by Margot Fox
Gunner sniffed the air delicately and wrinkled his nose. It seemed that he had the same imagery. “I’ll be right here,” he reminded her.
“Thanks,” she muttered and keyed open the lock.
The door swung open with a creak to the dusty half-light of the apartment and Tesa stepped inside. Sighing, she looked around.
It was worse than she remembered it. Cheap, stained curtains with a long, jagged tear from that time one of Grant’s buddies threw a pizza box at the hockey game on TV. Carpet that was crushed into felt and embedded with cigarette butts and the occasional piece of gum. Tweed furniture from the 1990s.
Out of habit, she moved to flick on the lights but then stopped herself. She didn’t need to see more, really.
Picking her way daintily across the carpet, Tesa remembered sitting in the living room with Grant and his friends and feeling pretty great. He’d offered her a place to stay the night they met, right after Ruby dropped her off at the stripmall and told her to get the hell out of her car. She had been devastated by the rejection. But then Tesa had scored the job at the bar and a place to crash within a couple hours, so really, Ruby had done her a favor.
Of course Grant expected her to sleep with him, but they always did. Whatever. His friends thought she was cute, and she settled in immediately. Seemed like home. Home-enough.
Tesa hugged herself as she walked as though the filthy apartment was something that could get on her or leave a stain. She forced her arms to her sides. Don’t be ungrateful, she admonished.
And find help!
Fingers quaking, she reached into her purse and felt around as gingerly as she could. Would he be able to hear her turn her phone on? She wasn’t sure, but she was totally willing to risk it.
Something sounded like it fell or broke in the back bedroom. Tesa stopped. Why did she feel guilty? She yanked her hand out of her purse and held it in the air innocently.
“Grant?” she called out. “Are you home?”
The small galley kitchen was too dark to see into, and she walked past it to the tiny bedroom at the back.
“Grant?” she called again. “It’s just me… where are you?”
She heard a flapping, rustling noise that sounded like a bird in the bathtub.
“Grant! Are you in the shower?”
Walking into the bedroom, the vinyl shades were down and she couldn’t see. The smell of mildew was overpowering, and something sweet, cloying. She felt along the wall for the switch and flicked it several times. Nothing. Great.
Carefully stepping over a floor full of dirty laundry, she tiptoed to the small bedside lamp and flipped it on. Yellow light flooded the room.
And she screamed.
And screamed.
And screamed.
And...
Gunner was instantly in the room, his eyes sweeping the perimeter like a searchlight. Tesa pointed mutely toward the bath where she had heard the noise. Something suddenly rustled in the hallway. Gunner spun toward it, too fast to see, then shot out after it.
She was alone.
CHAPTER 7
Gunner knew exactly what he was chasing, but he didn’t know why. He wanted to catch him, just to be sure. He took off over the parking lot, sending up a plume of hot dust as he ran to the front of the strip mall, then over the highway to the small wood.
Breathing easily, Gunner selectively tuned out all the natural sounds as he ran. Crickets and cicadas: off. Highway noise: off. Wind through the leaves: off. He was left with the sound of his breath and the sound of the man he ran after.
Easily dodging branches and rocks in the underbrush, Gunner darted through the woods. He heard only his own breathing and footsteps, and the breathing and footsteps of the man in front of him.
As he burst through the woods, he saw the man a quarter mile already across the stubble field. The sun glinted off his shiny bald head and even at this distance, Gunner could easily make out the tattoo.
He stopped, swearing, and watched the man speed out of sight in the distance. Should he continue? Turn back? Did Tesa need him?
No, she doesn’t need me, he thought. But I need her. I need to make sure she’s still there.
***
Tesa stood next to the small, formica table near the fly-specked window, unable to move. Her hands hung in the air in front of her, quaking. She looked around desperately for something clean, something to clean him…
Falling to her knees heavily, she tried to touch him, but her arms wouldn’t obey. So much blood. It pooled beneath him like a sticky black oil spill, soaking into the carpet. She pulled a towel off the bed and tried to push it under his head, to give him a clean space to lay.
Grant’s eyes were open, unfocused on the ceiling. A mist of blood stained his cheeks and forehead where it had splashed up from his throat. Whole pieces of flesh were missing from his neck, displaying a complex structure of interwoven vessels and fibrous ropes. All of it was stained a deep red-black.
“Grant,” she choked out in a hoarse whisper. “Oh, Grant.”
Her mind raced — what could she do? Clean the apartment? Clean him? He had been gone for a while and the blood was congealing to a sticky pudding. How long had it been?
She could hardly stand it. She didn’t even get to say good bye. What did he think when it was happening? His expression was… Oh, God.
He must have known it was happening. He died afraid.
In a moment she remembered her thoughts as she walked in the door and she was flooded with shame. How callous! she thought. How could you be so cruel!
He had taken her in with no questions, never even inquired where she was from. Never asked her where she was going, and didn’t demand her paycheck or anything more than her company in bed. That wasn’t really a lot to ask, all things considered, was it?
Sobs gathered in her chest. She should have been there. If she hadn’t been drinking with Stark and Gunner, she could have been in the apartment…
“What are you doing?” Gunner asked. His voice was soft and he kneeled next to her.
“He— He— I—” she sniveled, choking.
“No, no,” Gunner insisted. “There is nothing you could have done.”
She looked up at him, her eyes wide with incomprehension. “I— could have been here. What— what could do this?”
Gunner heard the timbre of her voice rising and reached for her hands, untangling them from the towel she had stuffed into the puddle of blood beneath Grant’s head. He held them gently but firmly, stopping the violent tremors that wracked her bones.
“Tesa, you need to get your things.”
“No!” she yelled, horrified. “I have to stay here!”
He shook his head, trying to lock eyes, to convince her. He knew he could just compel her, but he wanted her to remember this. He wanted her to remember everything.
“Tesa,” he murmured, “you know we can’t stay here. We have to go.”
She shook her head frantically.
“Yes, Tesa, yes . I’m— I’m sorry about your friend. But you know someone will find him soon and we cannot be here when that happens. Please. Tesa. Look at me.”
Her eyes darted over the scene again and again for a few seconds, and then she looked up to Gunner’s copper eyes. He seemed almost kind. Full of concern. Sure of himself.
After so long avoiding looking at him at any cost, seeing him now was something of a relief. He was so steady. Tesa found herself willing. Strength trickled into her heart.
“I want to stay with him,” she said meekly.
Gunner nodded. “I know you do. But we can’t.”
Tesa closed her eyes. She stifled a sob, promising herself that she would find a time and a way to honor Grant. He had been so kind, and she had never really appreciated it. She hardly knew him at all.
“Get your things,” Gunner said softly.
Tesa looked around. There was blood everywhere. It was sprayed in streaks over the bedsheets and spatters of it were on the dresser and walls.
>
“Oh,” he said, understanding. He glanced over the surfaces with his brow furrowed. “Well, yes. I am sure we can replace anything you need.”
Tesa got to her knees, and Gunner helped her up.
“Okay,” she said with a shudder. “I guess… oh, wait.”
Walking to the far side of the bed, she knelt down and opened the bottom drawer of the nightstand, removing a box decorated with ribbons, photos, and scraps of papers. She sighed with relief that it had stayed clean.
Standing, she gathered her courage and went back to Gunner, holding his eye and not looking at the scene again. “This is it,” she said firmly, and walked back down the darkened hallway.
In the parking lot, Tesa couldn’t help but feel strangely light as she picked her way back to the car. Knowing her past was a burned bridge was, in a weird and horrible way, liberating. There was no going back now. There was nothing to go back to.
Gunner got into the driver side and looked at her. “Are you okay?” he said softly.
She took a shuddering breath. What could have done this? How could she be okay? But yet, his concern was so nice to see.
“I— I don’t know what that was...” she stammered.
Gunner’s face hardened. His copper eyes flashed. “I believe I do. But I will keep you safe,” he said. “I need you.”
Tesa inhaled sharply, did he really just say that? Then she remembered… He needed her for food.
CHAPTER 8
When they arrived back at the house, Gunner took Tesa by the elbow and guided her into the foyer. Stark watched them with a raised eyebrow.
“Go and get dressed, all right?” Gunner said. Tesa nodded mutely and walked slowly up the stairs with her memento box held before her like a dinner tray.
“Things between you two are… improving then?” Stark asked hopefully.
“Not hardly,” Gunner said darkly, watching until Tesa was safely out of sight. “There was a wraith at the apartment.”
Stark sucked in his breath sharply. “Are— Are you sure? Did she—”
Gunner waved his hand in the air. “No, no. She didn’t see anything. I gave chase, but catching him didn’t seem as important as safeguarding her.”
Stark nodded thoughtfully. “Agreed.”
“It took her friend, Stark. She— found him.”
Stark’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, she found him? Why didn’t you find him?”
Gunner remembered the stench of the place. He was only too glad to remain outside, and had even playfully toyed with the notion that she might run, and he might have to chase her down. That could have been fun.
But truthfully, he did smell the blood. It just didn’t seem entirely out of place with all the other odors. As for why he didn’t smell the wraith...
“She asked for some time alone to gather her things…”
“And you gave it to her? You left her alone? ” Stark raised a hand and let it drop against his thigh. He stalked to the ornate marble fireplace and turned his back on Gunner.
“You know, that place was disgusting. I’m sorry. Honestly I don’t know why you didn’t just send Jamie alone. Why did you even want her to go? Was it supposed to be a test?”
Stark spun on him, his eyes flashing. “ You left her alone. What did she find then, eh? Her boyfriend in pieces? Was he eaten? How much of him was left, Gunner?”
Gunner sighed uneasily.
“Do you understand how this will change her? You can’t allow circumstances to drive her further away. She’s never going to be… willing…”
“I think she will,” Gunner sniffed.
Stark shook his head.
“I think you overestimate your charm, brother.”
“Maybe,” Gunner admitted, raking his hand through his dark brown hair. “But I think you under estimate her. There’s still something… Very deep there. I’m not sure why I didn’t sense it before. I think she’s ready to stop running, for good this time.”
Stark scoffed, rolling his eyes.
“No, I mean that,” Gunner continued. “She’s tougher than she looks. And smarter, maybe.”
“Be that as it may. You screwed up today. They’re fragile, and you can’t expect her to rebound. You’re farther away from her now than when we brought her here.”
Gunner shrugged. Maybe, maybe not.
***
Tesa ignored the midnight blue gown hanging on the wardrobe and went directly to the pool-sized sunken bath. Four individual nozzles filled the tub in a remarkably short period of time and she dumped a whole box full of bath salts into the steaming tub as it filled.
The pit of her stomach felt like it was filled with ice. She tried to not see Grant’s torn open throat in her mind, but the image wouldn’t leave her. She rewound to a hundred different points where she might have taken a different path, maybe made a different future for him.
It’s useless, she told herself. What’s done is done.
God, I sound like my mother.
She tried to give herself a memory of her mother, hoping that would blot out everything else. As the bath filled, she stirred the water with her toes, eagerly anticipating immersing herself there.
What would her mother think of this outrageous bathtub, she wondered as she stepped gingerly into its depths. She seated herself on a small step in the corner and swirled the surface, sending clouds of bubbles colliding against her skin, popping deliciously.
“Be swift to love,” her mother had said.
She repeated it in her mind, pivoting quickly to the image of sitting at the small dressing table, playing with the brushes. Her mother gave her the pot of lip gloss and she brushed it on, enjoying the subtle weight on her lips.
She pressed her lips together and turned toward the mirror, savoring the image of her full, sensual pout. Her hair fell in pin curls over her cheekbones. She smiled. Her mother smiled. They almost looked like twins, pressing their cheeks together like that.
No, that couldn’t be right. She was only a little girl when that happened.
Tesa scowled and sank against the wall. Nothing in her head was working right. As soon as she admitted that to herself, Grant’s body flashed through her mind again. The flapping sound in the bathroom. Was that a person? A vamp?
Did it know she was there?
She tried to tell herself she was being morbid, being selfish, being dramatic. She tried to shame herself out of dwelling on the scene with every strategy she could devise but he wouldn’t leave her. He was dead. It was her fault.
Somehow.
But how? She had done a lot of amazingly terrible things, but no one ever suffered like that on her account. It was just… preposterous.
So maybe it’s preposterous to assume it has anything to do with you, dummy, she told herself. You’re not the center of the universe after all. Sometimes things just happen.
She tried every washcloth, sponge, and loofah from the hammered copper bowl beside the tub with every lotion, bar and powder, scrubbing herself thoroughly. Holding her breath, she closed her eyes and sank to the bottom, lying there, looking through the water and back up to the ceiling. Her heartbeat was loud in her head. She could hear her feet along the marble tile bottom.
But then she had to come up for air. No matter what, she thought, you can’t just lay at the bottom of the pool forever.
Reluctantly, she left the tub and flipped the lever to let it drain. The water gurgled away happily. Somewhere, some part of her brain was pleased to know that she did not have to personally clean that tub. It was a delicious comfort.
Her feet still felt like they were made of lead, and even the 2000 watt hair dryer could not make her warm. She went through the effort of getting ready mechanically, but then she was surprised when she was done. Her hair was shiny and coiled on top of her head in a nice bun, she thought. Somehow she’d gotten her makeup even on both sides and there was a deceptively healthy flush to her cheeks.
Maybe bath salts really do some good, she thought with a sig
h.
The gown was remarkable. She had never seen anything like it. The bodice was threaded with tiny silver strands and minuscule crystals. It glittered subtly, almost like satin. The skirt draped in multiple layers of silk crepe that somehow made no sound.
She took the gown off the hanger, stepping into it carefully and pulling it up. The wide straps grazed the tips of her shoulders. As she slid the zipper up, the bodice seemed to form itself magically to her ribs and breasts, creating hips, a waist… and cleavage.
Tesa padded to the tall mirror in the corner and appraised herself with raised eyebrows. “Well now,” she muttered. “Okay, that’s not half bad.”
“Not half bad indeed,” Gunner agreed.
Tesa heaved a dramatic sigh. “I knew you were going to do that.”
“Anticipating my moves already? Well, don’t worry,” he called from the doorway, “I have lots more surprises in store.”
He sauntered into the room, tugging on his lapel. Tesa could not help but smile, just a little. Now, that was a beautiful suit. Midnight blue also, narrow cut, two buttons… he looked like a 1960s matinee idol. He even had some kind of wax or pomade in his hair, pushing it back from his forehead in a lustrous set of mahogany waves.
“Here you go,” he said holding his fist in the air at shoulder height. Tesa looked at him quizzically. “Put out your hands then,” he directed her impatiently.
Tesa scowled but did as she was told. Gunner opened his hand and a heavy gold chain slid out of it, landing in Tesa’s outstretched palms. She sucked in her breath.
“Oh, wow, Gunner…” she said softly, holding it up. At the bottom of the chain was a pendant, a teardrop shaped sapphire surrounded by rectangular diamonds. As she twisted it in the light, a tiny teal flame danced deep in the heart of the dark blue stone.
“Is that—”
“Yes, it’s real,” he said sarcastically.
“I wasn’t going to ask if it was real , Gunner. I wanted to know what kind of stone it was.”
“Oh,” he said dismissively. “That’s a sapphire. A big one. And some diamonds or something. Come here and let me clasp it for you. Aha… there.”