Ren Series Boxed Set

by Sarah Noffke

  For the second time today, something sticks to the bottom of my shoe. There is much debris from the explosion, even down a block where I stand. I kneel over and peel a small scrap of paper from the bottom of my loafer. It’s a fortune from a Chinese cookie. It reads:

  “You cannot run from who you are.”

  “How did the Chinese score the job as your fucking messenger, God?” I say to the sky.

  How long had I been running? I ran away from Peavey. I ran away from Dahlia. I ran away from my enemies. From my problems. I ran away from my work at the Institute. And now I was running away from my powers. I had seen a reason each time for running, but what would my life look like if I took everything I ran from and threw it all together? What if for the first time ever I decompartmentalized my life? A fear so real it prickles the back of my throat soars through me. I’d be forced to really live without walls. I’d be forced to live on an edge where things might actually be good and every day I’d risk having it ripped away. Nothing lasts forever. Everything is fleeting. And yet, that’s the very reason that life has meaning. When things cost effort to gain and are finite they are of value.

  I cast a glance at the scene at my back. There are more people now. Swarms of frantic people. Screaming mothers who have just realized they’ve lost their children. Crying children who have lost their parents. Grieving people who have watched a stranger pass away in their arms. Life is fleeting, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t worth preserving.

  I pull my mobile out of my pocket and dial Trey. He picks up after one ring.

  “Ren?” he says, concern heavy in his voice. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” I say. “Send me all the information on Antonio. I’m going after the fucker.”

  “You’ve changed your mind?” Trey asks in disbelief.

  “Yes.”

  “Why? I thought you didn’t want to use your powers anymore.”

  “Antonio is a monster and the only thing that will bring him down is another monster,” I say, and for the first time in all my life I feel a strange pride in who I am. I feel accepting of my powers and how very flawed they make me.

  “Good,” Trey says with relief. “Thank you. Just this last assignment and I’ll leave you alone.”

  “Don’t leave me alone,” I say. “It’s not what I need. I want to be a full-time agent. But I’m going to need something to help me keep my life in perspective first. I need something to give me balance.”

  “Oh, well, I’ll help if I can,” Trey says.

  “You can’t, but I know who can,” I say. “I’ll see you tomorrow, after the job is done. I’ve got to go now.” I shut off the phone and head to my flat.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  I change into one of my old suits. As I suspected it fits perfectly. I then dream travel to Los Angeles and generate my body. Everything I do now is centered on the hopes that Dahlia still lives in her old house. It’s nestled in the Santa Monica Mountains. I helped her pick it out. If she doesn’t live there then I’m going to have to wait until God puts her in front of me somehow.

  I’ve tried not to love her all these years. I abandoned Dahlia because I was afraid to lose her. And in actuality I love her more now than ever. All I did was kill her prematurely in my heart and life. At least my parents had fifty years. But I pushed her out of my life because I was a coward. I kept thinking I’d find a Dream Traveler who was better than her. Someone who could withstand the long lifespan with me. But I was wrong. Because a long lifetime with someone else was nothing compared to the few short years I could have had with Dahlia. And now I’ve wasted them. I might have lost them all by this point. God keeps trying to throw Dahlia in front of me. Well, it’s time I take matters into my own hands before we rush into one another thereby knocking each other out.

  The taxi lets me off at a windy road. Her monstrosity of a mansion is gated and guarded heavily. This kind of security has kept Dahlia safe from crazy fans, but it can’t keep me out. I could have probably had the guard at the gate call her and she might have let me in; instead I make him pass out. He withstood my hypnosis for fifteen seconds before collapsing in his guard seat. I encounter six more guards and I don’t even break a sweat getting past them. A portrait of Dahlia with her parents that hangs over the mantel informs me that this is in fact still her residence. And the number of guards stationed throughout the property confirms that she is home. I sense she is home actually. I feel like I’m still connected to her. I hope I am.

  I take down the last guard by her private wing and he falls with a thud on the polished marble. I probably could have caught him, but I didn’t want to wrinkle my suit. He actually looked like he recognized me, which was relieving. I’m more nervous than if I was facing Chase or Allouette when I walk up to the double doors where I know Dahlia resides. I don’t knock, but a half a minute later she pulls them back. Did she sense me here? Her face morphs into something priceless. She can’t believe I’m here. If I’m reading this right, then she’s ecstatic about it and never ever going to admit it. And Dahlia is somehow more gorgeous than she was almost two decades ago. She’s soft and angular and also hard with her pensive stare. She’s wearing silk pajamas and I can’t fight what they’re smoothness stirs in me. I can’t fight what her long flowing brown hair does to my resolve. I’m tired of fighting what Dahlia does to me.

  After sizing me up for a full minute, she says, “I have enough security to keep out the Queen of England. How did you get in here?”

  “Well, I’m not the queen, now am I?” I say with a smug grin. My heart is palpitating, much like it used to when I first met Dahlia. It hasn’t done that since. Actually, my heart has only worked to pump blood through my body all these years. That’s it. No emotions. No longing. No feelings of desire…until now.

  Dahlia angles her head around me at the guard lying on the ground. “Is he okay?” she says, sounding mostly amused and not that concerned.

  “He’s going to awake with a bloody awful headache and be at loss for the events leading up to his passing out. But he’s going to be fine,” I say.

  “How long will he be out?” she asks, and I can tell she’s stalling this conversation. She doesn’t know why I’m here and hopefully she doesn’t want me to leave. I don’t want to, not now that I’m here and made up my mind. I don’t ever want to leave her, not ever.

  “Oh, a solid hour or two. Maybe longer depending on his IQ, which I’m suspecting is low. Are all your dogs still dumb as rocks?” I ask.

  “They may be dumb dogs, but they’re loyal and that’s what counts,” Dahlia says, crossing her arms in front of her chest. God, she is somehow more beautiful. How is that possible? She was enchanting when we met, but now she holds a maturity that captivates me in a new way. I, Ren Lewis, feel like I’m being hypnotized for the first time by staring at this woman, who is roaming her eyes over me.

  “Loyalty is indeed important,” I finally say, knowing that the remark was meant to stab at me.

  “You know nothing of loyalty,” she says through tight lips.

  “I didn’t know how to be loyal when you knew me, dear Dahlia,” I say, hoping she’ll feel my earnestness. “But I do know loyalty now that I’ve grown up.” I think of my commitment to the Institute. How it’s what has taught me about real dedication. Who would have thought my would-be enemy, Trey Underwood, would have been my greatest teacher. I thought that day eighteen years ago he was going to kill me. I think that day he actually saved my life.

  “Ren, it’s been almost twenty years. I looked for you,” she says, a desperate tone lacing her voice. “I hired men to find you. I didn’t give up for almost ten years. I searched and searched tirelessly. Where have you been?” She looks too defeated after this confession. I drained her energy by leaving. Another person might have plummeted after what I did, but Dahlia searched and also kept her stardom. She is more a marvel to me than ever.

  “Would you believe me if I told you I became a monk?” I say, a cheeky grin on my face. I�
�ve had a hard time hiding it all this while as I stared at Dahlia.

  “No, I wouldn’t believe that. You detest organized religion,” she says boldly.

  “Well, I didn’t become a monk but I have been punishing myself.”

  “For how long?” she asks.

  “For almost eighteen years.”

  “For what you did to me?”

  I nod. “As well as other things.”

  “And have you atoned for these sins?” she says, her voice not quite sensitive, but rather challenging.

  “No, not yet.”

  “Is that why you’re here?” And only Dahlia would dare to ask such a gamble of a question, knowing the odds of disappointment are so high.

  I blow out a breath and consider answering her. Instead I say, “I lied to you.”

  She pauses and regards me sideways. “How many times?” she says, sizing me up.

  “Only the once,” I say.

  “Which was…?”

  “When I said I didn’t love you back then,” I say, each of my words carefully constructed. “The truth is, I did. And I do. I always have. I never stopped. I couldn’t make myself stop loving you, although I tried.”

  Her face doesn’t shift at all. Instead of answering me, she inspects my features. I almost feel her eyes crawling over my face, but I don’t feel invaded. At all. It’s been too long since I felt her eyes on me, gracing me with her appreciating gaze. I realize now that when I sent Dahlia away, I banished myself to hell, but any other reality was a suffering after knowing what kind of effect she has on me. After a long minute filled with my thoughts and her lingering gazes she says, “You haven’t aged enough in all these years.”

  “Nor you,” I say simply.

  “It’s a perk of being rich, you know.”

  “I wouldn’t actually.”

  “You’re not rich anymore?” she says, not disappointed, but rather curious.

  “No, I’m hardly Ren anymore.”

  “Come here,” she says and motions me forward. I step so only two feet separate us. Dahlia takes her time regarding me, but I don’t grow impatient of looking at her, at her looking back at me. And then I spy her hand rise in the air. I could have moved away from it, but I never want to move away from her again. Even if every movement is a punishment from her, I’ll take it. She strikes me hard across the cheek with a fast and deliberate force. Her hand claps against my skin. That one sound sends the last eighteen years reverberating through my bones. I whip my head to the side from the assault. A stingy sensation wraps around my cheek, making it burn with heat. I clap a hand there before I bring my eyes up to meet Dahlia’s seething stare.

  “I deserved that,” I say.

  “And more,” she says, her eyes burning with a pain I know I caused and can’t ignore.

  “Should I chain myself up so you can whip and torture me then?” I say.

  “Oh, you’d probably enjoy that.”

  “Probably,” I say, rubbing my still burning cheek.

  “So why did you finally show up after all these years?” Dahlia asks. “Why are you finally confessing what I’ve always known, that you love me?”

  I bring my eyes up to meet Dahlia’s. Her gaze has always done something to me. I thought maybe now I’d be immune to it, but there’s something there that unwraps me. She takes the monster out of me. Cages it, so I can breathe properly. “Because I’m tired of fighting it. I’m tired of pretending that not loving you is better than loving you and losing you.”

  “That’s why you spent almost twenty years away? Because you were afraid to love me? I knew it,” she says, turning her gaze away, looking angry.

  “In the beginning I was afraid and then things got complicated and I couldn’t get back to you even if I wanted to,” I say and pause, gauging her reaction. “I got in trouble and I had to hide.”

  She doesn’t give anything away. God, I love this woman. Dahlia remains stone when others would crumble. She regards me with exactly what I deserve. Nothing at all. And I know it’s an act, but it doesn’t matter, because she’s so good at it that I’m impressed by her.

  “I also had a service to pay to a friend and that deterred me,” I say. “Before a year ago I wasn’t really available.”

  “You have friends now?” she asks in surprise.

  “Just the one,” I say, a lump blistering my throat as Jane pops into my mind.

  “Did you marry?”

  “Never,” I say, like the idea is preposterous, because it is.

  “Were you with someone all this time?”

  “Hardly anyone,” I answer honestly. “Just the devil.”

  “Did you ever love anyone else?” Dahlia asks, her tone even.

  “Not like you,” I say, not wanting to lie to her. The monster in me loved Allouette, and has been tortured by her ever since.

  “And this service…?” Dahlia asks in a roundabout way. She’s on the hunt and her mission is clear.

  “It was more like a military duty. I helped to rid the earth of evils that would wipe away the fabric of time,” I say dully.

  “Oh, is that all you did?” she says, a small smile gracing her lips.

  “I read a few good books.”

  “So, you haven’t been running scams all this time? Fooling innocent Middlings?” she says, her tone disbelieving.

  “No, Dahlia. I haven’t. If you can believe it, I actually became a good guy,” I say, my voice honest, like I’ve never heard it. There’s no snark. No ego to it. “I won’t tell you where I’ve been because all that matters is that I’m here now.”

  Dahlia has to realize that I know her life just as everyone does. It’s no mystery. Not like mine. She isn’t going to explain her affairs over the last eighteen years and I won’t question her about them.

  “And what happens now that you’re here?” she says, looking at me like she knows how to break me in two and is just waiting to do it. I almost run right then, but decide against it.

  Finally, I bolster the strength to say, “I ask you a question.”

  “And I answer it?” she says so plainly. Everything is perfect about this woman. Everything. And I never wanted to believe it. But if eighteen years apart hasn’t shattered the illusion, then what will? I can create illusions, but I can’t create an illusion as perfect as Dahlia. She is flawless. Utterly and completely perfect.

  “Right,” I say with a nod.

  “And then what?”

  “And then we decide,” I say, like it’s the obvious answer in this complex equation.

  “That sounds ridiculously simple.”

  “Life is simple, Dahlia. It’s blokes with too much power who make it complicated,” I say.

  “That makes sense,” she says, nodding casually. “Well then, go ahead and ask your question.”

  I bring my chin up but look down at her. “Dahlia, do you still love me?” I say and it takes every fiber of my being to force those words out. I’m not a strong man. I’m one granted powers I shouldn’t have. And to ask this question takes everything inside me, but I’m glad I spent that energy, no matter what she says, because then at least I’ll know.

  She blinks in surprise at the strange question after a lifetime apart. Then she holds out her hand. “It depends,” she says, her hand hanging in front of us.

  “On what?”

  “I want to know if I’m still the only one who you have zero control over,” she says.

  “That’s how you’ll know if you still love me?” I say, offense creeping into my voice.

  “No,” she says, sounding insulted as well. “Of course I love you. I can stop that as easily as I can stop breathing. I just want to know if it’s safe to actually love you. That’s why I want to know if I’m still the only one who you can’t control.”

  “Well, I’ve never met anyone since, but maybe now things have changed. I am stronger and you’re an older Middling woman. My powers were always strong on them.” I say.

  Her eyes narrow in mock disdain. “Take my hand
, Ren,” she says, flicking her still outstretched hand at me. “Tell me if you hear my thoughts.”

  I eye the dainty hand, hanging gracefully in the air in front of me. Finally I reach out and take it like I did over eighteen years ago on the night we met. My mind is assaulted by a rush of thoughts but they are all mine. The way her skin feels against mine. Her warmth. The shock she still sends through me overwhelms every single thought. And still not a single one of her thoughts graces my mind. I drop her hand and it floats to her side as her eager eyes stare back at me.

  “There’s nothing,” I finally say. “My telepathy doesn’t work on you. And I’m certain I still can’t control you with my mind or hypnosis.”

  Dahlia steps forward and blinks at me. She has no idea that her proximity unlaces the parts of me I’ve trapped. The way she moves tears at my resolve. “Then Ren, I think you need to finally allow yourself to admit that I’m one of the few people who absolutely love you for who you are and not because you manipulate me to do so.”

  “You really still love me after everything I did to you?” I say, needing to ask the question. Needing to hear the answer.

  She takes another step forward, and my heart actually feels like it falls out of the coffin where I buried it. It beats in my chest, unobstructed for the first time in almost two decades. “Of course I do,” she says. “As I told you before, I would never love another like you. I knew it was true then, and it’s always been true. I love you, Ren Lewis. You’re the only man I could ever tolerate. You’re the love of my life. I’ve just been disappointed you’ve missed out on a greater portion of it.”

  “I’m here now. And I’d like a second chance,” I say and lean down. A startled breath escapes her. “Are you going to slap me again?” I say with a wry smile.

  “Yes, but not on your face,” she says and I pull her into me, my lips instant magnets to hers. Eighteen years to not feel an attraction like this hasn’t been torture. It’s been purgatory. But in Dahlia’s arms I’m reborn. In her arms I’m not Ren, the powerful man with the skills of a god. I’m a normal man. I’m what I’ve always wanted to be. And finally I feel like I deserve this destiny.