by Lila Veen
*
Baby stores are perplexing places, and I’ve never been in one until today. We opted out of the baby superstore because my mother insisted on the phone that Heidi requires a quality crib that hasn’t been recalled. She’s called me twice en route to the store, making sure I know what I’m doing when it comes to baby shopping, which I really don’t. All of the cribs look the same to me, but I echo my mother’s warning to the salesman at Cookie’s Cribs and Car Seats, who seems to know exactly what I’m talking about. He goes on to blab about drop sides and convertible cribs and by the end, I vow to get sterilized so I never have to go to another baby store again.
“When are you due?” the salesman asks me, to which I blush furiously and look at Ash.
“February thirtieth,” Ash replies heartily, rubbing my flat stomach. The salesman nods and smiles. I try desperately not to explode into a fit of giggles, and wind up coughing and covering my mouth with my hand instead.
We finally choose a mahogany convertible crib and ask for it to be delivered to Heidi’s address this afternoon. Since I have no idea if Heidi is bringing home a boy or a girl, we choose a beautiful sage green bedding set with giraffes and elephants on it that looks pretty gender neutral to me. Ash cracks me up trying to convince me that the football bedding set is gender neutral, but I’m not buying it.
“Football is for boys, Ash. Don’t be a dork.”
“That’s the most sexist thing I’ve ever heard. How could you inflict these gender stereotypes on our child before it’s even born?” He’s upping the bravado for the benefit of the poor salesman who has no idea what to make of us, or perhaps he’s used to it in his line of work.
“Girls aren’t even allowed to play football on teams,” I claim.
“My sister plays every year with us on Thanksgiving,” Ash says.
“She probably has to, considering she has seven brothers,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“How wonderful for your child to be born into such a large family!” the salesman interrupts, likely desperate to get the most quarrelsome couple he’s ever encountered out of his store. “Here’s my business card, and if you-“
“Is that Gabe?” Ash says suddenly, making me jump out of my skin. I follow his gaze across the store to where another salesman is helping someone out. I can only see their black hair, but then he turns his face and I gasp. That large nose, heavy brow and dark and dangerous face is certainly Gabe.
“Shit,” I whisper. The salesman helping us drops the business card on the counter and wanders away, clearly finished with Ash and me, having already made his sale and taken my credit card information. “What the hell is he doing here?”
“Let’s go find out,” Ash says. I am completely frozen in place, and Ash has to give me a little tug and pull me over to where Gabe is standing. He is looking at the infant carrier and car seat combinations. Gabe is so involved with his inspection that he practically jumps a mile when Ash greets him.
“Ash,” Gabe says, narrowing his eyes. His gaze softens a bit when he sees me. “Hello Leah.”
“Hi Gabe,” I say, somewhat shyly. I’m slightly embarrassed about running out on him at Chez George last week and never calling him or apologizing. I debate with myself in my head about whether I should say something and get it over with now, but Ash decides to step in and dominate the conversation, much to my relief.
“What are you doing here?” Ash demands to know.
“Obviously, Ash, I’m shopping,” Gabe replies coolly. “I could ask you the same question.”
“Heidi is adopting a baby,” I blurt out. “We’re here to get the crib.” Ash casts me a look that indicates he would prefer me to stay quiet and in the background. That’s pretty much against my nature, and I’m hoping by offering some information we’ll force Gabe to respond accordingly. I realize Gabe is good friends with Jack, though. “Did you hear about the adoption going through?”
Gabe nods. “I was here to get them a gift, and I thought the car seat would be a nice gesture.”
“I’m sure she’ll appreciate it,” I say. I elbow Ash to say something, anything, to preferably get us out of the store and away from Gabe.
“Just be sure to not overstay your welcome,” Ash says to Gabe. “Particularly where you aren’t welcome.”
“Who says you’re any more welcome than I am, Ash?” Gabe says, nostrils flaring and his face turning into the ugly version of himself. “I’ve been friends with Jack and Heidi for years. You just sweep Heidi’s sister off her feet and you’re considered to be part of the family?”
“You’re not welcome near Leah or any of her family, Gabe,” Ash scoffs, clearly fuming. “I mean it.”
“Ash, let’s go,” I say, not wanting to cause a scene. “Please.” I touch Ash’s arm and gasp at the heat coming from it, pulling my hand back sharply. Gabe and Ash are locked into each other’s gazes, neither one wanting to blink or move. “Ash,” I repeat, stepping between them, facing Ash. “Let’s g-ahh!” I shriek, feeling a searing pain course through my entire body, as though I’ve received an electric shock, and I collapse on the floor of the store, unable to keep myself standing up.
“Leah!” I hear Ash say, and as though he can read my mind, he is kneeling down in front of me with my inhaler and placing it between my lips and pressing down. I puff once and take it from him with a trembling hand, and puff again. “Leah, get up,” Ash says, not without deep concern in his voice. “Let’s go.”
I glance quickly at Gabe. His face is an unreadable mask of his emotions. Ash helps me walk out of the store, leaving Gabe and some very confused salesmen behind us.
“Leah, what happened?” Ash says when he has helped me to the passenger seat and is buckled into the driver’s seat next to me, pulling out of the parking lot.
“It was like a sharp pain through my entire body the minute I stepped between you and Gabe,” I say, my eyes closed and my head resting against the window. The pain is gone but the aftershock is still there. I glance at Ash, who is staring straight ahead at the road. “What the hell just happened, Ash?”
He glances at me, looking nervous. “Did you know Gabe and I are half-brothers?” he asks me. I nod. “I figure you would have heard it from someone by now.”
“My mother told me,” I say. “Before I really got to know you, when she was telling me about Gabe,” I explain. “And why I should stay away.”
“I’m glad she told you,” Ash says. “My mother isn’t perfect, but to me she’s all I have. Gabe’s father, Oscar Locke, raped my mother when she was married to my uncle Bo. She became pregnant with Gabe and Bo mysteriously died in a skiing accident just after he found out she was pregnant.”
“This is before you were born?” I ask.
“Just before,” he replies. “In the Lavanne tradition, my father married her after my uncle Bo died, when my mother was still pregnant with Gabe. When he was born, my mother decided she couldn’t love him. She gave him to Oscar Locke, where he belonged. I was born about a year later.”
“So you hate Gabe because of what his father did to your mother?” I ask.
“Gabe is a reaper, Leah,” Ash explains as though I haven’t already heard. “What you walked in between was Gabe trying to reap my craft from me.”
“How can he do that?” I wonder.
“Gabe’s father is a reaper. Reapers aren’t very common, but the rule is, they need to have at least one parent who can craft. I don’t know everything about them. I’m sure the Legend explains it in more detail.”
“The Legend,” I repeat dully, hating to hear about the stupid book that took my father away from me more than half a lifetime ago. Ash puts his hand on mine and suddenly turns right. “Where are we going?” I wonder.
“The Gallows,” he says. I straighten up in my seat. The Gallows is where the people of Blackwater killed the witches four centuries ago, right along the shore of the Blackwater River.
“It will take us too long,” I say. “We’re going to be late to lunch with
my mother at Heidi’s.”
“I need to show you something,” Ash says. “I need you to understand.”
Chapter 15
I have no idea what Ash plans to make me understand by bringing me to the creepiest place in all of Blackwater. I grew up hearing stories about people drowning witches, burying them alive, burning them at the stake, and hanging them. Those images are all brought to life when Ash pulls the SUV down a twisted gravel path with gnarled trees shadowing either side. I picture ropes with dead crafters hanging from the low branches of every single tree we pass. A sick feeling develops in the pit of my stomach. Even though it’s not quite afternoon, the sun doesn’t seem to be able to power through the trees, which have no leaves left at the tail end of fall. The spiny branches weave a shroud over the path, encasing us in darkness. Ash drives to the very end where gravel meets sediment and the Blackwater River comes into view.
The town I grew up in is named for the river, obviously. I’ve heard people say that outside of Blackwater, or this section of the river, the water doesn’t flow red from the blood of the crafters that drowned here centuries ago. I’ve also heard the scientific explanation that the mud at the bottom is what causes the deep red color. Everyone chooses to believe what they want, but I tend to lean toward the blood theory. Anyone who has decided that it’s the mud probably never felt what I am feeling as I step out of the car. This is the site where hundreds died for what they were able to do but never explain. The thought makes me shudder. I’ve been here once before, actually, with Drew and Eleanor when we were teenagers and looking for a place to get drunk. The three of us chickened out and finished our bottles of Boone’s Farm in a parking lot somewhere else. Between the darkness and the feeling of dread that crossed over us, we felt safer in a more public location.
Ash comes around to my side and lets me out of the car. I shiver and zip up my leather jacket, courtesy of the Lavanne clothing donation service. He begins to lead me a bit down the beach. We walk in silence, both absorbing the quiet and the sadness that we associate with the Gallows. At least that’s what I’m feeling. The first things we see are the grave markers, wooden stakes set within a patch of grass between a break in the gnarled trees and away from the sand. “This is where the earth crafters were buried,” Ash says. “They didn’t use crosses or anything like that because they weren’t Christian burials, even though the people who condemned them to die in the ground were supposedly Christian.” I shiver, both horrified and fascinated to finally be seeing where it had all happened. I see Ash bring his elegantly sculpted hand up to the silver circle charm he wears around his neck. “Let me show you the pyre.”
“Oh god,” I whisper, already feeling my mouth go dry. Why did he bring me here? I bite my lip and let him lead me through the trees to another clearing. We approach a stone circle, embedded in the ground, the ashes and wood that once covered the area swept away by time. I feel the tears streaming down my face as I think of what happened here, what could have happened to us had we lived that long ago, and what people who were actual relatives had suffered on top of the stones that Ash and I are standing on now.
“Do you understand?” Ash begins quietly, facing away from me out towards the shore. “Do you get why I actually care about Gabe and his kind, and taking what attaches me to everyone who died here?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“I’m not sure you really do,” Ash continues, turning toward me. He walks up to me and takes both of my hands in his own. We’re standing in the middle of the pyre, and I feel a rush of wind as his hands touch mine. “It’s not just my blood relatives that I feel joined to when I come here. It’s everyone who ever crafted who was burned here. Just as my mother can walk to the shore and feel connected to everyone who drowned in that river, and how my brother Rowan and his wife Annalise feel about seeing those trees as they approach the river, and my brother Aspen feels when he sees the graveyard and all of those wooden stake markers.”
“How often do you come here?” I ask him, surprised. If it were up to me, I’d never come here again.
“Every year, on the anniversary of my father’s death,” he replies. “My mother insists we go with her. She brings each of her children on the day their father died. So she comes four times a year, once for each husband.”
“But you’re here now, with me,” I say, bringing his hand to my lips. “Is it the anniversary of your father’s death?”
“No, not today,” Ash says. “But I wanted you to come and feel it too. I needed you to feel what I do about my elemental. It’s not something I want Gabe to take from me, or from you. Our elementals are what join us together and make us catalysts. I don’t want to lose that, now that I’ve found you.”
“I don’t either,” I say softly. He pulls me close to him and heat fills me, starting in my cheeks and burning lower. Ash draws me in for a long, soft kiss. The burn grows deeper and hotter as his tongue plunges between my lips and lashes over my own. My arms come under his and I press my chest against him, feeling comfort and security in his warmth. His embrace makes me feel like nothing can hurt me, as though I’ve known him forever yet there’s so much more I need to discover. He breaks away from my kiss and puts his hands on either side of my face to stare directly into my eyes. His black eyes glimmer and seem to be boring holes through my own. His thumbs press and smooth out my cheekbones. I sigh softly, relishing his touch. My hands travel down to unbutton his jeans and reach inside and take him in my hand. He moans and pulls me closer to press his lips against mine, harder this time, bruising my lips with the force of his. We sink down until we are sitting on the stones, and I lay back and pull him over me.
“Leah,” he says, breaking away from our kiss. I feel his mouth moving against my cheek, sending shivers down through me, the electric jolt extending down my limbs. “You don’t have to-“
“I want you on top,” I tell him, pressing my hands against his back so doesn’t break our contact. “I trust you.”
He nods and strokes my cheek with the back of his hand. I lean into his touch, trusting him. I feel one of his hands fumble with my jeans, and I help him by lifting myself so he can pull them down to my knees. Once his are pulled down he presses himself inside of me, and I’m so ready for him that he slides in smoothly. “We fit,” he whispers, “so perfectly.”
“We do,” I agree, gazing into those black eyes, feeling like I could get lost inside of them. His fingers press between our hips and against my clit, rubbing softly against it in small circles. The pressure inside of me builds from his motions and I begin to hold my breath, knowing I won’t be able to hold back much longer. I push his head back so he can watch my face as waves of pleasure course through me. When I am done he releases into me, filling me up so that I feel hot liquid seeping from the sides and onto my bare thighs. Ash collapses against me and I cling to him, feeling as though nothing outside of what we have right now could matter at all. There’s so much I want to spill out and say, but I can only smile like an idiot as Ash turns his face to look at me.
“Are you cold?” he asks me, pulling out of me and rolling onto his back to wiggle his jeans back on over his hips.
“Well now that you’re not on me anymore, yes, I’d say so,” I reply, feeling the air biting against my bare, wet thighs. My senses begin to realize the cold stone underneath me. I follow his lead and yank my jeans up over my hips.
“Sorry,” he says, turning his head and smiling. “I guess the front seat of a car is a better place to do that, huh?”
I swat at him playfully. “Or, you know, a bedroom, now that we’re grown-ups,” I say. “Or at least one of us is.”
“You’re right,” he replies. “You really ought to grow up, Miss Holt.”
After smacking Ash thoroughly, he and I help each other stand up. We dust ourselves off, figuring that prior to meeting my mother for lunch we should try not to look as though we just had a good roll in the hay…or pyre, as the case may be. I let Ash kiss me one more time as we stand in the
center of the pyre, both of us keeping our hands warm in each other’s back pockets. “I hope that some of the sad memories of coming here in memory of your father will be replaced with what just happened,” I tell him as we walk back toward the SUV, arms around each other. “Do you want to tell me anything about him?”
Ash shrugs. “He killed himself when I was three,” he says. “Not much I can tell you.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Not as sorry as you’re going to be,” I hear a voice say, making me jump back in terror from the unexpected sound of someone else. I whirl around and see Michael standing by his car, parked behind Ash’s black SUV. The feeling of dread fills me.
“Michael,” I say breathlessly. “How long have you been there?”
“Long enough,” he begins, “to know that you haven’t been a very good girl.” I glance at Ash nervously, who is visibly bristling at the sight of my ex. “No chandeliers this time, Leah, so what are you going to do?”
“She’s not going to do shit,” Ash says, stepping in front of me. “But I’m going to beat the shit out of you until you wish you were dead.”
The next part is like a cymbal crash. The two men explode toward each other and try and grab each other’s shoulders to throw the other man down first. Michael is much bigger in girth than Ash, but Ash has a lot of height over Michael. I shrink back as the violence erupts, with Michael throwing a punch first, but missing Ash’s face and grazing the top of his shoulder instead. Ash pummels forward, charging Michael like an angry buffalo. Michael grunts as Ash’s head collides into his chest, the wind knocked out of him, and the bulk of him falls down onto the gravel path. I hear Michael swear. Ash falls on top of him and a fury of fists flies into Michael’s face, a complete blur of rage. “Ash!” I cry out, hesitant to touch either one of them, completely frozen, “Stop! You’ll kill him.”
Ash’s fists stop in midair, and he calmly stands up from sitting on Michael’s chest and turns away and begins walking toward me. “Get in the car,” he says evenly.