“I put together a few things I think Zyah would really like, Player,” Hannah said. “She’s on her feet all day. You said she’s a dancer and has an affinity with the earth. This particular lotion will appeal to her, the scent, the way it will feel on her skin and blend in with nature. In a way, it will amplify her awareness of the earth’s call to her without her straining her talent. You massage it into her feet, ankles and calves very slowly, using a circular technique.”
For a moment, Hannah looked uncomfortable. Her fingers went to her wedding ring and twisted it back and forth. “I would like to show you the technique. I’d need to touch your arm, if you wouldn’t mind.”
He shook his head and extended his arm to her, laying it across the high tabletop. “Of course not.”
She took a deep breath. “You want to massage in a circular motion like this at first with a firm touch.” She applied pressure. “Do you feel that? You don’t want it to be too hard, but it has to penetrate in order for her to get relief and also to reach where her gift connects with yours. You always want to start out with this kind of pressure and the circular massage. I’ve written the instructions out for you and drawn a map of the foot, ankle and calf for you to follow, working your way up her leg. You want the lotion to absorb into her skin. That will bring tremendous relief to her.”
Player nodded, shocked that Hannah had gone into so much detail for him. Her features were very intent. Serious. Clearly, she believed in what she was saying, and he believed it too. Just the fact that she said the lotion had to penetrate in order for Zyah to get relief but also for their gifts to connect. He’d never said a word to her about their connection. Not one word, yet she’d known.
“You want to work in a circular motion counterclockwise over the soles of her feet and then around her feet, just like in the diagram. Over the tops and then around her ankles and up her calves. Once you’ve done that, you switch from the lotion to this cream I put in the basket.”
Hannah reached into the basket and brought out a large jar, holding it up for him. “I didn’t have time to pretty up the packaging. If you want to come back, I can do that for you, make everything look really nice. I put all sorts of things in here for you, but the most important are the lotion and cream for her feet.”
Player shook his head. “I’m just grateful you thought of something I could do for her.”
“When you apply the cream, you use a completely different technique . . .”
Preacher nearly knocked over Player’s chair, coming up behind him fast, his arms full of several items, which he immediately dumped on the table. Behind him, the clerk, looking like a furious little witch about to do incantations, rushed after him.
“Sorry, Player, but this is important.” Preacher inserted his body between Player’s high-backed chair and Hannah’s. “You’re the one who actually put all these together, right? You made these lotions and bath products.”
“I’ll throw him out for you, Hannah,” the clerk declared. The declaration seemed ludicrous given she was half Preacher’s size, but she looked more than determined.
Preacher put his hand on top of the clerk’s head and held her at arm’s length, ignoring her wild struggle to reach the items rolling off the table. Player went to catch them, but Hannah held up her hand, and they just seemed to stop in midroll. He blinked, a little shocked, uncertain of what had just happened.
“Pipe down,” Preacher said to the clerk, not looking at her. “You are, right? You made this stuff. All of it. The ingredients are on the packaging but not the amounts. I have to know the amounts. You’re amazing. You know that, right? Only a few people in the world can produce these kinds of products.”
Hannah arched an eyebrow. “You haven’t tried them yet.”
“I can smell them. Taste them.”
“He’s wearing them on his nose,” the clerk accused. “And he opened all the packaging. I told him not to, but he didn’t listen at all.”
Player looked at Preacher’s face. He was wearing an expression he’d never seen before, almost fanatical, definitely passionate, and sure enough, the clerk was right, the end of his nose was a shade of purple that shimmered in the light. Player pulled out his cell phone and took a quick shot of Preacher’s nose. Preacher didn’t even notice. His total concentration was on Hannah.
“You’re freaking her out, bro,” Player said, putting his phone away. “He’s harmless, Hannah. He’s really into this kind of thing, and no one understands a word he says, so coming in here, he’s probably in seventh heaven. You’re some kind of goddess to him.”
“Not some kind of goddess,” Preacher denied. “The goddess. There’s only a handful of people in the world that could do this without a company surrounding them, and I don’t see a company around you. You do this solo, don’t you? You grow everything, and you handpick your ingredients and then you make the lotion up or the cream or the candle for your store or your client.”
The clerk relaxed, but Preacher seemed to forget he had his hand on her head. He remained, his arm outstretched, holding her in place while he stared at Hannah with admiration.
“Actually, Mr. . . .”
“Preacher. Call me Preacher.”
The clerk made a rude noise, drawing Preacher’s attention. “Of course you’re called Preacher. I’ll bet you preach to everyone.”
Hannah took the opportunity to put her hands on Player’s arm to show him the penetrating technique she wanted him to use with the cream. Not a circular motion this time but more of a deep tissue massage.
“Again, start with the soles of the feet. You might have to work up to a deeper massage if it’s too painful at first. I doubt that it will be. She has an affinity with the earth, so the aches are always going to be there. This will help with that tremendously. It will also establish an intimacy between the two of you if you can get her to allow you to do this for her after she’s been working all day.”
Preacher glared at the clerk, his fist closing even tighter in the thick wealth of black hair. “Someone needs to preach to you from the good book of manners. I’m trying to get some answers here—important ones, which you wouldn’t know a thing about. Why you’re working in this shop, I have no idea. You’d be better suited to the toy store down the street.”
The clerk tried to kick him just as the door was flung open and Jonas burst in, gun drawn, a look of fury on his face. His blue gaze took in everything, including his wife’s hands massaging Player’s arm, the clerk kicking at Preacher and Preacher’s hand buried deep in the clerk’s hair. Player could imagine what it looked like with so many of the bath bombs, soaps, lotions and creams strewn across the table, along with the large basket. He shook his head and resigned himself to going to jail at the very least. The worst was, Jonas might really shoot him, since his wife had her hands all over him.
“What the hell is going on here?” Jonas demanded.
“Go away, Jonas,” Preacher said. “I mean it. The last thing I need is for you to come in here and make this more difficult. And take this horrid little fairy creature with you. If you don’t, I’m going to have to tie her up and put her in the back room with a gag on her.”
“Preacher, I swear I’m going to shoot you,” Jonas said. “Let go of Sabelia right now, and Hannah, it would be best if you stop massaging Player’s arm.”
“Put the gun away,” Hannah said.
“Go away,” Preacher repeated simultaneously with Hannah.
Hannah burst out laughing, the sound filling the shop with genuine merriment. At once the mood seemed to change dramatically. The sun seemed to shine brighter.
“I’m not putting the gun away, Hannah, until you stop massaging Player’s arm.”
“I’m working,” she clarified. “What are you doing here?”
Player would have liked to pull his arm out from under Hannah’s hands. That gun hadn’t wavered, not one inch, steady as a rock, and it wasn’t pointed at Preacher, which technically wasn’t in the least bit fair. He was the one
with his fist locked in the clerk, Sabelia’s, hair. That should have gotten him the gun.
“Just what kind of work are you doing, Hannah?” Jonas demanded.
“Jonas,” Preacher hissed through gritted teeth. “Leave now and take this . . . this person with you. You may not be aware, but your wife just happens to be a genius. A true genius. A fuckin’ goddess. I need to talk to her without interruption. Take Player with you, even if you have to remove him at gunpoint. Take everyone, but just leave.”
“He’s crazy, Jonas,” Sabelia informed Jonas in a haughty tone. She rubbed her scalp when Preacher released her. “Certifiably insane. Arrest him and put him in jail.”
“For what?”
She wiggled her fingers. “For not recognizing the difference between sex education and anatomy, for one. And he thinks I’m the moron. He should be jailed for that alone.”
Jonas holstered his gun, which Player thought was a good idea since the man was beginning to look harassed, not that he could blame him. He wanted to ask if it was always like that around his wife’s shop. Hannah’s blue eyes sparkled at her husband.
“What the hell are you talking about, Sabelia?” Jonas demanded and then held up his hand. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. Hannah.” He stopped. Shook his head. Turned and walked out.
Sabelia smothered a laugh with her fingertips over her mouth.
“Sex education and anatomy, Sabelia?” Hannah asked.
“Apparently, Preacher isn’t aware of the difference, so I was trying to educate him,” Sabelia said, reaching around Preacher’s body to try to collect the packaging that was strewn all over the table.
Preacher’s hand slammed down over the paper, locking it in place. “I told you I was buying that. Don’t touch it. I’m in a discussion here. Run along and find your broomstick. Sweep the shop or do whatever it is you normally do.”
“Don’t be rude to my help, Preacher, or you will be leaving,” Hannah warned.
“She was rude to me, and she tried to have me arrested. She called Jonas just because I’m a biker. Not for any other reason. She deserves to have someone put her in her place.”
Hannah looked at her employee. Sabelia met her eyes and then looked away. “I’ll start cleaning the store, Hannah.”
Hannah nodded. “I would like to finish with Player before we talk, Preacher. He’s here for a specific reason, and I’m working with him. If you’d like to wait, I’ll be happy to talk with you after we’re done. You’re welcome to sit at one of the tables and have a cup of coffee or tea.”
“Try some tea, Preacher, something soothing,” Player suggested.
Preacher glared at Player. “I don’t suppose you—”
“No,” Player cut him off, exasperated.
“I’m going to annoy the hell out of that little she-devil,” Preacher said. “So you’d better make it fast, Player. Otherwise she’ll call Jonas back here. If he catches his wife with her hands all over you again, he’ll shoot you for sure.”
He started back toward the main counter.
“Preacher.” Player stopped him.
Preacher swung around, looking hopeful.
“Take your things. You may as well pay for them. And don’t rile that girl up.”
“You’d better not,” Hannah echoed. “Just for your information, she’s apprenticing.”
Preacher looked horrified as he gathered up the various products and the wrapping.
“It would never have occurred to me to take on an apprentice, but she’s special,” Hannah said. “Instead of fighting with her, you might want to make peace with her.”
Preacher grinned at her. “Having way too much fun getting her all riled up. She tried to kick me. Haven’t had a woman try that ever that I can recall.”
Player shook his head. “I’m sorry, Hannah. He really isn’t crazy. In fact, usually Preacher’s the one we can count on. It’s just that”—he looked around the shop—“I love music and working with wood. He loves this kind of thing. He needs it. The rest of us don’t have a clue what he does. He has his own chemistry shop, and we give him a bad time about it, but we don’t have a prayer of understanding what he does in it or the things he whips up in it. I can’t imagine what it would be like to meet someone like you after years of never talking to someone who could understand him.”
He didn’t want her to think Preacher was insane or that he might harm Sabelia. Preacher was a good man and much more stable than the rest of them—most of the time. He always held it together for Lana. Player glanced across the room at him now as he dumped the paper and products all over the countertop in front of Sabelia.
She made a face, glanced at Hannah and reached down to get a box.
“I’d prefer one of those really nice baskets like Hannah gave Player,” Preacher said.
Sabelia regarded him with narrowed eyes, gritted her teeth, as if she knew he was deliberately trying to provoke her. “You have to pay extra for the baskets.”
“Are you implying you don’t think I have the money?”
“No, sir, I’m not implying that at all. I’m informing you of the extra cost just in case you weren’t aware of it,” Sabelia replied in a bit of a superior tone.
Hannah’s head came up, and her fingers ceased moving on Player’s arm.
“He’s deliberately provoking her,” Player said. “He can be a real ass sometimes. The fact that you said she’s apprenticing under you probably made him jealous. Who knows what the deal is, but don’t embarrass her when he’s already poking at her. I think she’s handling herself quite well under the circumstances.”
Hannah shook her head. “Once you work the cream in, using a deep tissue massage, let her rest for about fifteen minutes. Just keep her legs on your lap. At that point she should be feeling very good, all aches gone, and very connected to you. After fifteen minutes, offer her this drink.”
She showed him two small glasses. They were beautiful. He recognized Lissa Prakenskii’s work. They were small goblets with twisted stems, tiny hearts embedded in the stems and floating in between the layers of glass. He couldn’t imagine how any glassblower, no matter how skilled, could produce that kind of work in something that small.
Hannah had included two bottles of a liquid in the woven basket. “This is nonalcoholic.” She had a small bottle on the table he hadn’t noticed. She measured a small portion into a glass and added water. “You just use two tablespoons and fill the glass. You can use sparkling water if she prefers.” She handed him the drink.
Player forced himself to try it. He wasn’t much on anything sweet, but Hannah had been really good to him, taking time to show him how to apply the lotion and cream. Even if it didn’t work the way Hannah thought it would, Zyah would probably like the foot massage after standing on her feet all day. In any case, there was no harm in trying. He took a cautious drink. The beverage tasted . . . extraordinary.
“If Preacher gets ahold of this, he’ll decide you’re more than a goddess.”
She smiled, clearly pleased. “Let’s hope Zyah likes it. It’s expensive, Player, because everything I do is made by hand, and it takes time to get everything right. I have to experiment.”
He waved that away. “Believe me, I can tell without Preacher acting like a crazy man that you’re well worth it. I really appreciate it, Hannah. Did you include a list of everything so I can reorder if she likes it?”
Hannah nodded as they both stood up. Preacher came hurrying toward them, nearly knocking Player down. “Are you finished?”
Hannah exchanged a slow smile with Player. “I believe we are. Sabelia will ring the purchases up for you, Player. Thanks for coming in.”
“Preacher, don’t keep her past closing time,” Player cautioned.
“Don’t worry,” Sabelia said. “I’ll make sure he leaves.” She had followed him through the shop to put his packages on the floor beside the table.
“Thanks, Sabelia,” Hannah said, forestalling any response from Preacher.
T
he shop door opened, and Alena and Lana sauntered in. Preacher frowned at them. “What do you two want?” he demanded.
“Tea,” they replied in a perfect duet, and then laughed.
“I’m sure there’s another tea shop somewhere,” he groused.
“This is my business,” Hannah reminded. “Sabelia will serve them while we talk.”
Player left them to it. He hoped Lana and Alena would give Preacher some time with Hannah before they made him too crazy, but he wasn’t going to wait around to find out.
FOURTEEN
Some days were just longer than others. There was no getting around it. Of course, the fact that she hadn’t slept the night before might have attributed to the hours dragging on forever. Zyah glanced out the large windows for the millionth time. The view should have gone a long way to making the job bearable on a day like this one. The ocean was particularly moody. The moon was out, shining over the water so that she could see the choppy waves, dark and angry, an ominous portent of something evil coming.
Dread had been building for the last hour. This was the store’s late night. The locals came in to shop in a steady flow, peaking around seven and then tapering off at eight. She stayed open until nine. Only another hour and she could go home, see Mama Anat. She couldn’t wait to see her. Her grandmother grounded her. No matter what was going on, no matter how chaotic, Anat made the world seem right. She needed her. She also wanted to see Player. She missed him.
They both had slept for very brief periods of time, no more than half an hour, and maybe that was why he hadn’t woken with a terrible nightmare. She called it a victory each time he managed to sleep and there was no traumatic dream. At her home she slept in the guest room and rushed to him if he woke, already wrapped in the illusion, the White Rabbit present most of the time. Or he would be covered in sweat, fighting in his sleep, trying to stop his attackers. She detested those nights the most. She caught too many glimpses of what had happened to that beautiful little boy.
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