E.V.I.E.: 13 Slayers, 13 Missions

by Lexi C. Foss

  “This could be so good, Trav. So good for all of us. Just give her time to warm up to you, to the idea of three. You know it’s not the ideal set up, much less the usual kind of thing for most people.”

  She has a point.

  A trio, a triad, tripod, throuple—whatever you want to call it—is not what society considers to be normal. Polyamory is so judged, frowned upon and deemed immoral. Taboo even.

  Is Loey one of them?

  A one-night threesome and a steady relationship with two people are two completely different playing fields.

  Sighing, I roll Ellie onto her back and just observe her, all of her. My heart swells, chest tightening at the fleeting thought of possibly losing her to this girl, something I can’t do.

  I can’t lose her.

  She’s my everything. She’s been the yin to my yang for a hundred years. No one we’ve added to the mix has ever fucked us up. They’ve built us up higher, made us stronger. Loey can destroy us, though. She has the power to change everything; I can feel it. The last twenty-four hours have been the most confusing and uncertain twenty-four hours of my life.

  But I want her to be happy.

  As fucking stupid as that sounds, all things considering, it’s the truth. I always want Ellie to be happy. You know that saying? Happy wife, happy life? It’s true. When she’s happy, I’m happy, and if Loey adds to the list, then I’ll try.

  I’ll try because I love her.

  “On a scale of one to ten, how badly do you want her?” I ask, searching her eyes for the answer.

  Not that I find it, but fuck do I try.

  “Ten multiplied by I don’t even know how much.” She hitches a shoulder, teeth worrying her bottom lip. “I told you I can’t explain it. I’ve never…” The way she trails off slams my heart against my chest.

  “You’ve never what?”

  She’s nibbling on that lip again, hands fisting the front of my shirt. “I’ve never felt this before.”

  Can your stomach sink?

  Because that’s exactly what I feel, this nauseating, sinking feeling in my gut. “Where does that leave me then?” I don’t know that I can handle the answer, but I have to know either way. I’m not so sure I can survive another twelve hours without one.

  Ellie smiles softly, cupping my face in her small hands. Reeling me in, she places the softest kiss to my nose, her legs tightening around my waist. She smells like her. “By my side, right where you belong,” she vows.

  And it’s genuine, it is. When you’ve been with someone for as long as we have, you know when they’re being one-hundred percent genuine and when they’re not.

  So why don’t I feel any better?

  Why does it feel like my whole world’s crumbling right before my very eyes?

  6

  Giselle

  Me: Are you still up?

  Before I can convince myself otherwise, I smash my thumb against the Send button and watch the delivered status appear beneath my bubble.

  That’s it. Can’t take it back now.

  My head falls to one side on the pillow, a whoosh of air rushing between my lips as I take in a very passed out Travis beside me. It’s late as hell, or rather early as hell, streams of golden light trying to peek around our blackout curtains. Given the time, I should’ve been well on my way to DreamLand by now, especially after the multiple poundings I took not two hours ago. Despite the six beers Trav killed in the short time I was gone, we drank a little more—at least five swigs of vodka more—which quickly led to that rough, nasty, almost punishing sex. The man has the stamina of steel on the regular, but drunk?

  He can go forever.

  Not tonight, though. After that third round, his head hit the pillow, and within a couple minutes, his soft snoring filled our bedroom. I’ve been left with nothing but my thoughts since, and now that he’s dead asleep, I can hear them louder and clearer.

  In simplest terms possible: I’m torn, so utterly torn and confused—and I know he is, too. He wants answers I don’t have. I mean, I don’t know what thing with Loey is any more than he does. Hell, I don’t even understand it. I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve not felt this before.

  Is it so wrong for me to want to explore it?

  My phone vibrates against my chest, pulling me free from my thoughts.

  Loey: Just got home, believe it or not.

  This late?

  Damn. The bar must’ve picked up after I left.

  Me: Sounds like you had a long night.

  Loey: Very long, BUT I made it through because of you. If you hadn’t forced me to feed, I would’ve passed out.

  My heart free falls, dropping down to the pit of my butterfly-infested stomach as a smile spreads my lips. I’m almost positive I’m blushing, too, my cheeks burning hotter than a wildfire.

  Me: I’m pretty sure you were minutes from doing just that when I got there. It was for your own good.

  Loey: I know, and I know you’re right. As much as I hate it, I need to be better about this crap. I did blood bags for a while, but after a few weeks, the hospital was starting to get suspicious at their mysteriously dwindling supply.

  The exaggerated smiley emoji at the end has me giggling softly into the sheets.

  Me: Never would’ve pinned you for a klepto.

  Loey: I am *not* a klepto. I just saw it as a better alternative to animal blood. That shit is nasty.

  She’s not lying. It’ll do the trick if you need a boost, but it’s by no means satisfying, nor does it taste good.

  Me: Can’t say I don’t agree. I tried the “vegan” thing once upon a time. I think I lasted a single day lol.

  Loey: I made it longer than that, but I found myself craving the real stuff more than I do now.

  Me: It’ll do that. We’re not meant to survive off their life source. Animal blood or not, I hate knowing you’re constantly starving yourself. Will you let me teach you how to do this humanely?

  Loey: Lol I don’t think any way is really humane.

  Me: There is, trust me. You don’t *have* to kill your victims. You just have to learn how to control yourself so you don’t drain them completely.

  Loey: Is that even possible?

  Me: Sure is. That’s how Trav and I do it most of the time.

  I cringe a little mentioning Trav, stealing another peek at him. She’s not his biggest fan at the moment, and vice-versa, but I’m hoping we can change that—along with her terrible survival skills—soon.

  Loey: That’s not what you did tonight…

  Me: No, it’s not, but tonight was different. We didn’t have time for all that gentle shit. I just needed you to feed. Next time, though, I’ll show you. Let me help you, Lo...

  Loey: Fine. Next time. Not sure when that’ll be, but we’ll figure it out.

  Me: Your next day off?

  Loey: Maybe. I’m gonna crash, though. Exhausted doesn’t cover my current state. Night, Ellie.

  Me: I’m holding you to it. Night.

  Not that I would be getting any sleep. I try, tossing and turning more times than I can count, but my brain won’t stop. All I can think about is how this girl starves herself, how she practically lives on death’s doorstep, all because she doesn’t want to hurt the innocent. I get it, trust me, I do, I struggled with it for quite some time as well, but it’s either we feed—or we die.

  She can’t possibly want that, right?

  Why would she? She’s still so young, now with an eternity ahead of her. One she could spend with me, with Trav and me.

  We could help her, teach her, love her.

  She just has to let us first.

  7

  Loey

  I’m up the next afternoon earlier than usual. On a typical day, Roscoe’s almost always whining by three in the afternoon, four at the latest. Nevermind the fact he’s got his doggie door unlocked to let him out, he wants attention and refuses to be quiet about it.

  But today, I can literally feel how much earlier it is, and I’m wired. Funnily enough
, Roscoe’s out like a light within the sea of pillows strewn all over my bed. I can’t even complain about him being a bed hog. It’s big and round and so freakin’ soft. There’s plenty of space for both of us and Malfoy, and that fact alone makes it one of the best purchases in my adult life.

  Rolling toward the nightstand, I reach for my phone and finally check the time. See? It’s just after one. I didn’t crawl into bed until almost seven. I should be out hard right now. My head just won’t stop spinning, my thoughts nothing more than a mass blur of what the fuck, why is this happening, and what am I going to do.

  Which is why seeing her texts clogging my lock screen jacks up my heart rate.

  Ellie: Hi.

  Ellie: You up?

  Ellie: Shit, no, it’s only noon. You’re definitely out. If you see this, ignore me. Call me when you wake up, though, k?

  My teeth clamp down on my bottom lip. There’s no point in me lying. I really like her. Really isn’t even enough of a word. I’m so drawn to her, and I don’t understand why. I mean, yeah, she’s fucking beautiful, but it’s so much more than a physical thing.

  We just…click.

  But Travis…

  I almost cringe. It’s not him—it’s the situation. They’re married, have been together for over a century, and yet here’s Ellie trying to...well, trying to do whatever the fuck it is she’s doing. Pursue me? Add me to the mix? I know I’m not the first and that they’ve had multiple experiences with a shared partner, but that wouldn’t be the case here. Travis and I… There wasn’t much there that night. Yes, when we first got started, him directing me with trails of blood along his wife’s body was pretty hot, but after that, it was all Ellie and me. We didn’t kiss, he didn’t put his hands on me...

  And yet Ellie wants me to give him a chance.

  Is that what she wants me to call her about? To talk about Travis?

  No, that’s not a phone conversation.

  So what then?

  I read her messages a second time, then a third. Should I actually call her? Like, will she answer, or is she one of those “text me first” kind of people?

  She said call. Just do it.

  Curiosity may very well have killed the cat, but there’s no way I’m getting anything done today if I don’t find out what this call is about, and I have quite a few things I need to take care of.

  Flipping the duvet off, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and stretch out. I can already feel Roscoe watching me through one eye. He hasn’t lifted his head yet, waiting to see what I’m going to do, but the second he feels me getting up, he’ll follow. Sure enough, the very second my feet hit the ground and I take a step toward the bathroom, I hear him jump off the bed and do a little stretch of his own before following behind me. He watches me beneath the bathroom’s threshold as I go about all the daily motions. As soon as I’ve brushed my teeth, he takes off for the kitchen.

  I wait to call Giselle until I’ve made myself coffee, fed the fur babies, and watered all of my plant babies. Curling up in the circular swing I have hanging in the living room, I tap through a few screens to Ellie’s contact and hit the call button. My heart kickstarts on the first ring. My stomach flips on the second. By the third, I realize just how nervous I am, and I can’t for the life of me understand why.

  “You’re up early,” she says, breaking through my train of thought.

  “I couldn’t sleep anymore. My mind was racing,” I admit, taking a sip from my mug before setting it on the little table beside the swing and falling back into the plushy cushion.

  “Why? Because of me?” The humorous lilt in her voice tells me she’s joking, but I find myself agreeing before I can process the possible repercussions.

  “Actually, yeah.”

  Silence.

  Neither one of us says anything for a good minute as the heaviness of my reply hangs through the line between us.

  “Why because of me?” she questions softly, and I honestly feel like shit for it.

  “I don’t know,” I groan, scrubbing a hand down my face. Why did you open this can of worms right now? “I like you, Ellie, okay? But you’re…”

  “But I’m married, I know,” she scoffs. “This is how we do things, though, Lo. Why is that so hard for you to understand?”

  “It’s not, I just…”

  “You just what?”

  I’m literally cringing, curling up tighter as I set our call on speaker and brace myself for her reaction when I say, “You want me to give Trav a chance, but I don’t know if I can. I don’t feel for him what I feel for you, and don’t ask me what that is, ‘cause I have no clue.”

  Giselle chuckles, and at first, I can’t decipher whether it’s a good or bad thing. “Neither do I, which is why I want to explore it. I only asked you to give Travis a chance because you haven’t met the real him yet, and that’s my fault. Trav and I...we have a system, and I kinda went rogue on that the first night. I left him out, which was absolutely wrong on my part, and now he’s harboring some feelings. I guarantee if the both of you open up to each other, you’ll feel differently.” I’m about to reply to that, about to tell her I don’t know if it’ll be that easy, especially if he’s harboring feelings, but then she blurts, “What are you doing today?”

  Planning my next jump.

  “Uh, I have to clean up around here.” Not a total lie. I do need to clean, too. It’s been a couple weeks since I last mopped the floors and dusted. The bathroom could use a good scrub down as well.

  “Skip it and come over. Let’s hang out, all of us. We can watch a movie, have some—”

  “Ellie, I can’t.”

  “Why not? You can clean tomorrow.”

  “It’s not that...I’m bound to the night.”

  “What kind of modern-day vampire are you?” she laughs. “How do Trav and I have daylight pendants, but you don’t?”

  Despite the fact she can’t see me, I shrug. “Witches aren’t exactly fond of us, Ellie, in case you forgot. You need a witch for all that, and I’m not about to beg anyone just to be able to walk in the daylight.”

  “Witches have evolved, Lo,” she chuckles again. “There’s plenty out there who will work with you as long as you’re respectful. But enough of that, we’ll revisit this later. Come over tonight, then?”

  “I can’t. I work tonight.” Okay, that’s a blatant lie. I’m definitely not going to be at The Mad Orchid, and while I am hunting vampires, this isn’t an E.V.I.E assignment, either.

  No, this isn’t work at all.

  This is personal.

  “On a Monday?” she asks dubiously.

  “The bar’s open all week. It’s just slower on the weekdays.” It really is, too. I loathe working the weekdays. There’s only so many times you can wipe down a bar that isn’t dirty, to begin with.

  “Fiiine,” she drawls, and then she really proves just how persistent she can be, a fact I secretly like maybe a little too much. “Can you pencil us into your schedule, then?”

  “I’m off tomorrow. So tomorrow night?” I’m grinning, leaning forward in the swing to reach for my mug.

  “Tomorrow night works.”

  “Should I bring anything?”

  Ellie makes this amused little noise in the back of her throat. “Just yourself, baby. Just yourself.”

  8

  Loey

  I try not to get my hopes up whenever I jump the portal—try being the keyword. Despite knowing I’ll likely never find Shadowed Sanctum, a part of me always wonders if this is it. If I’ll finally set my trip with enough intention that it’ll just happen.

  Spoiler alert, it doesn’t.

  One moment I’m in the city’s underground tunnels, stare focused on the glimmering entrance of the portal up ahead, and the next, I’m surrounded by nothing but lush greenery. Behind me stands the massive oblong rock I read about. Engraved with a star and an eye in the very center, the portal hides within, made visible only by the chant I have scribbled down on the folded piece of paper in my
pocket.

  They said Rosewood was vibrant and beautiful, a fairy tale brought to life, but those descriptions don’t do this place justice. The grass looks so much greener, the flowers highly-saturated with luminous colors. There isn’t a soul for miles, no buildings, either. The trees are the buildings; they’re tall like skyscrapers.

  “You look like you’re a long way from home, Miss,” says a formidable yet friendly voice.

  I spin on my heel to find a strikingly handsome young man just a few feet away. His hair looks like it’s been touched by the sun, eyes blue like the ocean I can smell nearby. He’s a vampire, too, his scent makes that much clear, but nothing about him screams predatory. Then again, vampires are deceitful creatures.

  Worst case scenario, I drive the stake hidden in my jacket into his heart. Not exactly what I came here to do, but it’s part of my job description nonetheless.

  “I am,” I reply simply, holding my head high.

  The young man nods and advances a few steps. “Are you lost or…”

  Boots rooted to the ground, no part of my demeanor wavers. “Not exactly. I am, however, looking for someone named Persia. Would you happen to know who she is and, if so, could you point me in the direction of where I may find her.”

  His golden head cocks aside, eyes sparking curiously. “And why, may I ask, are you searching for her? She doesn’t exactly care for our kind.”

  I’m not surprised. Witches usually don’t. The balance of life should never be disrupted, and that’s exactly what vampires do.

  “I need her help,” I state, keeping my voice as even as possible. While I want to find her, I don’t want to appear desperate, either. Immortals take advantage of desperation.