by K.N. Lee
She spared him a glance. She didn’t know why. He was ruining her relationship, her life, and yet he compelled her attention.
He tapped the top of his watch. Right. She was running out of time — for whatever the heck it was he wanted. Well, screw him. He could go straight to hell.
She raced after Ben, catching him at the diner’s front door.
“I don’t want to hear it,” he said, before she could say anything.
“Ben.” She knew what it had looked like in the back hall, and she wasn’t going to insult his intelligence by telling him that it wasn’t. But it left her with very little to say in her defense.
He spun on her, his expression wild. She’d never seen him so upset before. He opened his mouth, and she knew he was going to lose it. Then he glanced over her shoulder at the people in the diner.
“I trusted you.” His voice was low, but she could hear the edge of barely restrained anger in it.
Her world was unraveling, shattering into pieces so small she didn’t know if she’d be able to put it back together. She didn’t want to lie to Ben, but she didn’t want to lose him either. And if she didn’t do the first, she was certain the second would come to pass. She grabbed his arm and dragged him onto the street.
“Seth is a friend.” It couldn’t have sounded worse if she’d said Seth was her lover.
Ben snorted and ripped his arm free.
“His brother is missing, and given the recent string of murders…” She left it hanging, hoping that Ben would fill in the blank and start concentrating on something other than her in Seth’s arms.
The silence between them stretched from seconds into minutes. They were still in sight of the diner’s windows and were probably making great entertainment for those within. She didn’t care. All she cared was that Ben believed her. He had his faults. She probably had more. This was not how she’d expected his visit to turn out. She was supposed to be happy. They were supposed to be in love.
“You were gone for two days,” he said, all anger gone from his voice.
“Ben.” She felt like she’d had this conversation before. It felt like she was talking with the other-world’s Shannon again, dodging accusations of promiscuity.
“I don’t know if I really know you,” he said.
“We grew up together.” She hated when his melodramatics were justified. They were high school sweethearts.
“I know.”
“I’m not the one who showed up early,” she said, unable to stand there without defending herself.
“So you’re saying it’s my fault?”
“No.” She bit her lip. Of course, maybe that was what she really meant. She needed to leave before she said something that couldn’t be forgiven.
“I have to—” Get away… find a magic fix-all… kill Seth… “I need to talk to Sister Joe.” At least she could think of an acceptable exit line.
She forced herself to walk away from Ben and crossed the street, heading to St. Anne’s. But all her senses were still trained behind her, waiting for Ben to catch up, or call after her, or something. She refused to look over her shoulder. The fight was her fault, but she still wanted him to chase after her. She chased after him when he walked away.
But he didn’t follow. All she could hear were the sounds of the city, the far-off voices of people as they strolled down the street, and the rush of traffic.
Her eyes burned and she blamed it on the wind. It blew cold. A reminder that fall was dying into winter, and that all things changed.
She just didn’t want this part of her life to change. Long distance relationships were difficult, but she’d thought they had staying power. And the fact that he didn’t chase after her stung all the more.
40
Rowan tossed herself into her shabby yellow chair in her office at St. Anne’s. The walk to the school from the diner after fighting with Ben had done little to calm her nerves. She wanted to yell at Seth for being Seth, and she wanted to yell at Ben for not magically knowing her mind.
But in truth, she really wanted to yell at herself. She was the one who had chased after Seth into the service hall at the back of the diner. She should have just called the police, claiming she’d seen a suspicious man lurking about. But she doubted he’d have stuck around long enough to get caught.
The only thing that had some semblance of sense any more was her job. At least she knew how she was failing at that.
She twisted a tuft of the chair’s escaping stuffing around a finger and contemplated getting up to look through more books on the off-chance she’d recognize the scrap of text. But she couldn’t be bothered to expend the energy.
Her gaze fell on the plain wooden box containing the tarot cards her grandmother had given her. It was just as likely the cards would reveal a clue to the text as her books.
Standing, she ran a hand over the smooth wood. Grandma said there was truth in the cards if a person just had the sense to look. Rowan didn’t think she had much of a sense for anything — at least not at the moment. Even the most obvious truths were lost on her today. Like asking for trouble, or gee, not stepping into another man’s embrace when your fiancé was in the other room.
Doing and thinking were apparently two different things, and their only correlation was the degree of trouble.
She flipped open the lid and removed the deck. Just think of the question and shuffle. But she wasn’t sure what the question was. The deck wouldn’t be able to tell her who, precisely, was murdering these girls. And it wouldn’t tell her if she was supposed to spend the rest of her life with Ben.
Although, because that was the answer she wanted to see, she was more likely to read the cards to that end. Grandma Ro had said it was better to have someone else read the cards for you. Interpretation was a funny thing, particularly when someone was a little too close to the question.
How about, would they catch the killer soon?
She knew the cards wouldn’t tell her yes or no, but they might indicate the degree of possibility and the struggle involved.
She sat at her desk and slid her books and papers to one side. She found the Justice card in the deck and placed it in the middle of the space she’d made. It was the card that best represented her question and would be her Significator card, grounding her reading. Then she shuffled the deck, placed the first card on top of the Significator and the next four in a cross pattern around it.
The reading was dark, with the Wheel of Fortune followed by the Nine of Wands. Destiny with an adversary or strong opposition. Next was the Lovers — the meaning not necessarily self-evident, or so she hoped — and the Eight of Swords, a card of treachery, opposition, and fatality.
Finally, she drew the Death card. Death didn’t always mean the death of a person, merely the end of something. However, given the nature of the question and the rest of the dark cards, it was more apt that someone or many someones would fall victim to the murderer before everything was said and done.
There was also the question of the Lovers card, which didn’t fit with the others. She’d have to stretch to make it fit. Youth and innocence lost, maybe?
The whole reading was disjointed. Her question either wasn’t clear enough, or she was too close to see the threads. She certainly didn’t have the gift for the cards like Grandma Ro did — and she couldn’t call her for help since she refused to read the cards for Rowan after that horrifying reading when she’d been a teenager. If the cards were going to offer any insight, she was going to have to figure them out herself.
Someone knocked, and she glanced up. Sister Josephine stood in the doorway dressed in her usual blue suit, as if it weren’t close to midnight.
“I was walking and saw your light,” the Sister said.
Which explained her clothes. The Sister had troubled dreams which Rowan suspected came from her past as an exorcist — the details of which she kept secret. She often roamed the halls of the school in the middle of the night, searching for sleep or peace, perhaps even forgetfulne
ss. The thought sometimes gave Rowan pause about her career choice. But someone had to stand up and do the job.
“Those won’t help you,” Joe said, pointing at the desk.
Rowan shrugged and gathered the cards back together. “Some would argue that the cards are merely a way of communicating with God. That His power is manifested in the cards and how a person interprets them.”
“I suggest praying.”
“I’m doing that, too.”
Joe sat on the edge of the yellow chair. “No clues?”
Manny describing Seth as the devil who came to him and made him point out women popped into mind, but that wasn’t really a clue, or at least not one she could share.
“We’ve got a coven leader who apparently was in contact with all three victims,” Rowan said.
“That’s something.”
“Yeah.”
“But not what you’re looking for in those.” Joe waved at the cards.
“I suppose I don’t know what I’m looking for.”
“Your young man is in town.”
Rowan raised an eyebrow at the not-so-subtle change in topic. “I noticed that.”
Now it was Joe’s turn to shrug. “I still recommend prayer.” She stood and left.
Rowan leaned back in her chair, her head packed with too many questions and not one answer. She contemplated the books on her shelf yet again, but the tarot card reading kept creeping into her consciousness.
The images of the cards danced across her mind’s eye. Death and treachery. The Lovers. A memory of Ben, haloed by sunlight, pushed through the mess. He was handsome, angelic, but the moment that thought emerged he was replaced with a breathtaking image of Azkeel. His wings were spread, his blond hair loose about his shoulders. The very image of a biblical angel. But there was something about him that wasn’t holy, something that was just mundane.
She tried to get a better look at the memory but he, too, slipped away, his light dimming until she was engulfed in darkness. It pressed against her, making the tiny hairs on her arms and legs stand up. Then a light appeared, a pinprick in the darkness that flickered as it struggled for life. She reached for it, but it was too far away, and suddenly she wasn’t so sure she wanted to touch it.
The light flared, consuming the darkness, until she felt she was in the center of the sun. She squinted and shaded her eyes, trying to get her bearings. A desert of shimmering sand stretched as far as she could see. A bleached white sky surrounded her, the ground one shade closer to yellow than the sky, with a dark red line drawn along the horizon where they met.
Far off in the distance was a dark speck. She headed toward it, the light clinging to her, making her arms and legs heavy. Still, she pushed forward.
Sweat beaded on her forehead and trickled down her chest between her breasts.
“Where are you going?” a voice asked.
She glanced over her shoulder. Seth walked beside her. He didn’t seem bothered by the light. In fact, his black eyes absorbed it, taking in its energy and using it as his own.
For a moment she didn’t know how she knew this, but the thought melted away and she was left wondering what she had been thinking about.
“I’m going that way.” She pointed at the speck.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded, not wanting to waste her energy on conversation.
“You shouldn’t go there. It’s not safe.”
Now she wanted to, more than ever. If Seth didn’t want her there, it could only be a good thing. He didn’t care about her. If he did, he wouldn’t have jeopardized her relationship with Ben.
“Ro—” His voice caught on her name.
Her gaze was drawn to him against her will, and her breath caught in her throat. He was engulfed in black flame. It curled up his legs and around his torso, licking his neck and jaw.
He writhed but couldn’t escape the fire. His face contorted, his mouth wide in a scream, but she couldn’t hear it. All she could hear was the hiss and crackle of the fire. She reached for him but he staggered away, and the flames intensified until all she could see was his shadow.
Turning, she ran toward the speck. She pumped her arms and legs to get more momentum, pushing against the viscous light, until her chest burned and agony shot through her side.
The speck was still a speck. A tiny black nothing on the edge of the horizon. She pushed on, afraid to look back at the pillar of black fire consuming Seth, afraid to keep going, afraid to stop.
Then, out of the haze on the horizon, rose a hydra, a monster from Greek mythology. Its many heads hissed at her, licking the air with forked tongues. She tried to count the heads, but their numbers kept changing, melting together and breaking apart. Their features were also in constant flux, turning from snakes to creatures with snouts to almost human.
She squinted, trying to put the faces into focus. One head snaked out at her. It was Shannon, his face covered in scales, his eyes red. Then she could see them all. Azkeel, Brown, Jovkovic, even Ben. Shaping and reshaping from one head to the next, never appearing again on the same head. She searched for Seth, but couldn’t find him.
In unison, all the hydra heads stretched back, and they broke into a heartrending scream. The air vibrated from the force, shaking through her until she thought her teeth would fall out.
She stumbled back, tripped, and fell. The hydra ripped open, washing her in blood, and a fiery Seth emerged from the carcass.
She gasped and jerked away.
She sat in her office. Pale light filtered through the dirty window behind her and fell on the open book on her desk. She rubbed her face with her hands, becoming aware of an ache in her back and the sting of pins-and-needles in her right leg.
The book on the desk was open to a picture on the left side — Hercules fighting the hydra — and text on the right — with a drool stain in the center of the page.
It looked like she’d be giving a little bit of herself back to the library when she returned the book. She couldn’t imagine why she’d opened it. She couldn’t even remember picking it up.
What she needed was coffee.
She locked up her office and went to the cafeteria. She bought a coffee and a muffin, sat at an empty table, and watched students shuffle in, still half asleep. She should go home and change her clothes, but no—
Ben was at home and she didn’t want to face him.
Besides, the dream left her feeling uncertain about herself and men in general. She really shouldn’t have tried the tarot reading. Now she was even more worried and confused than before.
41
Rowan spent the rest of the day either in her office, at the library, or in the cafeteria, searching for a hint as to what the text could be while trying to shake an uneasiness that had settled in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t explain it and hoped it was the cafeteria’s coffee instead. But she feared it was bad feelings about her fight with Ben. And, in truth, she needed to do something about that. If she were Ben, she’d be furious. It did look bad for her, missing for two days and then being caught in another man’s arms.
As much as she hated Ben’s quiet pressure for her to come home, she did owe him an apology. Although really, they knew each other so well, once he’d gotten past his knee-jerk reaction, he’d realize it was ridiculous to think she’d cheated on him — regardless that she’d been tempted.
She went to call him in a small garden hidden in the college’s mismatched additions. The garden consisted of a small pool with koi, a single tree, and two café tables with matching chairs. It was faster than going to her office, and she feared she might lose her nerve by the time she’d made her way through the basement maze. Besides, some things were better done in the daylight. She took her phone from her purse and dialed his number.
“Hello,” he said.
Just the sound of his voice warmed her and made her feel guilty all at the same time. “Hi.”
“Calling to say you’re working late?”
Guess he wasn�
��t going to make it easy on her. “You know I am. I told you I was going to have to last night.”
“I remember a lot about last night,” he said, his tone dark.
God, she really didn’t want to do this. She had no idea what to say or where to begin. “About that—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“But you brought it up.”
Silence.
So much for trying to apologize without starting another fight. “Listen. I just want to say I’m glad you’re here.”
More silence.
“And I love you.” There. She’d said it. Even if she didn’t feel it right then.
“You think that makes everything all right?”
That wasn’t the response she’d hoped for, but the one she certainly deserved. “Ben, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry isn’t good enough. You take off for two days with that guy and—”
“I was not with that guy.” Well, she had been, but not in the way he thought.
“How many guys have there been since you moved here? Is that why you don’t want to come back?”
“That’s not fair. There haven’t been any other men.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, really. What kind of a person do you think I am?” To think he thought she’d cheated on him. God, he was as bad as the other-world’s Shannon.
“I don’t know what kind of a person you are anymore.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She didn’t have the emotional fortitude for this. It was bad enough she’d had to struggle to remain true to him against Seth, Shannon, and Azkeel, but girls were dead, and nothing made sense anymore.
“I can’t believe you’d accuse me—” She wanted to scream. “I haven’t cheated on you. I intend never to cheat on you. And marriage is built on trust. How can you want to marry me if you don’t trust me?” She jerked the phone from her ear before he could respond and hit the end button.
Her throat burned with frustrated tears, but she refused to cry. They had known each other for forever, and he thought she’d cheated on him! He knew her better than that. And God damn it, there were more important things going on, like girls getting brutally murdered.