by Sara DeHaven
“I’m not sure I can make the Space Needle with this,” Hunter went on with single minded intensity. “You have to sort of move both knobs at the same time to get bendy lines, and it’s hard.”
Bree admired his handiwork, caught up on a bit of news with Kevin and Steve, then started to wonder what had happened to her drink. She decided to go back to the kitchen, where no doubt Sophie had been detained. She greeted several other friends and acquaintances as she squeezed her way across the living room and down the hall.
When she reached the kitchen doorway, the first person she saw was Daniel. Bree’s stomach gave a nervous lurch at the sight of him. He was leaning against the counter across from the door, and he was all in black. Black jeans, a black t-shirt with some kind of writing on it, and an open black button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He’d gotten a hair cut, and his hair was standing up in punkish spikes. He was holding a bottle of beer by the neck and taking a sip when she first caught sight of him.
The movement at the door must have caught his eye because he looked at her as she paused there. Bree could have sworn an actual electric current passed between them. Daniel didn’t smile or make any kind of greeting. He was listening to Bruce, who was in the middle of some animated story. Bruce’s friend Howard was standing with them, his back to Bree, and when he shifted his weight, he blocked Bree’s view of Daniel, which was a relief.
Bree realized with some embarrassment that she’d been standing frozen in the doorway. She glanced around quickly to see if anyone had caught that little interchange, and saw Sophie regarding her with wry brown eyes over the shoulder of someone she was in conversation with. She was holding two glasses of white wine. Bree went over to her, claimed one of them and took a grateful sip.
She joined in Sophie’s conversation with their mutual friend Georgia, her back to Daniel, but she was acutely aware of his presence. She heard the sound of his laughter at one point, and the rumble of his voice, but she couldn’t register what he was talking about. Her attention was so divided that she was having a hard time following the conversation in front of her. She took several determined sips of her wine.
Given the mixed crowd, there was no talk of powered politics, just the normal kind. She and Georgia were comparing acupuncturists, and Sophie chimed in with some interesting examples of using acupuncture in childbirth. She was a midwife, and loved to talk about her work.
The crowd in the kitchen gradually shifted with new arrivals as people went in and out for drinks. Hunter scampered in at one point to get a cookie, hung on Bree’s leg for a bit, then scampered out again. Sophie disappeared to answer the door several times, and to socialize with people in the living room, then Bruce took a turn. Bree had gradually drifted closer to Daniel, and she was on the edge of the group he was talking with when Bruce came in with someone she didn’t know.
“Hey, everybody, this is Leander. He just moved here from California. So be sure and give him shit for invading our righteous state of Washington and spreading his callow attitudes and values.” This was greeted with laughter all around, giving Bree a chance to check out the newcomer.
He arrested her attention immediately, not just because he was so glaringly handsome, but because of his vivid coloring and unusual outfit. He was wearing a white poet’s shirt, the kind women always wanted men to wear so they could fantasize a lover from a more romantic time, along with tight fitting, green suede pants. Where did a man even find green suede pants? They were tucked into knee high black boots with gold buttons up the side. It was ridiculously costume-like, but he carried it off somehow, making it look bold and funny. Bruce immediately started razzing him on the clothes, and Leander grinned engagingly.
“Hey, someone has got to bring the light to all you neo-grunge, moss covered Seattleites. I am here from California to help you,” he riposted outrageously.
Bree couldn’t help but smile at the picture he presented. He was indeed surrounded by a fair amount of plaid and old jeans. He looked like a parrot among the sparrows.
And Daniel, she reflected sourly, was the crow. He was the only one in the group not laughing at the interplay between Leander and Bruce. He was staring at Leander with an intensity not masked by the casual way he lifted his beer for another drink. It was clear that he was reading Leander. It was one of those things that Readers sometimes couldn’t help doing, but in powered circles, you weren’t supposed to be that obvious about it. Bree felt her own Reader sense stirring in response, but she consciously muted it. She didn’t want to go there tonight, didn’t want to try to figure anyone out. She drained her wine glass with determination, and turned to the counter behind her to pour a refill from the ranks of wine bottles open there. By the time she turned back around, Bruce had brought Leander over to her. Sophie arrived at the same time, and Bruce introduced them both.
Bree switched her glass to her left hand so she could shake Leander’s hand. His blue-green eyes crinkled engagingly with his smile, and he held her hand a fraction of a second too long. “Bree is such a pretty name,” he commented. “For some reason, it makes me think of the wind in Spring.”
“Well, aren’t you full of, ah, charm,” Bree replied, making it clear she would like to have used another word there at the end.
“A chilly, brisk Spring wind,” Leander added with a twinkle.
Bree tried to look unimpressed as everyone around her laughed, but she couldn’t keep it up, and finally cracked a smile.
“Ah, the thaw, the tips of the green shoots emerge, and there is hope again!” Leander turned to Sophie. “And here is your beautiful wife.” He bent over Sophie’s hand extended hand and kissed it.
“Yeah, my beautiful wife,” Bruce answered, putting an arm around Sophie with a mock glower.
“I’m glad you could come,” Sophie said politely, ignoring her husband. “Bruce told me you two had quite the long conversation about books at the store the other day. Nothing makes my man happier.”
“People like me would be desperately unhappy without good bookstores like Bruce’s. I’ve seen quite a few of the independents go out of business in recent years,” Leander replied more seriously.
“We’ve had a couple of close years, but there’s been something of a movement in town lately about trying to buy local, so we’re benefiting from that,” Bruce answered.
Leander held up and presented the bottle he’d brought and said, “It seemed only fitting given the occasion.” It was a bottle of Bushmill’s Irish whiskey, and Bruce reached out for it with a happy smile. “Ah yes, the Bushmill’s,” he said in a bad Irish accent. “We must sample it immediately!”
A big fuss was made of getting out glasses and pouring around some shots. Bree checked surreptitiously for Daniel and saw he was in conversation with Kevin. The two were long time friends, having gone to school together back in Massachusetts. He was nodding in agreement to something Kevin was saying, but Bree noticed his eyes darted towards Leander several times, and several more towards her.
Leander had managed to maneuver back to Bree’s side and started a conversation with her, asking about her work. When she told most people she was a massage therapist, it was a conversation stopper, she supposed because they thought they knew what a massage consisted of and couldn’t imagine there was anything to talk about. Leander was interested in what types of massage she did, what were her favorites and why. She seldom had a chance to talk about work in such detail outside of colleagues, and she rather enjoyed it. And she couldn’t help but enjoy the attention. In spite of his earlier flamboyant entrance, once she was actually talking to him, Leander paid the kind of friendly, appreciative attention that said he found her interesting and maybe even a little attractive, but he wasn’t going to be pushy about it.
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Steve and Hunter, and Leander’s attention was taken by a group of men who pulled him into the corner to talk whiskey. Steve filled a plate with some vegetable sticks and dip, and some baguette slices with butter an
d offered it to Hunter, nixing Hunter’s request for another cookie. Bree was listening to an exchange between Steve and Hunter when she saw Bruce come up to Sophie. Sophie reached out a hand to her husband’s arm and shook it a little. “You, my dear, are stirring the pot.”
“I haven’t the faintest idea of what you’re talking about,” Bruce answered piously.
“You know what I mean. Bringing Leander here and introducing him to Bree.” Her voice was lowered to a whisper, but Bree was close enough to hear anyway, and her attention had been caught by the use of her name. “Didn’t you see Daniel’s reaction?”
“As far as I’m concerned, it would do Daniel some good to get a little push. For God’s sake, Soph, the man is half crazy for her, but he won’t do a damned thing about it.”
“You know it’s more complicated than that,” Sophie hissed between smiling teeth.
“What’s complicated about love?” Bruce asked, as he raised a hand and stroked Sophie’s face softly.
Bree looked away, cheeks coloring, embarrassed by what she’d heard, embarrassed at having listened in. Involuntarily, her eyes sought Daniel, and he was staring right at her.
Bree fled the kitchen for the living room, where the music session was just setting up, chastising herself for her cowardice. She knew a number of the musicians, and greeted them as they settled into the dining area that connected to the living room. Most of them had played with her husband from time to time. She knew a moment’s deep longing for Seth. Her life had been complicated by the exorcism work they’d done from time to time, but they’d otherwise had an easy, peaceful existence together. Her feelings for Seth had never been the least bit confused. She sighed and forced her mind away from dwelling on her loss. This was a party, this was music she loved, and it was time to live in the present.
She leaned against the wall and sipped at her wine, letting the music overtake her. She was starting to feel buzzed, and she welcomed the feeling. Leander came into the room, followed closely by Daniel, and to her great discomfort, they ended up one on either side of her. She wasn’t as a rule much of a drinker, but she suddenly planned to have more, maybe a lot more, tonight.
People were starting to push back the furniture, and a couple of the guys carried out chairs to make way for some dancing. The next time the offer of whiskey came around, she took some. She noticed Daniel did too.
He still hadn’t spoken to her, or she to him, but given the press of people, his shoulder was touching hers. Her prediction that things would be awkward between them was certainly coming true in spades. She felt a sensation of heat and tension radiating off of him. Leander, on her other side, was jostled into her by someone else, and he put an apologetic hand on her shoulder and smiled down at her. Both men were of a height, and Bree felt loomed over. She tipped back her head and took the shot of whiskey in one go, and felt a grim sense of satisfaction. She focused in on the music, closed her eyes and let it fill her. Her foot started tapping. She knew this one.
Her reverie was broken by the sound of Daniel’s voice in her ear, low and intimate. “I’d like to talk to you tonight before you go.”
A shiver went down Bree’s spine like the feet of restless weasels, snapping her out of her music and alcohol induced fog. She looked up at him, and in her unease, she read him. His tells spoke of repressed anger and determination, and there was a cant to his body that told her was holding back a desire to grab her and haul her out of there.
Before she could answer, she felt Leander’s hand slip into hers on the other side. “Do you want to dance?” he said into her other ear.
With relief and not a little mean spirited enthusiasm, she turned to Leander, smiled a brilliant smile, and said, “You bet!”
The band had launched into a Celtic rock number, and dancing consisted of a lot of jumping up and down like pogo sticks and fist pumping by the men, with more sensuous hip swinging and swaying by the women. Leander surprised her by turning the number into something of a swing dance. Even in the little space they’d claimed, he managed to twirl her until she was dizzy.
Leander passed her off at Howard’s polite request at the end of the number with an appealing, flirtatious smile. She danced a number with Howard, went and got another shot of whiskey, then took up position in a line of women who were setting up for a traditional dance. Her parents had put her in Irish dance lessons as a kid, and she’d done it right through high school, doing a bit of competing and teaching of the younger classes to make some extra money. She seldom got a chance to do this kind of dancing anymore. She was a little too buzzed for perfect coordination, but what the hell, no one would care. The slip-jig started, and after an initial hesitation, she soon found the steps.
Bree felt a kind of desperate euphoria. She flung herself further into the dance, and away from Daniel, from Leander, from dilemmas, from choices. People were clapping and shouting encouragement as she and the other women stepped and leaped, arms straight to the side, feet flying. Bree’s skirt flipped and swung, and she felt hot and alive. The dance ended with a skirl of pipes, and Bree took a welcome break. Bruce approached her, and said, “I’m thinking the plan to meet at Daniel’s tomorrow morning should be pushed back. I’ve got a bad feeling we’re all going to be a little too hung over for, you know.” He gave a meaningful glance around at the sprinkling of normal friends in the room.
“Good point,” she conceded. “I could make it Sunday instead. Why don’t you check and see if everybody’s on board with that?”
Bruce nodded agreement and moseyed off. Another song started, and Bree went out to dance again, but she couldn't seem to reconnect with her earlier exhilaration. As her feet moved on their own through the familiar steps, she caught sight of Daniel again and found herself wishing she had Gelsenim on board right now. Maybe with the enhanced power he brought, she’d be able to read what Daniel wanted to talk to her about and know whether or not she should avoid him for the rest of the night.
Almost as soon as she thought it, Bree felt a bloom of heat at her back. Her Demonsense gave a quiver, and a voice whispered in her ear, “I am here, my host, as you requested. I’d be happy to help.”
The music faltered slightly, and the woman dancing next to Bree missed a step and stumbled. Bree’s heart leapt into her throat, then tried to shoot all the way through the top of her head. She forced herself to make a turn in the dance so she could see behind her. Gelsenim was not visible, but she could feel his presence. It was far fainter than usual, and she wondered why he wasn’t all the way through into this realm.
Fortunately, the song ended then, and Bree made a show of fanning herself and moving toward the front door. She looked around frantically for Daniel, and of course, he was nowhere in sight now that she actually wanted to see him. Sophie caught her eye and smiled, but turned away before Bree could give her a high sign. Not sure what else to do, Bree walked out onto the porch where a couple of the partygoers were smoking cigarettes and talking. She went to the other end and leaned on the railing. Her Demonsense told her Gelsenim was still right behind her.
“I did not call you,” she murmured into the bushes that pushed close to the porch railing.
“You wished for me to be with you. I was waiting for your call, so I heard you,” the demon’s voice said softly. Gelsenim had chosen his most human sounding tone, perhaps to avoid alarming her.
“I thought we had an agreement,” she said heatedly.
“I said I would wait for your call,” Gelsenim countered, “and here I am. I believe you wished for my help.”
In her intoxicated state, Bree briefly considered it. She imagined going back into the party with Gelsenim on board. She remembered the feeling of power and confidence she’d had when he'd possessed her before. She wanted to feel powerful and in control instead of vulnerable, confused, and desperate not to think about all too many things, from Seth, to Daniel, to the planned possession.
Before she could answer Gelsenim, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye, an
d turned to see Daniel come out onto the porch. The other people went back inside as he opened the door. His Demonsense must have alerted him to Gelsenim’s presence. She did a quick mental review of the other powered at the party, and realized none of them had Demonsense. It was a relatively rare ability.
“Gelsenim, what are you doing here?” Daniel demanded, voice low and angry. “My host called me,” Gelsenim’s voice purred, all innocence.
“Bree, please tell me he’s lying,” Daniel said, not taking his eyes off the air between them. His shoulders were rigid, and his fists were clenched.
“Not lying, exactly,” Bree said, trying not to sound intimidated. Bree heard a crash, and a bit of swearing waft out of the partly open door. The demon’s presence, even at this low a level, was starting to be felt. If they didn’t take care of this quickly, there would be more accidents, and likely a fight or two would break out. “Look, I was just imagining the possession, you know, the one we had planned for tomorrow, and he just showed up like this.”
“Like this. Yeah. And how do you explain that, demon?” Daniel asked. He was breathing too fast for calm, but it was clear he was making an effort to control himself. “How is it you're here without your full form?”
“I have been experimenting. I know my host is overwhelmed by my full presence. It causes her not to like me. I have been working on what you people call my energy signature.”
More voices were raised in the house, not quite angry yet, but with an edge.
“Daniel,” she hissed, “this is all very interesting, but there’s a house full of people here. We have got to tie this up.”
“If you allow me inside you, my energy will no longer disturb your friends,” Gelsenim’s voice coaxed, and as he spoke, a faint outline appeared in the air, the outline of his human form.