“Yeah, you did, but I don’t think you took it to heart. It’s true, you know. All you have to do is say, ‘Alfred, don’t go’, and he won’t go.”
“Yes, and that’s exactly why I’m not going to say anything. It’s his decision. If he stayed here, I’d always wonder if he stayed because I’d asked him, or because he wanted to.”
“Wow. Too deep for me,” Kat said while she took a sip of coffee.
“When’s the party?” I asked, not able to change the subject yet.
“This Friday. You’ve got two days to think about it.”
I laughed bitterly as I said, “There is no thinking. I’m not going and that’s final.”
“What will you do then? I mean, if Alfred does go.”
“I’ll find something else to do.”
Kathryn’s wicked grin returned as she said, “As opposed to doing Alfred?”
“Oh, give it up.” I laughed. “If it happens, it happens, but I refuse to rush into anything.” My expression turned serious as I added, “Not again.”
*****
I only had to wait until later that day for Marcy to stop by. I was outside pruning my roses when I saw her drive up. I watched as she reapplied lipstick to her thin lips and gave a quick fluff to her frizzy blond hair before ringing the doorbell. My pulse raced with the urge to crack her in the head with my garden shears. To say my mood was suddenly foul would be like saying that milk that expired last year was bad. Understatement didn’t begin to cover it.
Just as I was toying with the idea of walking in the house holding the garden shears, only to see the look on her face, of course, I had an unexpectedly pleasant surprise. Elijah Jasper was making his way up the front drive. He came to a stop just underneath the arch with the big white Queen Anne rose. As I walked over to his car, I was overcome by the sweet smell of the roses in full bloom. I stopped to take a deep breath, closing my eyes.
“Never miss an opportunity to smell the roses,” he said, smiling as he rolled down the window.
I walked over, propped on the car, and leaned in as I said, “They really shouldn’t allow cute cops out in public like this.” I smiled. “I have a weakness for bacon.” He had a genuine heartfelt laugh that did me good to hear. I felt my mood lighten as Elijah smiled up at me through the car window. “Would you step outside the vehicle please?” I said in my best cop imitation voice. He smiled, but didn’t ask questions. As Elijah got out of the car, I tossed the garden shears near the bottom of the roses and began removing my leather gloves. “So, what brings you out this way? Please tell me there haven’t been any more animal attacks?”
“No,” he said, glancing at his feet, seeming more nervous than he had a minute before. When he looked at me with those incredibly deep blue eyes, I couldn’t help but smile. The smile seemed to encourage him, but not enough to speak.
“What can I do for you Officer Jasper?”
“Please, call me Eli,” he said, his bright smile reaching his eyes. “You’ve heard about Marcy Johnson’s party, right?”
Well, that was a subject I hadn’t expected. “Yeah.” I was barely able to keep the full extent of my dislike for Marcy out of my voice.
“I assume you’re not going?” he said, making a face.
“You got that right.” I glanced at her car. “Would you arrest me if I ran my garden shears down the side of her car?” I asked, half serious.
“No.” Elijah laughed. “I can’t stand her.”
I looked back at him, obviously shocked. “Officer, are you contributing to my delinquency?” I joked.
“Maybe. So, if you’re not going to the party, what are you doing Friday night?”
The fact that Elijah looked good in uniform was not lost on me. “Are you coming on to me ... Eli?”
He smiled at me in a way that no longer looked innocent and I wondered if I hadn’t underestimated him. “No. But, the thought had occurred to me.”
I smiled, despite my best efforts to control myself. There was something about Elijah and his blue eyes that just made me want to smile. The man was so damned cute, I couldn’t help myself. I looked back at the house and could see Marcy and Alfred talking through the kitchen window. From the bewildered look on his face, I had no doubt that she’d suckered him into going to her party. I sighed. Nope, I couldn’t make Alfred stay at home, but that didn’t mean that I had to sit around waiting on him either.
“What did you have in mind?”
“Honestly? I didn’t get past convincing you to put down the shears and step away from my window.” We both laughed. “Do you like sushi?”
“I love it,” I said, thinking that spending time with Elijah might not be so bad.
“I was thinking maybe dinner and a movie,” he said.
“The only problem with that is there’s nothing playing that I want to see,” I said. “I suppose we could always rent something.”
“Hey, why don’t I get take out, rent some movies and just come over here?” he suggested. “Unless you prefer to go out?”
“No. That sounds like fun. What time should I expect you?”
“When would you like me?” he asked playfully. Elijah was much better at this flirting thing than I’d given him credit for.
“I’d like you on time,” I said, not about to be outdone. “But, leave the handcuffs.”
He laughed. “Are you sure?”
“I never use restraints on a first date,” I said as I picked up my garden shears.
“How’s five o’clock sound? Without the handcuffs, of course.”
“All right.”
He got back in his car and smiled at me through the window. Yet again, his smile reached the deep blue of his eyes, causing them to twinkle in a way that was nothing short of adorable.
“I’ll see you then.” He winked.
I walked to the shed in the backyard, thinking to myself that two could play this game. From the self-satisfied smirk I’d seen Marcy wearing, I knew where Alfred would be Friday night. If he wasn’t man enough to turn her down, I saw no reason why I should refuse Elijah. Besides, with Elijah there were no mixed emotions, no confusing feelings to sort out. He was nice. He was cute, and seemed like he would be fun to spend some time with. He was also the only person other than my father who had never looked at me in fear. Even Alfred had been afraid the first time he saw my partial transformation. Not that I could blame him, but it meant something to me that Elijah had never looked at me that way. He knew who and what I was when we’d met, but he never looked at me as if I were any different than the girl next door.
I waited until I heard Marcy’s tires crunching on the gravel before I went inside. I walked past the sitting room and found Alfred waiting at the foot of the stairs. He looked as if he was preparing to go to war.
“Let me explain,” he began.
“There’s nothing to explain,” I cut in. Truth be told, I didn’t want to hear it. Childish perhaps, but true. “Like I said last night, I don’t own you. If you want to go then go, but I won’t be there.”
I tried to walk past him, but he stood in my way, using his considerable height to try to intimidate me. “And where will you be?” he asked.
“Will you be at her party Friday night?” I asked as blandly as possible.
“I said I would. I had no choice, she wouldn’t go away otherwise—”
“Then kick her ass out,” I interrupted again. “You worry too much what other people think.”
“So, I’m beginning to see,” he said coldly. With that, Alfred pushed past me and stormed off toward his downstairs bedroom.
“Damn it.” I shook my head at my own stupidity, went upstairs and got in the shower. I wondered how the day might have turned out differently if Kat had shown up only an hour later. I wasn’t angry with Kat. She had no way of knowing. I was angry with myself for letting the day’s events stop me from picking up with Alfred where we had left off that morning.
I rested my forehead against the cold stone of the shower wall. The fact that I could be t
ouching Alfred’s warm skin at that very moment made it seem even colder. I couldn’t keep letting my fears push me away from him. So I’d been hurt. Who hasn’t? I couldn’t let my past stop me from ever having a future. Besides, I loved Alfred, in my own way. He’d been a friend of my family for years, and I cared for him. I kept telling myself that I should go downstairs and apologize. I stepped out of the shower, dried quickly, and snatched on my robe. For once, I was going to admit that I was wrong.
Chapter Six
I went downstairs and found Alfred asleep on the couch. My heart fluttered as I watched the even rhythm of his breathing, and wondered how I should wake him. “I’m sorry I was an asshole, would you like to come to bed with me?” didn’t seem quite adequate. How was it that a poet stood there at a loss for words? That was it. I’d wake him and say that I was at a loss to describe what I felt when I looked at him, but I knew I did not want to spend the night alone. I reached out to wake him, but before my hand touched his shoulder, he spoke. As he rolled away from me, still asleep, one word was clearly audible, “Marcy.”
The anger that I would have expected did not come. My knees felt weak and my chest hurt, but I had not misunderstood him. My senses were above and beyond what they should have been. I’d heard him correctly. I stumbled backward, feeling foolish. Here I was about to confess that I had feelings for him while he lay on my couch, dreaming of another woman. I backed out of the room quietly. I did not want Alfred to know I’d been there, no reason to add insult to injury.
That made up my mind, more than anything, to give Elijah a chance. It didn’t have to lead to anything serious. Elijah was a nice guy and that happened to be what I was in need of. I made my way to the kitchen where I took three sleeping pills. With my metabolism, it would take that many to keep me out for very long. I went back upstairs and stretched across the bed, waiting for sleep to claim me. I did not want to dream. Surely with as many pills as I’d taken I would be able to spend a few hours blissfully unconscious, without dreams of Alfred and Marcy to torment me.
*****
I spent the next day either in my room or out on the balcony painting. I set up my easel that morning, angled toward a good view of the roses. As I painted, I asked myself what I was really worried about. Everything, like the roses, had a time and a season. At times, life seems so clear and then you wake up. The coffee that you were meant to smell is actually burning, and you’re late for an appointment.
As I mixed the colors to achieve the perfect blood red, I thought to myself that if love were a color, it would be red. This reminded me of the last poem I’d had published. I figured I was already feeling down, so why not read some sappy poetry and make things worse? That’s like listening to country music after a bad break up. You know it won’t help, but you really just want to wallow in things for a bit before moving on.
Self-pity is one of those qualities that we’d all like to get rid of, but at times you just can’t help but indulge yourself. Some people get depressed and live off of ice cream and chips for a week. I read lovey-dovey poetry and paint. What’s the point in being an artist if you can’t be a little morose from time to time? Besides, it was either throw my own pity party, or go downstairs and talk to Alfred. At that moment I would have rather typed invitations to a pity party than talk to Alfred about what I’d overheard the night before, let alone explain what I had been doing downstairs.
After putting aside my paint brush, I took the leather bound book of poetry from my shelf, I read:
The Color of Romance
Pink is a flirtatious someone for whose embrace you are willing to take a chance.
Lavender is a soothing person whom you’d like to know more of under a different circumstance.
Orange is a fire that you cannot put out, it makes you scream, from within and without.
Yellow is the golden hair of the one who got away. We know we’ll love them longer than just today.
But, we know we are done for when we see Red.
It inspires us to do more than take a chance.
It goes beyond entrancing us with a single glance.
Red is the color that passionate souls see when they dance, for red, my dear, is the color of romance.
I glanced at the brief author’s biography that accompanied the poem and realized that this was the volume Alfred had been reading a few nights ago. I could feel my cheeks burning as I read further, feeling pathetic to know that he had read:
“I’ve never really felt like I belonged anywhere. My passion burns within a fire beside which no one warms their hands. I am a sensitive soul, though most people don’t know it. I’m a hopeless romantic who hides my passion from most of the world. Poetry provides an audience to which I can bare my soul and not be taken advantage of. People don’t see how deep I truly am. They skip a stone across the surface, but never watch how far it sinks.”
I closed the book, and wondered what I must have sounded like to Alfred. As I replaced the thick volume on my shelf, I decided it didn’t matter. So I’m a bit melodramatic and I write poetry, who cares? After all, you can’t chop up werewolves every day. A girl’s got to have a hobby. Lately, it would seem that my hobby had been finding the biggest jerks around and becoming involved with them. Some days I felt like looking in the mirror to make sure that “jackasses welcome” wasn’t written across my forehead.
*****
The one guy I felt fairly certain was not a jackass called at four o’clock the next day. “Sweet and sour pork, or kung pow chicken?” he asked when I answered the phone.
“Either one’s fine.”
“Good, cause I got both. They didn’t have sushi.”
Elijah and I talked while he stopped to get gas on his way to my house.
“Wait,” he said suddenly.
“What do you want?” I heard him ask.
There was a loud clattering noise that sounded like his cell phone hitting the ground. I stayed on the line, afraid to hang up, but not knowing what else to do. I heard a scuffle and two muffled voices arguing over where to put him. Elijah was being kidnapped! I felt helpless as I listened to them argue over whether or not he would suffocate in the trunk of their car. I listened intently, hoping Elijah’s attackers would be dumb enough to say where they were taking him. Just then, one of them noticed the phone. Elijah must have had me programmed in by name, because I heard the thug say, “It’s the monster hunter.”
I hung up and ran to my wardrobe. If they knew who I was, they were coming for me next. I had no intention of being unprepared. I slid into my leather cat-suit and began pulling on my many weapons. I wore my father’s long silver machete, which looked more like a short sword, in a sheath down my spine. Around my shoulders I wore a double holster. I’d had it custom made to fit three silver daggers on each side. This holster clipped onto a heavy belt that rode low on my hips, with a large silver buckle that had been sprayed black to avoid reflecting the light. Across each thigh, I wore an additional holster. Each carried a sharp silver blade. I’d left my rapier in the training room. Something told me I wouldn’t be fencing with these thugs.
As I placed my last two blades in sheathes along the inside of my knee-high boots, I heard a noise outside. From the upstairs window, I saw two men approach my front door. Damn Marcy and her stupid party. I needed Alfred and his high powered guns to back me up. It had not been a good day for me and it wasn’t about to be much better for these guys. They actually rang the doorbell. Since they’d had the balls to come to my front door, I answered it.
“Lilith Mercury?” the tallest one asked. He took in my weapons with a glance.
“That’s right. What can I do for you boys?”
“Come quietly,” the shorter guy made it a question. It earned him a sharp look from the tall one and gave me the opportunity I had hoped for.
I moved forward and delivered a flying knee to the crotch of the taller man. As he slumped forward, my elbow connected with the back of his skull with a sickening thud. The other man stood i
n stunned silence as I jump kicked him in the face and sent him flying into the azaleas near my front door. As I rummaged through their pockets for the keys to their car, something hit me in the back of the head so hard that I was lifted off the ground. The world became a dizzy nauseating swirl around me and I knew I was about to lose consciousness.
A man that I hadn’t seen when I took down the other two stood over me with an aluminum baseball bat. As I noticed bloody smears on the bat, my eyes began to lose focus. Even I couldn’t take a crack to the head with a baseball bat and not suffer. I’d live, but first, I was going to pass out.
*****
When I came to, I was lying on the floor of a plain room. By plain I mean no furniture, no windows, nothing. The whole room, walls included, was covered in pale blue tiles. It was a room made for torture, easily cleaned. From the throbbing pains in the back of my head, I knew better than to try to move. I was still down, but I’d begun to heal. I looked to my left, careful not to turn my head, and saw Elijah. He was chained to the floor by his right ankle, not too far from the door. He must have seen me open my eyes.
“Lilith,” he spoke softly. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” I whispered, afraid that if I spoke any louder my head would explode.
“I was afraid they’d killed you. I’ve been watching to make sure you kept breathing.”
“How long have we been here?”
“Maybe an hour.”
“Give me till morning,” I groaned. “I’ll get us out of here.” With that, I passed out again.
When I awoke several hours later, my head still hurt, but it was bearable. I attempted to roll over and found that I was bound by both wrists to two long, thick chains that were bolted to the wall near the floor. I could move around, but not much.
It looked as if all they had taken from Elijah was his phone. They’d even left a pair of chopsticks in his pocket. I guessed they didn’t see him as a threat. On the other hand, they had not only taken all of my blades, but my shoes, as well.
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