Spent (Wrecked #2)

by Charity Parkerson

  “It’s spells.”

  Sol’s hand found the small of her back as he leaned over her shoulder. “Yes. Some as old as time. Which reminds me… give me a moment. I need to gather a few things.”

  Without waiting for her response, Sol disappeared. While she waited, Bailey flipped through the pages, attempting to discern what she read. A few symbols with notes, naming them as meant to reveal hidden objects, caught her eye. Her hand hovered over the page. An idea snuck in. Perhaps this was her ticket to freedom—at least, as much as she’d ever be free here. Before her mother’s death, Bailey had witnessed the power of magic. She didn’t know what she was looking for—exactly, but Bailey knew she had to find a way to escape Lucien. As much as she still loved him, they’d be one-sided for all of eternity if she couldn’t find a way to even the playing field.

  Sol reappeared, arms laden with different herbs. He dumped his haul on the desk and set to work. Bailey spent a minute tapping her fingers on the book, trying to make up her mind while watching Sol chop and mix. Coming to a decision, she went out on a limb.

  “May I borrow this?”

  Sol didn’t bother to glance up from the concoction he was making. “No offense, but I don’t loan my books. The spines end up creased. People dog-ear pages, spill food on them, or simply disappear. My books are like old friends. I think about them from time to time and wonder where they’ve ended up after they’re gone.” He finally met her gaze. “Feel free to read it here, if you’d like.”

  Taking him at his word, Bailey snatched up the book and ran to the chair. With her feet tucked beneath her, she balanced it on her knees and flipped through the pages.

  “Do you believe in magic?”

  It was Bailey’s turn to keep her eyes glued on what she was doing. “Of course. Not only was I born and raised in New Orleans, my mom practiced witchcraft and read tarot cards. Do you think any of these spells work?”

  Sol chuckled. “Of course. I wrote it.”

  Bailey’s head shot up. “Seriously?” Sol’s expectant expression made her wonder if he’d been waiting for her reaction. Obviously getting the one he wanted, Sol’s smile turned bright.

  “Yes. Seriously. Now, whether they’ll work for you remains to be seen, but I’m not against you trying.”

  “Too bad you won’t let me borrow it. There’s no way I can commit all this to memory.”

  Without responding, Sol went back to his task. As she looked on, he pulled a small sachet from inside his desk and scooped the concoction into it before pulling the string tight. Sol stood and moved to her side. For a full minute, he simply stood over her, staring at her as if mulling over a problem.

  “I said you couldn’t borrow it, but I never said you couldn’t have it.” Before she could ask a single question, Sol snagged the book from her lap and set it aside. “Here’s the thing,” he said, pulling Bailey to her feet. “If you want it, you have to do a few things for me first.”

  Common sense stopped her from agreeing immediately. “What sort of things?”

  A dimple appeared at the corner of Sol’s mouth as he visibly fought not to smile. “Don’t sound so suspicious. It’s nothing too horrible.”

  While still clinging to Sol’s hands, Bailey squared her shoulders. “Okay, shoot.”

  “First, tell me why you want it.”

  She really didn’t want to. “I thought you said it was nothing too terrible,” Bailey said with a nervous chuckle.

  Sol tightened his hold on her hands. “Nothing could be simpler. You can tell me anything. No judgments. I doubt there’s anything you can do I haven’t done times ten.”

  With a snort, Bailey shook her head. “Ugh. I feel a little stupid, but I need to ward my home against unwanted spirits.”

  Sol’s gaze moved over her face. “Once again, I need to point out that apartment isn’t your home, but if you’re determined, I’m sure you’ll find something inside to help you.” He took a step closer. His face darkened. Bailey fought the urge to take a step back. “Next thing, I’m about to kiss you again. I need you to brace yourself because I’m not holding back this time. My powers can be overwhelming.”

  “Braggart.”

  Sol covered her mouth with his before the taunt finished leaving her lips. His warning wasn’t enough. Not by a longshot. If the flames of hell were made of pleasure, then she was burning alive. She could feel each stroke of his tongue against every inch of her skin. Her channel pulsed in time with his exploration of her mouth. If she had a brain cell left, ordering her to kiss him back, it was only because she needed to drive him on. Bailey feared if he stopped for a second, death would follow.

  She was certain she was climbing his body, seeking release, but Bailey couldn’t stop the out-of-control sensation trapping her. With her ass gripped between his hands, Sol hauled her against him. The instant his erection collided with her skin, Bailey exploded. Her orgasm took her knees out from underneath her. Only Sol’s hold kept her from falling. Pulling away, Bailey buried her face in the crook of his neck and fought for air. It didn’t matter that she didn’t need oxygen. Her body refused to give up the habit.

  His fingertips smoothed her spine as she slowly regained her senses. Whispered words brushed her ear, but hearing failed her. Before she realized what she was doing, Bailey placed a light kiss against his throat. A sense of nostalgia rolled over her. The way he smelled called to something trapped at the back of her mind. She snorted.

  “I’m almost afraid to ask what you’ll want next.”

  Sol shook with barely suppressed laughter. The low chuckle vibrated against her ear, making her smile. “I want your name.”

  His answer had her pulling back to see his face. “You know my name.”

  Sol’s smile didn’t falter. “Your full name.”

  Bailey shook her head in confusion. She didn’t understand why he wanted it, but it seemed simple enough. “It’s Bailey Leanne Dupart.”

  “Bailey Leanne Dupart.” It didn’t sound as if he was testing the name on his tongue. More like, he didn’t believe her.

  “You’re repeating my words again.”

  Sol’s grin grew. “You’re lying to me again, but that’s okay. Come find me when you remember your real name.” Bailey wanted to argue. Sol didn’t give her time. “Until then, take this.” He waved his hand over the book. A duplicate appeared. While Bailey stared in awe, Sol handed it over, along with the velvet bag he’d put together, adding, “And this. You said your apartment wouldn’t let you leave some days. That doesn’t happen unless a dark entity casts a spell, trapping you there. When you’re ready to accept you don’t belong there, turn the tables on your captor by keeping him locked inside. All you need to do is spread this across the entryway.”

  Suspicion she hated crept in. “Why are you helping me?” Because nothing was ever free, she knew.

  “Who says I am?”

  He looked a little too innocent for her liking. “I do.”

  “This isn’t help, Bailey,” he said, leaning in and brushing his lips across hers once more before pulling away. “This is greed.”

  “I’d like to think I’ll leave this place one day, but I’m not sure that’s true. They can unlock the door any day, but it won’t matter. I’m trapped in a prison with no chains or bars. It will always be that way.”

  —Bailey’s Journal, B.D.

  Chapter 5

  Then…

  Wednesday nights were the only night Masked Image closed. Joe, the shop’s owner, probably wouldn’t have chosen to shut down then either, if it weren’t for the severe lack of customers on those nights. Bailey was thankful for the break. What she needed more than anything, besides Lucien, was alcohol. Lots of it. She couldn’t stand another night of searching her mind and the net for any sign Lucien was more than a dream. Her sanity couldn’t take it. Two months. It had been two months since the last time they’d spoken. One night, they were together. The next, poof, he was gone. No amount of searching turned up a single thing. It was as if L
ucien Sephtis was nothing more than a figment of her imagination.

  Three shots in, and with a fourth in hand, a solid warmth pressed against her back. Without having to look, she knew it was Lucien. She knew his scent. The exact way he felt. Everything. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to keep from melting into his hold.

  “I’ve been looking for you.”

  Bailey snorted. “I’ve been looking for you too,” she said before tossing back the shot. He had no idea how much she meant those words. This man, he disappeared like smoke every time she let him out of her sight. With the glass set aside, she pulled Lucien away from the bar where they could speak in private, and gave him her full attention before adding, “But look how easy I was to find. I wonder why that doesn’t go both ways.”

  Lucien didn’t react to her taunts. His patient expression said he was willing to wait out whatever ridiculousness she had going on. Bailey sighed. He didn’t understand. Lucien would never get what he was doing to her because he didn’t know her past. The man appeared and disappeared from her life, leaving her wrecked from the loss. Sometimes, weeks passed without a word. Yet she couldn’t resist him when he returned. Internet searches of his name turned up nothing. She lied to herself, thinking his obvious foreign birth accounted for his lack of records. It was as if—when they were apart—he didn’t exist. The impact of him on her life couldn’t be denied. She questioned her sanity all over again every time he left. Perhaps he was only a dream after all.

  “I went to your apartment last night,” she said, hoping to shake something loose. The shadow passing over his face could’ve meant anything at all. Bailey didn’t trust herself enough to decipher his reactions. “It wasn’t there. Like, the whole building. It didn’t exist.” His expression remained blank, making her suspicions grow. Anyone in their right mind would’ve responded to such a declaration. “You don’t seem surprised.”

  “Sorry. I was waiting for the punchline.”

  Bailey wanted to growl, throw her arms wide, and scream she wasn’t crazy. Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure that was true. Tears filled her eyes. Bailey tilted her head back, blinking against them. For the thousandth time, she reminded herself how little Lucien knew about her. That was her fault. She’d been incapable of saying the words aloud, explaining how much she’d lost in the past. Telling him would make it real again. Would he look at her the way everyone else did? Would she always be the woman who saw things that weren’t there—loved people who were only real in her mind?

  Stamping down the pain, Bailey tried saving herself before she ended up institutionalized… again. “I don’t want to see you anymore.”

  Lucien’s fist slammed into the wall next to Bailey’s head, making her flinch. If he drew any attention their way, Bailey missed it. She was too mesmerized by his fury. Even though Lucien kept his tone soft, he still spoke through clenched teeth. “Do you mind telling me exactly what the fuck I did wrong?”

  Lucien’s smoke-colored eyes became almost iridescent in his fury. Bailey couldn’t move. This was what she’d been wanting. She needed him enraged. Maybe then he’d feel a quarter of the anger she did. Now that she’d gotten a reaction, she hated it. She was more alone than ever. Her throat swelled, making it hard to speak. She’d never seen him like this before. The crack in his indifference was her undoing.

  “I don’t.” Bailey swallowed, doing her damnedest not to cry. A tear ran down her cheek, betraying her. It was another failure in a long list for her. Lucien cupped her face, his hand visibly shaking. As he wiped away her tears, his eyes followed the motion of his fingers. She couldn’t look away. “I don’t like the way I feel when we're apart—as if you’re not real. We don’t exist.” Her voice broke on the confession.

  Lucien leaned away, tugging the chain of her necklace out of his shirt as he went. “This is an Obol,” he said, holding her stare. “It’s an ancient coin used to pay the Ferryman for safe passage.” He took her hand and pressed the piece of gold between their palms. “That’s one hell of a coincidence. Don’t you think?” Without waiting for her answer, he added, “Do you know why your mother said it only has one side?”

  Bailey shook her head, incapable of speech.

  “Because it belongs to one soul—our soul. Do you have any idea how unusual this piece is? It’s as rare as soul mates. Yet here we are.” Dropping the coin, he gripped her chin, forcing her to hold his gaze. Bailey thought her heart couldn’t break any more than it already was, but she was wrong. Lucien’s broken expression shattered what was left. “You’re right,” he said as his hand fell away from her face. “I should’ve done my job and gone my way.” Bailey’s chest hurt. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get his words to make sense. “I’m sorry for being too weak to stay away from you. It won’t happen again.”

  Everything inside Bailey cried out in protest as Lucien tensed to move away. She snagged his shirt with both hands and held tight. A look of shock crossed Lucien’s features as she hauled him closer. “You still don’t get it.” Even to herself, she sounded furious. “It’s the leaving I can’t withstand.” She drew him even closer. Going up on her toes, Bailey went nose to nose with Lucien. “Stop fucking leaving me,” she growled, enunciating each word. As she said the words, Bailey realized how true they were. She was angry about his secrets, but it didn’t change how much she loved him. Even if he had a secret wife somewhere, keeping him away. At least then she’d know it wasn’t her. If he left her again with no answers, the gnawing fear at the back of her mind would eat her whole. The fear that he was all in her mind. The stricken look on his face made her heart sink.

  “I don’t have a choice in the matter, Bailey. I’m not allowed to stay here.”

  Bailey wanted to scream and stamp her feet. Anything. She needed the truth. “Why?”

  For the first time, Lucien must have understood her desperation, because his entire demeanor changed. She knew then, they were truly over. As if she weighed nothing, he pulled out of her hold and took a step back. “Because you’re right, Bailey. When we’re apart, I don’t exist.”

  No. Her heart screamed a denial so loudly she wasn’t sure if she’d done so aloud. He took another step back. Bailey’s shock kept her glued in place. She couldn’t find the strength to stop him. Ten minutes after he left, she was still staring at the place where he’d been, attempting to make sense of it all. It couldn’t be happening again. Bailey couldn’t withstand losing her mind twice. There had to proof of him somewhere. Every second they’d spent together ran through her mind. Where had they been together? Had he spoken to anyone she knew? Derringer, maybe? No. Not a single instance came to mind. Other than tonight, they’d been alone.

  Casting a nervous look around, Bailey searched the faces of the club’s patrons for any sign she’d been standing there arguing with herself. Everyone else was occupied with their own thing. A surveillance camera hanging in the corner caught her eye. There was no way she could finagle seeing their footage, but Masked Image had security cameras inside. Bailey’s feet were moving toward the door before any real plan of action took hold. Mortification tried creeping in. What if Joe scanned the feed occasionally? Bailey shrugged off the idea. If there was anything to see, she’d be so damn grateful she wouldn’t care if her boss got a show. Anything beat being crazy. Anything at all.

  She didn’t experience one iota of guilt using her key to sneak into the shop on her day off. This was an emergency. Leaving the lights off, she threw the lock behind her and moved to Joe’s office. Everything was digital and stored on Joe’s computer. She’d been working there for long enough, she’d simply forgotten the cameras existed. They were there in case there was an issue with a customer, something that didn’t happen often.

  Bailey pushed past the effects of alcohol, searching her brain for the date she’d first met Lucien. When nothing came to mind, she found Joe’s calendar and counted back ten months until she found the date. She entered the numbers into the computer and waited. Her image appeared on th
e screen and Bailey leaned closer. Fast-forwarding, she watched the timer in the corner tick down the hours. Nothing. She’d worked on sketches the entire night. Panic set in. Moving to the next night, when Lucien had closed the shop for a quick tryst, Bailey watched the footage on high-speed. As she looked on, her banter with Derringer played out across the screen. Just as she remembered, he backed out the door, laughing. From there, nothing. Instead of Lucien appearing, she’d settled onto the barstool behind the counter, put her head down, and slept.

  Bailey jumped to her feet. A cry tore from her throat. Attempting to hold it in, Bailey covered her mouth. It was happening all over again. She let the recording speed by, watching as night after night there was no sign of Lucien.

  “It was terrible. Poor thing. They say her screams could be heard across the lawn in ward two.”

  Bailey kept her eyes closed, pretending to sleep. She couldn’t deal with the pitying glances.

  “How long has she been out?”

  Janie, Bailey’s regular nurse, had been training a new girl for the past two days as Bailey feigned unconsciousness. Bailey had learned more about herself from listening to their gossip than she had from any doctor throughout her entire stay.

  Janie sighed. “Four days. Dr. Richardson worried this might happen when she finally had her breakthrough. Can you imagine, believing with all your heart you’d met the love of your life and the two of you are having a child, only to wake up one day to find none of it was real?”

  The sharp knife in Bailey’s heart twisted. She almost gave herself away by clasping her flat stomach. There was no stopping the tears streaming from her eyes. She hadn’t stopped crying since she’d awoken to just the reality Janie described four days earlier. Bailey wondered if her eyes would ever be dry again.