Crux

by Julie Reece

  I pour a glass and sit across from Jeff. I follow his gaze to Fenris, who drags a rosebush by the roots across the backyard. Uncomfortable, I shift in my chair and pretend I don’t see my dog’s annihilation of the plant or the deepening line between Jeff’s brows.

  “Hey, thanks again for letting us crash here,” I say in an attempt at small talk.

  No answer.

  “Are you married, Jeff? Do you have family in Atlanta?”

  He tears his attention from whatever my dog is mangling in the backyard and turns to me. “I was married, once. Had a son. That ended long, long ago.”

  You’re a conversational phenom, Jeff. “Sorry.” I sip my juice. “So what do you, like, do? For a living, I mean, ’cause this is an awesome house.”

  The corner of Jeff’s mouth lifts a bit. “I come from old money. I’ve dealt in antiquities most of my life, but the destruction of Alarr has been my priority for some time.”

  “Gotcha.” I run my finger around the rim of my crystal glass ’til it whistles.

  A clock ticks somewhere. Jeff’s watery blue eyes stay fixed on the garden, but I suspect his thoughts go far beyond. There’s something interminable about the guy I can’t explain, but I’ve grown to like the old geezer. I remember the day we met, how miserable he looked. Staring at him now inspires me to sketch him, his pain. Maybe I’ll get the chance.

  “The day we met,” I say. “Why did you hand out all that money? Why did you involve those other people and not come talk to me alone?”

  “I needed to get your attention.”

  Check.

  “And to make it worth your while to talk to me. In truth, I hoped you’d feel beholden, enough to listen to my story and hear my proposition.”

  Another score.

  He lifts his hand. “The others were lucky bystanders. Would you have spoken to me if I approached you alone? I think not. As for the others, they were a means to an end, any soul can benefit from my restitution. Money means nothing to me, but it might to them.”

  “Lucky?” Tell that to the dead guy. I hoped the anonymous phone call I’d made to the cops, complete with detailed descriptions of the three losers, would assist in their apprehension. “You know those men who followed me are hunting the others down? For the money.” Money you gave them. “Shouldn’t you … we help with that?”

  “Do you think I’ve got nothing better to do than follow up on every good deed I perform?”

  “No. Well, yeah, actually. I mean, isn’t that your shtick? Especially if you know something is wrong. You are Mr. Nosy-Do-Gooder in a trench coat, after all.”

  The corner of his mouth twists up.

  Mine curls in response, and I laugh. “Uh huh, see. We’re having a moment, aren’t we?”

  “Birdie, I gave the money away to help them. But I can neither aid nor prevent what happens afterward. Best to stick to the plan. We can prevail best in that effort.”

  I drop the subject, though I don’t agree. “You talked about regrets for choosing the wrong path. What did you mean?”

  “I’m weary, Birdie. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about those people, but the quest is my focus for now.”

  My head bobs in understanding. “I get that, but—”

  “I’ve made many mistakes. Sinned against God and my family. It’s time for the reckoning. I’m much older than I appear.”

  “Oh, I dunno.” I think he looks pretty old now.

  “Older doesn’t always mean wiser. What I said that day was … I put impatience and greed over duty and faith. I’ve a lot to atone for.”

  His vague answers do nothing but heighten my curiosity. “And when you said cursed, and warned us to ‘do good’ with the money … ?” I make air quotes with my fingers.

  “I wasn’t really talking to the others there or about money specifically, though the advice was sound to any who would take heed. I was talking to you—presenting a challenge. I wanted you to avoid the mistakes I’d made. One moment of weakness started a chain of events that have followed my kith and kin like a scourge.” He leans forward, shoulder’s stiff, eyes blistering with intensity. “If you are successful, you will not only end an age of torment …”

  Good, no pressure then.

  “… but you will obtain a prize much larger than the one I’ve already given you.”

  Larger prize … what the heck?

  Answers always lie in riddles with Jeff. I don’t need more wealth. What I need is peace—the same as he. I could live in this house with him, if he’d have me. He has no wife, no kids to care for him in his old age. We’re both alone. Despite our unconventional start, I think we might be good for each other after all. He isn’t exactly the cuddly dad type, but I’m not looking for a dad. That ship sailed long ago.

  “Can you tell me about … your health? I … uh …” Stutter much Bird,? Spit it out. “You said you might die? I mean, are you sick? Have you seen a doctor? Is there something I can do?”

  “Destroy Alarr, and I will be well enough again.”

  I don’t understand Jeff’s tie to Alarr, but his curt answer proves he isn’t going to discuss the matter in detail. “I’ll do it then. I don’t want anything to happen to you. I don’t know why, but you’re kind of growing on me.”

  His eyes widen. “Am I?”

  I shrug. “Well, yeah. You’ve been nice to me, helped me. Once this is over, and things get back to normal, I was thinking, you know, we might stay friends.”

  Jeff nods and gives me a goofy, half smile. “Rebecca Strongwing, the bond between us goes beyond friendship.”

  All right, there’s no call to get mushy.

  My face gets hot. I glance away. Over my shoulder, Fenris drags the trunk of a small tree in his mouth. No! I leap from my chair and run to the door. “Fenris, bad dog!”

  He bounds over, tail wagging. Dirt coats his paws—no, not dirt, Georgia red clay. The stuff’s like paint in its ability to stain. Crap.

  I look to Jeff, who shifts in his chair, as I grab a roll of paper towels off the counter. “Cut it out, Fenris.” I whisper as I wipe at his paws. “You have to be good so we can stay.” I wonder how Jeff views adoption. Too bad I’m eighteen—or just as well. The last candidate I’d championed for my permanent parental unit ended in disaster. Maybe I’ll adopt him.

  Chair legs scrape the tile floor before upending with a clatter. My head snaps up to find Jeff on his feet. His body positions towards the front door. I freeze at the alarm on his face.

  Against my chest, Alarr grows cold, before burning white hot. “Who’s here?” I hiss. “Is it Haddr?”

  “No.” Jeff’s tone is even. “It’s Grey.”

  16

  The fact it’s Grey at the door and not Haddr is better—and worse.

  “Okay, okay, we knew this was coming.” I shove my palms out like I’m holding back the tide. “It’s fine. Just tell him I’m not here, or tell him I am here, but that he can’t talk to me. Oh, but if you say he can’t talk to me, tell him I’m sorry, will ya?”

  Jeff’s mouth presses into a thin line.

  “Sorry, but I don’t want him to hate me. Oh, and don’t forget he needs to give you back his arm band.” I shoo Jeff with my hands as though he’s already agreed. “One more thing, could you maybe tell him …” At Jeff’s glare, my mouth superglues shut.

  Thunderous banging on the front door vibrates through the walls and rattles the windows.

  “Didn’t you change the code at the gate?” I don’t mean it, but the words sound accusatory. Jeff’s eyes narrow. Alarr punishes the skin on my chest with an electric shock. I jog for the stairs.

  “Fear does not become a warrior.” Jeff lunges for me as fast as a serpent’s strike. Quick for an old man, his arm encircles my waist, and he hoists me against his side as if I’m a ten pound cat. As Jeff heads for the front door, my arms and legs dangle beneath me.

  Trouble is, I’m turned backwards. My butt faces forward, and I can only see where we’ve been. “Jeff, I’m begging you. I�
�ll be brave later.” I wriggle and squirm to no avail. “You remember mercy, don’t you? Compassion? For God’s sake, don’t open the door!”

  Relentless, angry, not-to-be-denied pounding continues until I can’t hear my own thoughts.

  A clink of the door handle and a rush of cold air against my pink flannel pajamas clue me in to the view Grey’s seeing right now.

  Fabulous.

  “What the hell … Bird?”

  My skin may actually blister from the embarrassing heat blazing under it.

  Jeff turns to the side and Grey’s confused facial features hit my view.

  I raise a limp hand, defeated. “Sup, Grey?”

  He tilts his head. His eyes dart from Jeff’s down to mine and back, his face contorting in renewed frustration.

  Jeff sets me down into an awkward pigeon-toed stance.

  I straighten and say, “Talk to Jeff, Grey. I’m very sorry, but I need to go now.” Unable—or unwilling—to watch or hear the rejection in Grey’s voice, I bolt for the oak staircase, my innards twisting at my cowardice.

  Well, I warned him, didn’t I?

  Halfway up the steps, Grey says, “Did you agree to this … to her cutting me out?” The ferocity in his tone stops me.

  “No.” Jeff says.

  No? You did, too. Well, more or less, you traitorous oaf.

  “I will see her, Jeff. She owes me that much. Let her tell me to my face I’m out. It’s as much for her as for me, you know that, too.”

  I peek around a newel post. The front door stands twenty feet from my place on the stairs. Jeff is quiet, leaning around Grey and peering down the driveway.

  “Around or through you, man, you decide, but I’m going to talk to her.” Grey’s voice comes out steely and cold.

  Jeff puts his hand on Grey’s shoulder and says, “Take it easy, son. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

  Jeff? For crying out loud, you Benedict Arnold, don’t leave me alone with him!

  My flight or fight alarm blasts thought my skull like an air horn. I don’t want to talk or explain, and I can’t face the disappointment in those blue eyes.

  I race up the stairs. A shock burns through me with the force of a taser gun. I stumble forward, my hands hitting polished wood. My head twists right and brings Grey into view through the balusters. The crouch of his body on the foyer floor below reminds me of a panther ready to strike.

  Crap.

  A split second later, he thrusts upward, his frame soaring fifteen feet into the air. My legs straighten, and I whip around as his feet thud against the steps behind me. Nostrils flaring, his chest heaves beneath his black jacket.

  Power from Alarr floods my muscles with an exhilarating burn. I have to face the guy I like, all he could represent in my life, and tell him to kiss off.

  Life is so pissing me off right now.

  “What’s going on, Bird?” Grey asks. “Talk to me.”

  I harden my resolve. I’m not going to be used by Izzy to hurt Grey’s family. “You’re a smart guy. I think you can figure it out.” I move a step back on the stair. My muscles tighten, poised for escape.

  His shoulders round and press forward, knees bend. We move like two animals in a dance. “You owe me an explanation.”

  “I don’t owe you jack. This is who I am, remember? I warned you. I’m sorry you’re disappointed, but you’re better off.” I flick my hand. “No point dragging this out, so just go.”

  “Not until we talk. Maybe you can walk away and leave things unsettled, but I can’t.”

  “I’ve got nothing to say!” I spin and race up the last few stairs and down the hall. With Grey behind me, his breath on my back like a locomotive, I veer left and dive into a room. I pivot, slamming the door shut.

  Grey’s thrusting arms force it back open, and it shutters on its hinges, hitting the wall behind us with a crack. With one step forward into the opening, he blocks the only exit.

  I hop backward, tripping over a ruby red carpet worn with age. Landing on my hip with a grunt, the throb radiates out from the injured joint. Within seconds, my mind acknowledges the swords, axes, spears, bows and arrows covering a paneled wall of the room. Shelves of musty-smelling books line another. Globes stand in every corner, while maps are strewn over an oak desk and paper across the brown leather sofa.

  Grey’s eyes fix on me, his glare savage. His fists ball at his sides. A muscle in his jaw flexes. His imposing stance tells me he’s not going anywhere until he gets what he came for.

  All right then, Wizard, let’s get this over with.

  With great effort, I hide my pain, relax my coiled muscles, and force my voice to sound calm. “Let it go, Mathews. Things have changed. You don’t always need to know everything—sometimes it’s better when you don’t.”

  “I don’t buy it. Even if that were true, you can’t run from everything either.” His voice is tight.

  I climb to my feet, rubbing my side. “I’m not.”

  “What? You mean your commitment to Jeff? Please.” He gestures toward me with his fisted hand. “You’re running, as hard and fast as you can, Baby.”

  My knees jellify when he calls me baby, and I have to send a mental command to them to keep me upright. God, help me, make him go away. I steady my voice, “What do you want?”

  His fists uncurl, and he blows out a deep breath. He walks to the window and wrestles with lifting the sash. His bicep bulges with effort. At the hint of a gap, the breeze rushes in and tousles his dark hair. He shifts to face me, his expression hard lines, his body movements rigid and tense.

  “Tell me what changed.”

  Hate is a strong word, but I really don’t like Izzy.

  “Let me get you started,” he says. “Izzy?”

  My gasp is more a cough.

  “I know all about it. She went to Kate the night of the concert. I accidentally, on purpose, overheard them talking in the den at my house.” Grey leans back against the windowsill. “Scud and I interrupted before Kate could say much of anything.”

  “Well … dang.”

  “Izzy and I talked. We got everything out on the table. I set her straight on quite a few things that night. But she was never the problem. Not between us, was she? She’s just your excuse. Tell me you know that.” He brushes his hands over his hair, mussing it even further until he looks completely lost. “Tell me the real reason you ran, because I know, even if you don’t.”

  “What do you mean? She was going to tell your parents about me. I couldn’t let her—”

  His palm hits the window frame, rattling the glass. “Dammit, Bird! That’s not going to work. Just say it. If you don’t want me involved, I’ll go, but at least tell me the truth.”

  My lips clamp shut as my protective shield slams into place.

  If I admit I’m falling for him, then what? If Izzy’s right, I’m a temporary distraction that will get her heart crushed like some bug. I can already hear it crunch under the heel of your boot when you leave me. I meet Grey’s probing stare without intention. Sooner or later, everyone leaves. I’ll pass.

  Grey sags against the wall and crosses his arms. Blowing out another breath, he turns to the window, to the rolling thunderheads building in the black sky. They curl in on themselves, puffed up and darkening to the point of bursting—a perfect description of his mood.

  My fingers fumble with Alarr’s chain around my neck. Exhaustion hangs over me like a coat of iron. Stretching upwards, I arch my back to release the mounting stress. I rub the heel of my hand across my forehead, hating the rift between us.

  As I lower my eyes, I realize Grey has turned toward me.

  His gaze fixes on me in a way I’ve never seen before. Like the storm building outside has moved into his body, visibly raging through the windows of his eyes.

  I start to ask him what’s wrong when he shifts forward. With determination in his stride, he penetrates my shield. I take a step back but manage no more than that when I’m blocked by a wall of maps.

  He m
eets me where I stand and takes my face in his strong hands. His long fingers bury themselves in my hair. My body tenses beneath his touch. His calloused thumb is rough and hard as he rubs the line of my jaw, down my neck to the hollow in my throat.

  “Say it,” he whispers. “Tell me. Because you know I feel the same way. You got scared, didn’t you?”

  A tear runs down my cheek. Invisible bands tighten around my heart.

  “Didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  His breathing quickens. He lowers his head, and I barely have time to process as he tentatively touches his lips to mine. His breath is cool, like peppermint and winter.

  Too stunned at first to object, Grey must take that as a sign of encouragement. He presses his mouth harder against mine, moving and demanding as if searching for a passion to mirror his own. I close my eyes. His lips are soft, moist. His breathing comes in steady pulses against my face. He eases away and gently grabs my bottom lip with his teeth, nipping at me before running gentle kisses up the side of my face to my ear.

  “Rebecca,” he whispers. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

  His voice controls me like a hypnotist’s. My lids get sleepy. It’s hard to focus.

  He covers my mouth with his, claiming it again. I sigh, and his tongue slips inside, exploring gently, but unyielding, teasing my lips and tongue until I’m weak. My hands travel over his shoulders and clasp behind his neck. I pull him toward me, return the fervency of his kiss. My head spins. Color explodes inside my brain like a kaleidoscope.

  Heat floods my body. My heart gallops inside my chest. Grey’s knee brushes against my leg and comes to rest against the wall, further hemming me in. His hands move down my waist to my hips. He pulls me closer, if that’s possible.

  My eyes fly open at the pressure of his body against mine. What is happening between us penetrates my shock. My amazing, talented, sexy Guardian is kissing me. Me!

  Forever changing … well, only everything.

  Alarr’s strength seeps into my bones, and I push against him. I’m panting like a marathon runner. Realization breaks upon me like waves against a blind cliff wall. I now see so clearly what he’s been feeling for who knows how long. The girl Grey Mathews wants is me? The girl with no past to share and no future to offer. Jane Doe? It doesn’t make sense.