by Lila Veen
“I believe it,” I say, feeling my heart sink at Erika’s sentiments. I’m not sure what I’d hoped for. It’s going to take a lifetime to forget about this for Eleanor and Drew. “Want to meet in the lobby for lunch? Here or outside?”
Erika wrinkles her nose. “Outside. I can’t eat that nasty cafeteria food.”
*
Eleanor is pale, which isn’t unusual for a red head, but this is Eleanor. I’m used to her usual radiant appearance. Her habitually bright and curly hair is hanging limply in dull strings around her ashen face, making me want to cry. “Eleanor, I’m so sorry.”
She sits in the center of her hospital bed with her legs folded, Drew sitting behind her and rubbing her back. He’s not doing much better, and I can see from the dark circles under their eyes that neither one of them has gotten any sleep. Drew clears his throat. “Erika gave you something, honey, and said it might help you to relax and get some rest.”
Eleanor still sits motionless, staring down at her hands in front of her. I see a solitary tear drop fall onto the back of her hand. She looks at it more closely, as though she can’t make out what it is. I glance at Drew, who makes a motion with his head, indicating that I should leave the room. I reach out to rub Eleanor’s shoulder, and my touch makes her glance up at me, but it’s as though she’s looking right through me. I take a deep shuddering breath and lean over to kiss the top of her head. I can’t even say anything to her. Nothing I say will change how she’s feeling or what’s happened.
Drew follows me outside of the hospital room and into the hallway. “Leah, thanks for coming,” he says softly. We are nearly eye level, and his dark blue eyes take in my face. Those eyes are so familiar, yet a distant memory of a lifetime ago. “I didn’t know you were back.”
“Eleanor didn’t tell you?” He shakes his head, no. I smile slightly. “Figures. She doesn’t have to worry, you know.”
Drew chuckles. “Leah, I’ve known that since the day you left. Not that I haven’t missed you, don’t take that the wrong way.”
“I already have.”
He shakes his head. “Not what I meant,” he says. “Eleanor is my catalyst.”
“I knew what you meant, Drew,” I reply.
He nods. “Ash Lavanne is yours,” he says. “Last night when you came by, I was…distracted, obviously. But I could see it. I could feel it, too.”
“What kind of crafters are you and Eleanor?” I ask him, realizing I have no idea. Drew looks startled as a nurse passes us, giving us a strange look. “Sorry,” I say more quietly.
“Earth,” Drew replies. “Both of us.”
I nod, wishing I could ask more, but realizing now is not the time. There is so much I want to learn about crafting and the world I’ve been surrounded by and ignorant to my entire life. “I know you’re not okay right now,” I continue to say. “So I won’t ask if you are. But if you need anything, Drew, you and Eleanor, anything at all, please let me know, okay?” He nods, looking so sad that I can’t help but reach out to give him a hug. So many years of history, and the fact that he’s seen me in one of my most vulnerable states, makes it a natural gesture. I turn toward the room and see that Eleanor is staring at us from her bed with a hostile expression on her face. “Christ,” I mumble. Without a word, I turn around and walk quickly down the hall. As I put distance between me and Drew and Eleanor, I feel my face grow hot with my own tears. Why did I have to touch him like that? I was back in town to rebuild the relationships I’d destroyed, relationships I cherished and needed, and here I was fucking everything up.
I turn the corner to go toward the elevators and slam directly into another person, knocking the wind out of me. “Shit!” I say, seeing scattered white roses all over the tiled floor. I stoop to collect them. “I’m so sorry,“ I apologize, and look up into the yellow cat-like eyes of Gabe Locke. “Shit.”
“We seem to be running into each other fairly often, much to your dismay,” he replies coolly, bending down to help me reorganize the bouquet. “Hello to you too.”
“Hi Gabe,” I say stiffly. I decide to keep things formal, handing him the last white rose and straightening up. “I’m sorry I crashed into you. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”
“Have you been crying, Leah?” he asks me.
I blink and brush away at my telltale reddened eyes.. “I…just came from seeing Eleanor.”
“Ah, yes, I was about to pay my respects as well,” he says, indicating the rescued bouquet. He points his chin at me. “You appear to be bleeding.” I look down at my thumb and see the blood pooling out of it, punctured by a thorn. I press my thumb to my lips and suck, tasting the metallic sweetness of my own blood. “Leah, I know you’re already not very fond of me,” Gabe begins. “Running out on our date wasn’t exactly a great first impression, but I get it. Ash has clearly gotten to you, and I have no intention of stepping between you.”
“What about the intention of reaping my powers?” I ask him. “Do you have any intention of doing anything like that?”
He smiles, reminding me of how handsome he really can be with friendly facial expressions. “I wouldn’t do that, Leah. You’re not powerful enough for me to concern myself with, are you? I don’t think you have any intention of doing anything rash.”
I’m confused. “What about Ash?”
Gabe’s smile diminishes. “My ‘family’,” he says, using air quotes with his bouquet-free hand, “has cast me out completely. You can assume I hold a slight amount of animosity toward them.” I nod, knowing that is probably the absolute truth. “Ash and I will never love each other like brothers. Lisette will never accept me as a son. You, however, I am hoping will be willing to accept me as a friend?”
“I…Ash wouldn’t-“
“Oh, so you care about what a man thinks?” Gabe asks me. “Does Ash control you?” I stare at him, not answering but I’m sure my eyes tell him everything he needs to know. “I didn’t think so, Leah. I don’t get the impression you are the type of woman that would let a man take advantage of you. At least, not again. Am I right?”
My eyes widen and it feels as though my stomach has been hit with a brick. “What do you mean?” I whisper. “Not again?”
Gabe smiles and shakes his head. “Nothing, really. I have to go deliver these to Eleanor. I’d love to stay around and chat some more, but I have some work to attend to this afternoon. Pleasure seeing you, Leah,” he finishes, stressing on the word “pleasure”. He puts his hand on my cheek and pats my skin, making me gasp and shudder, leaving me alone in the hallway feeling cold and exposed.
*
Erika and I are sitting at a table in the middle of Camille’s for lunch, and I’m relaying the details of my encounter with Gabe. If it’s possible to look annoyed and horrified at the same time, Erika has completely nailed it.
“He wants you to trust him,” she says. “Don’t do it.”
“But really, what has he done?” I ask her. “How does everyone know he’s a reaper? Is he walking around reaping people’s powers on a daily basis?”
“Not exactly,” Erika says. “Have you heard of the Order?”
I shake my head. “Like the order of operations? Please excuse my dead aardvark Sam?”
“I always heard it as Aunt Sally,” Erika says, hiding her smile by taking a sip of her coffee.
“I embellished it,” I reply with a straight face. “I don’t have an Aunt Sally.”
“Oh, but you have a dead aardvark Sam?” she asks.
“Doesn’t everyone?”
We are slowly relaxing through the lunch and less on guard than we were. I have a feeling she asked me to lunch to break the ice and it’s working beautifully, much to my relief. I really like Erika, but I feel like I should hate her just in case she hates me. The more I talk to her, the less I feel that it’s the case. “Okay,” I say, stabbing into my spinach and bacon salad. “I’ll bite. What is the Order?”
“The Order is what was put in place to eliminate the Coven bac
k during the original witch trials,” Erika explains. “It’s the anti-Coven, so to speak, and the members have one goal in mind. They want to rid of world of crafting and those able to do so, lest powers be used to change the order of the universe.”
“So they’re Puritans?” I say, sipping on my Diet Coke. “Religious fanatics?”
Erika shrugs. “They aren’t always. In case you haven’t noticed, Blackwater is pretty void of religion.”
“Of course I’d noticed,” I say. “But I never really cared or questioned it. My ex wanted to get married formally in a church for his family. I flat out refused.”
“Well to some people, that’s the equivalent of being a Satanist,” Erika says. “I think when the Order first came about, it was a Puritan thing, intent on ridding the world of Satan worshipers that people tended to view crafters as four hundred years ago. It’s evolved over hundreds of years, though, into something personal and more dangerous.”
“So what does this have to do with Gabe?” I wonder. “Is he part of the Order?”
“Gabe’s father Oscar is the Order,” she explains. “One day the Order will be Gabe.”
I try and absorb this. “Here’s what I don’t get,” I finally say. “Perhaps you can talk slowly or something for my benefit. Gabe is technically able to craft, right? I would say the ability to reap and who knows what else would be considered crafting?”
“True,” Erika agrees, her dark eyes solemn. “But wouldn’t the Order value that type of crafting over all other crafting?”
“I suppose they would,” I say. “What else do you know about the Order?”
Erika shrugs. She stirs her coffee and tastes the moisture off of her spoon. “The Legend has most of the information. Like you and most other Coven members in our generation, we lack a lot of the education that older generations had due to the Legend being gone.”
“Because of my dad,” I say dully. “Of course.”
“Hey,” Erika says, reaching across the table and putting her hand over mine. “We’ve gotten by for a while without the Legend being readily available. People like Lisette and your mother help to fill in some major gaps in our education. My mother has taught me what I need to know and you’ll learn what you need to know.”
“Who’s going to teach me?” I ask. “The only fire crafters I know besides myself are Ash and my dad. My dad isn’t around and Ash doesn’t seem to know all that much about fire craft.”
Erika smiles. “I think you and Ash will be able to discover what you two can do through each other. That’s the fun part.”
My eyes narrow. “That’s right, you would know,” I can’t resist saying.
Erika rolls her eyes. “I thought we were past that. I’m done with him, Leah, you need to understand that.”
“Well that doesn’t mean I don’t need to hear it seven times a day.”
Chapter 18
I drive us back to the hospital after a long lunch. Good thing Gwen is a relaxed boss and already told me to take my time, knowing how connected I am with Eleanor. When we park in the employee lot, Erika swings her head around. “That car has been following us,” she says. “The blue Honda Pilot.”
I freeze, knowing of one person in particular that owns a blue Honda Pilot. “Michael.”
“Who?”
“My ex,” I say, leaning my head on Betsey’s steering wheel. “He just happens to be stalking me, and Ash just happened to beat the shit out of him yesterday. It’s like he has a learning disability.”
“Ash beat the shit out of him?” Erika says. “And he came back? He must really be stupid.”
I nod, and lean back in my seat. “Got any mace?”
Erika looks at me, her dark eyes widening. “Is he dangerous?”
I sigh. “Yes, but apparently only if you’re me. I think you should just go back in and leave me to deal with him.”
She shakes her head. “Absolutely not,” she replies. “I’m not leaving you to deal with a maniac by yourself.”
I look at her and smile with relief. “Thanks,” I say. “I’m not really sure what the plan is, though.”
“The plan is to get out of the car and walk to the entrance of the hospital,” Erika says. “There are police everywhere. More now because of the kidnapping. He won’t try anything. And then you’re going to explain to me why you’re so afraid of this man when we’re safely away from him and I’m going to take care of it.”
I nod and shut off the car and the moment I step out of the car, Michael is at my side, grabbing my arm. His eye is swollen shut and his cheek is bruised considerably. I withhold a smile that he looks worse for the wear and Ash is still as pretty as can be. “Come with me now, Leah,” he growls. “We need to talk.”
“Don’t touch me,” I hiss. Erika comes right to my side.
“Get away from her,” Erika says. “This place is crawling with cops. You wouldn’t want one of us to scream, would you, asshole?”
“Bitch, this has nothing to do with you,” Michael retorts, his green eyes blazing in fury.
“Bitch, I’ll make it about me if you don’t take your hands off of her,” Erika says back. Her full height is unremarkable, but she makes herself as scary as possible, making me mentally note to never be on her bad side. “Now get your nasty hands off of Leah and go back from where you came, or I’ll make sure you never come around again.”
Michael blinks as though he’s stunned into silence. He steps away from me, allowing me to breathe a deep sigh of relief. Erika takes my arm and begins to lead me to the entrance of the hospital. “Need. Inhaler.” I feel an attack coming on and the world is spinning around me.
“Keep walking,” Erika says. “If you show weakness, he’s won. Then you’re going up to my office, and I’m going to get rid of that asthma for you once and for all. It’s starting to get on my nerves.”
*
I get home after work and jump immediately into the shower. I’m wary of Michael following me but he’s nowhere in sight, to my relief. All of the frustration and sadness and anger I’ve felt through the day rinses off of my body and tumbles down the drain. When I step out, I feel refreshed and relieved. I saunter back to the bed in my bathrobe and flop down and close my eyes, letting out a long “fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck”. I have no idea what Ash has in store for the evening but it ought to involve an entire bottle of wine. For me. He can get his own.
My eyes wander over to my nightstand where the bottle Erika gave me is sitting. I unscrew the dropper and smell inside. The clear liquid has no odor whatsoever, and while I watched her mix it, I have no idea what it is she gave me. I took four drops on the end of my tongue and will take four more every evening and morning until it’s gone, as she instructed. Supposedly it will cure my asthma, though I haven’t really noticed any effects so far. I’m okay with that, considering most of my attacks are stress induced and I’ve been having them a lot since I got back to Blackwater. Today the stress can take a hike, though, I’m done with stress.
My phone rings and I set the dropper inside of the bottle carefully and smile when I see Ash’s name pop up on the caller ID. “Hi,” I say. “I missed you all day.”
“I missed you too,” he says in his deep throaty voice that seems to set me on fire when I hear it. “What are you doing?”
“I just got out of the shower,” I tell him.
“Are you naked?”
I blush. “Sort of. I have a bathrobe on.”
“Are you alone?”
“Jeez,” I reply. “What is this? Phone sex?”
“Maybe,” he says, chuckling. “I missed you today. In every way.”
“Smooth,” I answer, grinning like an idiot. “Yes, I’m alone.”
“Take off your robe,” he demands. I sit up slightly, smiling and feeling the heat from my cheeks flush down to my chest. I do as I’m told, untying the knot around my waist and opening the robe. “Are you doing as I say?”
“Yes,” I reply softly. The flush creeps down between my legs and I’m starting t
o feel how much I miss him as well.
“Good,” he says. “Describe your breasts to me.”
“Why?” I want to know.
Ash sighs. “I miss the feel of them filling up my hands.”
“Mmmmm,” I moan, a thrill moving through me from his words. I roll my tongue along my lower lip. When I answer back, my voice is husky. “I miss your hands on them, and on me. I love your hands.”
“So describe them to me,” Ash pleads. “Tell me what they look like right now.”
“Huge,” I say honestly. “Swollen from the hot shower I just took.”
“Put your hands on them,” Ash tells me. I do as he says, feeling the cold skin of my hands against the warm flesh of my breasts, making my nipples shrink and tighten. “Do you feel your nipples getting hard?”
“Yes,” I reply.
“Good,” he says. “Take one of your hands and put it between your legs for me.”
“Ash-“
“Just do it,” he whispers. I comply, shocked at how wet I am already. “Do you feel wet and warm?”
“Mmmhmmm,” I reply, biting my lip to keep from moaning too loudly.
“Does it feel good to touch yourself?” he wants to know.
“Yes,” I say breathlessly. “Tell me what to do,” I beg. “Please.”
“How do you feel when I tell you to pleasure yourself?” I hear him whisper.
“I feel like I’m on fire,” I moan. “Like I want you inside of me.”
“I want to be inside of you,” he assures me. “I want to be where your fingers are right now. I want to feel how wet and warm you are.”
“Ash,” I gasp, feeling the pleasure start to mount inside of me.
“Don’t come yet,” he warns me. “I’m getting so worked up thinking about you lying in your bed and touching yourself.”
“Play with yourself,” I demand. “Are you doing it already?”
“I’m stroking myself as I listen to you,” he tells me. “If I were with you right now,” he whispers, “I would be touching you with my fingers to feel how wet you are, and making you feel with your hand how hard you make me.”