by A. J. Colby
Damn, why would anyone ever want to break up with her? I wondered, able to pull my gaze away from her just long enough to look back over my shoulder at Holbrook.
“Men are such idiots,” I muttered, shaking my head as I stepped through the doorway.
“What?” Holbrook asked, but I ignored him when Alyssa turned at the sound of my voice.
“Riley? Is everything okay?” she asked, puffing a stray lock of burning ember hair out of her face.
“Hey Alyssa,” I said, blushing at the thrill of arousal that swept through me simply from being in the same room as her. “I err...wanted to say thanks for the other night.”
Christ, I sound like a lovesick teenager.
“No problem. Always happy to help a friend of Darius’s,” she replied, lowering her gaze to look at the stack of freshly rolled bandages cradled in her arms. The tinge of pink that suffused her cheeks made me want to touch her all the more.
Behind me I heard Holbrook shifting from one foot to the other.
“Is everything healing up well?” she asked, setting several rolled bandages on the shelf in front of her. “How’s the pain?”
“Yeah, healing fine. Pain’s not too bad,” I lied.
Glancing over a slender shoulder she gave me a skeptical look before turning back to her work.
“Busted,” Holbrook whispered at my back.
Smug bastard, I thought, shooting him a withering glare. Smiling wide, he just shrugged his shoulders.
“Take your shirt off,” Alyssa commanded, something in her liquid velvet voice making my insides quiver and my mouth go dry.
“What?” I squeaked while Holbrook choked on his gum.
“Let me get a look at those ribs.”
“Oh. Sure.”
Biting my lip I unbuttoned my shirt, exposing the swath of bruises across my ribs and the new ones already blooming in vivid shades of red and purple on my stomach.
Donning a mask of professional detachment, Alyssa ignored my lack of a bra and noted, “These are new.” Goosebumps rose all over my skin at the soft touch of her fingers sweeping over my stomach. Fighting to keep my breaths even, I felt the muscles in my stomach jumping beneath her fingertips while every hair on my body stood on end and my nipples tightened.
“It’s been an eventful day,” I heard myself say, my voice husky.
“I see.”
For several torturous minutes she surveyed and palpated my collection of injuries, her lower lip caught between her teeth in concentration. The sight of that ripe strawberry lip being so ruthlessly tormented made my fingertips tingle with the desire to soothe and caress it. My hand was already halfway to her face before I realized what I was doing, the butterflies in my stomach shifting to embarrassment in the blink of an eye.
“Sorry,” I said, dropping my hand to rub my sweaty palm on my jeans.
“It’s okay, it’s my fault. I didn’t get a chance to feed before I came in. I should have known that touch would intensify the effects.”
“Feed?”
“She means fuck,” Holbrook spat, his voice dripping with uncharacteristic venom.
Turning to look at him I found him as far across the room as he could be while remaining in the same room. His arms were crossed over his chest, the muscles in his forearms bulging and his shoulders singing with tension.
Well, isn’t he just a giant ray of sunshine?
“That’s unfair, Darius,” Alyssa said, her voice holding the first icy traces of anger, and beneath it the unmistakable echo of an old hurt.
“Don’t talk to me about fair,” he shot back, fists flexing against his chest.
“I um...think I’m good,” I said, cautiously breaking the tense silence that had descended on the room.
“Yes. I think you’ll be fine. Looks to be healing up well,” Alyssa said, obviously flustered.
Snagging my shirt from where I had tossed it on the bed I turned my back on them both, hiding the pained expression on my face as I pulled it on.
“Let me help,” Holbrook said in a gruff voice, his sudden closeness making me jump.
“Thanks,” I murmured, turning around to face him, grateful for his help as he settled my shirt in place.
“Do you want me to take a look at that?” Alyssa asked, tilting her delicate chin towards his bandaged hand.
“No. Its fine,” he replied in clipped tones.
“Stop being such a baby,” I said, jostling him with my shoulder.
The sour look he shot me would have made lesser men cower, but when compared to psychotic werewolves with a taste for my innards, it didn’t even rate on my scale of intimidating. Raising my eyebrows at him, I just flashed him a bright and cheery smile.
“Pain in the ass,” he muttered under his breath.
Judging by the minute twitch of Alyssa’s lips, her hearing was as finely tuned as mine.
“Have a seat,” she said, trying not to laugh.
He shuffled across the room, shedding his jacket and tossing it on the empty cot. Climbing up onto the examination table he sat with his back ramrod straight and his shoulders full of tension. He was so not a happy camper.
Curiouser and curiouser.
“Son of a...” Holbrook hissed as Alyssa peeled away the layers of tape and gauze, revealing the raw, weeping flesh beneath. I gagged at the putrid smell that permeated the air, invading my nose and coating the back of my tongue with the stink of rotten meat.
“I’m gonna go see about some food,” I managed, backing away towards the door with my hand over my nose and mouth.
Making my way down the stairs to get away from the putrid smell of Holbrook’s blistered hand, I stepped through the back entrance of the restaurant and paused. Standing beside the stone-faced agent at the bottom of the stairs, I drew a deep breath to savor the delicious aroma of red chilies cooking in hot oil. I could feel the agent watching me, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, but was too focused on my growling stomach and watering mouth to pay him any attention.
“Stay within sight, Ms. Cray,” he said as I took a step towards the restaurant, the unexpectedness of his voice making me jump. I couldn’t recall having heard either of my bodyguards utter more than a handful of words over the last few days.
Rounding the corner into the restaurant, I spotted my other bodyguard standing beside the front door, where he kept a watchful eye on the street outside. Stepping in line behind an elderly couple, I was unable to hide my smile as they squabbled over whether or not the husband should order the Moo Shu pork. His wife was insisting that it gave him terrible gas, while he declared that it most certainly did not.
Chuckling, I snagged a menu from a nearby table and turned towards the window, allowing them the pretense of privacy. Flipping through the laminated pages, I perused the specials, deciding on the Kung Pao Triple and Szechuan chicken. Behind me the husband and wife continued to bicker, having moved on from the topic of Moo Shu pork, which he would not be getting, he would have the sesame chicken and be happy with it, to the decision between white rice and Lo Mein. Rocking back and forth on my heels I gazed out of the large windows overlooking the street.
For once, it looked like we might make it through the day without any snow, though clouds hung low and dark over the city, making everything appear gloomy and washed out. I was so ready for summer I could almost feel the sunshine on my skin and smell the sweet grass. Turning back towards the register a dark shape in the corner of my eye caught my attention, drawing me around to face the window once more.
The gloominess of the day outside made it difficult to make out the street past the bright reflection of the restaurant’s interior. Curiosity drew me forward on silent feet, the sounds of the bickering couple fading away as my attention shifted to the shape slowly coming into focus in the glass.
Horror bloomed in the pit of my stomach as Samson’s face emerged, transposed over the reflection of my pale face. Golden wolfish eyes stared back at me, full of malice and violent intent. A terrified squeak slipped
out of me as his thin lips spread into a wide smile, revealing jagged yellowed teeth. Lurching back from the window I stumbled into a table behind me, sending cutlery clattering to the floor, drawing irritated looks from the staff and a raised eyebrow from my guard.
Why the hell was he gaping at me like I’d lost my mind instead of pumping Samson full of silver bullets? Shouldn’t he have been calling for back-up?
Staring back up at the window I was surprised to see nothing but the reflection of the restaurant and the empty street outside. No boogey men loomed beyond the glass.
“You ready to order?” the man behind the register asked, his dark brows drawn together in a disapproving frown.
Scrambling to pick up the silverware I had knocked on the floor, I was shaking so badly that I only succeeded in knocking over a glass, spilling water and ice cubes all over the table and floor.
“Shit!” I hissed, looking around frantically for something to sop up the water.
A young woman in a white apron bustled over with a rag, offering me a small, thin-lipped smile as she began mopping up my mess while the man behind the counter looked on with a scowl and my bodyguard let out a snorting chuckle.
Riley the klutz strikes again!
“Sorry,” I muttered, feeling my cheeks warm with embarrassment. The waitress just smiled again and nodded, pushing my hands out of the way as she gathered up the spilled ice in the rag. Straightening I took a step back, my help not needed.
“You ready to order?” the man at the register asked again, though the stiffness of his voice clearly stated that he’d be much happier if I just stopped making a mess and got the hell out of his restaurant.
“Ah, no. I think I lost my appetite,” I said, backing away towards the rear entrance. His scowl deepened as I backed away slowly, watching me closely as I wove my way through the tables to make sure I didn’t cause anymore destruction.
Getting halfway to the back hallway I turned and fled, rounding the corner so fast that I slid across the floor, careening into the wall with an “Oomph!” The guard standing at the bottom of the stairs smirked at my less than graceful arrival, and I had no doubt his buddy in the restaurant had already filled him in on my little panic attack. Slowing to a walk, I lifted my chin high and carried on towards the stairs, refusing to let him see just how embarrassed I was.
“...has a right to know, Darius. You have to tell her,” Alyssa was saying as I came up the stairs, slightly out of breath and still red-faced.
“No, I don’t,” Holbrook replied, his icy tone leaving no room for argument.
“Tell who what?” I asked breathlessly, resting a hand on the doorframe.
They froze for an instant and then sprang apart like a pair of teenagers caught making out.
“No one. Nothing,” he answered, avoiding my gaze.
Alyssa frowned, pursing her kissable lips disapprovingly, but didn’t say anything else about whatever they had been arguing over.
“So, what happened?” she asked instead, pressing a gauze pad over the oozing mess of his palm.
“Glamour charm exploded.”
“Must’ve been pretty powerful.”
“Where would you even find something with that much juice?” I asked, keeping my distance.
“Are you asking me? Darius would know more about that than I would,” she replied with what looked like a spiteful twitch of her lips.
He frowned, audibly grinding his teeth. “No. I wouldn’t,” he said, glaring at her.
“Well...” Alyssa said slowly, wrapping a bandage around his hand. “There are several practitioners around town putting out glamour charms, but I can only think of a couple who have the ability to make one as strong as that one must’ve been. You’re looking for one of the Grave sisters. They sell their charms out of The Sage Brush over on Colfax.”
“Sage Brush. Colfax. Got it,” I said, still puzzling over the mounting animosity between them.
“Am I good to go?” Holbrook asked stiffly once Alyssa had secured the bandage with a couple of butterfly clips.
“Yes, you should be fine,” she answered with a sigh.
Turning away from him under the guise of clearing up the pile of soiled gauze, she tried to hide her face behind the fall of her hair, but I caught a clear glimpse of the hurt and disappointment in her face and once again wondered what the hell had passed between them. Holbrook’s earlier spitefulness hinted at some of what might have happened, but I had a feeling there was more to their story than what met the eye.
Turning towards me, still refusing to look me in the eye, Holbrook collected his jacket from the bed I had occupied just the day before, and shrugged it on over stiff shoulders. “Let’s go.”
Dazed by his brusque manner I fell into step behind him, and was already on the threshold of the door when Alyssa rushed across the room towards me, enveloping me in her arms.
“Be careful, Riley,” she said earnestly, squeezing me hard.
“Er, sure,” I replied, wondering at the tearful edge to her voice.
Hugging her awkwardly, I waited several moments before easing myself out of her grip. Offering her a halfhearted wave, I traipsed down the stairs after Holbrook who was already halfway out the door that led to the tiny parking lot behind the building.
“What happened to the take-out?” he asked as we settled into the SUV.
“Oh, ah...you know, I think I saw a rat in the kitchen,” I replied, feigning disgust as a shudder of fear ran through me at the memory of Samson’s face superimposed over my reflection.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I DIDN’T REALIZE Loki had decided he wanted to come with us to talk to the purveyor of The Sage Brush until he had jumped down out of the SUV, and was already trotting across the sidewalk to the door. He may be a cat, but he tends to exhibit some very un-catlike behavior. Oftentimes he seems more like a dog than a cat, and other times I swear that he is looking at me with human intelligence. He’s a peculiar creature, but then again, I suppose I don’t fit into the niche society has crafted for me either.
Needless to say, I’d been taken aback when he foreswore the litter box I provided when he first entered my life, but that paled in comparison to the shock I’d experienced when he opted to use the toilet instead. I’d assumed that it was something his previous owners had trained him to do, just as they were the ones who had chosen the name Loki inscribed on the golden tag hanging from his collar. He’d ceased to wear the collar a long time ago, but maintained his refusal to use a litter box. In addition to his peculiar bathroom habits he’d made it quite clear that he wasn’t all that interested in eating kitty kibble, and was far more content to eat whatever I did. Having tried a handful of kibble out of pure curiosity, I couldn’t say that I blamed him. I wouldn’t want to eat that crap either.
Unperturbed by the noise of traffic whizzing by on Colfax, he sauntered to the bright purple door and waited for Holbrook and I to join him. In their SUV parked behind ours, Collins and Hill looked on with matching expressions of bewilderment.
“What does he think he’s doing?” Holbrook asked as he came around to my side of the SUV. From the expression on his face I figured he wasn’t sure if he should laugh or be irritated.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” I replied, shrugging as I pushed away from the car to retrieve him. Despite his varied skills, as far as I knew, Loki hadn’t figured out how to work door handles. Yet. I had the feeling that if he ever did I’d be royally screwed.
Gathering him into my arms, I nuzzled the thick fur around his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of him. “Sorry, buddy. You need to wait in the car.”
I had no doubt that if cats could frown he would have been giving me the most irritated scowl possible when I cradled him against my chest and went back to the car. Usually a laid back kind of guy, I was surprised when he began to squirm like a greased pig in my arms and clawed his way up over my shoulder to jump down to the pavement. Lifting his tail high in the air he strode to the shop’s door, and on
ce again waited for someone to obligingly open it for him.
“Looks like he’s dead set on going in,” I said to Holbrook, rubbing my shoulder where his claws had left a set of throbbing furrows in my flesh.
Sharing a baffled look, we shrugged at one another and approached the store. The door opened with a merry tinkle of bells, and I was immediately greeted by soft Celtic music. In contrast to the steel grey clouds scudding across the sky, pregnant with the promise of snow, the inside of The Sage Brush was warm and airy. The wide, roughhewn wooden planks, worn smooth to a brilliant luster by the passage of many feet over the years, reminded me of home. But rather than filling me with a pang of longing, the familiarity of the place brought a reminiscent smile to my lips. A multitude of crystals, wind chimes and mobiles hung from the ceiling, the lights overhead shining through them to cast fractured rainbows of light everywhere.
Just inside the door, several sticks of incense were slowly burning to ash, perfuming the air with the decadent scents of sandalwood and clove. Brightly colored silks, saris and tapestries adorned almost every available surface, lending the shop a lush and exotic atmosphere. Combined with the heady fragrance of the incense, I felt as though I had been transported to some faraway land where the sun was blistering hot and the air was forever perfumed with the scent of spices. All the shop needed to complete the appearance of a luxurious Bedouin tent was a mountain of silk pillows and rugs strewn across the floor.
This was a place that I could happily spend hours exploring, pouring over the ceiling high shelves crammed with books and searching through the tables littered with candles, crystals and tarot cards.
A long wooden counter reminiscent of an old grocer’s, complete with an ancient cast iron register, ran almost the full length of the far wall. Several glass topped display cases sat on the counter with a multitude of necklaces, pendants, rings, and bracelets nestled inside on a bed of black velvet. They looked innocuous enough, but even from across the room I felt the heavy pull of their energy. There were at least two dozen charms on display, some of them quite powerful if their almost hypnotic pull was anything to go by, yet the two figures at the counter didn’t exhibit any signs that they were aware of the effect. One of the figures was stretched out along the counter’s surface, and was possibly the largest cat I’d ever seen.