Binding the Shadows

by Jenn Bennett

“It’s so bright.”

  “It’s . . .” He almost said something more, but seemed to change his mind at the last second. “It’s bright,” he finished simply in agreement.

  “I wished myself here,” I whispered. “It’s not possible. Is it? Lon? How the hell is that possible?”

  He smoothed a hand down my hair. “Don’t know. But I think you asked your bird-boy guardian the wrong question. If you mother’s alive, she’s on another plane. But whatever’s going on with you is happening here. You should’ve asked Priya to find out exactly what your parents bred into you during your conception.”

  A rotting misery nearly pulled me under. He was right, of course. Maybe I could call Priya back, change the plan. But I was tapped out. Was there even a drop of Heka left inside me?

  “Summon him later,” Lon said, surprising me. He was reading my thoughts.

  He started to push himself off the ground, but I squeezed his arm. “I don’t want Jupe to see me this way,” I pleaded.

  “Hush,” he said in a kind voice. “They’re all out at a movie together. We’re alone.”

  A small relief. My hands were covered in grass stains. Hair was frazzled, like it got when I released Heka without a caduceus. A dull burning smell wafted from my clothes. “I need a shower.”

  Without another word, he lifted me up with him and carried me across the wet grass and inside the house.

  When he finally set me down, it was in the master bathroom inside his room. My legs were floppy, but he held me up, propping me against the vanity as he flicked on the lights. He unbuttoned and removed my coat. A large red spot stained the front; the vial had broken inside my breast pocket. So much for that. Not like I had any use for it, but still.

  “Doesn’t matter,” he murmured, tossing the jacket in the corner on the dark gray slate bathroom tile. Using his forearm to bolster me across my stomach, he crouched long enough to take off my shoes and socks. Cool porcelain touched my back when he pulled my shirt over my head. I watched his long fingers unhook the front closure of my bra. Kar Yee was right: they were awfully nice hands. Good hands. Lean and muscular, like the rest of him. He made a small noise in response to those thoughts and freed my breasts.

  My screwy brain thought of Hajo’s comments.

  Lon grunted. “The next time I see that dowser, I’m going to bloody his nose.”

  I was pretty sure I’d enjoy seeing that.

  My jeans were trashed. I had a million pairs, so it didn’t matter. But as he tossed them in the pile with the rest of my clothes, I once again remembered the surreal feeling of the tail—a goddamn tail!—and felt panic rising again.

  “Shh,” he said, reaching over his shoulder to pull off his T-shirt. Then he picked me up around the waist and walked me four steps to the shower.

  Lon’s shower. Nothing better. Standing separate from the big tub in the corner, it was a spacious walk-in tiled in unpolished gray and brown stone, open on one end, no door. Hot water sprayed from both sides and above, the pattern and angles changeable into a billion configurations, but Lon kept it on a no-nonsense setting: steady streams from all directions. A low stone bench was built into the far end, and the alcoves above were always stocked with sandalwood soap and expensive shampoo.

  If I could declare my undying allegiance to one shower for the rest of my life, it would be this one.

  Lon held me under the jets and began bathing me with efficient precision. I melted against one wall, giving him free reign. He shampooed my hair. Soaped me down with those nice, strong hands of his, foregoing the washcloth, on my face and shoulders and arms. The flat of my stomach, the curve of my hips. When his palms cupped my breasts, I whimpered. He wasn’t trying to seduce me, but it felt like possession of a sort. I closed my eyes and allowed it.

  “Lon,” I murmured. “Please. I need you.”

  His hand slipped between my thighs. “This?”

  Yes. Please just . . . ground me, I thought to him as he methodically went back over the trail of soap he’d left, rinsing it all away. Bring me back to earth.

  The jets squawked off. He lifted me out of the shower and toweled me dry. It was only then that I stood without help. I heard drip-drip-dripping on the slate floor and saw the drops falling off his horns. Heard more dripping and looked down to find that he was still in his jeans, and they were soaked through, sticking to his thighs. Water ran in rivulets down the hard lines of his chest, rippled over the ridges and valleys of his stomach—down that fine line of honey hair that dipped into the waist of his jeans. I tentatively touched the nasty scar over his ribs, the one Yvonne left. It looked angrier somehow, as if now that I’d seen Yvonne’s face and talked to her in person, it was so much more real.

  Yvonne. My mother. My magick. My body . . . nothing was within my control anymore.

  I felt so lost.

  Promise me everything will be all right, I thought to him.

  “I promise,” he murmured, kissing me gently. It was soft and sweet, but I didn’t want tenderness. Tender was weak, and I wanted strength. Wanted a guarantee, not an airy assurance.

  I shoved his shoulder, an angry challenge. “Make me believe you. Show me you mean it.”

  Steely arms pulled me tight against his body. His mouth covered mine, and he kissed me hard. Shockingly hard. I resisted, but he cupped the back of my head with a firm grip and held me in place. He was brutal. Unyielding.

  It was the most perfect thing he could’ve done, and I absolutely, wholly relented. My mouth opened. His tongue slipped inside, and I kissed him back, just as rough. Just as needy. He moaned into me, and I loved it. It made me feel alive.

  He hauled me out of the bathroom and to the bed. Flung me down so hard I bounced on the mattress. A terrible thrill went through me as I watched him peel off the shower-soaked jeans. His thick erection proudly jutted out, curving upward from an impossibly dense patch of hair. And the dark way he was looking at me made me lose whatever was left of my magick-fried mind. My legs fell open.

  In a flash, he had my hands pinned over my head with one of his. Opened his mouth and bit me firmly on my cheek. I cried out, and he bit me again on my neck. My shoulder. His skin was damp and hot. I shoved my hips against his as he rolled one of my nipples between his thumb and finger, then pinched. I pushed against him again and whimpered. He butted his forehead against mine, horns brushing against my ears, fingers still holding my nipple hostage, and demanded, “Tell me you’re mine.”

  I’m yours, I thought.

  “Say it.”

  “I’m yours. I’m yours.”

  As he released my nipple, he sank himself into me, and I nearly came. But he wrestled one of my legs up, as high and wide as it could go. The angle threw me off balance, but it gave him better access. He pushed deeper and held himself inside me, unmoving, until my eyes watered. Then he began thrusting in long, excruciatingly slow strokes.

  I made terrible noises. Far worse than my usual loud moans and barked commands. I made sounds that had me worried for myself. Like there was something seriously wrong with me. But a few thrusts more, and it didn’t matter. His in-laws could walk in on us, and I wouldn’t blink an eye. I’d reached that point of madness, the dangerous headspace where nothing else mattered but his breath, hot on my cheek.

  God, God! I was just too far gone to care about anything else but us. And when my body clenched around him, it was so intense—so much of everything, all at once—that I tried to retreat. My hands struggled against his iron grip. I attempted to buck him off of me, but it only encouraged him to go deeper. I was trapped. Pinned. Impaled.

  His.

  I came endlessly. I came until I couldn’t breathe. Until I thought I might pass out. Seconds later, he surrendered and bellowed my name, shuddering violently above me. And everything that had been upended that night—all the sanity I thought I’d lost came floating down and clicked back into place.

  He released my hands and pulled out of me with a grunt. Tiny shocks of pleasure continued lazily pulsing t
hrough me as I dissolved into the mattress. He collapsed on top of me, cheek flattened against my breast, one spiraling horn lightly digging into my clavicle, and his damp, wavy hair spilling everywhere.

  I was alive, and I was okay. The world wasn’t falling apart.

  • • •

  “Your halo looks normal now,” Lon said a few minutes later.

  My hand went to my head, as if I could feel it. “Yeah?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” He ran a hand down my hair and tucked it behind my ear. “Where’s your phone?”

  “Mmm?”

  “Phone.”

  “In my jeans.” The ones with the big rip in the back. Because I had some freaky-ass tail. No big deal. Totally normal.

  Lon kissed my forehead and pushed himself off the bed. I watched him appreciatively as he strolled into the bathroom. After some fumbling noises, I heard his deep voice echo around the tiled walls, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. The shower came on briefly. After a minute or two, my cell rang in the bathroom. More talking, but this time it was brief. The bathroom light shut off, and Lon returned.

  “I called Hajo,” he said, tugging a pair of charcoal lounge pants over his narrow hips. “He checked the parking garage. Your guy was gone. Parking attendants didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, so no ambulance.”

  “I didn’t kill him.” Relief washed over me.

  “And your car’s still there. We’ll get it tomorrow.”

  “Thank you.”

  He tossed me my favorite robe—a kimono with wide, gaping sleeves and a black-and-white poppy pattern. “Hajo’s curious about your abilities now, but you can deal with that.”

  No one could lie like I could.

  I got the call from Hajo early on Christmas Eve. When I answered, all he said was, “I found what you were looking for. Meet me at noon at the usual spot.”

  The “usual spot” was a dirty pub called the Palm and Cypress in a rundown Morella neighborhood. Hajo liked it because the pub was dark and smoky, filled with shadowed booths, and it had a back door for easy escapes. And the small parking lot in back was not only surrounded by a tall brick wall, but also possessed a secondary exit. A drug dealer’s wet dream.

  Lon and I waited in the SUV in that small parking lot, in the same spot I’d waited for Hajo a couple times before when I’d done some bindings for him. The ones I’d owed him for finding Jesse Bishop’s bones in the cannery last October. He was always punctual, which I suppose is a nice quality for a dealer to possess. But it was ten past noon already, and he hadn’t shown.

  After pulling his dark blue peacoat closed, Lon lit a second valrivia cigarette and cracked his window. A chilly breeze sifted in. It was colder today. A real winter day. That somehow made things slightly more miserable.

  A knock on my window scared the bejesus out of me. Hajo’s long face peered inside, backlit by his blue halo. I thumbed toward the back and hit the button to unlock the door.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said as he compacted his tall frame to duck inside. Plopping down in Jupe’s usual spot, he pushed dark hair out of his eyes and shivered as he set a silver motorcycle helmet on the seat next to him. He was wearing his trusty black racing jacket with the mandarin collar zipped to his throat, three gray stripes running down one sleeve. “Cold as shit today. What the hell’s up with this weather?”

  “It’s warmer on the water,” Lon said, offering him a cigarette. “La Sirena’s always ten degrees better than Morella in the winter.”

  Hajo took the valrivia and nodded his thanks. “I’d die a slow death out there. Too many hippies in the Village. No money in weed. Though I could probably make a fortune selling coke to all the rich suits.” He loosely slapped my shoulder with the backs of his fingers before flicking a lighter in front of the cigarette dangling from his lips. “Wanna go in business together, Bell?” He turned his head to the side and blew out a cone of smoke, a smile playing on his lips. “You can be my enforcer.”

  “Pass.”

  “Too bad. That binding shit you do is effective. I can’t tell you how much it’s boosted my reputation—no one owes me money right now. You still doing side jobs for someone in La Sirena?”

  Lon gave me an askance look. Yeah, maybe I shouldn’t have told Hajo that, but I hadn’t mentioned Dare or the Hellfire Club. It was easy to open up to Hajo. God only knew why. Maybe it was because I thought he was high half the time I saw him and assumed he’d forget. He never did.

  “I bet I could pay you better,” Hajo said.

  “I bet I wouldn’t care.”

  “How—”

  “Where are we going?” Lon said irritably.

  Hajo leaned back in his seat, half amused at Lon’s impatience. “Hold on. I’m watching for someone.”

  I swiveled my head to study the parking lot. “Who?”

  “Someone was following me. That’s why I was late.” He craned his neck and spoke to Lon. “Can you move up there so we can see Gilman Avenue? Not too far. The brick wall will hide us.”

  Lon pulled the SUV to the exit and we anxiously surveyed the street that ran behind the pub.

  “Who’d be following you, Hajo?” I thought of the dark sedan and my elusive shadowy follower. My pulse sped up.

  “Don’t know. I noticed a black car when I was coming out of my parking garage. Stayed so far behind, I couldn’t identify a make or model, but it tailed my bike when I made some weird turns. I’m overly paranoid, which I’m sure will come as no surprise to you—”

  “Doesn’t,” Lon said, tossing him a bland look in the rearview.

  “But it does mean that I’m good at spotting tails and losing them. Pretty sure I shook him a couple of miles back, but it never hurts to be cautious.”

  “Why would someone be tailing you?” Lon asked.

  Hajo shrugged. “Plenty of reasons, but nothing in particular jumps to mind.”

  Hazy images from my scuffle in Hajo’s parking garage elevator filled my head. “What about that guy Darren? Think he could be wanting the bionic elixir?”

  “No way he made bail,” Hajo said. “Couldn’t be him.”

  “Bail?”

  Hajo looked at Lon. “You didn’t tell her?”

  Lon sighed.

  “Tell me what?”

  “We took care of that shit,” Hajo said proudly. “It was Lon’s idea—I just executed it. Happy to do so. I told you, I’ve hated that trust funder for a long time now.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Lon flicked his cigarette out the window. “I asked Hajo to frame him. Seemed better than beating him to a pulp and going to jail myself.”

  “I had a buddy who owed me a favor,” Hajo explained. “He sold a little sømna to Darren. Just enough to get him slapped with ten years in prison. Smoked up with him then left and called the cops. It’s pretty fucking scary how easy it was.”

  I stared at Hajo, who was smirking . . . then Lon, who looked either guilty or defiant—it was hard to tell with him. “Were you going to tell me this at some point?” I asked Lon.

  “Figured I’d eventually get around to it.” The way he looked at me was loaded. As if he was remembering how long it took me to spill the beans about Dare blackmailing me. Or maybe that was just my guilt talking.

  “Come on, Bell. You wanted to just let Darren walk free after he manhandled you?” Hajo said, throwing one arm across the back of his seat and crossing one leg loosely over his knee. His leather jacket made a scrunching noise as he lazily slouched. “Fuck that. If he wanted the bionic elixir so badly that he’d attack you, then what would he do to get it from me? I gotta protect my own interests.”

  “So you did all this for you?” I said.

  “For me . . . for you.” Hajo waved his hand dismissively. “Either way, Lon was a hundred percent right. Darren deserved worse than the spanking you gave him.”

  Lon gave me a tight smile. “Sometimes you do stupid things for people you care about.”

  It was a dirty thing to do,
framing Darren. But I wasn’t going to lose sleep over it. I leaned over the armrest and pecked Lon’s cheek. He cupped my jaw and pulled me back for a firmer kiss on the lips.

  “This is arousing,” Hajo said behind us. “Don’t mind me. I can entertain myself while you two go at it.”

  “I would punch him, but now I owe him,” Lon mumbled against my lips.

  “Welcome to my world,” I mumbled back as he released me.

  “It’s the secret to my success,” Hajo said with a boastful grin that was far too handsome for his grating personality. “Everyone always owes me.”

  “Thank you,” I told Hajo. “I mean it.”

  He looked away, as if embarrassed. Not an emotion I was used to seeing on him, but it didn’t last long. “So, anyway, this bionic elixir of yours. After I started asking around, I found everyone wanted it, but no one knew who was selling. No word of the Telly kid. But today I had a bunch of people call me at once with a name: Tabor. I talked to him briefly. Claims he’s the only one in town holding. He wouldn’t go into detail, but I figured we might be able to get more information out of him in person. So I told him I’m bringing in two people who want to buy.”

  “Us?” I said. “You’re brokering a drug deal for us?”

  “Don’t act so high and mighty. You don’t have to buy it, but you’re definitely going to want to shell out some cash if you want him to question him about that telekinetic kid of yours. Money talks.”

  “I’ve got fifteen dollars in ones,” I said. “How much information will that get me?”

  Lon glanced at Hajo in the rearview mirror. “It’s fine. I’ve got cash.”

  “See, Daddy will pay.” Hajo waved toward the street. “Looks like I shook the guy following me, so can we get moving? Because the sooner we go talk to my guy, the sooner you get the information you want. And the sooner I get a date with the delicious Kar Yee Tsang. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

  Like I said, he never forgets.

  We drove through the rain, watching to see if anyone tailed us. Not a soul.

  Hajo led us to an old highway on the eastern side of Morella. I don’t think I’d ever been on it, nor did I ever want to again, considering the dismal scenery that surrounded it. Past the exit ramps, disused strip malls, and unpopular fast food restaurants that dotted the roadside was our apparent destination: the Sleepy Hollow trailer park.