Completely Smitten

by Kristine Grayson

  Like Andvari, which had become the corrupted Andrew Vari.

  “I don’t know much about the Norse,” she said.

  “It means memory,” Darius said. It was more than that. His dour old friend Odin kept two ravens in those days. He had jokingly named one Hugin, or Thought, and the other Munin, or Memory. Odin used to let them free during the day and used their bird eyes to spy on his enemies.

  That practice became mythologized—as so many practices had—in an entirely different manner. According to the Norse myths, the ravens would perch on Odin’s shoulders. During they day, the birds would fly all over the world and bring back the news of all that human beings did.

  The birds never did that. Hugin had been plain nasty. He loved mind games and often toyed with Odin’s sensibilities. But Munin had been a gentle bird, for a raven, and remembered everything, which seemed to inform his perspective.

  Darius hoped for that from this puppy. He also hoped it wasn’t too much to ask.

  “Why memory?” Ariel asked.

  “Because I never want to forget that look of joy you had on your face this morning,” he said, and then drew in a breath. He hadn’t expected that to come out of his mouth. No matter how hard he tried not to tell her things, he couldn’t seem to help himself.

  She blushed. Her blushes accented her pale skin and auburn hair. If anything, the expression made her even more beautiful.

  She sat down and reached for the dog, as if he were both her lifeline and her excuse to stop towering over Dar. “You’re such a kind man,” she said, her gaze meeting his. “Why do you hide it?”

  He started. “I’m not kind.”

  “Yes, you are. And you pretend to be so gruff and mean. Why?”

  He shrugged with one shoulder and concentrated on the dog. Maybe Munin wasn’t her lifeline; maybe the dog was his. “People see what they want to see.”

  Ariel scratched between Munin’s ears. The puppy was in doggy ecstasy, receiving attention from two different humans. “You think people want to see a grumpy man?”

  “A man who looks like a leprechaun has to be either grumpy or very gregarious.” Darius shook his head. “I have never been gregarious.”

  “You cater to it?”

  “It’s easier.”

  Her fingers brushed his and sent a jolt through him. Her flush grew deeper, but she didn’t move away. “It must make life very lonely.”

  Was she coming on to him? Why ever would she do that? No well-adjusted woman had ever come on to him. Ever. Although a number had used him, particularly when he served in various courts.

  “Actually,” he said, trying to sound lighter than he felt, “it’s a good weeding out process. The people who can stand me grumpy are going to be truer friends than the ones who stay beside me because I’m easy to get along with.”

  Ariel nodded, and he realized that he wasn’t the only lonely person here. He had never seen her with friends. No one had come to her meet except for him. The people she had seen there had been acquaintances and nothing more.

  “What about you?” he asked. “Why do you keep yourself distant?”

  Her fingers moved on Munin’s loose doggy skin. The puppy kept looking back and forth between them, seemingly unable to handle this embarrassment of riches.

  “I guess I’m not good with people,” she said.

  “I’ve watched you in the restaurant,” he said. “You’re great with people.”

  “Superficially, maybe. But no one hangs around for long.”

  “Because you don’t let them in.”

  She smiled down at her hands. Munin lay down, as if his joy had collapsed his tiny legs. Darius kept one hand on the dog, thankful that Munin didn’t have that high-strung energy some of the larger breeds did.

  “I’m not even sure what that means,” she said. “How do you let someone in?”

  By admitting something like that, he almost said, but didn’t. He didn’t want her to become more self-conscious than she already was.

  “By letting him buy you lunch for finding him the best dog in the whole world?”

  Munin’s tail thumped. Already he understood that phrase.

  “I thought you had to work,” Ariel said.

  “Blackstone can handle it. Besides, he’s trying to make some terrible vegetable pie and I don’t want to be a guinea pig.” Darius said that last with a smile so that she knew he was kidding.

  “Well,” Ariel said, “in that case, let me save you.”

  She stood and dusted herself off. Darius handed her Munin’s leash. “I have to tell Blackstone I’m leaving.”

  “Let him meet the dog,” she said. “After all, he’s the one who has been nagging you about getting some kind of pet.”

  Darius hadn’t realized the staff had overheard so many of those conversations. He wondered what they thought about that, and then decided that he didn’t care.

  “All right,” he said. “Let’s hope there’s no health inspector inside.”

  “Guide dogs are exempt.” Ariel gripped the leash and tugged softly. Munin got to his feet as if he had been to obedience school.

  “He’s not a guide dog, is he?” Darius asked. He thought that only big dogs got to be guide dogs. He couldn’t imagine a blind person being led by a sad, mopey little basset hound.

  “Sure he is,” Ariel said with a grin. “He’s your guide dog for the next part of your life.”

  Darius gave her a stunned look. How did she know this stuff? It was too much of a coincidence. “What do you mean?”

  “You know. Man’s best friend. What’s the saying in politics? If you want a friend, get a dog?”

  Darius blinked at her. That was what she meant? She unnerved him. It was almost as if she saw edges of the magic without seeing all of it.

  “What?” she said. “Did I say something wrong?”

  He shook his head. “No. Sometimes you’re just a little too right, that’s all.”

  She frowned, and he turned away from her, pushing the kitchen door open. Blackstone was still pouring over his recipe, muttering to himself. The sous chef seemed to be making a roux on the stove which, if Darius remembered right, was not the basis of any night’s main dish.

  “Alex,” Darius said to Blackstone. “Come here.”

  Blackstone looked up at Ariel, then looked down at Darius, and then looked farther down at Munin. “What’s that?”

  “The bear I promised you,” Darius said. “Come here.”

  Blackstone grinned, leaving his recipe behind him. “Finally. He looks perfect, too.”

  Darius knew that Blackstone could see the overlying personality, just like he could, and he prayed that he wouldn’t say any more. Sometimes Blackstone could be incautious.

  “Where’d you find him?” he asked.

  “Ariel found him.”

  Blackstone raised his eyebrows and looked at her intently. “Indeed.”

  He sounded like one of those 1930s movie detectives—a Sherlock Holmes rip-off.

  Ariel flushed again. “I just saw him and thought of Mr. Vari, and, well, here we are.”

  “Yes,” Blackstone said. “Here you are.”

  He gave Darius an inscrutable glance, then crouched by the dog. Munin watched Blackstone as intently as Blackstone watched him. They were sizing each other up. Both knew that the other was important to Darius—they were vying for head dog of the pack.

  Darius crouched and put a hand on Munin. “He’s going to be perfect.”

  “I see that,” Blackstone said. “It’s amazing really. How familiar he seems.”

  That word, and so fast. Darius resisted the urge to shush him. “Well, yes.”

  “So you were with her?” Blackstone asked, speaking as if Ariel weren’t even in the room.

  “No,” Darius said.

  Blackstone stood, frowning at her. “You just knew this dog was for Mr. Vari?”

  She nodded, looking confused by the direction of the conversation. Darius stayed beside Munin, who was the only one w
ho didn’t seem to sense the undercurrents in the room.

  “And you just happened to see lights?” Blackstone asked.

  “So I’m a little crazy.” Ariel’s voice was tight. “Isn’t everyone?”

  “No, thank God,” Blackstone said, and at that, Darius stood. Not that it mattered much.

  “Alex,” he warned.

  But Blackstone shook his head. “It doesn’t work like this, Sancho.”

  Darius clenched one fist. He wasn’t going to shush Blackstone. That would call attention to his words.

  “This time, apparently, it has,” he said.

  Ariel was watching both of them. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No,” Darius said quickly. “You did something right. Alex is just jealous.”

  “Of a dog?” Ariel said.

  “Strange as that may seem,” Darius said. He tugged on Munin’s leash. “Let’s take the little guy to my place and see if he likes his new surroundings.”

  Ariel gave Blackstone an uncertain glance. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”

  Blackstone hesitated, then he gave her his most charming smile. “My old friend is right,” he said, using that smooth voice that usually made women melt. “I’m not used to sharing him.”

  “You’re threatened by a dog?” Ariel asked. “You need to get out more.”

  And then she walked into the parking lot.

  “Cheeky,” Blackstone said.

  “Accurate,” Darius said.

  “Something’s going on,” Blackstone said. “She’s not supposed to see fringes.”

  “I know,” Darius said.

  “I was worried when she saw the lights, but a few of the employees have seen some of the trace magic before. But nothing like this. Only we’re supposed to see familiars.” Blackstone was speaking in soft, hushed tones.

  “I know,” Darius said.

  “She’s not one of us. That’s obvious. But there’s something—”

  “I know,” Darius said.

  “Is that all you can say?” Blackstone asked.

  Darius nodded. “I’m as surprised by it as you are.”

  “Have you ever figured out where her friend Darius is?” Blackstone asked.

  “Yes,” Darius said, and glanced over his shoulder. Ariel was standing by her car, watching the door, and shifting from foot to foot. She looked unhappy. Darius didn’t want her to be unhappy in any way.

  “The mage who came here and scared Sofia was also looking for Darius.”

  “I know,” Darius said.

  “So where is he?”

  It would have been so easy to answer and so very hard. Because the two word response—right here—would have led to a day’s, maybe week’s, long conversation.

  “I’ll tell you when Ariel’s not waiting,” Darius said, and tugged Munin toward the door.

  “She has a soul mate,” Blackstone said even softer than he said anything else. It was clearly meant as a reminder, a way of preventing Darius from further hurt.

  “I know,” Darius said. ‘I don’t want to think about it.”

  Blackstone studied him. “You’ll have to think about it at some point, my friend.”

  Darius glanced at Ariel again. Her gaze met his, and he could read the question in it, even at this distance. She wanted to know what was going on.

  “I’m not going to think about it today,” Darius said.

  This one day was theirs. He was going to enjoy it as long as he could.

  * * *

  The spring air had a bite to it. Ariel wished she had worn her jacket after all. Goose bumps had risen on her arms, and she resisted the urge to hug herself.

  What was Blackstone saying to Vari? That she was crazy? Dangerous? Both?

  She had seemed like an unbalanced woman right from the start, and she knew it wasn’t normal to give gifts to men she worked with. It’s just that the dog seemed so perfect. But Vari had been giving her uncomfortable looks since she had done it, and then Blackstone had given her the same odd stare.

  Come to think of it, even the dog had looked at her strangely at one point.

  She shook her head. Maybe she was getting paranoid.

  The wind shifted slightly, bringing the stench of rotting food with it from the nearby Dumpster. Ariel leaned against her car, feeling the cold metal through her thin shirt. Maybe Blackstone was trying to talk Vari out of spending time with her.

  Maybe he was trying to talk him into giving the dog back.

  But why would he? It was obvious that Munin was perfect for Vari, and that they liked each other. How could a man be jealous of a dog?

  Everything was strange at Quixotic. Sofia had warned her about that, and Ariel hadn’t listened. Everything had been strange in her life since she fell off that cliff. Nothing had been the same.

  Sometimes she dreamed about it. The dream would seem so real—like a memory. She would be falling, trying to save herself, and in one silly Wile E. Coyote moment, she would look over her shoulder and see nothing beneath her.

  Nothing except the river water glistening in the July sun.

  Then she would struggle even harder to save herself, but feel herself free fall anyway and know that she wouldn’t survive the impact so she might as well enjoy the ride. The wind would whistle through her hair, her body would stiffen in spite of herself, and she would look down one final time—

  —and see a ledge form right beneath her.

  She always woke at that moment, the falling sensation still with her, knowing that the impact would hurt more than she could bear.

  Yet all she had done was break an ankle.

  Odd. Just like the flashes of light were odd. Just like people disappearing was odd.

  Just like the way she knew—she knew—that the dog had to come to Andrew Vari.

  On those reality TV shows they sometimes talked about people gaining psychic powers after near-death experiences. Was that what happened to her?

  Only that wasn’t right. She clearly remembered seeing a strange man in a diaper the morning of her fall. He had shot at her with an arrow—and he had missed.

  That had been hours before she hit her head. Right? Or had the memory come after the fall?

  Vari nodded to Blackstone, then stepped all the way out of the restaurant. Blackstone disappeared back inside. Munin heeled beside Vari, as if he’d been doing it all his life.

  The garbage smell had grown stronger, and so had the wind. Ariel rubbed her arms, trying to make the goose bumps go away.

  Vari watched the movement. Nothing she did seemed to miss his scrutiny. Was that because she made him nervous or was it something else?

  “I’m sorry about Alex,” Vari said as he got close to her. “He can be weird.”

  She was always startled at how short Vari was—at the fact that she had to look down at him. He had such a large presence. Sometimes she even thought he was taller than Blackstone.

  “I guess today’s the day for it.” Even she had been weird today. “Are you still up for lunch? Or are you just going to take Munin home now?”

  Vari studied her for a moment, his beautiful blue eyes serious. “How about lunch at my place?”

  A shiver ran through her, a pleasant shiver that she was certain just came from the chill breeze.

  “Lunch at your place would probably be best,” she said, “considering we have a dog to settle.”

  He smiled as she said “we” as if the word had pleased him.

  “Do you need to come back here?” she asked. “If you do, we can take one car.”

  He shook his head. “I’m done for the day. I’ll meet you there.”

  He started across the parking lot.

  “Mr. Vari,” she shouted after him. “Where?”

  “Andrew,” he said.

  He had told her that before, but the name just didn’t suit him. She had trouble fitting her mouth around it. “Andrew. Where do you live?”

  She knew the address from her internet searches, but she didn’t kno
w where it was. She had never really stalked him. She had never gone to his house.

  He gave her the address and the directions. Then he led Munin to the employee parking lot.

  Ariel watched them go, man and dog. They had similar walks, slow and comfortable, as if they knew they weren’t beautiful creatures but they had enough personality to make up for it.

  Personality was really what counted, wasn’t it? After all, people grew older, put on weight, lost their hair or their teeth. The beauty never lasted. The personality did.

  The kindness did.

  She got into her car and started it up. It smelled of dog and dirty running clothes. Familiar scents. She felt an odd pang, wishing she could have kept Munin. But Munin’s reaction to Vari proved that Munin was never meant to be Ariel’s dog.

  As she pulled into downtown traffic, she thought it strange that she was sad she wasn’t going to have a dog. That morning, she had woken up with no idea of getting a pet. Munin had changed her as well—or perhaps opened up a part of her she hadn’t acknowledged before.

  She was lonely. Deeply lonely. She had been thinking of Vari as lonely, but he had Blackstone, his work, and his friends of long-standing. She had no one. Her family saw her as an obligation, and she had never made close friends.

  She had been in Portland for months, and the only people she knew were the people she worked with.

  It was time to change that.

  The drive to Vari’s house was an easy one, but he lived quite a distance away from downtown. She was surprised, as she pulled up to the address he had given her, at the size of his house. Somehow she had expected him to live in an alpine cottage, complete with gabled roof and an arched doorway.

  Instead the house was Northwest Modern, somewhat conventional despite its size, with a manicured garden out front and large trees flanking its sides. The house blended with the other houses in the neighborhood. Somehow she would have thought that Andrew Vari’s house would have been so distinctive she could have seen it from miles away.

  So much for predictions.

  She parked on the street, and as she got out of the car, Vari opened the front door. Ariel felt her mouth open in surprise. She had left before he had. She hadn’t expected him to be there yet.

  He leaned against the doorjamb as she came up the walk. Daffodils were blooming beside the sidewalk, and a camellia bush on the side of his house was ablaze in pink flowers, their soft scent coming toward her on the breeze.