by Susan Conley
“Well it was Beth that asked, but hold on and I’ll — ”
He froze. “When did you talk to Beth?”
“Just a minute ago. Isn’t she with you?”
Pulling the keys from his pocket, he got in the van and started the engine. “No, I have no idea where she is. She’s been elusive lately, and I’m concerned about her. It’s hard to believe she would steal from her Meals on the Move clients, but something’s up. I’m worried she may be in some sort of trouble. Her cell phone is dead, and I’d like to help. Where is she?”
“I don’t know. She did sound a little odd. Do you want those mortgage numbers?”
Mortgage numbers. Why would Beth want mortgage numbers? Ice cold fingers clenched his gut. “Yes, but first look on your call display and give me the number Beth called from.”
Amanda read off a Bell Canada payphone number. “I know a website to locate the phone booth, if you’d like.”
“I’d appreciate that. Which names did Beth give you?”
Amanda gave him the names. Matthew cursed silently, but his demeanour was collected when he took the location of the phone booth, and he smiled when Amanda couldn’t locate the three mortgage numbers Beth had requested.
“I’ve got to go, Matthew. Say hi to Beth and tell her to keep her chin up. I know she can count on you.”
“I will, Amanda. I’m doing everything I can to help her out of this mess.”
• • •
The smell of restaurant food was a sharp reminder Beth hadn’t eaten since eggs earlier that day. After picking up a newspaper, she sat down at a table and ordered the roast chicken dinner special, then asked for another to go. Calum might require some appeasement when he discovered what she’d done. She drew a deep relieving breath. Her theory, even if it needed work, alleviated the feeling of helplessness and confusion that had sidled her since she’d dug up that backpack. At least she was no longer puzzled by the appearance of a warrior in her life. A warrior whom she couldn’t wait to get back to and share her thoughts.
It struck her odd that Amanda said she’d just read the news about Beth — strange that the news hadn’t travelled faster. While she ate, she searched the newspaper for further information, but found nothing. She finished her dinner and decided to take Calum’s food to the car before calling Amanda back. Outside in the parking lot, she blinked as sunlight glinted off her side–view mirror. She looked up to the sky. The sun blazed down from a high point straight overhead.
How could that be? She and Calum hadn’t returned to the cabin until late in the afternoon. It had to be close to six by now.
A cool prickle began at the tip of her spine and spread like mice feet scampering up the back of her neck. To shake the odd feeling, she rolled her head on her shoulders and then scanned the parking lot affirming she was completely safe. As she shifted the newspaper to reach for her keys, her eyes fell on the date: Friday, May 15. It had to be a mistake. With the ceaseless events, she’d lost track of the days, but it couldn’t possibly be Friday.
She took a step closer to her car as a vehicle pulled into the next space. Her mind scrambled backwards to find dates. They’d escaped Quebec City on Thursday. On Friday, she’d chased Calum around the cabin. She would have smiled at that, but felt too disoriented at the moment. That meant it had to be … Sunday? But that didn’t make sense either. If it was Sunday then Matthew’s office would be closed.
The sound of a van door sliding open behind her was like a warning surfacing through a sound sleep. A chuckle turned her blood cold, and she heard the words: “Hello, Beth.” A gloved hand covered her mouth and nose. A rotting smell assailed her nostrils. Calum’s dinner dumped to the ground. Beth wasn’t aware of another thing.
• • •
Calum didn’t get the rest of the wood cut. Something wasn’t right. He felt it in his bones, and instead of throwing Beth over his shoulder like he’d wanted, he’d let her get under his skin and had gotten angry. Bloody hell! Now he was angry and worried.
“Finn!”
The zephyr ruffling the fine hairs on his neck did nothing to ease his trepidation. The immortal appeared as a waver, flickering in and out, until finally coming solid.
Finn sprung off the top of the wood pile and circled Calum, his long white hair slicked back off his head in a queue. His iridescent eyes dropped to Calum’s groin then flashed back up. “You are a full–fledged warrior once again. How is it?”
“‘Tis good. I need to find Bethia now.”
“I noticed. You’ve been like a rutting buck. Perhaps the lass needs a moment to acclimatise. She might have caught a chill on her behind.”
The bastard. “You watch us?”
“As your liege, I am always aware. And you, human, are doing splendidly.”
Calum exhaled loudly. Of course Finn watched them. He’d made that clear early on. Calum was entertainment, and Finn didn’t want for anything else. This brought to mind an omission. “You didn’t assign a third task, Finn, yet I am restored.”
Humour played in Finn’s eyes, though his mouth remained a hard line. “Oh, but I did.”
“Patience? I expected something more challenging.”
“That was but a small part of the third task, and I beg to differ — patience was quite a struggle for you.”
“Because Beth wouldn’t keep her hands off me. I don’t know what got into the woman. She had me by the balls.”
Finn propped his boot up on the stump and regarded his fingernails innocently. His gaze swept up to behold Calum’s dawning expression.
“Bloody hell, what did you do?”
“The third task was Bethia’s. I told her about your problem and suggested she do something about it, but to achieve full satisfaction, I insisted she keep you in the dark about our chat.”
She’d known? “You did what! Of all the humiliations! And you — you’ve no right to muddle her mind.”
Finn’s eyes narrowed and he cocked his head daring Calum to further question his tactics. “You forget your station, human. Need I remind you?”
Calum wanted to strangle him. Was there no restraining the embarrassment Finn would have him suffer? No wonder the lass couldn’t hold her humour, squeezing his bloody circulation off to have her way. Yet despite all her innocence, she’d done it. She’d not allowed him to intimidate her. She’d lain with him and given him everything.
“I fear for her, Finn. Something is not right. I feel it in my bones.”
Finn wavered again as if Calum saw him through gases. His time with Finn was coming to an end. “Bethia summoned me with a request,” Finn informed him. “She wished to return home. I gave her a key to enable it.”
Fear grew scalding hot in his belly. “Did she use the key?” He didn’t bother to keep the low growl from his voice.
“Of course she did. You forced it upon her.”
Bloody fool! “Me? Can neither of you see it’s the last thing I intended? I couldn’t have made it clearer she was to stay here — safe!”
“You’ve not learned much in your thousand years together. It’s disappointing, Calum. Bethia’s will is too strong to succumb to yours.”
At least his will was reasonable. He was about to tell Finn so, when his rebuttal tripped in his throat. Bloody hell, the elf was right. He’d been too riled to notice himself backing Beth into a corner. It’d been easy to do since he’d not known she had the means to retaliate. He released a long exhale of self–reproach, finally stepping into the light of understanding. How many times over their lives together had he driven her to take action, reckless or not, just to spite him? Why had he not seen it before?
Calum groaned. “Where is she?”
“For someone hell–bent on safeguard, you’re not doing so well,” Finn pointed out. “Bethia is in the mountains, in a cabin, not nearly as quaint as yo
urs. She doesn’t have long to live.”
The blood drained from his heart. She’d fallen prey to Matthew. Torturous variations of Bethia helpless under Matthew’s hand stormed his brain. “No, Finn, she can’t come to harm. ‘Twas the deal we struck. You must set me free of this dimension. I will destroy her tormenter and see her safe.”
Finn crossed his arms over his chest. “Yet another request? I’m not your personal genie. It will cost you, human.”
Calum crossed his arms too, but more so for restraint. Any more games and he would throttle the immortal. “Whatever price, Finn. We’ve no time to bicker over this.”
Finn relaxed his stance. “No time? You’re right; your time here has run out. Does it not rile you that in the Upper World, you are long denied the skill to manipulate time? The Old Ones withhold that knowledge while they manipulate the mechanisms behind your very soul. We are alike, warrior, enticed by the forbidden. For that reason, I not only granted your request to rescue your true love, I bestowed you and Bethia with yet another gift — time — three days here while time on Earth hardly moved. You should be thankful. I know humans who would kill for it.”
His muscles stretched taut over bone ready to flee to her. He didn’t care one whit about gifts of time. “I’ll be thankful when she’s safe,” he snapped with more menace than he intended. Damn. Temperance characterises the greater man, he reminded himself, more so when seeking the favour of an elf. “Your gift is greatly appreciated, Finn.”
“You could have her back in the Upper World, you realize. All you need do is nothing. It won’t take long.”
Let her die. Calum felt only a flicker of temptation. Until that moment, he’d not truly recognised the power behind his dedication to safeguard Bethia on her human sojourn until the prescribed time of her departure, and that time was decades away. Every fiber of his being was now acutely alert to that cause. Pleasing himself by cutting her human experience short was not an option. He’d always known that. “Our evolution may be slower than the Alfar, and it’s no secret I oppose the Old Ones’ reluctance to share wisdom. I took an oath to guide and protect Bethia until the end of her journey. She is not meant to return to the Upper World now. I must intervene to prevent that.”
“Ah, yes, a so–called miracle. What if I offered to bring you back to my world? To open your eyes to the Alfar and train you in the alfatofrar powers you may only read about in books. What then, warrior?”
What then? The possibilities presented like sweet enticement. He would no longer suffer the frustrating powerlessness that forced him to sit back while humans made grave errors. He could scry their future, intercede, and show them where they were headed. He’d no longer suffer the indignity of having his hands slapped by the Old Ones, no longer be branded disobedient, no longer crave knowledge thus far withheld.
He caught the look of superiority on Finn’s face and glanced away. A guarantee that he wouldn’t end his days in that desolate dimension, but what price would he pay for Finn’s ‘training?’ Where then would his allegiance lie? With Finn, the devious trickster he’d be a fool to trust? With the Alfar who’d exiled Finn? As if they would have him. With humans he could no longer expect to follow to the Upper World? The Old Ones would surely banish him. And what of Bethia? He had gained remarkable insight into their relationship foibles, but was it too late? When she learned the full truth behind his intervention, the little ground he’d gained with her these last days, would come undone — that he sensed clearly. Had he truly lost her now?
Finn bristled and the sky darkened. Calum felt his gaze boring into him. “I cannot accept your offer, Finn, generous as it is.”
Finn vanished.
“Damn it, Finn! Take me to her!”
A boreal wind gusted in over the mountains, rustling up dried leaves, thumping the ax to the ground, clattering through the hardwoods like a squall rising Calum’s hackles. Finn’s silver voice spilled off the mountain, freezing Calum to the ground.
“You will do as I order, vassal. You serve, not dictate! You will finish the game by my rules. Do you concede?”
Calum gritted his teeth. He squinted against the dust and dirt thrown up by the wind hitting his face no matter which way he turned. He’d no choice but to chance enraging Finn further by attaching a condition. “If Bethia is safe and free to live out the rest of her days to her prescribed end, then yes, I will abide by your rules.”
The gale slowed to a gust and Finn appeared as a shimmer before him. “Very good. I hate feeble surrenders. Your loyalty to the woman you love is admirable. It always has been. But for true love, Calum, there is nothing nobler than sacrifice, and the time has come for yours. I hope your restoration was glorious. Are you ready?”
Yes, it’d been glorious, everything he knew it would be, a gift, but too short. Better to have had it, than not. He’d pay any price to abolish Beth’s suffering, and that included eradicating her memories of him. For that’s what the Old Ones would do once she was safe. He would not have one moment of her precious life spent pining for him. He would pine until they were reunited, if they were reunited, an insufferable sixty–three years hence.
Calum steadied himself. “I am ready.”
Finn’s golden eyes flashed pleasure. “Good. For Bethia’s freedom, this is what you will do.”
Chapter 26
It Must Be Candid Camera
Beth pulled herself awake through a hazy dream thinking it strange she’d fallen asleep so early in the evening. Blinking away the blurriness that coated her vision, she focused on yellowed, water–stained tiles covering a low ceiling. Instead of wood smoke, the smell of mildew stung her nose as if it’d been raining inside the four walls. Sprawled upon a bed, she craned her neck backwards to see her hands were tied to the headboard. Her immediate reaction was to yank at her bonds and scream.
“Go ahead, scream.” It was Matthew. The voice was familiar. The cruel mocking tone was not. “No one will hear you. Not for miles.”
She stopped. Screaming wasn’t doing anything other than tearing her throat. She focused on Matthew who leaned against an ancient refrigerator alongside a short counter in what appeared to be a one–room hunting cabin presided over by an antler head tacked to the wall.
“Untie me, Matthew!”
Matthew gazed at her with cold impatience cloaking what used to be gorgeous dark eyes. He stalked to the side of the bed. She pulled back as far as she could, which wasn’t nearly far enough.
“I wasn’t expecting you to wake up,” he said. “But then again, narcotics aren’t my specialty. Bruce said it would knock you out, but he didn’t have time to expand.”
“What?” Her head felt shipwrecked. The last thing she remembered was … Calum chopping wood, they argued, she used the crimson key and …
“How did I get here?”
“You’re suffering retrograde amnesia. Do you remember learning about that in Psych 101? The drug is from the same family as a date–rape drug — messes up the short–term memory for a few minutes — a side effect, Beth.”
“A side effect? You’re frickin’ insane. What are you doing with a date–rape drug?”
“You can get all sorts of nasty things off the Internet these days.”
Beth’s retort wedged in her throat. The fog in her head lifted, and her attention fixed on something she’d not noticed before. Her stomach convulsed. She was not alone on the bed. The screaming took her again.
“Shut up!” The razor sharpness of Matthew’s voice shocked her enough to still her scream, but not the shudder that rattled her bones.
“M-M-Matthew? What have you done?” Sprawled on the bed next to her, Bruce Hopkins was equally restrained, but that’s where the similarity ended. Cadaverous eyes fixed blankly on the rafters overhead. A white bandage bridged his nose, and he was naked — a sight that debased the dead man.
“I got y
ou a bed partner. Sorry he’s not as lively as what you’re used to. No, Bruce didn’t satisfy you at all — so you killed him. Tsk, Beth.” Matthew shook his long, elegant gloved finger at her as if she were an errant child. A noise of distaste erupted from his throat. His eyes were perilous like a man gone off the deep end, so inconsistent from the Matthew she knew, she couldn’t fathom it.
“You killed Bruce?” This couldn’t be real. It was time for the guy behind the camera to pop out and say, “Ha! We got ya, Beth Stewart.” And then Beth would give a shaky laugh and say, “Oh come on, you didn’t fool me. You TV people went way overboard. It was too crazy to be real.” And that would all happen any time now.
But the guy behind the camera stayed hidden, and Matthew kept playing the illusory, lunatic character.
“You remember Bruce’s peanut allergy. It was terrible luck his EpiPen was empty, don’t you think? He couldn’t imagine how that happened.” Matthew’s smile was empty. “We got in the car, but I was so distraught by his impending death, I took a wrong turn and got lost on the way to the hospital. Bruce couldn’t navigate. He was too distracted by his throat suffocating the life out of him.”
Beth now understood the look of horror on Bruce’s ghastly face. It mimicked hers.
“You dumped his medication and fed him peanuts?”
“Yes, Beth, but the police will find your fingerprints on the pen. This is how it will look: You and Bruce were lovers behind my back working together to steal a vast sum of money from your Meals on the Move folks. But you got greedy wanting it all for yourself. He didn’t taste the ground peanuts in the chili you fed him, sidetracked as he was. Who knew what kinky games you and Bruce liked to play — securing him to the bed so he’d not escape your kiss of death. But Bruce took you by surprise. He got hold of you, and you didn’t make it — suffocation. Sorry, Beth.”
Okay, this was becoming a bit much. “No one will believe that, Matthew. It’s crazy!” She yelled that last part as if he might believe it at higher decibels. “You’re not a killer, for God’s sake.” But she was still thinking Matthew: lawyer, tennis player, goal–setter, enjoys Thai food and walks on the beach.