by Davis, SJ
He looked over his shoulder as Lena took another step forward.
“That’s right, Lena” he said. “Come o--.”
***
The God’s elbow crashed down on Detective Stan Spaulding’s nose. There was a spurt of blood and the man crumpled like a rag doll at his feet. Lena froze in place for one long moment, the red oar held high in her left hand, then she turned and raced for the water dragging Aurora behind her by the arm.
“You can’t get away,” he said calmly, stooping to retrieve the fallen officer’s gun. Checking the magazine, he strolled casually toward the dock.
Before him, his Goddesses scattered. The Goddess of the moon chose the red kayak. She slipped away from the dock, paddling hard. The Goddess of the dawn entered the woods. He stood, weighing their odds for success. Aurora wasn’t dressed for a night in the wild; with the heavy chain still clamped around her neck and no shoes on her feet she would fail to elude him as she had every time before. He put the safety on and tucked the gun into his waistband. It was Selene Walker who would meet her maker first.
The second kayak was stored behind the bunkhouse for the winter. The God pulled it out and dragged it to the water’s edge. Slipping into the rear seat, he pushed away from shore as the cold rain turned to snow. Light flakes landed on the silver Sea Eagle and melted away as he cleared the dock and paddled after her. He paused once to glance over his shoulder. Aurora was gone; Stan Spaulding lay motionless on the ground. Turning his full attention to the task at hand, he paddled harder. The kayak shot forward as Selene Walker pulled up to the opposite bank and ran toward her cabin.
***
Gasping for breath, Lena splashed through the shallow water and raced across the meadow. Once lush and green, it was brown now, dormant. The tall grass was trampled flat by countless pairs of police-issue boots. A Big Moose Properties sign announced that the cabin was for sale. Odin hadn’t been lying, about one thing, at least.
She reached the front porch and tried the door. It was locked. The windows across the front of the building were closed and locked as well. She turned back toward the water. He was halfway across. Running for the outhouse, she prayed that the spare key was still in place above the door. Her hand patted top of the stud as her hopes dimmed. It wasn’t where she usually kept it. She tried the right wall, then the left. He was three-quarters of the way across the pond when her fingers finally grasped it. Retracing her steps to the cabin, she fit the key into the lock and turned the knob. The door swung open silently.
As The God drew closer, she entered her home for the first time in weeks. It was cold and dark inside. Her belongings sat packed into boxes on the living room floor. How quickly Alex had given up on her, she thought. How quickly they all had.
Her eyes continued to search the room. In the corner, she found what she was looking for. Her old bow was still there, resting against the wall, dusty and neglected. The quiver of arrows she’d asked Alex to bring from Connecticut sat beside it, overturned. Lena stood for a moment more, before the sound of gravel under the hull of the Sea Eagle spurred her to action. She shut and locked the door behind her, grabbed her bow and three arrows, and took the stairs to the master bedroom. Closing the door behind her, she placed an arrow against the bowstring and backed into the corner, waiting.
***
The God watched The Moon Goddess open the door of her sanctuary. He smiled grimly. It would not be a sanctuary for long. He pulled the kayak onto shore and shook the snow from his hair. Slowly, he walked toward the building. On the porch, he reached forward and tried the knob. Locked. He grunted with effort as he kicked the door. There was a loud crack and it swung inward on splintered hinges. Drawing Stan Spaulding’s pistol from the waistband of his pants, he switched off the safety. Then, he entered the cabin and looked around.
At first glance, there appeared to be no one downstairs. He looked behind the kitchen counter and opened the door to the added-on room where she kept the toilet. She wasn’t there. That left the upstairs rooms or the outbuildings. He checked the windows on the rear of the house first. They were shut and locked from the inside. That narrowed her options considerably; she had to be in one of the two bedrooms.
He strode across the room purposefully, his footsteps echoing in the stagnant air, stopping at the base of the stairwell. “If you come out now, Selene, I’ll let you live,” he called.
It was a lie, of course. None of his goddesses would live to see the dusk. Not Maeve, chained to the bed in his cabin, nor Selene with her swollen belly. Not even his precious Aurora, who’d managed to beat the odds for nineteen long months. It was time for him to move on and start fresh. The thought sent a tremor through his strong lean body. He loved beginnings.
Taking the steps slowly, The God stretched out the suspense of her capture. One step, wait, another, wait. He imagined her terror as she anticipated his arrival at the bedroom door. One more step. Another. “I’m almost there!” he chanted softly. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”
Six, seven, eight. He stopped on the ninth step. The landing loomed before him, a door to either side. He chose the left one first and searched the room quickly. No one in the closet, no one under the bed, no one hanging from the window.
There was only one room left. His heart beat faster as the kill loomed imminent. He turned and crossed the floor quickly, paused before the bedroom door, and threw it open, eyes wide and eager.
He was right. She was there.
***
Lena listened from the master bedroom as Odin roamed through the rooms of her house. Her stomach clenched the way it had when she’d spotted a prime buck on her first hunting trip with her father, a lifetime ago. This hunt was different, though; it was no buck deer she hoped to kill.
She took a deep breath and willed her hands to steady. When his feet touched the stairwell, she raised the bow before her, placed her chosen arrow against the bowstring, and drew it taut. The wait was interminable. She counted the stairs as he climbed, held her breath as he chose a door, and exhaled shakily when he entered the adjoining room.
Can I do it? She asked herself. Can I kill a man?
Outside the window, the snow swirled in the waning light. The adjoining door closed and his footsteps crossed the hall. She watched as the knob turned beneath his hand and took another deep breath. He’s not a God or a person, she told herself, he’s a demon. Closing her eyes, she pictured the satyr, the mythical man-goat she’d seen in his paintings.
No, she thought, as the door swung inward, she could not kill a man. But she could kill a beast.
Calm descended upon her. Selene Walker opened her eyes, took aim, and let the arrow fly.
Epilogue
The June day was hot and humid. Lena lay back on the dock and let the sun bath her pale skin. In the meadow, Ersa shrieked and laughed as Jake threw her over his shoulder and galloped through the daisies. Across the pond, the family was unpacking their car. She could hear the kids shouting back and forth as they explored their new home.
Marge Quimby had made a special trip to The Black Swan to give her the news: she would finally have neighbors; the place across the pond had rented for the summer.
It was the first time the owners had leased it out since the year that Odin Andreassen had wreaked his havoc on Breakneck Ridge. She listened to the whoops of joy as the teenagers ran down the dock and recalled the day she’d learned that they were coming.
“They’re a nice enough family,” Marge had said, standing before the bar. “A professor and his wife with two teenagers. A boy and a girl. They’ll be here from the middle of June until Labor Day.”
“It’s about time the place was rented,” Lena replied diplomatically. “It’s been empty for long enough.”
“I didn’t know how you’d feel about it after everything that happened.”
“It’s just a camp, Marge. There’s nothing wrong with someone enjoying it.”
“The kids are fourteen and sixteen. They’re bound to be nuisance
s.”
Lena smiled despite herself. “Well, I was fourteen myself once upon a time…I doubt they’ll be too bad.”
Marge wrinkled her nose as she divulged her last bit of information. “They’re bringing a motorboat with them. 50 horsepower for waterskiing. It’ll be a little noisy on the pond this summer, I’m afraid. Sorry about that, but you’ve got no homeowner’s association to discourage it.”
Lena smiled, again. “I don’t mind a little noise, Marge. Maybe they’ll teach me to ski if I let them use my boat ramp. Lord knows, I don’t use it.”
Marge drew up a stool and shook her head. “I’m surprised you and Jake still spend so much time up there after everything that happened that summer.”
Lena shrugged. “Blackwater Pond’s not to blame - it’s beautiful and peaceful. I love it. It’s my home.”
“You’re nothing if not resilient, Selene.” Marge picked up a menu and perused the specials of the day. “Speaking of which, do you still hear from Aurora Nixon?”
“All the time. She lives in Bangor now. Ersa and I visited her just last month. She’s getting married in the fall.”
“Not to that boyfriend she had in high school?” Marge closed the menu and pushed it away.
“No,” Lena said. “Jim’s a doctor. I like him a lot. He treats Aura like gold.”
“Poor Stan, he’ll be sorry to hear the news. He was some sweet on her as I recall.”
“Stan will live. Word around town has it he’s dating Pam Desjardin.”
“Him along with everyone else,” Marge said. “Has Aurora been back here since it happened?”
Lena shook her head. “I’ve invited her but she says she’s not ready.”
“Who can blame her? Especially with that Maeve girl still in the picture.”
“Maeve’s hardly a threat,” Lena said. “Her parole bid was just rejected. She’ll have to serve 5 more years before she’s eligible again.”
“Thank God,” Marge said. She pushed the stool away and stood. “Well, that’s enough gossip for one day, I suppose. I just wanted you to know that you’ll have neighbors and not to worry. Their references are solid. They’re nice folks.”
“Thanks for the heads-up Marge.” Lena turned back to her customers as Marge Quimby let herself out the door onto the pier. Neighbors. She shivered, shook it off, and finished Patty’s order. It was bound to happen sooner or later. She’d survive.
***
“Are they here yet?” Ersa ran to the end of the dock, interrupting Lena’s reverie. She clapped her hands and looked across the pond eagerly, blonde hair hanging down her back, straight and fine. She’d turned five in April; was starting kindergarten in the fall. Ersa, Goddess of the dew, her own personal miracle. Lena couldn’t believe how fast the time had gone.
“Yes,” she said.
“Can we go over?” Her daughter jumped up and down, clapping her hands with unsuppressed enthusiasm.
“Let’s give them a day or two to get settled,” Lena said. She pulled Ersa onto her lap and tickled her under the chin.
“The kids are fourteen and sixteen?” Jake said, collapsing on the dock’s edge and dangling his feet in the water. He was sweating in the afternoon heat.
“Uh huh.” Lena put her arm over his shoulder. “God, Jake, you’re soaked! Did she wear you out?”
Jake nodded. He leaned across Ersa and whispered in Lena’s ear. “I wonder if the kids babysit?”
Lena smiled and ran her hand through Jake’s dirty-blonde hair. He’d shaved his winter beard and was deeply tanned from days spent roofing the newest mega-mansion at Toe of the Boot. He smelled of sweat and dirt and beer. She breathed him in and rested her head on his shoulder, strong and sturdy. “We can always hope.”
“Hope for what?” Ersa said.
“Nothing, Squirrel.” Jake rose to his feet and scooped her up. “Let’s go make lunch for Mommy, okay? She has to work tonight.”
At the reminder, Lena sighed. The season had started; it would be a busy night in The Black Swan. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sounds of the family moving in, thinking of Aurora.
She knew her best friend would be pleased by the news. Blackwater Pond deserved a summer of peaceful happy memories after the pall that The God had left behind.
The God. She shivered, frowned, and pushed the bad thoughts away. Odin Andreassen, whoever he was, was gone; the memories he’d created had dimmed. Maybe this was the summer that Aurora would finally come for a visit and the two of them could put it all behind them. It had been long enough.
The haunting cry of a Loon echoed across Blackwater Pond. There were two chicks this year. She watched the adults dive and surface as they taught their young to fish. In a rare display of territoriality, Zephyr lifted his head, woofed once, and collapsed, panting. He was old now, half-deaf with bad hips, still at his happiest whenever they made the trip to Breakneck Ridge and the cabin. Ersa wanted a puppy, but Lena had put it off, insisting that Zephyr deserved his dignity in his old age.
The smell of grilled cheese sandwiches drifted across the meadow. Lena stood and stretched. She walked down the dock and stepped onto the grass just as Ersa pushed the cabin door open and raced across the meadow, stopping to pick a daisy.
“For you, Mommy,” she said, continuing to the dock and thrusting it into Lena’s hand. “There’s more inside. Daddy and I picked lots!”
Lena kissed the tip of her nose and looked into her eyes, pale gray and flecked with brown.
“It’s beautiful,” she said. “Thank you.”
She swung Ersa into the air and caught her, setting her down gently. Ersa Diana Aurora Morris; “Rory” to her friends, “Squirrel” to Jake. Ersa, her tiny goddess and personal miracle. The love of her life.
“Come along, sweetie,” she said, taking her daughter’s hand. “It’s getting late. Let’s see what Daddy’s made us for lunch.”
Marcus
A Black Lily Club
Story
BY
CHELLE
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, including photocopying, recording, or transmitted by any means without written consent of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Characters, establishments, names, companies, organizations and events were created by the author. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or actual events, companies or organizations is coincidental.
Published by Hot Ink Press
Text Copyright 2013 by Chelle
Cover by SK Whiteside
Chapter 1
At last I received an invitation to The Black Lily. After two months of waiting to get into this private BDSM club, I’ll be there tonight at nine. For two weeks I’ve done nothing but prepare for this evening, down to every last detail. Even my bikini wax turned more into a full body wax, but the club made their expectations perfectly clear.
I’m taking no chances and following all of their guidelines to the letter. This morning the outfit I’m to wear arrived with a black lily and a note explaining I’m to wear what is in the box and nothing else. Twice they reminded not to forget the lily. Along with my attire, I’m required to fill out consent forms and medical release papers. Everything is official.
With the outfit they gave me leaving nothing to the imagination, I’ve chosen to wear my hair down in an effort to cover me somewhat. However, the black corset with the blood red laces in the front and back does make me look curvy and sexy all in one nicely tied package. The skirt, if you can call it that, is nothing but a small slip of satin that barely covers my ass. Though I can hardly walk in the ‘fuck-me’ five inch black patent leather strappy shoes, they accentuate my legs to perfection. I look damn good in this outfit and whoever picked it out has amazing taste.
With no idea who sent the invitation, I grab my coat and the lily and head out the door, having no idea who sent the invitation. I start the car and head down the street and my mind wanders as to what this night will hold.
How does a thirty-year-old woman get to this point?
I’m pretty successful in everything I do, well, everything except relationships. I run my own store making and selling body care products. I run an Internet site for the purchase of my products and teach classes on the uses of herbs and plants for homeopathic remedies.
While I don’t claim to be a model, I’m not bad looking by any means, but most men are looking for a damsel in distress, not one who can take care of herself. My last so-called relationship only lasted six months over three years ago. James was a little rough around the edges. Well more than a little. A typical man, he wanted me to sell my business because it took time away from him and his needs. Though he may have wanted a maid and chef, he couldn’t afford to pay the bills on his own. He didn’t want to take care of me, he just wanted me around for his own selfish needs. I told him that on his way out the door after a fight about my business, and haven’t heard from him since. Not that I mind.
I’m not sure what is wrong in my relationships anyway. When it comes to men, something is missing. In the past I’ve been called frigid or cold, and I just can’t seem to let go during sex. I get off alone so there isn’t something medically wrong with me, but I can’t get there with a guy, no matter what he does. Some tried more than others. Maybe, this bondage club is what I need. At this point, anything is worth a try. If I don’t figure something out, I’m going to end up with my battery-operated boyfriend.