by Jen Pretty
The mural only had a small corner of the art painted, but I could see the design now that she had laid out in pencil. It was going to be perfect. I couldn’t wait.
I walked to the middle of the open area, stepping over boxes and tools until I was in the center in a small clear space among the carnage and chaos. I sat down on the dusty floor and crossed my legs. Resting my hands on my knees, I closed my eyes and let my mind go blank. It was so peaceful here despite the chaos of the construction and the dust. Quiet. Clearing out the negativity and doubt, I let myself float away.
When my eyes opened again, I found Vincent crouched in front of me.
“What are you doing here?” I asked
“Where did you go?” he asked, his eyes like laser beams, holding me in place. I wasn’t used to anyone seeing me. Not the way he was looking at me now. Most people just glanced at me or looked for a second. This was like he was trying to puzzle me out.
“I don’t understand your question,” I replied, honestly hoping it would tone down his intensity, but he just looked at me harder.
“When you do that, you disappear. I mean, you are still sitting there, but it’s not you anymore. You are somewhere else.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” I stood up and dusted the dirt off my pants.
“Wait, please?” he said standing up too
He sounded so vulnerable that I stopped and looked back at him.
“I was meditating. I didn’t go anywhere. I just shut off my brain for a bit. It helps me relax and focus.”
He nodded, and I swear he was going to keep asking me questions, but instead he turned to Randy.
“I trust that you are keeping track of all the necessary contractors?” Vincent said harshly to the smaller vampire.
“Of course, Mr. Crowden. They are all working very hard and doing top notch work.”
“Very well. Let’s go, Lark, we have training to get to. It’s dark out now.” With that, he marched out the door. I said my goodbyes to Randy and walked out too. My SUV was suspiciously missing, but I was getting used to the bossy vampire stealing my vehicle when he had something he wanted to talk to me about, so I just slid into his little sports car as he revved the engine and took off towards home.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Things were just starting to get bloody in the gym a week later when Frankie’s angry voice rolled in through the open doors.
“You better pray she’s not injured,” he hollered, before appearing magically between me and Vincent where we had paused our sparring at the sound of his yelling.
“Who the hell are you shouting at?” I asked Frankie. His eyes swept over me as he drank in my appearance. My sports bra and tight workout shorts didn’t cover any of the blood smears from the minor scrapes I’d received tonight. It was becoming a game of who would bleed first. Me or the vampire I was fighting. My skills were developing fast, and I was starting to worry I might hurt Vincent.
“What has he done?” he asked, more to himself.
I answered him anyway, “He hasn’t done much, look at him,” I snickered, making the vampire growl. He already had a bloody lip and two broken fingers as well as scratches across his neck. If I had been armed he would be dead, I was sure of it.
Frankie grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the door.
“What are you doing?” I asked. The vampires parted like the red sea for the irate warlock. I realized I could hear his heartbeat pounding fast as he dragged me along. My hearing has improved a lot in the last couple days, but it still caught me by surprise.
“I’m getting you the hell out of here. I told him not to hurt you. He’s lucky I haven’t turned him into a bat.”
I snorted a laugh. Fighting made me a bit drunk on adrenaline, and with Durga blocking the pain and stealing my common sense, I was having a hard time taking the moment seriously. I spun my arm, breaking out of his grip, and he grabbed me again harder this time, pinching my skin. I slammed the fist of my free arm down on his arm, breaking his hold and nearly breaking his arm, then shoved him hard enough that he hit the wall in the foyer with a thud before sliding to the ground.
“What the hell, Lark?” he yelled from where he had landed on the floor.
“You don’t control me.” It sounded like my voice, but I swear I couldn’t stop it from speaking. “I am the consort of Shiva, and you will not control me. I am more powerful then you can imagine.” A wicked thought occurred to me, something I had been right on the edge of piecing together for the last week,
“Did you know I would be powerful, warlock? Did you know this was how my life could be, and instead of helping me, you left me scared and alone and powerless all that time?” my voice had risen to the point that the nosey vampires who had followed us out of the gym started to back off and skitter away. Only Vincent held his ground.
Frankie didn’t reply at first, just sat on the floor holding his arm, staring at me like I had two heads.
“I’m sorry,” he finally muttered just before he vanished.
A bubble burst from within me, and the deity was gone, leaving me to deal with the fallout of what had just come out of my mouth.
I turned and ran to my room, slamming the door behind me. Fuck. Fuckity fuck.
That was the only word in my vocabulary for a while. I tidied my room. Found some cleaning supplies and scrubbed my bathroom. Hung up some clothes and folded some socks. Made the bed and dusted the furniture. When I was finally out of things to distract me, I collapsed on the bed and cried.
Frankie had been the only constant in my life before coming here. He had protected me. Hadn’t he? My stupid mouth and the cranky old deity were going to ruin my life. Even if what I said was true, he probably didn’t purposely try to hurt me. God knows I didn’t want to meet any vampires before being forced to come to this house. Crap. He had feelings for me, and I probably had feelings for him too, and now it was all just ruined.
I had to make this right. It wasn’t past midnight yet. I could text him, but that seemed like a cheat. I was sure he wasn’t living at the old building anymore, but I could probably remember the way to the biker bar he had taken me to. Maybe he would be there.
I got changed into clean clothes and splashed water on my face. In the foyer, Drake was standing at the door.
“Do you want me to bring your car up?” he said, picking up the phone beside the door.
“Yes, please, Drake. Thanks.”
I walked out the door and sat down on the steps.
“You don’t owe him anything,” Vincent’s voice echoed from the veranda behind me.
“Maybe not, but I’m not an asshole, Vincent, and that was an asshole thing to say to someone who cares about me. He was trying to protect me.”
“You don’t need protection anymore, Lark.”
I turned to look at him, but he was gone.
As the mechanic employed by Vincent slid out of my SUV in front of the house, I hopped in and put it back in gear.
There were dozens of motorcycles in front of the clubhouse. I couldn’t tell if one of them was Frankie’s, but I hoped I would find him in there.
As soon as I walked through the doors, all the conversations dropped off. Heads swung to look at me, some still curious, others still angered by my presence, including one pair of steely grey eyes belonging to a blond bimbo. Cindy still had a problem with me.
She swaggered over and stopped in front of me.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she said with a sneer. “He doesn’t want to see you.”
“I came to apologize, not that it’s any of your business,” I said, trying to push past her.
“He doesn’t care. You should leave before I make all your hair fall out and your skin turn green.”
“Cindy, shut up,” Frankie said as he walked out of the back room.
Cindy scoffed before walking past me, close enough to bump me hard with her shoulder and continuing out the front door of the bar.
“Um, can we talk?” I asked, suddenly n
ervous now and considering just turning and running out.
He snorted a laugh, probably reading my thought and motioned me into the back room I hadn’t noticed the last time we were here.
Past the doors was a cozy office. It wasn’t expensive like Vincent’s, but it was clean and tidy, and photos covered the walls. Pictures of men and women on motorcycles or gathered around, arms hooked over each other’s shoulders and bright smiles on their faces. They all wore jackets like Frankie’s.
I inspected the pictures, trying to figure out what I was going to say. Even though I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my head, I didn’t want to turn around and see his anger or rejection.
“That is my father and his enforcers,” he whispered from right behind me.
I bit my lip and turned to face him. He didn’t look mad.
“I’m not mad, Lark, how could I be mad, when what you said was true? I was selfish and stupid. I wanted to keep you safe and out of danger. I wanted you to have the life you wanted – a normal life.” He rubbed his hands through his hair. “Maybe because I wanted a normal life too.”
“We were never just normal, Frankie,” I said.
He laughed like I hoped he would. He had said the same words to me when all this change started.
I sobered, “I’m sorry,” I whispered, resting my hand on his chest and biting my lip.
His eyes bore into mine with so much intensity that I couldn’t look away. He brought his hand up and ran his thumb over my lip, stopping me from chewing on it, then he leaned in and claimed my lips with his and pressed his body into mine. His arms wrapped around my back like he would never let me go. I didn’t want this moment to end.
He backed away slightly and said, “You forget how to knock?”
I was confused for a second and was about to ask him what he was talking about, but then I heard another voice reply: “I was just bringing you a drink, I didn’t realize she was still here,” Cindy intoned from the doorway.
Frankie moved away from me taking all the heat in the room with him. I shivered and looked up to find Cindy’s dumb face scowling at me.
As Frankie turned to look at her, she slapped a pretty smile on her face and said, “It doesn’t matter what wild oats you sow, we are betrothed. It’s only a matter of time before we are married.”
As Frankie turned back towards his desk, Cindy briefly glared at me with a smug look on her face.
I waited for Frankie to deny this ridiculous claim, but the bastard wouldn’t even look at me. I saw red. I could easily grab her and rip her smug head off her shoulders, all I had to do was…
“Lark,” Frankie said softly, startling me out of my visions of violence.
“I’m going to go, I have to get back to training,” I lied before hustling out the door of his office. I wanted to stop and have a few drinks but thought better of it and headed for home. It’s not like Frankie and I were in a relationship, but for him to kiss me when he is practically married to someone else was so wrong.
Back inside the mansion, cheering was coming from the entertainment room, echoing through the foyer. I peeked in the doorway to find most of the vampires watching a hockey game. It was a bit weird, but I guess even monsters like the good old hockey game.
I didn’t follow any sports, but they had the bar in the corner flowing, so I joined them for a little while.
Stumbling back to my room early that morning was funny. Maybe only to me, since I was the only one giggling, but funny none the less.
I finally figured out how to open my door, and I landed in a heap on the bed. I kicked my boots off and crawled forward till my face smushed down in a pillow. It was so fluffy, I raised my head and let it fall back into the pillow one more time.
“Are you intoxicated?” the boring vampire asked me.
“Are you intoxicated?” I mimicked in my snootiest voice before giggling again.
“What is the matter with you?”
“Where should I even begin?” I asked, exasperated with my life in general. “I have serious trust issues, chronic guilt and I’m too short to shop in the women’s section of the department stores. I have to buy all my clothes in the children’s section.” I splatted back into my pillow before mumbling “Also, I just made out with a guy who is going to marry the evil witch of the south-west.”
“I didn’t catch that last part,” he replied, his voice much closer than it had been.
I sat up and turned towards the vampire “I made out with Frankie and then found out he’s apparently betrothed to that witch, Cindy.”
Vincent snorted, “Are they still participating in that barbaric tradition? Mating the strongest of their kind together like they are running a zoo. They say we are set in our ways…” he muttered on like that for a while longer, but I stopped listening.
“Lark, come spar with me,” Vincent said, pulling me out of my misery.
“I’m drunk,” I complained.
“You can still fight.”
Ugh. I dragged myself up. Hitting someone would make me feel better, and since there were no witches or warlocks handy, a super durable vampire would do. Drunk Lark was the crazy ass deity too.
The gym was empty and when we entered Vincent turned the lock keeping everyone out. That was a good plan cause if I puked up all that vodka I drank, I didn’t need witnesses.
I did a few stretches and took off my shoes. We both sparred barefoot to minimize the injuries. Broken bones put a damper on the fun. I turned back to Vincent who had taken his shirt off. His chest was covered in tattoos. I wasn’t expecting it, having never seen him with his shirt off before and his personality didn’t suggest he was the type to have tattoos. I stared a bit too long, and he smirked. Jerk.
“Alright, let’s go,” I said.
I circled to the right, and he went left, waiting for me to make the first move. Such a gentleman. I stepped in fast and popped him in the nose, the satisfying crunch soothed some of the night’s drama, but not nearly enough.
“Why do you always have to bloody my face?” he asked, sounding irritated like he didn’t know the answer. It was the blood. I had put it together a few days ago. Durga craved it, and it made my power kick into high gear. I didn’t question her on this. I just rolled with it.
Vincent stepped around me and grabbed me from behind, pinning my arms down, I flung my head back but missed his face because he was expecting it. His teeth raked my neck, not drawing blood, but when he whispered: “You’re dead.” I knew he’d gotten me.
I stomped down on his foot making him bend forward and loosen enough that I was able to drop to the floor and spring away, out of his grasp. He came after me a split second later, but I had already turned and met him head to head. He took hold of my throat as I slammed the heel of my hand into his sternum. The air whooshed out of his lungs, and I pounded down on the inside of his elbow forcing his thick fingers from my jugular.
He tried to swing in behind to get me in a headlock, but I ducked down and spun out, getting behind him instead and catching him suddenly in the move he was planning to use on me. I was too light to keep him there, but I had him for a second, and if there had been a blade in my other hand, he would be without a head right now.
We flew apart, pausing for a moment to look at each other, both panting hard but smiling.
My lips moved of their own will and whispered: “You’re dead.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“The man we are going to see is a bit eccentric,” Vincent said from where he sat behind the wheel of his sporty little super-charged automobile. We sped down the freeway at about 90 mph. Vincent’s lead foot had only let off when he saw what he thought was a police car. It turned out to be a van full of kids with roof racks. I only chuckled a little bit when he slowed.
His speeding would probably get his license revoked if he got caught, but I didn’t tell him to slow down. The car had so much power. The freeway was nearly deserted at this time of night and with my new found love of adrenaline, I was en
joying the high speed.
“What do you mean by eccentric?” I asked.
“You will have to wait and see. There is no describing Emanuel,” he laughed.
“Fun, I love surprises.” I do not love surprises, and I made sure my tone conveyed that.
He turned the radio up, and we drove for almost another hour before he pulled off the highway and straight through a small town. When he turned off onto a small logging road and parked, I couldn’t see a house anywhere. The dirt lane was blocked with a huge cement slab, apparently meant to keep vehicles out if they disregarded the sign that said ‘no trespassing’ nailed roughly to a tree.
Vincent never missed a step. He walked boldly past the barricade and up the small, overgrown lane. I hurried to catch up to him, and he slowed his pace when he realized I was, once again, jogging to keep up with his freakishly long legs.
About a half mile up the lane, there was a small clearing to the right. Vincent stopped and turned toward it.
“Good evening, Emanuel,” Vincent said to the empty clearing. I took a step forward, squinting into the forest, expecting to see someone. There was no movement and no shapes in the shadows.
“Who are you talking to? There is no one there, Vincent.” I spun back to look at him.
“Look again,” he said, nodding his chin towards the clearing.
Before me stood a beautiful cottage with open Dutch windows above ornate cast iron flower boxes, overflowing with yellow pansies. The small porch on the front of the one-story home had a bench swing, and on that swing, rocking peacefully, was a tiny man. He wore a dark green velvet suit and top hat. The perfect picture of a leprechaun.
“Is he a lep…?” Vincent’s hand covered my mouth, stopping my question.
The little green man stopped swinging. “I am an elf, I’ll thank you not to compare me to those varmints,” he uttered, scowling.
“Sorry, she’s brand new, Emanuel. You can’t blame her when you dress like the human's notion of a leprechaun. Besides, she is Durga. I thought you might like to meet her.” Vincent smiled at me and nudged me forward.