The Witcher Chime

by Amity Green

  He pushed a long fall of hair to his back, then backed away toward the dark side of the cavern. A moment later he disappeared into darkness.

  Savannah listened hard around the pounding of her heart, hoping he’d gone. Only the sound of dripping water echoed around her. She peeled free of the wall and stepped into the light. Rocks had fallen into heaps, but none were tall enough to help her climb out. Through the window, clouds loomed above. The scent of a mountain storm drifted down, the chill so heavy it penetrated her coat. Her fingers were numb and her boots felt like the leather was made of ice water.

  “Savannah,” Witcher said, striding from the darkness beside her.

  “Dammit,” she yelped, again trembling to the bone.

  He didn’t respond, just watched her. He stood quite a bit taller than before, and his hair was longer. More about him had changed, but she couldn’t put a finger on it. Even the way he watched her was different.

  He reached for one of her hands, which he turned over and placed a soft kiss inside.

  “Are you hurt?”

  Savannah shook her head, eyes locked with his.

  “Good.”

  “Will you take me home now?” She looked from him back toward the cavern.

  “Are you cold?” he asked. His gaze caught on her lips and stayed there.

  “No, not really,” she said.

  He moved to stand right in front of her, so close his breath brushed her cheek. “Good.”

  If there was a certain way an angel should be, she looked at one right then, utterly spellbound. The familiar feeling of accepting her insanity crept in. She couldn’t imagine him ever doing anything mean or hateful to anyone. She should be afraid and hate him, no matter how he appeared, but she couldn’t bring herself to remember why.

  “Such a treasure.” Apparently the confusion was plain on her face because he backed away. “I will wait for you to come to me.”

  Part of her wanted to scream a protest and the rest of her was ever so grateful for his patience. She grew cold when he pulled his hands away, frozen, remembering his touch the night she’d dreamed of being with him. The memory circled her mind, and she stood paralyzed and trembling. She drew a breath that gusted in, shaky and loud.

  “You’re still scared,” he said, softly.

  She nodded. “I don’t know what to think.” Lying to appear tough would do no good when she shook like a leaf and wondered if she might bust out in tears any second.

  “That is understandable. I promise you, I am not the same creature.”

  “Please, just take me home.”

  Witcher sighed, letting his gaze drop. “I’ll take you out of here, but this is not what I want.”

  Without warning, Witcher grabbed one of her arms and yanked her off the rocky floor. The bright sky dimmed out other detail and through the distortion he began to grow taller as his clothes fell away, dissolving into the air. The giant wings slung free above his shoulders, and he didn’t take his eyes from the sky above. Savannah screamed as he launched upward, dragging her through the busted out hole in the rocks overhead. Wind blasted against her bare midriff, and the sun became so bright that her eyes watered. More wind hit her from above as he pumped his wings. Her boots hung above the snow, and her mind refused to register how the ground grew farther away and tree tops whipped by beneath them.

  The weight of her body twisted in a spiral below, but his grip was relentless. Cold and wind made her eyes water as air screamed by her ears. A moment later they slowed and got closer to the ground beside her truck. Savannah blinked hard to clear the water from her eyes.

  He released her and she fell onto her bottom with a solid thud. Icy air bit into her ears and cheeks. She got to her feet, searching. There wasn’t an angel in sight. Blue contrasted against the pines and snow, the top of her Toyota peeking between the trees close by.

  Savannah waited, trying to accept that he’d really gone. Freedom was hers, cold and silent. She went with the feeling and dove inside the cab and slammed the door. After a few moments of trying to get her frozen fingers to work, she started the motor and went home.

  After finally pulling into the garage, she went inside, excited to see her sister but feeling the exhausting aftereffects of her meeting with Witcher. The television was on and from the sounds Molly was watching Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Victoria slept in her bassinet beside the couch.

  “How’d it go?” Molly asked, still engrossed in the film.

  “Good. How’s it going here?” Savannah leaned over the arm of the couch, peering at the sleeping baby.

  “Okay. I didn’t hear you pull up.” Molly looked up, her eyes settling on Savannah’s shoulder. “You have sticks in your hair.” She laughed and looked back at the screen.

  “It’s a little windy out,” she said, pulling a twig free. “Must have got stuck there when I got out of the truck in town.”

  Molly nodded, clueless to what had gone on and that was more than okay with her.

  “I’m going to go lay down for a while.” Savannah let Molly’s attention drift back to her movie and went upstairs to shower and change. The sounds from the television carried in through the heater vent. She sat on her bed, numb, and happy she was alone. She closed her eyes and laid back.

  She’d had to lie, but it wasn’t a big deal in the grand scheme. Things hadn’t gone okay. She’d undone God’s work, and that worried the hell out of her. The good part was Witcher was gone and hopefully wouldn’t be back unless she called him. That would be about the time hell froze over. For the time being, she could rest easy. She yawned and fell asleep fast.

  * * *

  “Do you remember when you told me you loved me?” Witcher whispered, his voice silk against the tender skin below her ear. Savannah pulled the covers over her head, determined to go back to sleep.

  The little reading lamp beside the bed made her blankets into a glowing dome of purple light. The TV still rambled on downstairs. Dull pain throbbed at the top of her head. She was still so tired, and growing ticked off at being drug out of a deep sleep.

  He pulled her off the bed, kissed her softly despite her trying to turn her face away, then stepped back and began to unbutton his shirt. He smiled and let it fall.

  There he was, a mix between Johnny Depp and John Stamos, the two most gorgeous men on the planet. She closed her eyes to get the image to quit messing with her sensibilities.

  “You said you’d leave me alone. That you wouldn’t come here unless I asked you.”

  “You’ve said a lot of things, too.”

  An eye for an eye. She rubbed her face, trying to shake it off.

  The torment, his gorgeous appearance, was her own fault. He measured her responses somehow and picked the best. The result stood right in front of her, the image of the perfect man plucked from her imagination. It couldn’t stop there and be only skin deep. Surely if he looked the part, everything else would be just what she wanted, too. He would move perfectly and read into her. He would be like the men and the women from the books in the safe. Her body grew warm.

  Try as she had all along, it was too hard to remind herself that Witcher was a monster, a demon with the will to play with lives, to save the dying or reanimate the dead, no matter if he’d begun his long life as an angel from the beginning of time. But hadn’t she helped him become something better?

  He smiled, knowing it too well.

  She didn’t know when she’d zoned out, but watching him unfasten the button of his jeans brought her back to the moment with a jolt.

  “Hold on,” she breathed. Her eyes wouldn’t stop watching the way shadows played across his chest as he breathed and the way his eyes glinted. Beautiful as he was, he absorbed the space in the room, leaving nowhere to go.

  “You’re doing this to me,” she said. “I know it. You’re controlling my thoughts somehow.”

  He laughed. “No. I assure you, I am not. I am truly here with you.”

  She shook her head, trying to tune him out.


  “Come here, Savannah.” He took her hand and placed it just below his collarbone where a heartbeat surged beneath soft skin.

  She shook her head but he pulled her close and kissed her again until her legs felt like they might buckle. Parts of her ignited and she was unable to tamp them down, good senses be damned. He moved on to the sensitive place below her ear. At some point, one of her hands had become entangled in his hair and she stared at it, soft strands sliding between her fingers.

  “Feel me,” he whispered. “It’s okay now.”

  She allowed herself that. They’d already done so much, what did it matter if they went all the way? She stepped closer to him and the palm of her other hand caressed his shoulder where soft strands of hair brushed his skin. No one would know if she did it. There was no one to judge her.

  He removed his hand from the button on his jeans, letting his head fall back and eyes close.

  Savannah’s touch grew bolder, defeating the last of her ability to hold back. He wanted her to touch him, so she did. Giving up for good, she reached for the waistband of his jeans and popped the buttons loose, one at a time until the fly hung open. She’d expected underwear for some reason. Hot flesh brushed her hands. She stared.

  He sighed with relief. “Thank you. I’ve wanted this for so long,” he paused, pulling in a breath when she moved her hand away. He grasped the base of himself in a fist and replaced his hand with hers, watching each movement.

  Realizing she didn’t know how to make a guy feel good was awkward, so she made it about her own senses, feeling how tight the skin stretched over different parts of him or how his breathing changed when she touched the tip. Her abdomen grew tight. He ran a hand inside her shirt, slowly at first, but picked up speed, feeling her greedily as she continued to touch him. He throbbed once hard in her grip and she let go, looking up at him. His eyes were twin fires in the shadows of his face.

  She didn’t wait, just leaned up on her toes and kissed him hard. Each move he made radiated as he pulled her sleep shirt away and pushed her underwear to her knees. All at once he picked her up and set her on the bed, taking a knee to get rid of the last stitch of cloth she’d worn. The niggling feeling that she was doing something very, very wrong grew farther and farther away.

  Once he stepped out of his jeans, he sat back on the bed, pulling her astride his thighs. She looked from his cock to his face. Witcher pulled his hands away, the look on his face giving her reign to take any action she chose. He watched her closely, waiting for her to take the last step.

  Savannah breathed deep and leaned forward, moving up his body enough so she could kiss him. He gathered all her long hair in one hand and twisted it to one side. She was embarrassed for a moment when her wetness came into contact with his hand, but it ignited something inside him and he began to touch her faster. With one hand, she prompted him to grasp himself, and she leaned up so he could guide them together. He was careful to the point of pain. By the time she was seated, every nerve in her body was centered on what he might do next.

  Witcher sat up and pressed her to his chest. Wrapping her legs around his waist hard, she grated against him, holding on tight. He stood with her as she kissed his neck. Cold met her back as he pressed her against the wall and settled himself in. He kissed her in a rush, holding her that way, and then began to move his hips achingly slow.

  A growl rumbled in his chest.

  A whimper escaped before she could bite it back. Images of him changing, turning into a monster while they were so close together came to mind. At any given moment if he caught onto her reservation, fear, or suspicion, he might act out in any of the horrible ways he done in the past. She forced herself to look at him, using the image of normalcy he projected as a way of keeping sane. Although, if he wanted to do something mean, it would stop what they were doing. He wanted them to make love, not to keep going with her screaming, fighting, and horrified, so she wouldn’t allow herself to dwell on that. He had to know she wasn’t scared. Everything he did made it easy to play along, if she could honestly say she had to work at it.

  He moved so perfectly, but it was like he held himself back. She grasped at his hips, trying to get lower onto him, to feel him seat at the very back of her, but he fought it and kept moving slowly, kissing her neck and letting his breath fan her cheek. She tightened her grip with her legs, feeling herself getting closer to finishing, just like their dream game.

  Witcher pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. He leaned his chest away and while watching her eyes, he put the tip of a finger in his mouth, then lowered it between them. He stopped just above the perfect place to touch, looking down at the junction of their bodies, tracing where she stretched around his base. Savannah began to tremble as he continued. He leaned in close to her ear.

  “Shhh,” he hissed. He placed his mouth against hers, moved the pad of his finger to the perfect place and pushed inside her so hard he hit deep against her back. The muscles inside her clenched hard around him and she came, the feeling mounting slow and pulling from the back of her thighs. He pushed into her twice more as she climaxed, then grabbed each of her wrists, pinning them to the wall beside her head. He moved faster, growing hotter where they touched. His grip tightened around her wrists and he rested his cheek against hers. He trembled and pulled in a huge breath. He hit against her hard once and it was all she could do to remain quiet. Witcher froze against her and the only part of him that moved was the pulsing inside her as he finished. He pulled her arms down and she wrapped them around his neck. He swallowed hard and pulled back.

  Savannah pulled her thighs from his hips and took her own weight back on shaky legs. He stepped away and she went for her clothes. Witcher sat on the bed and slid his arms into his shirt, beginning to fasten buttons. Neither of them spoke. The television played on from downstairs. When she slid into her pajamas, she caught him watching her with a wistful expression.

  She understood. He was waiting for her to tell him to leave.

  She stopped him before he could finish with his shirt, putting her hand over his. He looked at her, apparently expecting her to kick him out, half dressed. She wanted the opposite.

  “Can we do some of the stuff from the books in the safe?”

  Witcher smiled.

  ***

  Chapter 24

  May Day, 1989

  The days grew longer all the time, but there was still a few weeks left to allow heavy snowfall in the mountains. Life kicked along at the Witcher Place, Savannah running the household and helping Molly raise her little girl. Not a day went by when she didn’t watch the sky, and not a night passed when she didn’t expect to feel the mattress sink beside her and anticipate hearing the voice of an angel. A few days without seeing Witcher rolled along into nearly three months with no sign of him.

  Savannah wrote him off, much the same way she was able to with the first guy she’d ever slept with. Jesse Freeman had treated her the same way. Both of them got what they wanted and ignored her afterward. She was back to being a Crazy Caleman girl. An awkward wallflower. A nobody. She’d take it with a smile. Her debt was paid. Maybe she’d see him again, and maybe not. She had an estate, as she’d come to think of it, to manage and she continued to run the Witcher Place with precision.

  Two of the mares dropped foals in late April, and Mabeline herself was round and ready to pop any time. That would make eight head of horses that were really nothing more than pets, the youngest of the foals being set aside as a gift for Victoria’s birthday. Downsizing the ranch and selling off all the cattle was the best decision Savannah had made for them. Father and Sons Construction followed through with the additions the girls wanted so the horses, barn cats, and chickens barely felt the winter chill, bedded down in the new stable and barn. A raised, cobbled walk ran from the back door around the entire house to the mailbox and out to the barn. Savannah rarely had to put on snow boots once the sun was up. She’d done as much changing of things as she could to ensure she wasn’t reminded of Jack, Ca
roline, or Chaz.

  One of the “Sons” had grown close to Molly, so she and Sam talked a lot. Molly kept Victoria far from the other men when they came to do any maintenance work or plow the snow from the driveway. Savannah kept a watchful eye on the antics of her sister and Sam, but a few times when she’d gone to town for groceries and supplies she’d come back to find Sam had arrived and the three of them were watching a movie or something. Whatever the case, Sam cuddled and played with Victoria when he visited, and that seemed to make Molly very happy, so Savannah continued to allow his visits. Currently, they’d made entirely too much popcorn and sat on the floor with Victoria amidst couch cushions and bottles of Pepsi watching The Shining. Savannah waited in the doorway until Molly acknowledged her watching and then went outside to check on the newest addition to the family of horses.

  Their new sorrel foal had finally made it to standing after a couple hours. Savannah clicked an instant photograph and walked back to the house, waving the developing picture to speed the image along. Once she made it through to the kitchen, she dropped the photo on the table and went to the sink to wash her hands.

  Someone pounded on the front door so Savannah grabbed a towel and headed for the foyer. They’d gone a little overboard ordering little dresses and bonnets, so she was expecting a shipment from J. C. Penney’s.

  “Wait for me,” Molly called. She fell into step with Savannah, ready to snatch the package of new baby clothes before Savannah could. Every time a new order of clothes or toys came for Victoria it was almost like Christmas.

  Savannah pulled the door open and her smile faded so fast the “hello” she was about to say just dissolved.

  “Hi,” Witcher said. He pulled a Denver Broncos hat from his head and smiled.

  “A ball cap?” Savannah asked, incredulously, eyeing his jean jacket and high tops.

  “Hi there,” Molly said. “Don’t mind her. She’s the rude sister. Do you have a delivery?” Molly looked around him for a truck in the drive.