by Katie May
“Yes?” I stared up at him in wide-eyed wonderment, shocked that he knew my name. But then that shock quickly transformed into terror as thoughts of stalkers and creepy men flitted through my mind.
No doubt seeing the hesitation splayed across my face, the man chuckled warmly and extended a hand, palm up. Immediately, a tiny flame danced across his skin, the perimeter a deep orange while the center was a sky-blue.
I inhaled sharply as I stared, mesmerized by the flame flickering in his hand and lighting up his chiseled face.
“You’re a warlock,” I whispered, awed.
“I am.” He chuckled deliciously, the sound vibrating through my bloodstream. “I’m actually interning with my coven’s leader, so I have meetings with your mom often.”
“Greengate?” I queried, referencing the coven located just to the north of us. His smile broadened, two dimples appearing in his cheeks, as he nodded once.
“Now, tell me about these bullies of yours,” he demanded, and with only a small amount of trepidation, I did.
His grassy green eyes hardened the further into the story I got, until they somehow appeared darker. In all honesty, they might’ve been. Some witches’ appearances were tied to their emotions. For example, I knew a girl named Libby Young whose eyes turned bright blue when she was excited, brown when she was pissed, and a gorgeous green when she got upset.
“They don’t just sound like bullies. They sound like sociopathic assholes,” he seethed, indignant on my behalf, and I’m not gonna lie, I totally developed a crush on him right then and there. It was nice to feel cared for, if only for a moment and by a complete stranger.
“Princess!” Karsyn roared from somewhere nearby, and I automatically blanched, taking a step behind the newcomer’s hulking frame.
“They’re coming,” I whispered tersely, already preparing myself to crouch back down and wait until they left. But the warlock surprised me by holding up a single finger, indicating for me to wait. He then smirked deviously as he peered around the corner of the building, watching as the four Devils sauntered their way forward as if they had absolutely zero shits to give. My heart hammered in my chest, the uneven rhythm threatening to send me into cardiac arrest, as I stared at the warlock in wide-eyed horror.
What exactly did he plan to do?
I watched as he lifted his hand and pointed a single finger at first one Devil, then the next, then the next, and then finally ending on Lucas.
And then all four of their pants fell down around their ankles.
I covered my mouth with my hands to contain the giggle that wanted to escape as I watched the four of them gasp in disbelief.
“What the fuck?” Cassian exclaimed as he stared at his green-colored boxers.
Karsyn was as bright as a tomato as he quickly pulled up his own, covering his tighty-whities.
Only Elias and Lucas seemed unperturbed. Elias was more amused than anything as he slowly pulled his jeans up, covering his pitch-black boxer briefs, but Lucas’s expression could almost be described as calculating. Maybe even a little impressed.
“Come on,” the warlock whispered, grabbing my arm and forcing me out of my hiding place. This time, my heart wasn’t just pounding erratically. It was practically in my throat, making it difficult to swallow. Still, the warlock didn’t slow down as he meandered towards the Devils, still holding my hand to drag my unwilling feet forward.
“Boys, that’s inappropriate,” he lectured, garnering their attention. All four of their heads snapped up, but instead of focusing on him, they turned towards me. Their eyes darkened twenty shades when they noticed his hand in mine, and Cassian’s jaw clenched. “Peony, let’s get you home.”
Elias stepped in front of me before I could leave, expression intense. There was no sign of his usual teasing as his violet-tinted eyes roamed over me.
“Peony, do you know this man?” he asked urgently.
Karsyn moved to stand at Elias’s side, scowling severely. “You shouldn’t go alone with him if you don’t know him.”
“So she should stay here with you?” The warlock released a loud snort. “Fuck no. Her mom would have my ass.”
“Stay out of this, shit brains,” Lucas snapped…though I don’t know if I could even call it snapping, considering his inflection didn’t change. He used his middle finger to push up his dark glasses. “I’ll kill you before you can even scream for help and then dispose of your body in Lake Michigan.”
Fucking damn.
“Damn,” the man drawled, echoing my thoughts. “You’re crazy, kid. How old are you? Ten?”
If it was even possible, Lucas’s expression turned even colder, hewn from ice.
“Thirteen,” he sniped. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to properly dispose of a body so it won’t be found by the cops. Don’t underestimate me.”
“That’s a level of psycho I don’t think I’ll ever achieve,” Cassian murmured to Karsyn. “But I like it.”
“And on that fucking creepy ass note…” The warlock pulled me the rest of the way forward until we had breached the wall of Devils. When we were far enough away that they couldn’t overhear, he whispered, “Have you talked to your mother about them? That redheaded one…there’s something not quite right about him.”
I just barely reined in the heaving sigh that wanted to escape. How could I tell him that I tried to…multiple times? That she never listened, and when she did listen, she never cared?
Simones were supposed to take care of themselves. If there was a threat, it was our sacred duty to eliminate it, with or without magic. At least, that was what Mom always told me whenever I came home crying.
“I’ll talk to her,” I rushed to assure him when the silence dragged on. “But I think you humiliated them enough so they won’t go after me.”
I didn’t believe that, not truly, but I could tell it made him feel better when he physically straightened, puffing out his chest.
“Good. They shouldn’t be allowed to treat you that way.” His crooked smile returned at full force, and I practically swooned. “It was nice meeting you, Peony!”
It was only when he walked away, hands in the pockets of his faded blue jeans, did I realize that I never got my savior’s name.
I smile at the memory as I plant myself on an empty bench, reveling in the way the wind blows my tresses around my face. Sometimes, I wonder what happened to that guy, my first crush. I picture him married with kids right about now, and the thought makes me smile. He was a good man.
“Peony?” I glance at the sound of my name, unable to cover up my irritation when I see Elias Briggs stalking towards me like a man on a mission. And that mission is, apparently, to make my life hell. Why can’t he just leave me alone?
Whatever he sees on my face stops him abruptly, hurt flashing across his face before he can contain it. He releases a sigh I can feel all the way to my bones before moving to sit beside me on the plastic bench.
Silence descends as we focus on the sidewalk in front of us. There’s a family strolling down the narrow pathway—two parents and a kid. Her smile is brilliant, devoid of any shadows, as she points to the window of the toy store which displays a lovely doll. I wonder what it would be like to be that innocent. To not have your past laden with pain and fear and anger. I imagine it would be freeing.
When the silence becomes too pungent, contaminating the air like a sickly poison, I say, “I never said you could sit.”
“You seemed upset,” Elias replies, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Why do you care?” I don’t mean for the words to sound bitter, but alas, I can’t seem to control myself today. Karsyn’s drunken confession the night before combined with the triplets’ sober one this morning all spin around in my head, a rough and brutal merry-go-round with no end in sight. Instead of slowing down, it merely speeds up until I cling to the golden pole in desperation and pray I don’t go flying to my death.
“
Believe it or not, I care about you,” Elias confesses softly, and I can’t help but release a dry, humorless laugh.
“I find that hard to believe.” Because the Devils are inherently selfish, and they only care about two things—themselves and humiliating me.
“You don’t have to believe me for it to be true,” Elias states firmly. And for some reason, those words serve as my breaking point. Something inside of me snaps, something I can’t even name, and suddenly, I’m a sniffling, blubbering mess. Fat, hideous tears cascade down my cheeks as I attempt to regain control of my tenuous emotions, but they repeatedly slip through my fingers like fine and delicate grains of sand. The next thing I know, I’m buried alive. Suffocating.
“Oh, Peony.” I’m dimly aware of Elias pulling me into his arms, and at any other time, I would shove him away. Scream at him. Punch him in his stupid face.
But I don’t have control of myself as I fall apart at the seams. I feel like a fucking Jenga tower after someone pulled the wrong block. One second, I’m whole, and the next, I’m toppling forward, praying that I’m not irreparably damaged.
“I wish you didn’t have to feel all of this pain,” he whispers. “I wish I wasn’t the cause of all of this pain.”
I tilt my face up to stare at him, feeling incredibly weak and vulnerable.
The bright sunlight bathes him in a faint glow, and eyes that normally make me think of stormy nights, when the sky is a canvas of metallic violet interwoven with dark streaks, now appear golden in the sun. I can’t help but note the bruises on his cheek and the cut on his lower lip. But somehow, those blemishes demote him from terrifying to comforting. His gaze moves to capture mine, and time seems to stand still. I can feel his heart beating beneath my palm, which somehow reached for him without my explicit consent.
And for a brief moment, a connection flares to life between us. Something beautiful and ethereal. Something pure and delicate. I can hardly breathe. All I’m aware of is him and his too-perfect face.
“Peony…” Elias looks away first, and it’s like a rubber band snapping as I come to my senses. Still, when he releases me and helps me sit up straight, I’m left with a feeling of stark isolation so intense, it’s like a physical blow. “I don’t know what’s going on, but if you ever need to talk—”
“I don’t,” I snap, my familiar ire returning. “Especially not with you.”
His tongue licks his plush upper lip as he leans forward on the bench, resting his muscular, leather-clad arms on his knees.
“You hate me. I know you do.”
Something about his self-deprecating tone grates on my nerves. I ball my hands into fists as I stare stubbornly ahead, refusing to allow myself to be pulled back into his magnetic orbit.
“How could I not, Elias? After what you did to me…”
“The things I did when I was younger were awful. Horrendous.” He leans back, reaching into his jacket pocket to grab a cigarette and a lighter. Silence ensues as he lights one up. “I fucking hate myself for the things I did to you, and I don’t blame you one bit for hating me as well.”
“Then why do you keep doing this?” I gasp as tears prick my eyes. I’m so fucking sick of crying, of falling apart in front of the four men I vowed would never again witness my tears.
“What do you mean?” Elias asks, genuine confusion lacing his voice.
I gesture back and forth between the two of us desperately.
“This!” I stress. “Why can’t you just leave me the fuck alone?”
I don’t know where this plea is coming from. Shouldn’t I want their attention? Heaven knows I’m giving them all of mine in the name of revenge.
But for some reason, this is different. It would’ve been less painful for Elias to stick the nub of his cigarette into my arm.
“I don’t know,” he whispers. “I know I should, I know that I’m only hurting you further, but I can’t fucking stay away. I’d let you go if I was a better man, but I’m not. I’m selfish and dirty. Maybe I just need to know that you forgive me—”
“I don’t.”
“—or maybe it’s because it’s you. I don’t know how many more times I can say I’m sorry—”
“But that’s the thing,” I cut him off again. “You haven’t yet. Just now was the first day you actually apologized for the things you’ve done.” He opens his mouth, closes it, and then immediately opens it a second time, eerily resembling a fish out of the ocean, gasping for water and flopping about. “You might’ve been thinking about it, but you’ve never actually apologized to me before.”
His shock quickly transforms into something I can only describe as determination. Immediately, he slides off the bench and drops to his knees before me, taking my hands in both of his.
A jogger passing nearby begins to ooh and aww at what she no doubt thinks is a marriage proposal.
“Elias!” I hiss, flames heating my cheeks.
“Peony,” he says seriously, his lips compressed in a grim, unrelenting line, “I’m so fucking sorry for everything I did to you. I know you don’t forgive me—I know you can’t forgive me—but the apology is sincere. If I could go back in time and undo all of it, I would.”
“Then why did you do it?” I question, feeling bereft and broken. Empty. It’s like his soft hands turned into talons and shredded my heart.
“Because I’m an asshole?” The words come out more as a question than a statement, as if he isn’t quite sure of the answer himself. “Because I’m a monster?”
“Elias…”
“I was born in the dead of night, Peony. And I think that’s why I targeted you.” He purses his lips, seemingly lost in thought. Almost absently, his thumb traces my knuckles, causing goosebumps to ripple across my skin. “You were this beautiful, happy, smiling girl who represented everything I wasn’t. I think a part of me felt the need to blow out your flame for fear that I’d get burned.”
“I don’t understand,” I whisper.
“I don’t understand it either,” he admits. “There’s no logical explanation for any of it, except for the fact that I’m a fucked-up creature who does fucked-up things to the people he actually gives a fuck about. I’m rotten straight to the core. All of us are…even now.” His grip tightens almost imperceptibly around my hands, squeezing to the point of pain. “Nothing I say will ever excuse what I did, and I don’t want it to. I own who I am, every fucked-up facet, but I can only pray that you’ll forgive me.”
And…
And I believe him.
Staring into his violet-tinted eyes, I know innately that he’s telling the truth. I can hear the sincerity in every word he says, see it in his eyes. They say that eyes are a window into a person’s soul, and I’m beginning to believe they’re right. Because in Elias’s, intermixed with regret and guilt, is something dark and tainted. Something that resembles beasts prowling through the forest late at night, searching for their next prey.
“I believe you’re telling the truth,” I confess at last, my voice no louder than a hushed murmur. “But I also don’t know if I can forgive you…if I can ever forgive you. The scars you gave me weren’t physical, Elias, but they destroyed something inside of me. When I see you, I see the person who made my life hell for many, many years. I see the man who taunted and terrorized and laughed at me. Who kissed me and then broke my fucking heart, all in the name of a vicious prank.”
“I meant every word I said that night,” he protests adamantly, no doubt thinking back to the middle school dance we attended together. When he told me he had feelings for me and wanted to start a relationship. When he kissed my lips so tenderly that errant fireworks exploded in my belly.
And when he led me to the stage, humiliating me in front of all of my classmates.
“I see the darkness inside of you, Elias,” I confess, pulling my hands free of his and moving to my feet. With him still kneeling, his head comes to just below my breasts, and I have the irrational urge to run my fingers through his purple-streaked hair. “Even if y
ou are truly sorry, I can never trust you again.”
“Then I’ll have to prove myself to you,” Elias vows resolutely. “I’ll have to prove to you that I can be worthy of your forgiveness. That even if I haven’t changed, I’ll never hurt you again. I might be a monster, but I can be yours…if you want me to.”
His words are the equivalent of a proverbial whip slicing open my chest.
Instead of gracing him with a response, I stumble past him, my stomach churning like maggots are feasting on my insides.
I can’t help but glance behind me just before I turn the corner at the next block over.
Elias is still kneeling where I left him, his head lowered. He remains on his knees, even when I turn the corner and he becomes nothing but a distant memory.
Chapter 29
I almost forgot about the Saturday football game until Mariabella shows up on my front steps, hips canted to the side and honey-blonde hair styled to perfection.
“Why the hell aren’t you dressed?” she demands, eyeballing my ratty shirt, stained sweats, and slightly wavy hair from the night before.
When I arrived back at the house after my confrontation with Elias, Nana and the triplets graciously made themselves scarce. I don’t know how I would’ve reacted if I had to look at them right then. Maybe with time, I’ll be able to look them in the eyes without recoiling in disgust.
“Why do we have this random Saturday game again?” I gripe as Mariabella glares at me.
“Because JV had to play Friday and they needed the field. Varsity got moved to Saturday. Now go change!”
As I climb into the passenger seat of her silver Mustang an hour later, I shake myself out of my depressive fog long enough to notice the dark, burgundy shadows underneath both of her eyes. She looks as gorgeous as always, but there’s something almost haunting in her gaze.
“How are you doing?” I ask tentatively as she backs out of my driveway. I swear I see the drapes in the living room twitch as Nana peeks out.
Mariabella’s lips purse. “You heard?”