by Kade Cook
She is caught somewhere in a state of purgatory. Her senses burn with desire at the taste, demanding her to take more, but her mind freezes in terror with guilt. Knowing she has stolen her client’s life strands slaps her hard even though the act was innocent.
With her pupils so over-dilated they appear completely black, Gabrian grips the sides of her leather chair—digging her nails into its fleshy arms—and wills herself to stop the euphoric gratification rushing through her, electrifying every nerve in her body.
The starving demon within whispers to her seductively and tries to ensure her that she knows how to do this, she knows how to feed the empty pit within.
Just a little more, then let it go.
No one with ever find out, no one will ever know.
Just a little more—just a little taste.
But the rational armor that had been silenced screams at her and flushes through the blinding desire to feed the beast inside. It flares out a remorseful and determined exhalation to push away the white strands of light drifting in front of her, accruing and awaiting to be devoured. Pressing hard against the floor, she springs up on her legs and twists away from her torment in tremendous speed. The excruciating lust for Mr. Jones’ life is scorching her just beneath the momentary controlled illusion, threatening to tear loose against the demands of its master.
Her abrupt movement startles her otherwise oblivious talker and he juts upward, twisting to the side to stare at her deer-eyed, confused by the sudden disruption in his confessions. “Is everything okay, doctor?”
“Yes, yes, everything is fine.” Gabrian glazes over her torment beneath with a forced and less feral smile to settle Mr. Jones—poor, delicious Mr. Jones.
“Have I said something wrong?”
“No, Marcel, not at all.” She covers her nose with a cloth napkin she keeps on her desk to try and buffer the sweet scent reeking from him as he sits up to attention. She had had cravings for a while now but today her body isn’t obeying her orders to resist. Gabrian’s constant denial of her body’s instinct to feed, she fears, has reached its breaking point and breathing normally is a luxury that may strain her thin string of control to finally snap. Gripping the underside of her oak desk, her fingers press tightly against its wooden grains as she tries focusing all her pangs of hunger and pain into her hands, desk creaking under the pressure. “How do you feel?” she utters, her breath sounding laboured as she restricts her inhales to a shallow pull.
His face softens when her eyes catch his—her pupils dilating in a rhythmic wave as her mind sends him a reassuring message that all is well, he is safe. The conflict he held within his gaze toward his doctor’s bizarre actions evaporates as the message takes effect. “I feel great actually, much better that I had expected to feel when I came in.”
“Well, that is wonderful.” Her eyes still their silent incantation and slip to the hands on the clock hanging just behind where Mr. Jones sits. A wave of relief washes across her when she notices their position. “Our time is nearly up, Mr. Jones. With only a few minutes remaining, I am afraid that I am going to have to end our session here today.”
His eyes dim at the unexpected request.
“I have forgotten a pressing matter I truly need to attend to.”
“Oh, all right then.” Mr. Jones’ mouth drops at the edges and he nods, accommodating her news.
“Would it be all right with you if we were to reschedule another appointment for next week instead of our usual bi-weekly session?”
His eyes flutter and beam at the thought of coming back so soon.
“And to thank you for excusing me, I will mark it down as a discovery session—half the cost of a regular session. Would that be all right?”
Mr. Jones jumps up from the couch and grabs his things—pulling his jacket on with more emphasis than normal—his mouth pulling tightly across his teeth with pleasure at her offer.
Nodding with him as he tiptoes his way across the office floor, Gabrian grits her teeth and bites the inside of her cheek to focus on something other than the creamy white flares of light tantalizing her as she escorts him to the door. Afraid she might falter with the lack of breathing, she hurries him out with more enthusiasm than normal. Even though Ethan mentioned once that her Borrower gift allows her to slow down her breathing, limiting oxygen intake to a minimum without much repercussion to her normal existence, Gabrian has never tested this theory out and thinks now is not the opportune time to try.
With Mr. Jones now happily out the door and eagerly waiting in front of Racheal’s desk to schedule his half-priced session, Rachael peeks up from her computer with an ever-pleasant and welcoming smile. Making eye contact with the man in front of her, she deflects her attention for a split second to shoot a quick glance at her friend—a serious look filled with concern.
Gabrian forces her eyes to smile back but pushes the door closed, breaking the connection, and rests her body against the barrier between them for a moment. With the small blockade set up to separate her from her cravings, she inhales deeply, filling her lungs with air to try and appease the burning in her chest, but she can still taste the remnants of Mr. Jones’s energy lingering in the air. Her mind begins to whisper its wicked little murmurs of temptation again.
You can do this, you know.
You can feed on this endless supply of delicious life at your fingertips.
They will never find out, no one will know.
Remember, no harm no foul.
She knows it is her subconscious talking but it is Adrinn’s voice she hears uttering the words like before. The building of hunger begins to scratch at her with an intense desire to listen to the voice, to give into its logic. She had done it before for a while until the night Shane had caught her, the night she nearly crossed over the line of want to need.
“But I will know,” she whispers out loud.
Shaking her head roughly to answer her demon, she tries to break free from the pull of food just on the other side of the door—her mouth waters, sensing it being too close. Her eyes rush open as her thoughts start to drift.
She needs help. She needs Ethan.
But she cannot stomach the thought of letting him know what she is thinking, how weak she has become, though he probably can taste her desire through the walls from the intensity she feels inside.
Raising her body away from the door and rushing toward her desk, she tears through the objects on her work area in a frenzy, searching for something, anything that can help her calm down. A stack of papers falls in disarray across her desk from her carelessness, and she notices a yellow sticky note attached to a file with something scribbled across it.
Her hand trembles as she reaches out to gather it. Slipping her fingers beneath the yellow sticky tab, she pulls it toward her, lowering her body until her backside touches the cushioning of her chair. Caught in a strange trance, Gabrian’s free hand reaches for her phone and robotically presses each scribbled number displayed on the note. Slow and accurate, the seventh digit goes down but on connection, her hand crushes the receiver on top of its base.
She drags her fingers through her loosened ebony hair and mutters silently. “Ethan, I should go to Ethan. He would understand, he would help me get through this.” But floundering, her mind bends her intentions. She wonders if he would still look at her with equality in their partnership, would he tolerate her weakness and allow her to continue working there with the knowledge she is barely containing her thirst? Would he give up her secrets to the Covenant? No, she wouldn’t risk it. Even though she knows deep down he would never betray her, she refuses to let Ethan see her as anything less than an equal.
This is something not negotiable.
She draws in a quick breath, pushing it out with force as she fumbles for the phone once more. She can talk to Shane. He will understand. He knows all her fears, all her slip ups, and all her fumbles but her heart falls, not wanting to burden him with any more. He was forced to abandon his own dreams and his ambitions to d
evote his entire existence to her wellbeing. He doesn’t deserve to deal with any more of her crap than he already does.
As she rubs her thumb along the smoothness of the stone entwined around her wrist, she knows that Shane is not going to like what she is going to do, not one little bit, but it might be exactly what she needs to do right now. Hearing the dial tone drone at her from within the device in her hand, she presses the redial button and waits. The rings come but with every one gone unanswered, the weight of uncertainty grows heavier. Three, four, her heart slows as her finger edges toward the end call button but before she cuts the chord, fate steps in and a voice blurts through the speaker from the other side of the receiver.
“Hello?”
20
HELLO
THE DREAD OF LOOKING into his eyes after what seems like months of not speaking drills a hole through Gabrian’s chest. Sure, he has been by to voice his concern over her wellbeing but it was shallow exchange. The bond that had been forged between them became strained when she chose Shane over him.
The two’s hatred for each other, that they openly displayed, doesn’t help the situation—another reason why the question of whether she can trust him enough to reveal her impending weakness to him is weighing. Would he understand, would he tell? This kind of issue would most definitely jar the interest of certain members of the Covenant of Shadows and that is the last thing she needs. The pressure of their scrutiny would no doubt throw her over the edge.
But what choice does she really have? Either get help or run the risk of hurting someone like she had those innocent people in the park. The only difference this time is that she knows she is in trouble and this time she has a choice of how it turns out.
Her arm shakes as she forces herself to raise it and knock on his office door. “Ah, what am I doing?” she mumbles to herself and lowers her hand, stepping away from the magical door. She wraps an arm tightly around her waist for support but allows the other to creep upward to her face as she bites the edge of her thumb—her telltale sign of stress. She sets to pacing back and forth in front of the door, trying to remember how supportive he had been before—the unrelenting kindness he had shown toward her even when she knew she was trying his patience. He had always seemed to understand her.
Exhaling a deep breath filled with fear and desperation, Gabrian clenches her fingers in front of her face and edges it once more toward the sign that reads ‘ENERGY CONSERVATORY’.
“He will understand. I just need a little help and he doesn’t need to know everything,” she whispers, trying to convince herself to reach out. But before her knuckles make the connection against the mystical door, it opens and a tall dark handsome man stands before her.
An instant wave of heat flushes her skin as their eyes connect, her heart lurching within her chest. Ashamed that she dropped her connection with him, she waits for a disapproving look, but there is no malice in his eyes, only kindness and a hint of excitement as he holds out a bunched-up pile of cloths and drapes it across her outstretched arm.
“Here. These are for you,” Matthias says, his mouth hinting on a grin. “Go change, it’s time to fight.”
Gabrian’s brow crooks across her face as she studies the cloth, pulling it apart only to find her old grey cotton T-shirt and black, cotton track pants she used to train in—newly laundered by the smell of them.
“What? No ‘hello,’ no ‘how are you?’ Just ‘let’s fight?’”
“Yes,” he says, brushing by her with a smirk pinching at his cheek.
“Well, all right then.” Gabrian’s weighted heart bounces upward, letting go of all her doubt in her friend.
“From my experience in training with you, it seems that you respond better to suggestions and open up better after a good drag-‘em-out match. And since I know our small conversation on the phone is probably just the tip of the iceberg, I thought that it was in order.”
She wrinkles her nose at his astute perception but also wonders if she had let down her mental guard just enough for him to sneak a peek inside, thus guessing her reason for wanting to see him is more serious than she made it seem on the phone. She warms inside as she watches the smirk on his face grow, softening the sharp chiseled features of his face into his normal handsome look she has come to admire.
Clearing her throat of the nervous tension built up, she returns his grin and pushes past him, marching down the hall of the college toward the lavatory to change her clothes. She stops at the door and peeks over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes devilishly. “Just remember, you asked for this,” she taunts, lifting her workout clothes in cheers to their upcoming battle.
Matthias lifts his chin and scratches the underside of his jaw, chuckling at her apparent coyness. “All right, Rambo, I’ll remember. I will meet you out back in the courtyard.” He turns, placing his back to her, and lets his face explode with his internal delight of seeing her but contains his urge to jump into the air as he makes his way toward the exit, shaking his head.
Fully clothed for battle, Gabrian emerges at the edge of the courtyard behind the Turret building which always reminds her of a small version of what she imagined the Magical School of Wizardry would look like. The thrum of adrenaline jolts through her core, partly from nerves and partly from the desire to feel alive under her skin, hoping to shake free some of the doom and gloom of her lost memories and the nightmares she has been shrouded in for the last few weeks.
Matthias stands with his back to her building, looking out across the openness of the harbour, accompanied by only the ever-watchful trees rooted heavily around the edge of the courtyard. His head slips to the side and the soft ocean breeze rustles his hair across his eyes as he picks up on her presence of energy immediately. He meets her gaze with something more than just a smirk, his heart rate quickening in response to her arrival.
Gabrian had forgotten how handsome Matthias truly is. Not in a raw earthy way like Shane but in a sharp, intelligent, and unavoidable observation. She grins at her friend, seeing his smoky aura flare around him in all his glory. She realizes the bond she feared had crumbled in her absence is still quite alive and well within her opponent.
Taking in a large lungful of salty ocean air, she pushes it out—carrying with it some of the weight of worry, relieved to know that she doesn’t have to rebuild their relationship from the ground up again but she knows there are still a few pieces of patchwork needed to mend what had been fractured.
Arching her brow and pursing her lips, she raises her chin skyward, brushing away the worry she had carried here on her shoulders. Matthias is her friend first. He accepted her phone call and was eager to meet so now it is up to her to follow through with the reason she is here for—to let him help. She would let him help.
Maybe.
As her friend turns his torso to twin her own, she notices his stance change. His muscles become taut, shadowing against his flesh. The defined lines of each movement make it evident he is preparing for battle. The edges of his plump lips curl upward as he raises his hand in front of his chest in alignment with Gabrian’s sight. Matthias pumps his fingers, slowly, in a beckoning gesture and twitches his left brow in an impish taunt, challenging her.
Her heart skips at his forwardness and grins with sheer delight.
It’s on.
Every nerve in her body responds. Let’s do this, her mind whispers to him, sporting a smirk. Springing forward from her idle position, Gabrian bounds toward Matthias at full speed. Her legs release their swiftness, amplified by every ounce of tension that had been building beneath the surface of her skin for weeks. Her motions are smooth—every piece of muscle tissue allied together as they remember their use, their power. Her fingers pump and flex repeatedly while her grey essence flares like a warning beacon all around her the closer she gets to her target.
Awaiting her attack, Matthias hunches over, lowering his body into a fighting stance and prepares for the assault just as Gabrian leaps within striking range and twists her body mid-air,
landing just behind her friend. Not anticipating her rise, Matthias is sluggish to react. His futile attempt to maneuver himself in order to face her is too slow. She crouches and kicks her leg out fast and hard to the right, sweeping Matthias’s legs out from beneath his weighted point. Losing his balance, and falling backward, he regains his position and thrusts his legs forward—propelling his torso up and forward into a standing position once more only to be plummeted by a hard roundhouse kick to the chest. The sudden impact thrusts him into reverse and sends his backside to the grass once more. Gabrian releases what one would have to consider a sort of war cry as she leaps over his fallen body and thrusts her hand onto his windpipe, pressing tight against it, and pins his arms down beneath her knees with the weight of her body—disabling him from getting up.
“Do you secede?” she growls eerily like a true predator upon capture of its prey. Gabrian’s grip on Matthias is intense and primal—attentive of his movements and preparing for any counter attack by him. Though her face wears no sign of faltering, her eyes gleam with a hint of pleasure—delighted with their current positioning.
A stunned yet amused Matthias lies unmoving on the ground while Gabrian stands firm on her knees, awaiting his reprieve but all she sees is the seed of a large grin growing on her opponent’s face. His body starts to tremor beneath her as the wild chuckling that he is desperately trying to hold in bursts forth.
Gabrian bounds backwards, unsure of her friend’s strange reaction to her request, and lands softly on the balls of her feet, still prepared to stand her ground. He covers his laughter with his now unrestricted hands, trying to stifle the sound but it is no use so he halts his attempt.
Gabrian lowers her arms slightly, remembering his words ever so clear within her mind.