by Gray Holborn
“Eat, eat, boy.” She shoved the hand holding the cookie up towards his mouth, backing off only once he took a healthy bite.
“Michael, what are you doing here?” I asked, trying to move past Charlotte so I could operate under the illusion that just the two of us were having this conversation. While he was typically poised and polished, today he looked anything but. His usually neat button-down top was buttoned unevenly and the sweater sitting on top of it was snagged and lightly stained. He was wearing the same clothes he had on last night. I blinked my eyes hard, trying to erase the mental image of him spending all night with that beautiful blond supe I saw him with at the bar. The dark circles under his eyes made it obvious he hadn’t slept well, if at all, and the rumpled nature of his usually smooth hair inspired a few guesses as to how he spent the evening if he wasn’t sleeping. Still, I exhaled in relief that he was alive.
“I wanted to explain about last night, it wasn’t what you think.” He finished off the rest of his cookie at Char’s insistence. If the woman ever decided to become a drug pusher, the neighborhood would be in real trouble.
“It’s okay. We never had a conversation about being exclusive, I just would prefer it if you wouldn’t lie to me. I wouldn’t have been upset if you told me you were seeing someone else, but you shouldn’t have told me you were going to a study group.” I wanted to encourage him to pick better company than the two women he was with last night, but I couldn’t voice that concern without giving him a valid reason why. Maybe I could spread a rumor that they had herpes? I reached for one of the cookies on Char’s plate, hoping it might diffuse some of the awkward tension—when in doubt, stuff your face—but she shoved my hand away with more strength than I expected a small woman of her age to possess. I wracked my brain trying to remember what I could have done to piss her off. Maybe she was still punishing me for refusing to eat the eggplant she brought over last week. Blech. I’d do almost anything for Char, but I drew the line at eating eggplant. It was a texture thing.
“It wasn’t a date. And you’re right, I shouldn’t have lied to you.” He took a step towards me, his expression full of hesitation and longing. “Can we maybe go grab some breakfast or something somewhere—chat about this in a more,” he glanced from Char to Soren, “private setting?”
I nodded my head and opened my mouth to respond, only to snap it closed again.
“Dessa, you okay?” He took another step towards me.
I grabbed Charlotte’s arm and took two steps back, dragging her with me, neither of us concerned when the plate of cookies fell from her hand to the ground at my force. “You can’t be. How?”
“Dess?” His head tilted in confusion, hurt skirting across his eyes.
“You’re one of them. You’re a manipulator. How are you a manipulator?” He was bathed in a strong gold glow, the aura popping up as if out of nowhere—a layer of white married into the strong golden hues like marble. Beyond the light, it was like Michael was coming into focus—as if any other version I’d seen of him had been flawed, watered down. His dark hair and eyes were somehow richer, the previously pale hue of his skin more golden. Even with the dark circles under his eyes, he looked like a photoshopped model.
“I’ve never manipulated you, what are you talking about?” His confused gaze traced the shock across my face. All of us jumped at the triumphant giggle that came out of Charlotte’s mouth.
“Black, what are you talking about?” Soren took a step forward, aligning himself on the other side of Charlotte.
“I’ve never seen it before. How could I never have seen it before? The gold, it’s so bright now.” I pinched my arm, trying to ground myself into this weird version of reality in which Michael was a supe who had somehow managed to slip past my radar for months. He was my friend. And then he was something more than a friend. And now...he was this? I blinked my eyes, in case I was seeing things. Maybe I had more to drink last night than I realized, or maybe I was just super dehydrated from the run.
But no, no matter how many times I slammed my eyes closed and then opened again, this mirage wasn’t going anywhere.
Michael looked back and forth between me and Charlotte, landing eventually on the plate of upturned cookies scattered across the lawn. He smiled softly, an angry amusement behind his eyes that made him look suddenly harder and stronger than he ever seemed before. “Well done, witch. What’s in the cookies?”
My mouth dropped open, trying to process this nonsense. I knew my anger was really directed at him for being a supe, but I strangely found myself more than a little bit pissed he’d called an old lady a witch after she’d done nothing but bring him fresh-baked chocolate-chip cookies. I knew people who would all but kill for a plate of those. Myself included.
“Family recipe. I knew I had a bad feeling about you, but Dessa wouldn’t listen. Couple a bites of those,” she slapped her hands together to make an impressive sound, “proves I was right, just enough to break that block of yours.”
Soren stepped in front of us both, his body tense and intimidating. “You’re from the Veil? Why are you here?”
Michael ignored him, his piercing dark eyes focusing on my face. “It’s you.” He paused, rubbing fiercely at his jaw. “My intel had me check into Ellie for a lead, but it’s been you all along. Good show,” his eyes travelled briefly to Charlotte, “you may have sped things along more than you realize.” His lips turned down into the briefest of frowns.
Part of me thought that maybe his confusion was a good thing. He was clearly after Ellie, but if he thought it was me he was after instead, it could give us more time, prove a good diversion. Keep her safe.
Soren tensed, his hands pumping into tight fists. Michael looked away from my eyes long enough to notice Soren’s violent edge. With a single raised eyebrow, he turned his head back to me. “We’ll meet again very soon, Odessa Black. And we’ll have a lot to discuss when we do.”
Michael’s hand reached in front of him, like he was pulling an invisible zipper, and then he disappeared, a moment before Soren’s fist would have pummelled him in the face.
My mouth opened and closed several times, like a gaping fish. “Where did he go?” I asked no one in particular, without moving my eyes from the spot Michael stood only a moment ago.
“A space-manipulator?” Soren’s hand ripped through his hair, upsetting the strands that were usually so neatly brushed back. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”
I looked over at Charlotte. Though a minute ago she had been laughing with glee that I could see Michael’s aura, her skin was now a strange hue of pale green.
“What’s a space manipulator?” I asked. “And Char, how did you know he was a supernatural? And why weren’t you surprised I could see him?” And more importantly, how had I dated a supe without noticing. What was going on with my senses? Did they have supernatural doctors who could check me out?
Charlotte turned back to me, grabbing one of my hands gently in her own. “A space-manipulator is a type of energy user that can literally manipulate themselves through space. They are quite rare.” She spoke to me in a voice so quiet, so soft, like she was afraid I was too fragile—on the verge of breaking. Maybe I was.
Soren, not recognizing the softness of the moment, or perhaps not capable of prolonging it, looked over at us. “Not just rare. Extinct. There hasn’t been one around in at least a century. Most people believe they are simply legends. Maybe he used some sort of spell or talisman?” The last part of his explanation was directed at Charlotte, respect lingering in his eyes, as if he was a soldier and she was his general.
“No boy, no talisman or spell. That was legitimate.” Her head turned back to me. “Odessa, girl, what did you see when you looked at him? You are able to sense the energy, no?”
Figuring that we were going to be here for awhile, and seeing as how my knees were beginning to shake, I plopped down on the grass to give myself a second to catch my breath. After a minute employing some of Jax’s yoga breaths—which did
absolutely nothing—I looked up at Charlotte only to find her seated across from me. “Yes, I can see auras, usually. But something must be wrong with that ability. I’ve known Michael for months and never once noticed anything before. Even today, he looked totally normal the first few minutes. It was just all of a sudden.” I paused for a second and looked straight at the woman who’d been a strange fixture in my life for years. Somehow seeing her sprawled out on my lawn while wearing a Santa hat in the middle of spring was the normal part of this conversation. “How did you know I could see auras?”
It wasn’t Charlotte that answered, but Soren. “What was in those cookies?”
At his question Charlotte beamed. A smile so big that the wrinkles in her face became more pronounced—etched deeper—making her somehow both older and younger at the sametime. “Family secret. Knew my instinct wasn’t off, there was something in his eyes. Gave him a taste of something to erase the block he had. It was a pretty strong block too, took longer than it should’ve to break. I was beginning to doubt myself for a minute.” She shook her head ruefully. “Damn, glad I’ve still got my groove.”
Soren’s mouth was pushed up, in the closest thing to a smile I thought he was capable of producing. I emphatically ignored the butterflies that annoying almost-smile gave me.
Charlotte’s pride was erased almost as soon as she stood up. “Still, he’ll be back. You all need to leave.” She directed her command at Soren, probably because she could tell I was still in a state of shock. “I’m going out of a town for awhile. Take the girls, and get out. He’ll come back for her and I don’t know where his loyalties lie.” She turned back to me, engulfing me in a hug filled with so much warmth it made my eyes water. “Farewell for now, girl. I’ll be seeing you again. I can’t help you now, but when the time is right, I’ll find you.” She whispered the last part softly in my ear so only I could hear it. When I opened my mouth to question what she meant, she added, “until then, be safe.”
Shaking my head, I looked at her. “Char, where are you going, why don’t you come with us?”
With a sad look in my direction she walked over to Soren. “Take care of her, boy.” She patted him on his cheek softly, punctuating it with a hard tap at the end. “Or I’ll come after you myself,” she added. Then, she walked straight into her house, came back out with her small hands wheeling several suitcases that she’d apparently already packed, loaded them into her beat-up minivan, and left—one hand on the steering wheel, the other holding up her magnifying glass.
Chapter Eleven
Soren and I walked into the house without speaking another word. At least I was silent. And if he wasn’t, the ringing in my head made it impossible to notice. Bypassing Jax and El in the kitchen, I made a beeline for the shower. The second the hard pounding of water hit my face, I exhaled. I washed the morning off of me, selfishly taking longer than I needed to in hope that Soren would explain the last half hour to the others so I wouldn’t have to do it. Maybe he was right all along, maybe I was the biggest danger to El. Not only had I dated the enemy, but I brought him into her life, into our home several times a week. And the supposed superpower that was supposed to be our first line of defense—my only way to help protect her—was faulty and easily tricked. Charlotte’s damn cookies were better at parsing out the enemy than I was.
After soaking in the eucalyptus-scented steam I forced myself to push back into my room and face reality. I dressed quickly, brushed my hair roughly before throwing it in a braid to dry, and went out in the living room to join the discussion.
When I arrived, Sam was pacing—the usual picture of calm he presented to the world completely destroyed. El and Jax were sitting on the couch with expressions both serious and confused.
As soon as she saw me, El jumped to her feet and threw her arms around me. I wasn’t much of a hugger, but it was nice to have her reassurance, the physical comfort to keep me calm.
“Well El, looks like I have even worse taste in guys than you do. That age old question is finally solved, no?” My lips quirked up in a teasing question to try and alleviate the tension in the room.
Soren wasn’t amused. “Really Black, take this seriously. This isn’t a question of bad taste, this is a matter of literally sleeping with the enemy.”
That stung, but I guess it only hurt because he was right.
I nodded my head, but El raised hers in defiance. “Hey, she didn’t even sleep with him, just for the record.”
Just when I thought my morning couldn’t get any more embarrassing, I felt the blood rush into my cheeks. When I turned away to try to compose myself, Jax’s shocked expression was captured in my peripheral.
“But. Months?” He asked.
“What do you mean months?” El squared off, ready to take on any battle for me. Her posture told me more than her words could that she was sorry for letting that factoid about my relationship slip.
“What do you mean what do I mean? Damn, Desi-girl. If you make me wait months, I’m going to go crazy.” He punctuated the last sentence with a wink, a sure sign that he too was trying to lighten the mood. I exhaled, appreciating his weird Jax-like attempt.
“For the record, not my choice. He just...anytime we got even a little intimate, he’d panic and put a stop to it. Maybe he was okay with using me to spy on El, but sex pushed it a bit too far past his moral compass?” I joined El and Jax on the couch, sinking into their comforting presence.
“Seriously, Desi, that should have been your first clue. I mean a guy who says no to you for months has to be either crazy or evil.” Jax nudged my head playfully, messing up the neat braid I just fastened my hair into.
I don’t know whose groan was louder, Soren’s or Sam’s. Either way, their discomfort selfishly made me feel better about my own.
“Jesus, can we seriously stop talking about my niece’s sex life?” Sam grumbled through the hands that were covering his face, as if he could erase the whole conversation.
“Lack of sex life,” El and I chimed in at the exact same time, causing our smiles to turn into full-on giggles.
“And just think,” she added, “a week ago I was teasing you about ditching him because he was boring. Then he goes and turns into a freaking space-manipulator.”
“Was his aura any different?” Soren asked, ignoring our frivolity and attempting to steer the conversation on to firmer ground.
“Very bright, kind of like yours.” I looked up at him. “Honestly, before Michael, you had probably the strongest gold signature I’ve ever come across. His had some white braided into it, where yours bleeds into an almost silver shade sometimes. I’m not sure why or what that means, if anything. But it was crazy. I don’t know if you could tell without seeing his glow, but he physically looked so much different.”
“Yeah, I could tell.” Soren nodded.
“Different how?” Sam asked. His hands had graduated from holding his face to scrubbing roughly through his hair.
“More powerful, stronger. He had more clarity, in comparison he almost looked sickly before the Charlotte cure.” And he looked way hotter, something I knew El would appreciate hearing about later, just as much as the others would appreciate not hearing about now. There was a moment of silence, everyone’s minds turning around the chaos of the morning. “Maybe this whole thing can work in our favor though?”
“How so, Dess?” El asked, biting her lip in confusion.
“I mean when he learned I could see he was a supe, he assumed I was one too. That I was the one he was after. When you think about it, it gives us at least a little advantage—he’ll come after me, not you. Whenever he does come back. He can probably convince his friends from Inferno it’s me too.” Because I no longer had any doubt that he was in league with the fire-manipulator and her blond friend.
“That’s not a good thing, Dess, just a different flavor of the same problem.” El’s eyes flared briefly, a rare view into the powerful shifter lurking beneath.
“Agreed,” Jax added.
“I think you should all do what Char suggested—get out of town as soon as possible. Stay off the radar until we can figure things out. Who knows if he was really after El. Maybe he actually was looking for Dessa,” Sam paused when I threw him a questioning glance. “We don’t know anything about your ability to see auras. El’s said for years she’s never even heard of someone having that ability.”
“And we know nothing about why you have a block that prevents us from feeding off your energy,” Jax said.
“And we know almost nothing about your mother. Who knows, this could be a whole different kind of supernatural animal that’s shown up on our lawn today.” Sam’s face was growing paler as his worry started to build up. “I mean think about it, Dess. I didn’t even meet you, let alone know about you, until your father dropped you on my doorstep years after disappearing from my life. I have no idea how Charlotte knew about you, but she did. And I think we should listen to her. You should all leave. Today, as soon as you can.”
My heart dropped through my stomach. “Sam you wouldn’t come with us if we left?”
He shook his head. “I have The Tavern to run and I want to see what I can find out on my end. I’ll just slow you guys down. But we’ll find a way to check in. It’s not going to be forever, just until we have some answers.”
“But what if Michael comes back? If he’s as dangerous as we think he might be, I doubt he’s just going to willingly leave you alone. And running away, is that really what any of us should do? Running away never solves problems it just sounds like we are going to place a really weak bandaid on a super big wound.” Even though I tried to cover it up, the panic was clear in my voice.
“Yeah, Sam. Maybe we should all stay. I mean we did just buy all those groceries. Kind of a waste if we just peaced off.” El was as uncomfortable with leaving Sam behind as I was. Even if she tried to cover it up with a poor attempt at humor—an attempt that only made her look more upset.
“I’ll be fine. But I don’t want you guys here. Not if Michael can just zip in and out whenever he wants. We know nothing of his power or his intentions.” Sam’s tone held a note of authority, one of the few times since I’d known him that he used the fatherly ‘this is final’ voice.