Charles laughed. He took another step closer. “That’s debatable,” he said, his voice low. “Try to relax until I come back. I’ll meet you after your shift. We can talk over coffee.”
Trying not to sound enthused, I offered a non-committal, “Okay.”
“What time?” he asked.
“Shift’s over at four.”
“Perfect.” He smiled. “It’s a date.”
“It’s not a date,” I said. “It’s coffee.”
I turned and headed into the diner. Coffee. And, more importantly, answers.
Not a date.
* * *
THE BREAKFAST CROWD THINNED. This would be the only lull in my day—my one chance to catch a breather and spend some time by myself. My eleven AM ‘lunch’ break. As I started for the backroom computer to see if anything came up on the Internet for that Basker Street address, a voice called across the diner.
“Hey! Sophia!” I’d recognize that voice anywhere. Lauren. Exactly what I needed right now: a human exclamation point.
I turned around. She was sitting at table six, one of her Japanese street wear magazines open in front of her. She’d started reading those when she began studying Japanese, hoping one day she would know enough to fly across the Pacific and confront the relatives that had shunned her as a child.
I hadn’t seen her in forever. So long, in fact, that her black hair had grown from a short pixie cut to fall in layers of satin around her shoulders. Hot pink headphones draped over her neck, flattening her silky strands. California hadn’t changed her olive complexion, and she apparently still had the same affinity for mascara and lip-gloss.
Fun, reliable Lauren. A constant in my life. At any other time, seeing her would have lightened my mood, but right now, her timing sucked. Just last night, I’d officially been shoved from one world into the next. A world Lauren was not a part of.
I headed over to the booth, and Lauren wrapped me in a tight hug, holding a Styrofoam cup behind my back. She pushed back to hold me at arm’s length. “I cannot believe you didn’t call me when I got to town!”
“Are you kidding? I’ve called four times and left a message last week.” I sat, and Lauren reseated herself across from me.
“You could’ve stopped by,” she said. “You made time for Ivory, which I expect you to tell me all about.” Her bottom lip, full and creased down the middle, stuck out in a fake pout. “Who was that cute guy you were talking to this morning?”
Inwardly, I groaned, but for Lauren’s sake, I let out some uneasy laughter. “You saw him?”
“On my way to pay the water bill, yes.” She sipped her soda directly from the cup, the tip of the straw already chewed shut. “So, is he as gorgeous up close as he is from across the street?”
“I didn’t see him from across the street, so it’s impossible for me to compare.”
“You know, it wouldn’t be the end of the world to say you saw a cute guy.”
I tried to look super busy with the napkin holder. “I sort of know him.”
“What? How?” She set down her drink and gave me her best ‘serious’ look. “What kind of sort of knowing are we talking about here?”
I might have rolled my eyes, since I apparently did that sometimes. “We met through Ivory.”
“At the club! I knew I should have tagged along. Ivory said you were going, but I don’t like to stick my chin where it isn’t welcome.”
I managed a smile. “Stick your nose.”
“That’s what they say. So, is that what this is all about?” she asked, reaching out and touching my curls. “I almost didn’t recognize you with your hair down.” Her chocolate brown eyes shifted from one side of my face to the other, and she held up her hand before I could reply. “It is, isn’t it? It’s this mystery guy you’re dying to tell me about. Oh my God! That’s why you’ve been MIA!”
“Charles is not why I’ve been ‘MIA’.”
“Charles?” Lauren asked. “Now there’s a sexy name! Well, out with it. You have to give me the spoon!”
The scoop. I slipped around to the other side of the booth. “Let me get my lunch first.”
I hated keeping secrets from Lauren, but I didn’t have much choice.
Jack swooped by the table with Lauren’s previously-ordered salad. He stood at the end of the table, pencil tucked behind one ear. I never understood why he carried a pencil around, since he never wrote down anyone’s orders. “You ordering, Sophia?”
“I’ll get it,” I said. The diner was short-staffed enough, with Jack having to tend the tables while I took my lunch.
“Do I need to redefine ‘break’ for you?” Jack winked.
Not being hungry, I opted for a strawberry milkshake and thanked him before he hurried back to the kitchen.
Lauren leaned closer. “Sooo? Are you going to spill the rice about your big, mysterious night out?”
“I hate to disappoint you, but there isn’t much to tell”. Other than that whole ‘almost killed by a Cruor’ thing.
“Well, which club did you go to?” Lauren kept her eyes on me as Jack breezed by the table, dropping off my milkshake.
I smiled my thanks to him and returned my attention to Lauren. “Which club?” I repeated. I cleared my throat. “Oh, some club in Denver. Hush, or something.”
“Hush?” she asked, shaking pepper onto her salad. “I can’t believe you went to Hush.”
“Well, believe it, because I did.”
Actually, I’d never been to Hush. I felt terrible about all this lying I’d been doing lately. I couldn’t even blame Mother, because Mother never lied on purpose.
Delusions don’t count.
Growing up, Mother always encouraged me to tell the truth. The truth will set you free, she said, and she’d reinforced the idea by letting me off the hook for anything I did wrong, so long as I was honest about it.
But I still grew up to be a liar, even if I hated doing it. Whenever possible, I opted for evasion instead.
“You okay?” Lauren asked, concern-lines creasing her brow. “You look a little green.”
I was starting to feel a little green. “I’m fine.”
“So, this guy—er, Charles? You met him there?” As she spoke, she waved her fork around dangerously. “He doesn’t look like the type that frequents Hush.”
“Yep, he was there, I was there … we were both there.”
“And?” Lauren crunched on a piece of iceberg lettuce and smiled. “Give me the details.”
“We chatted for a bit, then I went back to Ivory’s house.”
“That’s no fun.” She impaled a cherry tomato. The salad was under attack. Or maybe I felt under attack from Lauren’s barrage of questions. “When are you going to see him again?”
“Honestly, Lauren—it’s nothing. We’re just meeting for coffee. We aren’t even friends.”
“Then why are you two meeting for coffee?” she teased. “I should go with you. Make sure things don’t get too serious.”
Pins and needles tingled my fingers. I’d been gripping my milkshake the entire time without realizing, numbing my hand with pressure and cold. I sipped my drink and pushed the glass away—far away, to the land of ketchup and mustard bottles.
“I’ll manage. Jack will still be around. I’ll call you afterward.”
Lauren must have sensed my discomfort, because she immediately dropped the subject and began talking about henna hair dye and organic nail polish.
I was glad for a friend who knew me well, even if she didn’t know me as well as I knew myself. But there was something about me I didn’t know:
I was a horrible judge of character.
{chapter eleven}
AS IF MY DESIRE TO ESCAPE Mother’s prying eyes weren’t enough, having a Cruor after me only furthered my intentions to sell. I waited for my shift to end, then placed a call to my realtor, Anna, telling her to accept whatever offer she received. Excluding offers from Mrs. Franklin.
Sure, a Cruor might have been after me, but my pride would wi
n out on this one. I was not about to give in to the crazy cult-lady.
“Are you sure?” Anna asked. “You listed the house only three days ago.”
“Positive.”
“It could still take a while,” she said, probably preferring to wait for a higher sale so she could make a larger profit. I didn’t blame her. “No one’s buying in this market.”
“I’m sure you’ll find someone,” I said, more confidently than I felt. “Thanks for everything, Anna. Call me as soon as you get an offer.”
I hung up.
Until my house sold, I’d need to stay in a hotel or with Lauren or something. My gut told me Marcus wouldn’t return—that he would have killed me in my sleep if he were really going to. Otherwise, why leave the note? Just the same, I wasn’t about to take any chances.
With some time left before I had to meet Charles, I ran a search for Basker Street on the break room computer—one of Jack’s few modern-day indulgences. I came up empty.
Nothing at all. Not one street by that name anywhere in the world. Not even some place in Indonesia or France or anything.
Growling, I closed my search and stuffed my red work shirt and apron into my workbag, showing off the mandala print top I wore underneath.
When I returned to the main dining area, I spotted Charles seated in booth seven. The only other customers were paying their checks at the register.
Finally, time for answers.
Charles stood and swept his arm toward the table. “Please, sit.”
I obliged, cramming my bag and coat into the corner of the seat.
He slid back into the booth. “Ivory said she told you everything.”
Good—right to the point. “She didn’t say why you left me, but she told me more than I’d have liked.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t seem surprised.”
“I’m trying not to think about it,” I said. “Why didn’t you say you knew her?”
“I wasn’t exactly thinking about her while dancing with you.” His gaze lifted, grazing over my body to settle on my face, and my stomach fluttered in response. He grinned. “You’re blushing.”
Thanks for pointing that out. I picked a menu from behind the napkin holder and pretended to read, trying to ignore the increased warmth in my cheeks. “Hungry?”
“Sorry,” he said, looking down to his own menu. “I wasn’t trying to embarrass you. I thought if you were aware, you could stop.”
“Stop blushing?”
“Stop thinking about me that way.”
That was a bit straightforward. It wasn’t like I wanted to be attracted to him. I’d have been far more content to despise him. “Did you already order?”
“I was waiting for you.” He turned to the hot beverages and side dish selections. “If I’m wrong, please, tell me otherwise.”
So much for changing the subject. “I recall the attraction was mutual,” I said with all the confidence I could muster. Which wasn’t much.
He smirked, lifting his eyes to mine, and a shiver trembled down my spine, straight through to my toes. “That is not why I’m here,” he said. “I’m here to ensure you receive whatever answers you need to put these events behind you and get on with your life.”
One of the new waitresses, Tina, walked up. She was dark-haired and all hips with a flat tummy. Everyone at the diner—customers and employees alike—loved her. She served two tall glasses of iced water with two straws. “Know what you want?”
She wasn’t really asking us. Just him. Apparently I was invisible when he was in the room. Charles nodded toward me. “Ladies, first.”
Tina’s shoulders sagged as she turned to face me. “Well?”
Unable to think, I ordered coffee, then I started folding the straw for my water into a tiny plastic accordion—anything to get her questioning gaze off me. I know! I don’t drink coffee! Everyone who worked at the diner for more than five minutes knew that. I was starting to think Jack had made it part of the training. Over here, you’ll find the silverware. And, if you look to the left, you’ll see Sophia. She doesn’t drink coffee.
“I thought you don’t—” she began.
“Coffee,” I said firmly, glaring at her. No wonder people in town thought I was crazy.
With a shake of her head, she turned to Charles, who ordered his coffee in a tone of voice much lighter than the one he used with me.
When Tina was out of earshot, I lifted my gaze to Charles. “About the other night….”
Charles plunked his straw into his water. “The less I tell you, the better.”
Better for who? “You left me.”
He placed one of his hands over both of mine. I’m sure he meant for the moment to be calming, like trying to relax a child on the verge of a tantrum, but instead his touch sent tingles up my arms.
“I didn’t leave,” he said softly.
Tina returned, and Charles released my hand. She poured two fresh cups of coffee and set a dish of creamers between us. I tapped my foot under the table. Hurry up!
“Let me know if you need anything else.” She waited expectantly, staring at Charles, who busied himself stirring his coffee.
“That’s all,” I said. “Thanks.”
She continued staring at Charles, smiling. “Are you sure?”
“Huh?” He looked up. “Oh, yes. We’re fine, thank you.”
She frowned and headed back to the kitchen.
At least I wasn’t the only one hopelessly attracted to him.
Charles cleared his throat. “Sophia,” he whispered. “Stop staring at that poor girl.”
“Tina?” How was she a ‘poor girl’?
“Why are you staring at her?”
“I wasn’t. She was staring at you.” I immediately regretted my catty remark.
Teal eyes, dark beneath the shadow of his tangled eyelashes, centered on me. A smile crept onto his face. “You’re jealous.”
“I’m not. I just … noticed.”
“She doesn’t hold a candle to you, if that makes you feel better.”
I was so not talking to him about this. “This isn’t why I asked you here.”
“Isn’t it?” he asked, his voice so low perhaps he hadn’t actually meant for me to hear.
He wrapped his hands around the ceramic mug and rubbed his thumb across its smooth surface. My gaze drifted to his forearm, to the way his muscles flexed each time he moved, but I forced my attention back to his face.
I needed to stay focused. “You were going to tell me about why you abandoned me in the woods.”
“I didn’t,” he said. “I changed.”
“You changed?” I lowered my voice to a harsh whisper. “What? Your clothes? That’s your excuse? You better be joking.”
“I’m an elemental.” He spoke quietly enough. Even if anyone else had been in the diner, they wouldn’t have heard. Or had a clue what he was talking about.
I blinked and pulled back. “You’re one of the Cruor?”
“I didn’t say that,” he snapped, but then his expression softened. “I’m a water elemental. Some refer to us as the Strigoi.”
Earth elementals, water elementals … there had to be others, but the more I learned, the more I thought I’d be better off not knowing. I recalled the mythology books I’d read in high school, but I didn’t remember them referring to the Strigoi as elementals.
“You turn into an owl and prey on infants?” I asked. “Their internal organs, or whatever?” Same thing, right?
“Sometimes we turn into owls, though it’s the Stryx who transform into owls exclusively,” he said. “Unfortunately, the Strigoi have somehow been tied in with the Stryx legends.”
“So you prey on infants or not?”
“No. Not infants.”
“Then what?”
“Animals.”
“Infant animals?”
His gaze hardened. “Is this what you want to know?”
No. I wanted to know what happened to my ancestor and how to cure the
whispering curse. Instead, I’d been thrown into a world of elementals.
I added several creamers to my mug until the coffee thinned and clouded. I swirled my spoon in the mug. Click. Clank. Swirl. Click. Clank. Swirl. I’m not sitting in this booth I’ve wiped a hundred times, listening to a strange man tell me he can morph into an animal.
I found my voice. “What else?”
Charles leaned back and gave the edge of the table a tap of his fingers. “What do you mean … what else?”
“I mean, what else exists? Santa Claus, the Easter bunny?”
He smiled from behind his mug and took another sip. “You’re taking this better than I expected.”
“Right.” I stared into his eyes, but his gaze never wavered. “This doesn’t explain why you left.”
“I thought I could shift and return in time, but when I got back, you were gone.” He looked out the diner window and frowned. “You’ve asked enough questions now. It’s not safe to know these things.”
“It’s not safe for me to not know, either,” I said. The last moments of the attack whisked through my mind. “The … eagle?”
“If I had chased him off in time, we wouldn’t be in this predicament.”
“But a bird?”
“In our animal form, our attacks are more potent to their kind.”
“So what took so long?” I asked.
“Shifting can take a while. Then I had to find you again.” His jaw tightened. “You didn’t stay where I left you.”
“I’d have died if I had.”
He nodded solemnly. “Everything happened very quickly.”
As my trembling hand stirred my coffee, I stared at the milky swirls. “I don’t know what to say.”
My logical mind didn’t want to accept the revelation, but I’d worry about making sense of everything later. Charles took the final sip of his coffee, then he reached across the table to still my hand. The clanking stopped. I lifted my gaze to meet his, and my nerves settled.
“I’m not going to say anything,” I promised. Not that anyone would believe me anyway.
“I wouldn’t have told you if I thought you would.”
“So you trust me?” I asked. “Why? I don’t trust you.” I bit my lip, immediately regretting my blurted sentiments.
The Forever Girl Page 10