by Terri Garey
“Yes, it is,” he said quietly, turning to leave.
“Joe,” I said pleadingly, not too proud to beg. Tears crested, overflowed, streaming down my cheeks, but I didn’t care.
“I’m going home now,” he said, in a flat, unemotional tone that hurt as much as his anger. “I need some time to think.”
And so I stood there alone, choking back sobs as he got in his car and left.
The worst part was, he didn’t look at me as he left. Not once.
Once inside my house, the dam of my emotions broke.
I cried, I stormed, I raged. I threw myself on the sofa and pounded the cushions with my fists. I kicked a wicker snowman across the room on purpose. I picked up every single cinnamon-scented pine cone I could find and threw them all into the fireplace, then lit them in a huge whoosh of flame that nearly singed my eyebrows.
“Burn, you stupid bastards,” I yelled at them, as if the oil-soaked husks were responsible for the death of my dreams. I turned on every light in the house while I stormed through it, tossing my jacket on the bed and ripping off my too-tight sweater and my too-tight jeans while I sobbed and cried. Pulling on my ugliest flannel pajamas and a thick pair of socks, I wrapped myself in my rattiest old robe and wished for a cat, just so I could pull its tail and hear it yowl. A noise like that would express how I really felt.
How could he do this? I fell to my knees beside the bed, wracked by a fresh wave of sobs.
Time? He needed time? How could this happen?
I sat there, indulging myself in tears as long as I could without tissues. When the sleeves of my robe started to get too damp, I hauled myself to my feet and forced myself to find some. In the end, a roll of toilet paper seemed the perfect solution, and I took it into the living room with me.
We were supposed to be together forever.
Temporarily cried out, I blew my nose, picked up the phone, and curled up with it on the couch, calling the one person in the world who had been there forever, and always would be.
“Evan?” He’d answered on the second ring. “Can you come over?”
“What’s happened? What’s the matter?” He’d heard the tears in my voice immediately, just as I could hear the worry in his.
“Joe broke up with me,” I squeaked, through a throat gone suddenly tight. I could hardly believe I was saying the words out loud. I had to hold a wad of tissue to my mouth to keep from bursting into tears again.
“No,” Evan breathed. “I don’t believe it.”
My silent head bobbing was enough to convince him, however, even though he couldn’t see it.
“Oh, honey,” he said lovingly, in a voice filled with regret. “I’ll be right there.”
And ten minutes later he was at my door, letting himself in with the key he’d had since junior high school. He had his coat off and his arms around me less than a minute after that. We sat on the couch, and I tried to tell him what happened, not shielding myself from blame. I told him about our disagreements over Selene, how Joe had called me by her name in his sleep. My visit to Marley’s, having Sammy show up outside the store. How we’d gone for coffee, and he’d brought me home. How Joe had been waiting, presumably to make up from our earlier fight, only to find me with Sammy.
I stuck with the basics—I didn’t see any reason to go into how Selene was somehow the reincarnation of Eve, complete with a split personality and a sex addiction, and the reason I was spending time with Sammy to begin with. Strangely enough, it seemed kind of irrelevant at this point, and Evan was already trying so hard to be brave—I saw no reason to freak him out when all I wanted to do was talk about Joe.
“Okay.” He sighed. “He had a right to be mad at you about Sammy.” Thankfully, he didn’t belabor the point, moving on to Selene. “But him calling you by her name, even if he was sleepy…you were right. She’s bad news.” He shook his head, nearly as downcast as I was. “Joe never struck me as the type to have his head turned by a pretty girl.”
“Hey,” I protested faintly.
“Except you,” he amended, putting an arm around my shoulder and giving me a comforting squeeze. “He was lucky to have you. I can’t believe he’d do this.”
“I can’t, either,” I said numbly, still in shock.
“It’s just not like him,” Evan repeated. “You don’t think he’s actually seeing her, do you? That would explain why he’s so eager to break up.”
“What?” The thought hadn’t even occurred to me. I sat up straight, not wanting to even consider the possibility that Joe’d done more than dream about Selene’s charms.
“That’s what men do,” Evan said, gazing inward with a sigh. “Something hotter and sweeter appears on the scene, and poof”—he gave a flick of the wrist—“they’ve moved on. Always better if they can make you think it’s your fault, too. Remember Allen? That guy with the hairy chest?”
I whapped him with the back of my hand without looking at him. “It’s about me right now, thank you. I can’t believe Joe would do that. He can’t be seeing her—we just made love a couple of days ago.”
Evan said nothing. When I glanced at him, he was struggling to keep his expression neutral, but I knew what he was thinking.
“He’s been working,” I said defensively. “Double shifts the last two days.”
“Uh-huh,” was all he said.
I didn’t believe that. I didn’t want to believe that.
A part of me recognized a kernel of truth, though, hidden deep inside everything. Whether or not Joe and Selene had physically shared a bed, he had been sleeping with her, at least in his mind.
Even if we found our way back together, could I ever truly forgive him for that?
“Of course he’s not seeing her behind your back,” Evan changed tack, obviously trying to cheer me up. “He’ll probably call you tomorrow and say he’s an idiot and that he’s sorry, and you can tell him that you’re an idiot and you’re sorry, and you two will be all made up.”
“I don’t think so,” I said quietly. “Something’s different this time.”
Unrolling another wad of toilet paper, I leaned my head against Evan’s shoulder and watched the last of the cinnamon pine cones burn to ash.
“Will you stay the night?” I asked Evan softly, a long time later.
“Of course. My pajamas are in the car.”
CHAPTER 16
I woke up the next morning in a fog. I was emotionally drained from all drama and all the tears—I hadn’t cried like that since my parents died—and I had a killer headache.
“You look like hell,” Evan said, for the third time. He was buttering a piece of toast at the kitchen counter, about to head out the door. “Stay home today. Get some sleep.”
“I’ve taken too much time off lately,” I repeated stubbornly, “and I don’t want to leave you alone at the store again until I know it’s safe.” He’d been nervous there alone, despite his efforts to be brave, and I didn’t blame him. Selene’s “Old Hag” routine was pretty creepy.
“Nothing happened all day yesterday,” he said, making an effort to sound positive. “Nothing’s happened since you and Kelly said your little charm to repel the spirits, or whatever it is. Kelly e-mailed me a copy of it, you know. I’m going to read it out loud every time I get nervous. Maybe it’s working…maybe she’s gone.” I knew he was trying to convince himself as well as me, so I wasn’t going to argue with him.
“Fridays are always slow—I won’t really need you until tomorrow. I’d rather have you all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on Saturday than looking like death warmed over today.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said sourly, sipping my second cup of coffee. The first one had done no good, and I’d been sitting here staring at the sun catchers on the kitchen windowsill for a good half hour.
“What if…” I didn’t really want to conjure Mary’s image in my mind by saying her name. “What if something spooky happens?”
“I’ll put on my big girl panties and deal with it,” he said placidly,
surprising me. “Now eat this toast,” he urged, putting it in front of me. “And take a shower. You look like a death metal groupie the morning after an Ozzy Osbourne concert.”
Only someone you loved could say things like that to you and get away with it.
“Love you, too.” I saluted him with my coffee cup, and decided to let him be brave. “Promise to call me if anything happens?”
“I will.” He snatched up his keys and headed for the door, then hesitated. “I was thinking, Nick.”
“Oh, Lord,” I groaned, only half joking.
“You should call Joe.”
I went still.
“Don’t wait for him to call you. Those things I said about him were all true—I can’t believe he’d be cheating on you. There has to be a way to patch this up.”
I just looked at him, letting him talk.
“If he did cheat on you”—Evan looked pained, but resolute—“then you deserve to know, not just wonder. And if he hasn’t, then I think you need to find a way to fix this before the evil hottie gets her hooks into him for real. Joe’s too good to let get away.”
I nodded, acknowledging the truth of what he said.
“And while you’re at it,” he added, “you need to ask yourself what you were doing last night in a car, alone with…” He didn’t finish, knowing he didn’t have to.
There was a silence between us as I thought about what he’d said.
“Who are you?” I finally said, with a reluctant half smile. “Oprah Winfrey’s long-lost sister?”
He responded cheerfully to my teasing. “She should be so lucky.” And then he turned and left, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Which were still pretty bleak.
A shower seemed like a good idea, so I took a long, hot one. I turned on some music when I got out, knowing from long experience how music influenced my moods. Today it was Radiohead, and I turned it up loud, letting it fill the house with sound as I dried my hair. Dreamy, thought-provoking, neither upbeat nor depressing. I pulled on sweats and an old Bowie T-shirt, dragged a blanket off the bed, and headed for the couch, where I seemed to be spending a lot of my time lately.
I lay there a long time, listening to music and thinking about my life. I hadn’t asked to be a beacon to the dead or a temptation to the Devil. I never wanted to get involved in the lives of strangers and their lost loved ones, and yet it happened, time after time. “Do unto others,” the Voice inside the Light had said, and I wasn’t foolish enough to ignore it; I wanted to hear it again. I wanted the brilliance of the Light to be the last thing I saw when I left this earth, wanted to hear again the music that colored the air with emotions, all of them loving, accepting, and good.
But right now I had to settle for Radiohead, and the warm, safe cocoon of my own house. Which wasn’t so bad, really.
Was it fair to expect Joe to accept me the way I was—ghosts, Devil, evil spirits, and all? Was it fair to expect him to never set a foot wrong when my life turned to chaos, as it so frequently did?
The answer was a resounding no.
So why didn’t I feel better? Why didn’t I just pick up the phone, call Joe, and beg him to talk this out with me? We could start again, work together to solve this latest problem, just like we always did.
I lay there, being honest with myself, and eventually the answer became clear. I was jealous of Selene, yes. Angry at the thought of Joe being turned on by her, angry that he’d ever be so aroused by someone else, asleep or awake. Calling me by her name had felt like a knife to the heart.
But there was yet another reason I didn’t call Joe, one that left me very troubled; I’d nearly kissed Sammy again, and the truth of the matter was that I’d really wanted to.
Really wanted to. Still wanted to.
For all my squawking about Selene, how committed to Joe was I if I could feel like that about another man?
Throughout the morning I dozed, thought, and dozed some more. I finally got my butt off the couch for a very practical reason—the piece of toast Evan fed me had been just about the last scrap of food in the house.
There was no ice cream. There were no chips, there was no comfort food.
It was almost noon, and Joe hadn’t called. I hadn’t called him, either, but I’d been the one left crying in the front yard, after all. After working double shifts for two days, he was probably still sleeping, but it hurt that he hadn’t called. Junk food was the only solution, so a trip to the grocery store was a necessity.
Reluctantly, I got up and got ready. Knowing there was no way I was going to feel like a million bucks today no matter what I did, I didn’t bother with makeup, dragging on a light denim jacket over my T-shirt and sweats. A pair of tennis shoes, a pair of sunglasses, and I was good to go.
I had a five-block walk ahead of me to get my car, which I’d left parked near Marley’s Bar, but I didn’t mind. I liked walking, particularly in my neighborhood, and the fresh air felt good. AnsleyPark was peaceful, shaded houses and leaf-splattered sidewalks, lots of hedges. The streets were deserted except for an occasional cat, lying in the weak winter sun. I reached my car in Little Five Points in no time flat.
I was tempted to go check on Evan at the store, but I didn’t. The only place I wanted to be today was on my couch.
With a quart of mint chocolate chip ice cream, and maybe a movie.
Fifteen minutes later, I was having a hard time choosing between mint chocolate chip or cookie dough. My cart was half full of the regular staples; bread, milk, wine, along with a big bag of chips and a box of fudge-covered cookies. I’d thrown in a bunch of bananas to make myself feel like I was getting some nutrition.
“Someone looks hungry,” a woman said.
I turned my head, and there she was. My worst nightmare. Selene, smiling at me over the handle of her grocery cart.
“Oh, are you ill, Nicki?” Her fake concern was obvious. “You look awful.”
She, on the other hand, looked perfect. Dark hair in a sleek ponytail, ivory coat with just the right earrings, skinny jeans, and boots.
I stood there, frozen. In the freezer section, no less. Shoving both ice cream cartons onto the nearest shelf, I faced her down.
“I know who you are,” I said flatly. Part of me wanted to go for her throat, and another part of me wanted to run like hell. “Lilith.”
“Ah.” She didn’t bother to deny it. “Clever girl.” Her lips curled in a little smirk.
Red lips, dark hair, porcelain skin. Evil incarnate.
“Where are your friends,” I dared ask, furious enough to risk a taunt. “Mara and Hecate?”
She dismissed them with a negligent wave of a hand, not bothering to deny their existence. “I only let them out when I have a use for them, and their usefulness is done, at least for the time being. Mary drew his attention and Kate drew his sympathy; I can easily do the rest.”
The callousness of her reply left no doubt who, of the three, was in charge, and no doubt of her intent when it came to Joe.
“You haven’t won yet,” I said, though I wasn’t sure of that at all. “Why are you doing this, anyway? What have I ever done to you?”
Instead of answering my questions, she asked one of her own. “Do you remember the night we met?” she asked, almost idly. “It amused Kate to let you remember.”
Those words had pretty much the same effect she wanted them to have. They brought back the dream, in all its nightmarish glory, and for a moment, I was terrified.
This creature was ancient, with powers beyond my imagining. The gloves were off, but was I ready for this particular fight?
“I could’ve killed you then, let Mary smother you into oblivion, and stared into your eyes while you died,” she said, as if cold-blooded murder was nothing. “But I was curious to see what you’d do. I wanted to watch you for a while.”
I swallowed hard, unable to think of a thing to say.
“You’re bold, I’ll give you that,” she mused, “but you’re impulsive, foolish. And arroga
nt—oh, so arrogant. You think you know the answer to everything, just because you once had a glimpse of eternity.”
My near-death experience. I shook my head, unthinking. She knows my story.
“Tell me,” she said, in a near whisper, though there was no one else around. “When you saw the web of fate, spreading its glory across the universe, did you see the little spider, lurking over in the corner?”
Goose bumps rose all over my body.
“That was me.” Her smile was one of cruelty, and her eyes, old as time, were filled with madness.
I took a step back—I couldn’t help it. My fingers grazed the cold glass of the freezer to my right, and I jumped as though bitten.
“What do you want from me?” I asked again, but she just laughed.
“I’ve spent many years working the patterns,” she murmured, still smiling. “A stitch here, a tear there, too small to be noticed on their own, all part of a much grander design. I won’t allow you to unravel them.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said tightly.
“It’s simple. If you help the boy, I’m going to strip you of everything you love, starting with Joe Bascombe,” she said calmly.
I couldn’t believe my ears. What a cold-blooded, calculating bitch she was. “The boy? What boy?” Pissed as I was, I still had no idea what she was talking about.
“The mother is mine, too, you know. You can’t keep her from the Dark forever—it will find her. It is her fate.”
Angie Rayburn. The boy…
“Josh Rayburn? You want Josh Rayburn?”
Selene cocked her head, playfully. “I’ve already measured him for his trench coat,” she said lightly. “He’ll go out in a blaze of glory, just as he desires.”
A guy with a baby in his cart was wending his way down the aisle in our direction. An older man with a ball cap was eyeing the frozen pizzas a few feet away. The whole scene seemed surreal—a parody of normalcy, underlaid with horror.
“I’ve already talked to Josh,” I said stiffly, my mind recoiling from the image she’d painted. “He wasn’t interested in anything I had to say.”