open in shock. Carl grinned, holding up his hands.

  “Don’t start,” Carl said. “I’m more than capable of walking.”

  I bit my lip. “I wasn’t going to say a word,” I lied.

  “You’re early,” Peter growled from behind me.

  Esther kissed my cheek, then linked arms with Peter, asking him to show her around.

  Carl shrugged at me. “Not a bit obvious, eh?”

  “Not half. How are you?”

  “I’m doing okay. Getting spoiled all round. Mostly thanks to you.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry about before. I needed a bit of time to deal with everything that happened. I didn’t handle it very well.”

  “Don’t be an idiot.” I hugged him tightly, feeling the residue of the bond affect me with his embrace. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you never spoke to me again.”