Forget Me Knot

by Melissa Glisan

  Picking up the hound, he held him close to his chest and followed his instincts to safety and home.

  ***

  Dr. Tomas SaoBria had secrets, not in his past, but on his body. During their chat, Celena kept noticing the way his dinner jacket seemed stretched at odd points along his arms and shoulders. When he shifted on the cramped divan, she noticed that his tailored pants didn’t fit so well either. Even Mars lifted his small head and seemed to study the doctor intently, if the perked twitching of his bat-like ears were anything to go by.

  “Tomas, when were you injured?” The gentle question seemed to open a floodgate of misery. Celena absorbed the words, feeling them crash against her already numb mind like breaking lances.

  Laura Faust had donned enchanted golden armor and mercilessly triggered his transition to wolf shape, but with the drug he had been administered the change rolled over his form slowly, allowing the laughing hellcat to slowly cut and peel his pelt from his body. As he spoke her vision dimmed, and she saw blood and foam flecking the mutilated muzzle as he coughed his life out on the ground. But the shimmering gilded form wasn’t through with him, she covered him with a hide that grabbed his raw skin hungrily and pulled his shifting body into a different shape as it howled a story of pain along his senses. The hide was still living, sentient, and it shared with Tomas the death of its host and the end of its immortal life.

  More than anything, Celena wanted to cry but her eyes burned from the vision and the tears went unshed. Looking into Tomas’ haunted eyes, she realized that he wouldn’t have understood the tears. He felt his pain was an honest reflection of his traitorous actions to the clan. Roughly, she asked to inspect the bandages as the rest of his clan looked on in stoic silence. Most looked then averted their eyes; a few stared and nodded, but in the end the feeling in the room warmed slightly towards the Hispanic doctor.

  After inspecting the still raw knife wounds and making an appointment with Tomas to schedule lab tests, Celena wasn’t sure if she were more exhausted or hungry. The one thing she knew for sure she wanted, no needed, was to talk to Madden. Walking Mars down the hallway past the deserted kitchen, she stopped cold--where to go? Madden’s room or perhaps to Marc’s? Marc clearly didn’t want her near his sons, but she wasn’t sure where she was supposed to stay.

  “Well Mars, what do you think? I’m thinking that a hotel is going to be my best bet. Morgantown isn’t all that far away.” She bit her lip and looked at the attentive little dog. He seemed to be waiting for her to make up her mind, so much for help from that quarter. It wouldn’t be so bad if she didn’t need to have her things shipped in, to call the freight company she needed an end destination. “Let’s see if he left us a note or anything.”

  Opening the door to Madden’s room she peered in hesitantly, nothing seemed different aside from a white envelope on the bed. Breathing a sigh of relief, Celena made for the bed, but Mars refused to enter. He sat whining quietly at the threshold and no amount of coaxing on her part was going to change his mind. Giving up, she opened the letter and her heart sank, it wasn’t from Madden at all, it was a note from Ashley.

  Dear Celena,

  Lupercus warned me that you hadn’t been home in quite some time. I printed out a small map for you in case you needed to find certain places.

  Celena looked over the map and had to smile, there were little dots and stars for the different businesses and homes with neat notes penned into the margins. The one for the Farmington Diner almost made her cry, ‘wonderful food, horrid service.’ A sinking feeling in her gut said it had to be her mother Sandy. Something else unpleasant to deal with, she sighed.

  Everyone laughs at me for reading and following my horoscope. You probably don’t but it doesn’t hurt, right?

  A small bit of newsprint fell out of the envelope onto the bed.

  Your instinct and intuition is going to be heightened, now would be a good time to make major decisions, don't be surprised if others seek your advice today.

  Not too far off the mark, she laughed, tucking the papers into her clutch purse. The major decision market had gone pretty darned good, though it would have been nice if the intuition part of the day hadn’t upset so many people.

  “Okay Mars, let’s find Madden and his horses.” According to the map, it was almost two miles by road to the Silvestri farm. “Won’t take us long to get there,” she chatted amiably with the small dog as the sky darkened towards night. Celena walked along appreciating the scenery, as Mars darted here and there nose busy sniffing out interesting flavors.

  The whispering sound of wind sliding through the bare branches had nearly hypnotized her into a half-waking state when the sound of an engine in the distance had Mars scrambling to the end of his retractable leash with a flurry of staccato barks. It was a large blue Ford tractor sporting a pair of forklift extensions. Stepping to the side of the road, Celena pulled Mars into her arms and waited for the large machine to continue past. Instead the tractor came to a rumbling halt, the motor throttling back and turning off with a guttural cough. It was starting to get dark, but not so dark that she’d ever mistake those eyes.

  “Celena, what are you doing out here?” The hungry look of a mere few hours ago was gone, and in its place was a shuttered neutral expression.

  “I was looking for you, I wanted to talk.” Mars wriggled and she bent to set the small dog free.

  “What did you want to talk about?” There it was again, something lurking behind his eyes, a pain that spoke too much of being lashed out at.

  “Everything I missed in the last ten years would be a good start,” she offered, smiling softly. It didn’t matter what he said or didn’t say, Celena knew she loved him as much as the day she was force-marched to the airport and the chaos that became her life. The only thing that remained fixed and focused in her life since that day had been Madden.

  “Unless you’re willing to talk about your mother, I can’t imagine that we have much to say.” He shifted in the seat and stared out the front of the cab. Celena bit her tongue, forcing it to remain silent. Perhaps she had been wrong to want to keep the misery of what her mother had done in the past.

  “You know, people change a lot in ten years. Look at you,” he continued without looking at her. “I shouldn’t have done what I did earlier. If I would have known…” his voice trickled off into the deepening darkness.

  “If you had known that I was a virgin you wouldn’t have made love with me right?” Celena couldn’t help the pained laughter in her voice. “Madden, I never looked at virginity as anything sacrosanct or spiritual. All I knew was that the only man I wanted to be with sexually was you, and I had hope.”

  He flinched and gripped the steering wheel tightly. “I didn’t wait on you.”

  “No, you didn’t.” She knew the truth. “If you didn’t need me to help solve these problems, you would never have invited me back into your life.”

  “Not exactly.” He sighed, and plunged his hands into his hair, making the thick waves stand up in spiky tufts.

  “Yes, exactly.” Moving close to the tractor she peered up, willing him to meet her eyes. He looked lost and tired, she nearly softened. “I will tell you something ‘exactly’, Madden Silvestri. For ten years I reached out asking for forgiveness for not being there for you, for losing you. Finally you gave that chance to me. Whatever it takes, conversation or sacrifice, I will prove to you I love you.” He opened his mouth to say something and she slashed her hand dismissively, “You may have changed, but I haven’t, where you go--I go. Let me prove this is real.”

  Madden opened and closed his mouth a few more times as one hand rubbed his leg in agitation. When he spoke it wasn’t what she expected. “Give me Mars, he stays at the B&B with Frank.”

  Silently, she stooped and picked up the energetic dog, earning a happy lick on the cheek. Handing him over, the happy wriggle turned into a bristling full-throated growl.

  “Mars,” she chided, “be a good boy for Madden. I’ll see you in
the morning.” The seething dog subsided with a resigned huff that made her laugh.

  Looking into her laughing face was nearly his undoing. His heart contracted painfully as his mind played Sandy’s words over and over again. You’re an animal! A dog! Funny how he never thought to wonder if Celena thought he was an animal. Ten years wasted. Fuming, he accepted Mars and cuddled the stiff dog to his chest. Rage built inside and warred with a swamping welter of pain. Looking into her softly radiant face was as soothing as sitting in the woods watching the moon rise above the forest. As a teenager, she’d quickly moved to the epicenter of his world and he had been prepared to watch her go out into the world and grow, certain that she had to love him as deeply as he did her. Then a mountain lion dropped on his shoulders and his world had been blown apart.

  “Go on down the road, you’ll see a paddock on your left. Just follow the fence, Butler and Prince will probably mug you for treats and attention the whole way to the house. If you see a third horse behind the house, ignore him, George isn’t always friendly.” He wanted nothing more than to scoop her into his arms and drive right home, but he’d promised Flora.

  “I’ll drop the high-lift for Flora and be right back. The house is unlocked if you get cold or it gets too dark.” She stepped away, eyes calm despite the tiredness he read in the dark circles underneath. “Wait for me okay?”

  Her reply, of “forever and always” haunted him all the way to his brother’s.

  Chapter Ten

  Cutting the Knot

  Flora stood back and admired her private garden. It had taken only a few hours to clear out the last of the leaves and branches that swept into the narrow walking paths. The labor had given her restless energy a use and she felt pleasantly tired, a good honest ache stiffening her arms and shoulders.

  Her private garden had been laid out when she was in grade school and her father had gotten tired of digging up the flowers she’d planted in the middle of the yard. It had grown since those early days to encompass a small fruit orchard without losing the central picnic area and the small walking paths that ended in different accent areas.

  The sun had long since set, and the paths were lit with the soft amber glow from solar powered stake lights. She’d picked the lights years ago, preferring the soft yellow glow to over-bright white electric lights. The night had its own beauty and the demure solar bulbs allowed the shadows to paint pictures on the earth where the night-blooming flowers opened. Dancing on her toes, Flora walked past the frog pond and fountain where the moonflowers would bloom in the summer. Right now small green shoots betrayed where the snow crocuses were readying for spring.

  Her back was turned to the black curtain of the woods when she heard the sharp pop of branches snapping, indicating something moving fast through the woods. For so long, Marc and Red had kept all the predators away that she didn’t think twice about working in her garden after sundown. Cursing her stupidity for not having a shotgun within reach, she turned and scanned the inky darkness hoping for a sign, anything as the sound shifted, aiming straight for her garden.

  Heart in her throat, Flora backpedaled finding the dubious cover of a large roaring concrete mountain lion that was normally surrounded by overarching fennel fronds. The lioness had been a way of thumbing her nose at all the wolves in the family, but she quickly buried the sleekly beautiful creature in a woman made grotto of tiered stone planters after seeing how badly it had upset Red.

  Crouching between the tense shoulder and the thick rock ledge, Flora gaped at the sight that burst from the wood-line. An aquiline muzzle dusted with cinnamon hair ended between liquid midnight eyes, all topped with a mane of hair that was as familiar as it was eldritch. From behind oddly elongated ears rippled a thick white curvature of horn. The rack curved into a crown above the restlessly moving head. Nostrils flared as the man/stag stepped delicately into the clearing marking the boundary between the wilderness and her orderly garden. The shoulders and chest were starkly human, the face a confused mixture of both that was at once graceful and frightening, thinly muscled arms held a whining animal low against his belly, obscuring any view of sex.

  Something caught the creature’s attention and he stepped lightly, turning with alacrity to scan the area to the far right where her home and greenhouse stood. Taut buttocks had the definition of man, but the softly furred sleekness of stag as male skin narrowed from human hips to the jointed hind leg of deer right down to the cloven hoofs imprinting the fresh earth.

  Mind numb, she gasped and started forward, somehow knowing without really understanding who stood at the edge of the clearing. “Frank?”

  Almost off balance the man/stag turned in a graceful whirl and blinked a sweep of long, thick lashes that made the earth shift under her unsteady knees. Pan references, the dipping and swirling horizon suddenly righted and she clasped her hands to her mouth. It was an insult to the elegant creature pacing slowly forward, to refer to his form as anything goatish. If she had doubted his trust of her, this shamed her worries.

  Wobbling under the weight of the prostrate dog, Faunus staggered up to Flora and reached for his full human form without thought for the terrain or his nudity in the cold night air. “Faunus,” he grimaced, “Faunus is my name,” he admitted roughly, depositing the bleeding dog in the middle of the stoned path separating them.

  As Flora slowly emerged from the shadows, her scent assaulted his libido. It had been far too long since he sated that part of his nature and his body reacted hard to the pull of her estrus tide. He shook his head, humans didn’t enter heat, the reminder was stark but he still detected the tang of blind physical arousal on her skin and clothes. There was no way she could miss his reaction, he hated being on display but trusted no other the way he innately trusted this fey woman-child.

  Her eyes widened and the sharp musky odor of ardor tinted the air, spiking another wave of heat to his engorged groin. “I...uh…wow…” she sputtered, trying not to stare but failing miserably as she dropped to the ground near the dog. Beaujolais limply licked her wrist pulling her attention from the aroused man kneeling opposite. “You need a doctor.” She groped in her pocket for her cell phone and hit the auto-dial key for Dr. SaoBria as a distant sound registered.

  “You better find some clothes or something before Red gets here.” Flora looked up but only caught a flicker of a white-edged tail as he disappeared into the woods. Somehow she knew he wasn’t going far or for long, and her body tingled thinking about how he had reacted to being near her. That kind of reaction wasn’t something he could hide; the honesty of it awakened a need inside her own body that scared her in its intensity.

  Twenty minutes later, Beaujolais was bundled into the vet’s truck and taken to the clinic for stitches and shots. A very distracted Red thrust a snarling hairy ball of snapping teeth into her arms before climbing into his battered truck. She smiled despite the wrenching pain in her heart. He had tried to put the high-lift keys over her ear he’d been in such a mindless hurry to leave. Flora just hoped that the stylish blonde knew what treasure she held in her hands.

  “If she hurts that man I’ll make the bitch a cup of tea she’ll never forget,” she muttered, darkly plunking Mars into his wooly dog bed and getting nipped for her efforts. “Traitor, I can’t believe you sucking up to that creature like that.” She said the words but didn’t feel them in her heart. Come morning she would just have to sit down and admit to everyone how stupid she’d been, selling dried monkshood flowers to Sandy Black. It was the only way the Faust woman could have gotten them. For Red’s sake, she hoped the daughter had nothing to do with the mother.

  Refilling water and kibble bowls, Flora found herself looking at the windows, wondering where Faunus had gone. She sensed his presence in the woods, moving, circling as if he were looking for something lost. With a final pat, Flora left Mars to his own devices and made for her garden. In the half-light of the dim path markers she watched as her breath plumed in dragon’s tails riding the calm air into the purple-black
sky.

  She’d forgotten how quiet and heavy the air could feel on a late winter night. Knowing spring was just around the corner wasn’t enough reassurance, it felt as if Nature had absented herself from the fields and trees and was slowly building in force unseen just beyond human eyes. Flora fancied she could feel life returning to the earth like a swell of emotion bubbling just under the surface of the known world, one that touched something in her own soul.

  Placing her icy fingers between her jean-clad legs to slake the chill, she blushed, remembering the way Faunus faded into Frank, erection and all. She’d felt the way her sex bloomed heat and moisture just at the sight of his thick rod, bobbing before him. The seam of her pants had tortured her swollen hungry flesh as she knelt in the dirt waiting on Red and the veterinarian. She’d wanted nothing more than to tear off her clothes and ease the ache with the same twitching fingers seeking warmth scant inches away. The idea of masturbation had always freaked her out, made her feel like someone somewhere was watching, even in those stolen moments in the shower or bath when her hands drifted low, caressing and slicking between her moist folds enough to stir a hunger that was never adequately filled.

  Was it lust, she asked herself, was that the only reason she waded into the dark to wait for him?

  Every story he told involved crowds of people, male and female, it was if he were afraid to be alone. Reflecting on the haunted pain in his gentle brown eyes when handling the pelts the Faust woman had worn, Flora wondered just how many years he had walked alone before immersion in the human world. Holding her elbows she watched the stars twinkle, the far-flung lights throbbed in time to the curious heat flowing through her veins. She had never been afraid of being alone, but she didn’t much care for it. Her heart twisted remembering how many times she told herself it was perfectly fine, no preferable, to spend days and nights alone in her garden or greenhouse than to be surrounded by people who really didn’t want her around.