The Mortal Falls

by Anna Durand

  The vortex had resurrected him. I sat back on my heels, lost for words.

  The man fingered his earlobe, glancing from me to Nevan and back again. His gaze sharpened on me. "I remember you."

  A memory of our first encounter, back in the shop when he tried to pilfer the bookends, replayed in my mind. He'd told me to go to hell, wearing much the same expression. I locked my arms over my chest.

  He bared his teeth in a sneer. "You're the bitch who grabbed me in the store."

  "And you're the slimy thief who tried to make off with stolen merchandise."

  The shoplifter wrinkled up his nose as if I smelled awful. "What'd you do, whack me over the head and drag me out here to torture me into confessing?"

  I strongly resisted the urge to slug him. You died, you nasty little toad, and the vortex brought you back — thanks to me and my pet sylph.

  Okay, I was not going to tell him that.

  Tipping backward a few inches, needing more space between me and the angry jerk in front me, I said, "Don't you remember what happened?"

  "Whatever it was, must've been you did it." He scrambled to his feet, swayed for a second, and regained his equilibrium in time to snare my arm. "You had it in for me from the start. Lying bitch."

  He yanked my arm.

  Nevan seized the man by his shirt collar, hefting him off the ground until his toes dangled in the air. The man thrashed but couldn't break free.

  For the first time since we entered the clearing, I noticed Nevan's appearance. He'd conjured up the outfit he'd worn yesterday when he corroborated my story about the dead man for Travis.

  Calm as the eye of a hurricane, Nevan told his captive, "This woman knows what you are and decided to save your life anyway. Perhaps you should be grateful to her, or else perhaps I will reverse the decision."

  Threatening and polite at the same time. Impressive. And the way his biceps swelled and stretched every time the toad-man wriggled, yet his grip never faltered… Well, that was even more impressive.

  The toad-man went pale and limp. He dared a sideways glance at me before bowing his head to stare at his dangling feet. "Sorry."

  "And?" Nevan hefted the man a little higher, extracting a whimper.

  The toad looked at me. "Thank you."

  Nevan dropped the man, who struck the ground on his ass, legs splayed before him, arms slack.

  Since the jerk appeared suitably defeated, I offered him a hand up. He cringed as if I'd held out razor-sharp claws, or maybe he thought I'd toss him over to Nevan, but after a couple seconds he accepted the aid.

  On his feet again, he scratched at his arms, avoiding my gaze. "What happened to me?"

  "Someone hit you on the head."

  "Hit me?" He ran a hand through his hair, catching his fingers on the blood caked there. His face blanched. His fingers came away with dried blood stuck under the nails. His brow furrowed and his eyes widened. "Why don't I have a wound? I've got blood but — "

  "It was a scratch," Nevan said. "Scalp wounds bleed like the dickens."

  The toad-man closed his eyes briefly, relaxing. "Yeah, that's right. They do bleed a lot."

  I forced my lips into my professional smile. I did need this guy to stay grateful, so he wouldn't blab to Travis about the imagined slights I committed against him. "I'm Lindsey, and this is Nevan. What's your name?"

  "Brad." He spread his hands wide, scanning the ground. "Where's my bag?"

  "Your backpack?" When he nodded, I counted to five before answering. Oh, you mean the backpack you tried to shove stolen merchandise into right before you called me a bitch? No, that would not do. "I guess somebody took it."

  "What? I had important stuff in there."

  Important stuff like the bookends he pinched. I shrugged. "Maybe it'll turn up."

  Brad stretched his neck, rolling his head this way and that until something cracked. Appearing relieved, he said, "I really need to get out of the stinking woods."

  "Better see a doctor, just to be safe."

  "No thank you. Hospitals give me the willies." He stretched again, yawning. "Besides, I feel fine."

  Although I was relieved to hear it, I couldn't quite believe he felt fine. Sure, the vortex had healed my lacerations, but those had been minor. This man had died.

  Brad turned his head left and right, eying the rock circle. "How'd I get here? Last thing I remember is walking out of the store, to go wait for my friends in the parking lot."

  Slinking out of the shop, he meant, with his booty stashed in his backpack. Still, I had to come up with a believable explanation of how Brad wound up here.

  "You must've crawled here," Nevan suggested, sounding quite reasonable, "and then you passed out. A bump on the noggin can cause short-term amnesia."

  He spoke with a tone of authority, as if he knew everything about head injuries. I gave him a quizzical look, but he wasn't paying any attention to me.

  "Crawled?" Brad said. Lips parted, he tapped his tongue on his upper teeth. "I suppose that could've happened."

  "I'm sure that's how you got here," I said. "Nevan's a doctor. He knows all about head injuries."

  Hooking my arm around Nevan's, I beamed up at him with only a hint of sarcasm.

  Nevan hit me with his smoldering smile, the one that always shifted my pulse into overdrive.

  "A doctor?" Brad asked. "Couldn't he look me over?"

  Full of gravitas, Nevan squinted down at the other man. He laid his palm on Brad's head, patting all around his scalp, then felt under the man's chin. "You seem quite fine."

  "Thanks, doc." Brad held out a hand to Nevan, who shook it once. He nodded to me. "Thanks for watching over me while I was out."

  He had no idea how "out" he'd been.

  Brad took three steps past us.

  I whirled, capturing his arm.

  "Wait, I — " Can't let you leave because you know too much. Oh yeah. That'd go over swimmingly. "Could you wait here for a minute? Please."

  A trace of suspicion flickered across his face. "Something wrong?"

  Explanations deserted me, swept away on an icy tide of panic. "Please. As a favor to me, the woman who saved your life, stick around for a minute. While I talk to my, uh, friend over there."

  Nevan arched an eyebrow at my use of the term friend.

  Thankfully, Brad took a seat on one of the stone benches. "Okay. I'll wait."

  I moved off to the side, out of Brad's earshot, and motioned for Nevan to follow. He waved a dismissive hand, returning his full attention to the formerly dead guy, over whom he stood sentry — tall and imposing, face blank and posture relaxed, but exuding a don't mess with me aura. When I stomped my foot and crooked my finger at him, Nevan finally obeyed and strode toward me.

  His lips quirked, anxious to form a smirk, but to his credit he suppressed the look. He made no such effort with his playful tone of voice. "Can't wait to get me alone, eh?"

  Since we had more pressing issues at the moment, I ignored his innuendo. "You have voodoo powers, right?"

  "I believe you're confusing me with a witch doctor. Voodoo is not among my powers, nor is it a pastime of mine."

  "You know what I meant. You have magical… stuff."

  He slanted closer, his voice deepening. "Stuff?"

  "Come on, work with me here."

  "I would, but I'm not certain what precisely you're trying to accomplish."

  "We need to convince Brad to forget he ever saw us. Unless you'd care to explain to Travis how we resurrected a corpse using a healing vortex powered by a copper-addicted leprechaun. He's having enough trouble with the psychedelic light show in the cave."

  "His confusion is irrelevant. I expend no energy on sorting out mortal affairs." He slid his gaze down my body and back up to my face, and in the wake of his appraisal, excitement sizzled over my skin. "Except for yo
urs. I am acutely aware of everything to do with you."

  "Brad's rebirth concerns me." All of a sudden, I could hardly catch my breath. "I need your expertise."

  He edged closer, backing me into a tree, and placed his arms on trunk, bracketing my head. "My powers are bound to my duties."

  Surrounded, I had no choice but to meet his gaze, inhale his scent, absorb the heat of him. "You enchant people to check for freaky supernatural thingies. Couldn't you enchant Brad for me?"

  He recoiled, his upper lip twitching. After a few seconds of staring hard at me, he pushed away from the tree. "My duty does not involve enchanting men."

  "I'm not asking you to kiss him. Just put him in a trance or whatever, to make him open to suggestion. You can do that, right?"

  He grumbled, frowning and plucking at the buttons of his shirt.

  "Please, Nevan, I need you to try. If you can't make it work, fine. But at least give it a shot." I linked my hands in a pleading gesture. "I will be forever grateful if you do this for me."

  He threw a quick glance at Brad. His face pinched in disgust, but he nodded.

  I hopped up to kiss his cheek. "Thank you so, so, so much."

  With a grunt, he stalked to Brad. The shoplifter floundered backward a half step. Nevan snapped his fingers in Brad's face, drawing the man's attention to him. Nevan's eyes began to swirl, erupting with bright metallic ribbons of color. Brad's mouth formed an O. His eyes went wide, his entire body slackening and swaying. Lips twisted, Nevan cast me a sidelong look before he took hold of the other man's shoulders to steady him.

  "Listen to my voice," Nevan said, "and look into my eyes."

  His tone hushed yet potent, he spoke to Brad in a language I didn't recognize, one brimming with exotic vowels and lilting beauty. Transfixed by his voice, I studied his face and the way his lips moved as he enunciated his words, recalling those nimble lips on mine, imagining how his mouth might explore my body.

  Nevan let go of Brad and said, "It's done."

  "What?" Ripped from my reverie, I stared blankly at him. "Already?"

  "The man was quite easy to control. Weak willed, this one." Nevan ambled toward me. "I believe I've proved I will do anything for you."

  Even enchant a man, despite his distaste for the task. He'd done it for me. Because I asked. I could've kissed him — if not for my no-kissing rule.

  Movement behind him snagged my attention and I spotted Brad the erstwhile thief shambling past the stone benches, down the trail to the shop. His eyes were glassy, his expression vacant.

  "Is he okay?" I asked Nevan.

  "He will be. The enchantment will fade within moments, long enough for him to reach the shop. He will have no memory of either of us, or of what transpired here."

  "Good." I watched Brad until the woods engulfed him. "Um, are you sure he'll be all right?"

  "Yes."

  The syllable was clipped. I glanced up at Nevan, but he'd gone stone-faced again. He did that when he was anxious, I'd come to realize. In spite of his assurances to the contrary, he must've worried his magic might damage Brad — and maybe he worried about the same thing with Sandy, with every woman he enchanted. How could anyone, even an immortal like him, live with the consequences of wielding such power, if it might harm another? I couldn't fathom the fear and guilt it must engender.

  On top of that, Nevan was bound to a nasty piece of work like Skeiron. Forced to do the king's bidding. Yet somehow, he disobeyed those orders with me. He hypnotized Brad for me too. His statement from a moment ago echoed in my mind.

  I believe I've proved I will do anything for you.

  Would I do anything for him? The skin at my nape prickled, the sensation sweeping down my arms. I lifted my face to Nevan's, but he was staring down the path where Brad had disappeared from view. His watchful gaze shifted to scan the woods around us, though he remained motionless and silent. He truly was a guardian. Rather than protecting Skeiron's interests, he now watched over me.

  My chest seemed to swell under the pressure of a dull ache behind my ribs. My heart felt full, on the verge of overflowing with emotions I couldn't name. Wouldn't name. I'd known this man for two days. And yet…

  Unwilling to finish the thought, I threaded my fingers through his. "Walk me back to the shop?"

  "Anything for you."

  A figure tromped out of the trees behind the vortex. Travis meandered around the stone benches, looking dazed, and turned in a circle before dropping onto one of the benches. His eyes were bleary and aimed at the spot where Brad had lain moments earlier.

  He lifted his head as if it weighed fifty pounds and looked at me. "That man was dead. I saw him in the morgue. His friends identified the body."

  I took a couple halting steps toward him, but his stark expression stopped me. "How much did you see?"

  "Everything." Travis's unfocused gaze veered to Nevan and back to the ground. "How'd you bring him back to life?"

  "With the — "

  He flung up a hand. "Never mind. I don't wanna know."

  Behind me, Nevan muttered with disgust, "Shall I enchant the sheriff as well?"

  "No." I knelt beside Travis. "Magic is real. I know it's a huge pill to swallow, but you have to accept the truth."

  "Magic?" He spoke the word in a hushed tone. "I need to be alone. To think about all this."

  "Come back to the shop with us. Please."

  He erupted, his race flashing red, his voice echoing off the trees. "Leave me the fuck alone!"

  I jumped up, reeling backward into Nevan.

  "Let him be," Nevan said quietly. "Let me escort you back to the shop."

  As Nevan led me away, I kept looking back at Travis until the woods obscured my view of him. His reaction to the reality of magic was the polar opposite of mine and I couldn't understand his fury about it. His behavior over the past few days mystified me.

  Well, at least he hadn't arrested me.

  We crossed the rock garden in silence, our footfalls crunching on the gravel path, and rounded the corner of the shop building. His hand stayed firmly swaddled around mine. Ever the watcher, he kept surveying the woods — for Brennus, no doubt, the harbinger of everything bad.

  Awareness shivered down my spine and I checked the sky for a raven, but saw nothing except a few puffy clouds. The eerie recognition of eyes tracking me slithered over my skin, so much like the intuition that affected me two days ago, right before I found the dead man, I couldn't shake the feeling I was missing something vital. In the car, I'd heard Calder's voice in my head, but that must've been anxiety induced. Not real. It couldn't have been what it seemed to be.

  I stopped dead, pulling Nevan with me. He scrutinized my face, concern evident in his eyes, and said, "You've gone pale as death, love. What is it?"

  What the hell. Might as well ask him, the only one who might know. "Are ghosts real?"

  "Ghosts?" He brushed his thumb across my cheek. "Why would ye ask?"

  "Sylphs and leprechauns are real, but ghosts can't possibly exist?"

  "They exist. Not in the way mortals believe, but I fail to see the relevance."

  Part of resisted confiding in him, but most of me wanted to, badly. "Is it possible Calder, the man I shot and killed, is haunting me?"

  He pulled his head back, chin tucked. "What leads you to believe he is?"

  I explained what happened in the sheriff's car. "I keep having this creepy feeling someone is watching me. I'm nuts, right?"

  "Never would I describe you as insane. Ghosts do not generally flit about at will, they're bound to a specific location, generally the place where they died, and only until they complete their unfinished business." He leaned in, his forehead touching mine. "However, if you sense a malevolent presence, I trust in your instincts."

  "It's nice to have someone who believes me." And understands me, and makes me feel
again. I wound a spiraling lock of his hair around my finger, loving the slick softness of it. "We have to do something about Skeiron, don't we?"

  "Skeiron is my problem, not yours. Vow you will stay far from these woods until I resolve the matter."

  "I am not hiding. I'm probably fired by now, so I have nowhere else to be." Except with you. "Take me with you or I'll sneak up behind you anyway."

  "Which you did with remarkable stealth two days ago. I required mere seconds to detect your approach."

  I dropped the lock of his hair. "Probably the same way I sense you coming. Magic is cheating."

  "Magic is the essence of every elemental being." He patted my behind and gave me a little push in the direction of the shop. "Go. Tend to customers. And stay away from the woods."

  "Ugh. You are so boss — "

  An excited shriek pierced the seclusion of the garden. Raucous voices and laughter ensued, blasting over us in an auditory tide of human revelry.

  Nevan gave me a questioning look. I shrugged.

  Taking my hand again, he ushered me out of the rock garden and along the gravel path toward the shop. As we rounded the bend into the parking lot, I saw it was crammed with cars of varying sizes, most gray or black, the cherry red of my Malibu the only spot of color.

  Well, not quite the only one.

  My gaze fell upon a rainbow-colored behemoth. The motor home squatted alongside the entrance to the parking lot, behind a row of tall SUVs and pickup trucks, its garish paint job gleaming in the sun.

  I shut my eyes, exhaling a whimpery moan. "They're here."

  Nevan squeezed my hand. "Is it the ghost?"

  "No, it's not a ghost. It's my family."

  Nevan let go of my hand. "I suppose I should depart."

  "Why?"

  He appraised me with a curious expression. "I assumed you would not wish your family to see me. I am… difficult to explain."

  At the moment, his appearance was moderately normal, though still striking. "Travis may have freaked out when he saw what you really are, but trust me. My family can handle it."