Boundary Crossed

by Melissa F. Olson

  It didn’t stop until the sink was full. I righted my balance and froze, looking around the room. It was spotless. Literally. There wasn’t a speck of dust on the small window ledge, a place I had never cleaned in the three years I’d lived in this cabin. Even the sink fixtures were clean. Mary Poppins, eat your heart out. “A filter, not a focus,” I whispered.

  The dogs were barking, scrabbling their claws against the wooden door of the mudroom. Looking back at the sink, I pulled my feet out from under the piles of stuff and examined them. The wounds were bleeding again, and it was still hard to take a good look at them. At first I thought the whole exercise had been basically futile, but then I realized that other than the new blood, my feet were flawlessly clean. That’s probably good for fighting infection, right? I thought woozily.

  “Okay. I’m gonna need some help after all,” I announced to the pile of clothes. I leaned back a little and dug into the pocket of my jeans. Miraculously, my cell phone was still there, having survived the epic footrace back to the cabin. With shaking fingers I scrolled through my contacts to find Lily’s number.

  “This is not good,” she said half an hour later as she examined the soles of my feet. I was still on the counter in the mudroom, where I had set down a few layers of paper towels to staunch the blood that was still oozing sluggishly from my wounds. Aside from not wanting to get blood on the carpets in the rest of the house, the mudroom seemed like the cleanest place for me to wait for Lily. I was leaning way back on the long counter so I could point my toes to the ceiling while she examined my injuries. Her face was about five inches away from my feet, which ordinarily would have embarrassed me, but there was no way in hell my feet smelled bad just then. They were practically gleaming, they were so clean.

  Lily finally tore her eyes away and looked up at my face. “I can stop the bleeding, but you’re right, the three bad gashes need a couple of stitches each. Or . . .” She trailed off.

  “Or . . . ?” I prompted.

  Lily winced. “I could Super Glue them,” she said reluctantly. Seeing the disbelieving look on my face, she added defensively, “Hey, it’s what surgeons do to arthroscopic entry wounds. It’ll sting like a bitch, though, and you’ll still need to stay off them for at least a day.”

  “Sold.” After my misadventures with the stab wounds, I was a fan of any plan that didn’t involve getting more frickin’ stitches.

  Lily got out her first-aid kit, retrieving the biggest tube of glue I’d ever seen. I looked away, focusing on the ultra-clean ceiling tiles. Agreeing to having my cuts glued shut was one thing, but I wasn’t quite ready to watch it happen.

  “So,” Lily said as she worked. “I got the strangest call from Simon on the way here.”

  I flinched, struggling not to shift my feet, but didn’t answer. “It seems that he’s with some colleagues from CU,” she continued, “convincing them that a lake full of dead fish is the result of low oxygen levels in the water.”

  I considered that for a moment. As excuses go, it wasn’t bad. I didn’t know anything about water oxygen levels, but I remembered something on the news a while back about a bunch of fish dying from the same thing in Southern California. “Are they buying it?” I asked.

  “The deoxygenated water thing? So far. The trick is convincing them that they shouldn’t bother with autopsies or water samples. He may have to stall them until dark, then get Quinn to press them.” I snuck a glance at Lily, but she was totally focused on my injuries. Today her dreadlocks were tied back with an aquamarine scarf, and she had on a black off-the-shoulder shirt that reminded me of the top that Sandy changes into at the end of Grease.

  “There,” she said after a few more minutes, leaning back and looking at my feet with satisfaction. She pulled a roll of white gauze out of her kit and started to carefully wrap it all the way around my foot. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” she asked casually, her tone in direct contrast to the care she was taking with my foot.

  “I’m assuming Simon already told you.”

  “About the lake, yes.” She cut the gauze with a small pair of scissors, taped it in place, and started to wrap it around the other foot. “But he didn’t have too many details about your bloody run through the country or why this room”—she glanced around”—suddenly looks like Mr. Clean’s personal workshop.”

  She started to slowly pack up her supplies, giving me time to gather my thoughts. I sighed and sat up straight, swinging my wrapped feet to dangle them off the edge of the counter. “I pulled out their sparks,” I said quietly. “The fish, I mean. But their death-essence didn’t just go into the air or back into nature or whatever. It went into me.” I remembered once again the way that first mouse’s death-essence had looked as it drifted toward me. I shuddered. Now we knew I could pull it into me.

  She looked at me thoughtfully. “And it felt good?”

  I nodded. “It was incredible,” I admitted. “It was the best high. I ran and ran, which helped take the edge off it. But I still had more.” I gestured at the room.

  Lily looked around. “So you decided to practice the cleaning spell?”

  “Not exactly.” I leaned forward to bury my face in my hands. “I was just trying to clean my feet,” I said softly.

  I felt Lily’s momentary stillness as she absorbed that, and then she boosted herself up on the counter next to me. “Well . . . we knew your powers were strong. And they’ve only been growing,” she said haltingly. “You couldn’t get regular magic to work, but it sounds like when you absorbed some of this essence, you could suddenly do a witch charm. Interesting.”

  I lifted my face to look at her. “I’m like a goddamned vampire, Lily. I can suck the life out of things. That’s too much power. It’s too big.”

  She shrugged. “We knew that magic and creation and life are all kind of the same thing. But maybe death is part of it, too. You stored up these animals’ essence and converted it into magic. Could you do the cleaning spell again right now?”

  I considered that for a second. “I don’t think so. I feel . . . depleted. Like the high’s worn off.”

  She nodded. “So there you go. You used up the magic, the essence, you took from the fish. Now you’re out again.”

  “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” I muttered. “I’m not going to kill living creatures just to clean off my feet. I’m a vegetarian, for crying out loud.”

  Lily gave me a rueful smile. “So we’ll teach you a few defensive spells,” she suggested. “Serious, save-your-life stuff, so you can save yourself if you get backed in a corner. That’d be worth killing a few fish, right?”

  “Maybe,” I said doubtfully. What if there weren’t any slimy lake fish available? What if I was forced to use someone’s pets? I thought of the herd and tried not to shudder.

  “Plus, there’s the whole thing where you can’t die,” she pointed out. “That continues to kick ass. And you can sense the life in a given area, which could be vital someday.”

  I shook my head, unconvinced. “It just doesn’t seem like enough.”

  “For what?”

  To make it worth being a freak? I thought. But I was smart enough not to say that in front of a representative of Clan Pellar. “To make me attractive as an employee,” I explained instead. It was still true. “So that Itachi will agree to leave Charlie alone.”

  That was, after all, the whole reason why I was doing any of this. If I wasn’t still hoping to make a deal with Itachi for Charlie’s childhood, I would have promised never to say anything about the Old World and forgotten I’d ever known any of these people. Well, the vampires, anyway.

  As soon as I thought that, my whole body went cold with fear. “Lily . . . we have to keep this between us. Itachi can’t know that I can use animal death-essence to fuel magic.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she thought through the implications. “You think he’ll force you to start s
acrificing things,” she concluded. “Pets and stuff.”

  I shuddered. “That would be bad enough, but no. I’m afraid he’ll force me to sacrifice people.”

  Lily went still. “Do you think that would work? That you could pull the death-essence from humans?”

  I looked her in the eye. “I am never, ever going to find out.”

  Chapter 28

  After Lily left, I hobbled out to the living room, trying to keep my weight on the edges of my feet without rolling my ankles, and collapsed on the couch. Within thirty seconds, two dogs and a cat had piled onto my lap. “Hey, guys,” I said with a laugh. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

  Petting the animals with one hand, I called John at his office to beg off babysitting Charlie that night. I hated to do it, but as much as I loved the kid I could hardly chase her around when I wasn’t supposed to walk. More importantly, I didn’t want my mom or anyone else to know I’d been injured again. So I told my brother-in-law that I thought I might be coming down with a cold and didn’t want to give it to Charlie.

  After I talked to John, I called my mother to let her know about the change in plans. Luckily, she was too distracted with last-minute party preparations to question me closely. I was just hoping my feet would heal enough in the next twenty-four hours for me to still go. I was their only child now. It wouldn’t be right to miss the party.

  “Okay, hon,” she said absently. “Hang on a second.” She half covered the phone to holler out a question about centerpieces to someone else in the room. Then she was back. “You picked up your dress from the dry cleaner’s, right?” she demanded, suddenly very focused on me. “And the shoes from your dad’s office?”

  “Yes and yes,” I said, grateful that I’d had the presence of mind to run errands that morning before my magic lesson. “Shoes and dress. Check.”

  “What about jewelry?” my mom inquired. “I have some lovely pieces that would complement your gown—”

  “No, thanks,” I broke in quickly, before she could start listing every necklace she owned. “I’m covered, Mom, I promise. Is there anything you need help with?”

  “No, you take a day and rest that cold. I’ll send one of your cousins over with some chicken soup and cough drops so you’ll be good as new before the party.”

  “That’s not really how colds work, Mom.”

  “It is now.”

  I listened to her chatter on about party preparations for a few more minutes; then she added, “Oh, before you hang up, honey, your Aunt Violet happened to ask me who you’re bringing as your plus-one. Is it that young man from . . . um . . . your job?”

  I rolled my eyes. I occasionally palled around with a couple of the male Depot employees, although less since I’d stopped going to bars. It wasn’t a romantic thing; I just missed having camaraderie with a group of guys, like I’d had in the army. But I’d once made the mistake of bringing one of them to a family barbecue. I knew he was coming as my friend, he knew he was coming as my friend, but of course my whole family had assumed we were on the brink of getting married and having babies. “No, Mom,” I said now. “He’s seven years younger than me. I think he’s dating a sorority girl from Topeka.”

  “Oh, that’s nice,” she said vaguely, but I didn’t miss the relief in her voice. “Who are you bringing, then?”

  “Um, no one, Mom,” I said uncomfortably. “I don’t have a plus-one.” I hadn’t sent a formal RSVP to the party—why would I, when I was the one helping my mom update the guest list?—and I had just assumed they’d realize I wouldn’t be bringing anyone. I’d thought I only needed to mention a plus-one if I was bringing a plus-one. Apparently I’d had that backward.

  There was a silence on her end, which stretched on for long enough for me to attempt to fill it myself. “I’m sorry, I guess I didn’t think it was that important whether I brought a date to my dad’s birthday party.”

  She sighed. “It’s not that, honey, it’s just . . . we’re doing this for your dad, you know, because he does so much for the family. He’s been talking about you girls a lot lately, and I know he worries about you.” I found myself nodding along with her, which was stupid for a couple of reasons. “It’d just be nice if he could see you happy and dating, even if he’s not the love of your life. Maybe a guy friend?”

  I knew she was manipulating me, but I couldn’t really fault her for it. My dad was the cornerstone of our whole family, and it wasn’t like she was asking for the moon. “I’ll ask around, okay? If I can find someone, I’ll bring him. But no promises.”

  “Thank you, sweetie.” The gratitude in her voice made me grimace.

  When I was off the phone, I leaned back on the couch, idly scratching Pongo’s wrinkled bulldog cheeks. Who the hell could I ask? I immediately thought of John, but that would be a mistake. My family knew that we were friendly, even friends, but showing up at this thing on his arm would come off as a Statement.

  But if not John, then who? I didn’t really have a social life outside of work and my extended family. All my coworkers were either married or college-aged, and going with one of my male cousins would only make my pathetic dating situation more pronounced. Simon would probably be willing to come as a friend, but he had a long-term girlfriend, which made me feel awkward about asking. The guys I knew from summer softball were all married. I wondered if I could get away with bringing Lily. She’d probably get a kick out of it, but it would start a whole bunch of rumors. I didn’t mind being thought of as a lesbian, really, but I wasn’t comfortable lying if my parents asked me outright, which they undoubtedly would. And that led me right back to where I’d started.

  Stop stalling, Lex. I knew what to do, of course. Even as I told myself it was a stupid, halfway crazy idea, my fingers were already typing away on my phone, checking what time the sun would set the next night.

  Then I called Quinn.

  “So you’re asking me to be . . . what, your arm candy?” he said once I’d explained the situation. He sounded amused, but in a remote way, like he wasn’t yet invested in the conversation, much less the actual event.

  “Pretty much, yeah.” I fidgeted, embarrassed, but I didn’t know what I could say to make the situation less awkward or my case any stronger.

  “Isn’t your family going to think that we’re dating?”

  “I’ll tell them we’re just friends,” I offered.

  There was a beat of silence. “Are we friends?” he said in a low voice. “Is that what we are?”

  I thought about that for a moment. I was never going to have Quinn over to watch a movie or help me move my couch. He was never going to drive me to the airport or come rock climbing with me. But he had kept investigating Charlie’s kidnapper after being told to stop, and he’d done that for me. That wasn’t the same as choosing me over his boss, but it was something. Maybe friendship. “Don’t you think we could be?” I said.

  “Yes, but I’m . . . drawn to you,” he said reluctantly, in the same tone you’d use for “yes, but . . . you have crippling body odor.”

  “Well, I think you’re supposed to be,” I offered. “Death in my blood, remember?”

  There was another moment of silence, this one much longer. Then I sighed into the phone. “Look, Quinn, I promise I’m not going to try to take advantage of you. I pretty much just need a warm body to convince my parents I’m not a hermit. Uh . . . you know what I mean,” I added hastily, as I realized “warm body” might not necessarily apply to Quinn. “It’s a favor, like being a date to someone’s cousin’s wedding.”

  “Well . . .” Quinn said slowly, and he trailed off for so long I thought he was scrabbling for an excuse to say no. But then he admitted, in a shamed voice, “I do kind of like to dance.”

  Chapter 29

  At three o’clock the next afternoon, a cadre of my female cousins descended upon my house.

  My feet were much improved, but I was t
rying to stay off them as much as possible in order to pass for healthy at the party. So instead of going for a hike, I was in the basement lifting weights and listening to NPR in bike shorts and a yoga top. Then I heard the dogs flip out. A moment later the doorbell rang.

  Grabbing a towel, I went up the steps and down the hallway as gingerly as I could and peeked through the front window. There stood my cousins Elise, Brie, and Anna, and Jake’s wife Cara, all with mischievous smiles and armfuls of clothing. Expensive-looking clothing, so I herded the dogs into the still alarmingly clean mudroom. Maybe they would normal it up a little.

  I opened the front door with my eyebrows raised. “Surprise,” they chorused. Anna even did jazz hands.

  “It’s not my birthday,” I said.

  Anna, who was twenty-six and a grad student at CU, stuck out her tongue at me. “We’re getting ready for your dad’s party here,” she explained. “Your mom and my mom’s idea.”

  Yep, that sounded like my mom. Making sure I was involved. I eyed their armfuls of clothes and makeup cases. “Isn’t that kind of a lot of work for you guys?”

  “Your dad’s bribing us,” Cara said shyly. “He’s sending a limo.”

  Brie shot me an evil grin. She was thirty-seven, the oldest of our generation, a dentist with two sons and a perpetually harried expression. “Plus, the men have to get all the kids ready,” she said.

  Shaking my head, I opened the door wide. “Well, come on in.” I was smiling despite myself.

  The four of them trooped inside, chattering about who was watching Brie’s and Cara’s kids and what they were going to wear. Elise, the last one through, paused in the doorway and whispered, “I think Aunt Christy was afraid you’d be sad, you know, without Sam.”

  I nodded. “And afraid I’d decide to just stay home?”

  Elise smiled ruefully. “You know your mom.”

  “I heard Lex has a daaaate,” Anna teased over her shoulder. “Who’s the guy?”