by Eli Constant
“Tori?” He says my name like a question and quirks an eyebrow. His face is thoughtful and curious now. “I told you none of that matters. None of it.” He stops talking for a moment, his eyebrow falling back into place like a lazy caterpillar. “But you feel differently? Bad different or good?”
I sigh, shoulders slumping. “Honestly, I don’t know yet. Maybe bad.”
“I was worried you’d say bad. Come on, coffee’s hot and the couch is cozy. You’re all done working for the day, right?”
“Yes, all wrapped up neat in a casket downstairs. Poor Mrs. Leeds.” I push past Kyle, enjoying the way it feels when our bodies brush. “I don’t want to end up like her. Dying alone, no one to bury me. My body showing years of neglect. I don’t want to live my life that way.”
Kyle reaches for me, grabs my arm, and pulls me back to him. The hug he gives me is firm and reassuring. “That’s never going to happen, Tori. You’re so easy to love.”
The blush that creeps into my cheeks is hot as fire; it reminds me of the feel of Mordecai’s blood as I drew it to me, pulling away his life cell by cell. This time though, the heat does not scare me. It’s good and kind, like a fire’s light after a day spent too long in the cold. Kyle continues to hold me. I don’t push away or fight it. Seconds stretch into minutes. Finally, after the minutes have merged into forever, I pull away.
Because our feelings could all be mystical crap, no matter how genuine and warm they seem.
“So, coffee and chat.” I say, gripping his hand and pulling him towards the kitchen.
He already has my favorite mug on the counter. The Wednesday Addams one. I smile when I see it. And I smile wider when I see it next to a new addition—a sunny yellow cup that says ‘Good morning, Sunshine’. It’s so opposite my own cup, such a juxtaposition, that I know it speaks volumes for who Kyle and I are as people. I wonder if I deserve him. Again, maybe I don’t. Magical magnetism sucks.
He may be a berserker. He may ‘beast out’ when necessary. But he doesn’t want to kill people.
I know this to be fact.
Once we’re seated on the couch, me criss-cross applesauce and him with one ankle resting on the opposite leg’s knee, I begin to ramble—like I do when I’m nervous, uncomfortable, uncertain about the future. We don’t know anything new of course, apart from Liam has already told us, but me just talking more about the unusual connection between necromancers and berserkers helps ease my mind and heart.
Kyle stays quiet for a long time as I yap like my life, and love, depends on it. I wonder what he’s thinking. Is he finally coming to his senses—that he never understood why he would be attracted to me in the first place? Is he debating how to break it off with me, now that I’ve beaten the dead horse and talked him out of loving me?
Finally, after my throat starts hurting, Kyle takes a deep sip of coffee. It’s long gone cold and he grimaces as the cool liquid and sludge at the bottom of his cup slips down his throat into his belly.
“Tori, I get the feeling that maybe you want me to wake up and realize it’s all magic and I don’t love you.” He leans forward, uncrossing his legs and setting his now empty mug on the coffee table. “Who gives a fuck if we wouldn’t have been drawn to each other if you weren’t what you are and I wasn’t what I am. The fact is that I love you, Tori. You, Tori. I love your laugh. I love the way you see the world. I love the way you treat people and the way you look in the morning before having a chance to tidy your hair. Being a necromancer is part of you. Being whatever the hell I am—”
“A berserker,” I offer, even though I know he knows the word and is just having an issue coming to grips with the reality.
“Yes, that. It’s just another part of who I am.” He reaches for me, taking both of my hands in his. “Do you love me the person? Or,” he tilts his head, a wry smile warming his face, “do you love my animal side?”
I’m silent for a second, thinking. It’s not the right thing to do when someone asks if you love them, but I have to pause and give it consideration. I jumped into love with Adam, which was the right thing to do, because it just was. I’m more reserved now in matters of the heart though. If I say the words now, it wouldn’t even be the first time. When I’d said them before though, I’d said ‘I love you, but I don’t know’. And that means there was a caveat to the confession of love. It means that it wasn’t unbridled or fully true. I thought I loved him. Now I need to give him an answer that does not contain doubt. “Yes, I love you.”
“Then none of it matters.”
“But, Kyle,” I swallow hard, knowing my next words are awful to say after a profession of love to a man who wants monogamy and a future and—I’d even bet—the white picket fence, two kids, and a dog, whole shebang (or would we have ghost-attracting cubs instead of kids?). “Liam means something to me too. It’s not something I can define. I don’t know if it’s romantic love or just that I deeply care about him as a friend. It wouldn’t be fair for you though, not to be honest about that.”
His brow furrows, but his hands grip me a fraction tighter. He’s not letting me go; he’s not letting the bombshell I just dropped ruin the moment. His face tells me though, that he’s thought about this before. The wry smile is gone. Determination in its place.
“I’m not an idiot, Tori. When he’s around, I can feel that there’s something between you two.” He sighs, looks down at the floor and then back at my face. I’m surprised when a new grin spreads his lips; this one is darkly mischievous. “But, I do have an advantage over fairy boy. If what he said is true, then you and I are fated to be together. And fate is a hard thing to fight.”
I can’t help but smile at him.
And part of me, most of me really, hopes what he says is true. Because I’m not the type of girl who can be in a love triangle. I barely have the capacity to really love one other person nowadays, let alone two. And Kyle is the clear choice. Not just because our bodies call to one another. Not just because the necromancer within me sings when his berserker is around, but because we fit.
We fit like snow on a mountain’s peak. What I feel for Liam is not hot enough to melt that cold whiteness.
At least, I pray it isn’t.
God, when did my life get so freaking complicated?
For a moment, I want to rewind my life, back to when I was living in the shadows, back when not a soul alive knew my secret. Back before things began to change.
Of course, rewinding my life would do nothing to change the post-Rising world. And that is the world I live in. With its dreary weather and promise of a burning death.
Chapter Twenty
Friday, Kyle and I are woken by my phone ringing. I groggily turn over, reaching for the cell positioned at the corner’s edge of the teal nightstand that’s just wobbly enough that when my fingers graze the phone instead of grab it, it decides to slip off the painted wood and freefall to the floor below.
“Dammit.” I shift my body more, my top half going off the mattress, my hands stretching out to waggle across the floor, and my braless boobs threatening to spill out of my black tank top. The phone is still ringing. It’s giving me a headache, one of those insta-come kinds that sits behind your eyes and just ‘ping ping ping’s until you down a Tylenol chased with several cups of high grade caffeine. Kyle, on the other hand, is snoring softly again. That makes me jealous.
Finally, the phone is in my hand and I’m sliding over the answer icon. My voice sounds just this side of pissed off. “Yes?”
“Tori, it’s Terrance.” And just like that, I’m awake.
“Hey, Terrance, give me two seconds. I need to go in the other room.” I’m whispering, rolling fully off the bed so that I can sneak out of the room without disturbing Kyle. Although, a teensy part of me wants to be really loud and wake him up, just for the hell of it. I’m tired and I want to keep sleeping too. Terrance doesn’t respond.
But I resist the urge and walk out of the bedroom; the floors are cold against my bare feet and when I get to the ki
tchen, I see the neon microwave clock screaming at me that it’s really not all that early. In fact, it’s past when I normally get up. Especially when I have a funeral. “Shit,” I mutter, knowing I won’t be able to crawl back into bed next to Kyle.
“Something wrong?”
“No, dammit.” I sigh and the sound is loud enough to bounce around the room and settle back over my body. “I just didn’t know how late it was. It’s actually a good thing that you called and woke me up.”
“Good. I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to talk to Mr. Barrington’s ex and her current husband today. I know you’ve got another funeral or I’d drag you along.”
“Damn, wish it had been yesterday. I got done prepping Mrs. Leeds fairly early.”
“The new husband, a Mitchell Sherwin, was out of town at a conference.” He pauses talking and I hear some paper rustling. He’s checking his notebook more than likely, trying to recall a name. “Tess Sherwin was available, but I wanted to talk to them together. I want to get a feel for their relationship. I’ll cook up a reason to bring them in separately afterwards and make sure it’s a time you can be there.”
“Sure, sure.” I bite my lower lip and think. “What time are you going?”
“I’m on the way now.”
“Where are you meeting them?”
“His office. He had a break between patient consults today and his wife runs reception.”
“Cool. Let me know how it goes.”
“Will do.”
When Terrance hangs up, without a goodbye like he often did, I think at Liam. Liam, would you be able to do me a favor?
Possibly.
I’m surprised he doesn’t immediately say yes. I wonder how our relationship is changing. The Chief is going to question a couple in reference to the murders, the ones connected with the body they found across the street in the lake. Would you be able to… I don’t know… use your fae wiles to take a peek around their house since we know they won’t be there?
I know I’m basically asking Liam to break the law. But, hey, it’s human law. I had the feeling he wouldn’t mind.
Breaking and entering is a tall order. But there’s playfulness in his voice. Anything else I can do for you? Rob a bank? Jay walk? Assault a police officer while I’m at it?
If you’re so inclined. You’d look good in one of those stripey jail uniforms.
Oh? That sort of thing do it for you?
Do it for me? Ha. I think you need to spend a little less time with us humans, Liam.
‘Us’ humans…
I can feel his voice trail off in my head. I’ve said something wrong.
You realize how very little you have in common with normal humanity, don’t you Tori? Sometimes, I think you forget that you don’t actually belong with people whose biggest worries are how to pay their utility bills and what dinner to cook.
I frown. Liam, I’m keenly aware of what I am. I’m faced with it every damn day. But I like humanity. I like the realness of it. I like the hope of it.
You’re the Blood Queen, Tori. One day, probably soon, you’re going to have to leave this all behind.
No. I won’t.
He sighs, long and loud and I realize, after a split second, that it’s no longer in my head. Something touches my hair, tousles it gently, lifts it and then lets it fall again to brush against my back and tickle my bare neck.
I whirl around quickly, fast enough that I feel my hair float away from my body and hover in the air to come swishing back down. It falls over my right shoulder and trails down to the edge of the tank top. I’m not wearing a bra, but at least my boobs are properly pushed down and covered. Of course, I’m suddenly very, very aware of the no-bra situation now that Liam is standing in front of me, staring at me like I’m the sunrise after a too long night.
“Good morning.” He brushes a hand over my shoulder, swiping the newly-settled hair back to where it was, cascading down behind me. His gaze flits to the open bedroom door when Kyle’s snoring reaches a louder level than usual. “Kyle’s here?”
“Yes. I thought you’d already know that.”
“I was focusing on you too hard to notice anyone else.” A tiny smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“Liam, don’t.”
“Don’t what.”
“Don’t start this up again. I’m with Liam.”
“With whom?”
I feel heat burn up my face and scorch my cheeks. “I. Am. With. Kyle.” I bite off each word, like I’m eating a chocolate bar and I’m pissed about it. Not that anyone in their right minds would be pissed about eating chocolate. Unless it was that sugarless kind. Yeah, that would make me less than happy.
“You said Liam.” He lifts his hand to touch my face, stroke the blush that’s creeped in, but I moved back and bump into the chair. The vase in the middle of the table wobbles precariously and Liam darts around me to right it and keep it from falling. “No need to wake up the sleeping baby berserker.”
“Liam, why are you here?”
“I’m never very far away.” He murmurs, walking over to my coffee pot like he owns the place. He opens the lid to see if it’s already set to brew. It is, so he flips the switch, reaches into my cabinets, and pulls down two mugs. He doesn’t get my favorite one. It’s dirty in the sink.
He probably doesn’t even know which is my favorite anyways. But Kyle does.
“It’s the one with the odd, black-haired girl on the front.” Liam speaks softly, turning around and leaning against the countertop. The coffee maker is sizzling and popping behind him, beginning to fill the room with the heady scent of dark roast with a hazelnut undertone. I don’t respond to him. He waits quietly and I can feel him pushing against my brain, urging me to accept the fact that he does know me, quite as well as Kyle, if not better.
And, I feel him reminding me without words, he cares for me in a way that’s not magical at all. He cares for me the way a man loves a woman. Or, rather, how a fairy loves another fairy. There is not the blood bond of berserker and the necromancer he is duty-bound to serve.
“Stop it, Liam.” I finally breathe out, fighting through all the images he’s now pouring into my head. It’s images of a future, a future that could be, if I were to choose him over Kyle.
“You’ll never be sure of him, Victoria. You’ll always wonder if he only loves you because of what he is and what you are.”
“Kyle and I accept that. We… we love one another.” I turn away, crossing my arms to keep myself whole, and I stare out the window. I hadn’t realized that the snow was falling. Great powdery chunks drifting from the sky to settle across the thick layer already present on the ground. I can see the salt truck has already come by. The roads are still clear. They are also white, but it’s a different shade than the virgin snow alighting across the world.
“I’m going to wait, Victoria, if it takes forever.” Liam hasn’t come up behind me or made a move to touch me again. I can hear him working in the kitchen. I hear the sound of coffee pouring into the generic cornflower blue mugs he’s chosen from the cabinet.
I can hear the sugar jar popping open as he breaks the seal.
I can hear the fridge opening so he can retrieve the cream.
I can hear him sitting down at the table to drink.
I wait, for what feels like forever, until there are no sounds anymore. I don’t know how he sits behind me and calmly drinks the coffee, but he does. How is it that, in matters of love, women are the ones made crazy by the storm? How is it that men, with all their emotional anti-growth, can sit around cool as cucumbers and act like they’ve not just been keenly torn asunder by a romance gone wrong?
Men. Mars.
Women. Venus.
I just want to live on the freaking Earth for a while.
I’ll go check out that couple’s home for you. Liam’s voice, so lovely and warm, sounds in my head once more. I turn around and he is gone.
I want to whisper back ‘thanks’, but I don’t.
God, everything is so damn complicated.
Chapter Twenty-One
Mrs. Leeds’ funeral is as depressing as I expect it to be. Even the pastor—the Baptist one from downtown, the only one I could get to come graveside to do the service—only does the bare minimum, with little personal flourishes aside from mentioning when she was born, her late husband’s name, and the number of children she had.
She had three.
Three children and we were burying her in a banged-up, discount coffin with a second-rate funeral and not a single loved one in sight. Seriously, what the fuck?
Terrance had kept trying to get ahold of her living relatives. God, I’d even made an effort. Yet despite leaving messages and sending snail mail, we’d never heard back. I had a feeling though, when it came time to read the will and sell her house—the only thing she had really worth anything—the scavengers would come calling, trying to get their proverbial piece of the rancid, rotting pie called inheritance.
After the funeral, I have to go for a run. I need to breathe fresh, icy air. Let the burn of it remind me that I am alive. Alive for now.
When I’ve run so far and so fast that I can’t catch my breath and it hurts to stand up straight, I head home, limping across Leslie’s yard and holding my side so tight that my nails are definitely leaving indents.
I’m glad that I walk past Leslie’s house without being summoned by the older woman. I don’t have the inclination or emotional capacity to small talk right now. Besides, the last time I’d spoken to Leslie, she’d gifted me frozen fish. One of which contained the earring of a murdered young man. So I’d pass on any conversation or food offerings, at least for a while.
As soon as I arrive home, I strip down to my sweat-soaked bra and undies. It is cold enough in the house that I sprout goosebumps all over my body almost immediately. I shiver and stamp my feet to generate some heat as I turn the facet on full heat and wait as the bathtub fills. A shower would be faster, but I want to soak my bones and close my eyes.