“Did I do something wrong?”
“Never,” I breathed, before climbing onto the bed, sitting above him with my knees on either side of his body. He entered me slowly, easing himself into me until our bodies joined at the middle. After that any thought of going slowly left me. I slid up and down his firm flesh as his hands caught my hips, guiding me, changing my rhythm into a powerful dance.
The sensation came again, stronger, pleasure that would not be denied. Now I wasn’t thinking of him, wasn’t planning how it would look or trying to distract from some point; now I wanted it, I wanted to feel this way and I beat myself on him hungry for release. The pleasure grew in the core of my body, stealing my breath, but still I couldn’t stop moving. Then it happened, my muscles clenched, tightening around him, making me feel every inch of him before I exploded with release. His release joined mine a second later, our eyes locked together, our bodies as close as our souls.
****
I didn’t want to get out of bed. It was simple. Phoebe and her wonderful boyfriend would have to understand. We’d had a major breakthrough, I knew what Jakob ate and when. That was huge.
It deserved at least a few hours of wallowing under the covers, enjoying our new feeling of closeness. Unfortunately, Jakob thought once you were committed you were committed, such a quaint old-fashioned notion.
I watched him dress from the bed, still naked and wrapped in the sheet. He put on jeans that had never seen hard work but cupped his ass perfectly. A second later the pale marble perfection that was his chest disappeared into a black undershirt.
“You should be getting dressed.”
“Nope, I’m wallowing in our new-found closeness.”
“You’re what?” he asked from the closet.
“You heard me!” I shouted back, sure he could hear me. “I was worried about your eating habits; they were like this big bad thing that could cause problems, except it turns out they’re not and I’m basking in that feeling.”
“If you were so concerned why didn’t you ask me sooner?”
“Well, because…because I was worried about how it would turn out I guess.”
“Is there anything else that worries you?” He sat on the end of the bed buttoning up a navy-blue shirt. It didn’t exactly go with his eyes but it did wonderful things for his pale blond hair.
“Dozens of things,” I admitted.
“Why not ask me?”
“Well, because it could go bad.” Wasn’t that horribly obvious?
“You’d rather worry something will cause a problem than find out if it will and deal with it?”
“Exactly.” I was nodding my head in agreement when I realized his damnable logic had caught up with me. Again.
****
Phoebe met us inside the restaurant, her blonde hair and deep tan skin shining under the warm orange lights. Plants crowded the entrance space turning it into a palette of greens. A sign on the wall boasted that whenever possible food came from local farmers.
I shivered a bit in the cold January wind; if we were depending on local produce dinner would be rather scant. Phoebe didn’t seem to have any concerns, her green eyes lit up when she saw me.
“Ethan’s waiting at the table.” Every inch of her radiated delight. “My boyfriend, my nice normal boyfriend is waiting at the table.”
“I heard.” She didn’t notice me at all, but walked into the interior. The space was small, chopped up into little rooms, each one a different shade of sunny yellow or burnt orange. There was no art work on the walls but the plants continued, making the space seem outdoorsy and cramped at the same time. The effect worked for people, though; the place was filled with the scent of patchouli oil and warm bodies.
Dreadlocks and braless women adorned most of the tables, where patrons wore hemp clothing and minimalist shoes. As we sat down, I watched Jakob. His crisp buttoned shirt and short blond hair looked completely out of place in what had to be the town’s only hippie restaurant. The table was empty when we got there, but Phoebe didn’t seem to mind.
“How’d you find this place?” I asked as I read over the “Wholesome Harvest” menu. Phoebe might be a vegetarian but she didn’t usually take it this far.
“Ethan.” His name brought a dreamy look to her face.
“And when will we get to meet him?” I asked, but she didn’t answer, the man behind her did.
“Right now. Sorry, I had to step outside for a call.” My first impression was that he was short, short enough that Phoebe was almost taller than him. If she’d worn heels she’d definitely be taller. His hair cascaded down from his head in tight black ringlets, and a heavy shadow of the same black hair stood out around his mouth.
I could see Jakob looking at him, not approving at all of someone who didn’t shave before an evening out, but the look worked. The rugged, devil-may-care look went with the light in his hazel eyes and the casual way his grin stayed on his long face.
I could see why Phoebe liked him; he looked rakish, fun, the kind of guy who would take you hiking all day. The fact that he was wearing hiking boots with his jeans helped the image.
After Phoebe did the introductions Jakob started the conversation. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. We’ve heard such wonderful things about you from Phoebe.”
“It’s horrible the way she lies,” Ethan replied straight faced. Phoebe’s mouth fell open in shock and then, more surprisingly, she smacked his arm.
“Don’t listen to him Jakob, he’s just having trouble dating someone who’s not an earth witch.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Yup, I’m his first normal girl,” Phoebe said with a grin. “Well, normal spirit witch.”
“Oh I wouldn’t call you normal, honey,” Ethan teased with an equally wide grin.
“Why date other earth witches?” There were no other death witches for me to date or even hang out with; I didn’t know if I would if there was. “I mean exclusively.”
“It’s easier.” He shrugged. “They understand things other people don’t.”
“Like what?” Okay maybe I should have let it go but I was curious.
“Well—” He looked around for a minute, his eyes finally settling on the candle on our table. “Take candlelight. Candles can be made with almost no negative impact. The bees that make the wax don’t have to be killed and the plants that make the wick don’t hurt anything. Everyone agrees candlelight is more romantic and prettier, but they insist we have brighter light. Thus, we get the incandescent bulb. It generates heat that’s wasted, its creation can do rotten things to the environment, and for a while there it took dead animals to create it. Why would anyone pick it over a candle?”
“I don’t know.” I’d never really thought of my light bulbs; if I flipped a switch and the light came on, I was good. “Maybe they’re easier? Or maybe they give a brighter light so I can stay up later?”
“But should you stay up later? What’s wrong with going to bed after sunset? I’m sure that’s what you did growing up, right Jakob?”
“Yes, but my work was much different then, there was nothing to be done after dark.”
“And there still isn’t. Don’t get me started on the environmental impact of televisions or the idea that if we don’t work into the night we’re somehow unfulfilled. Most Americans are sleep deprived, caffeinated zombies pushing themselves to do more, all so they can stay up to eleven watching the latest episode of whatever sitcom the media tells them to enjoy, when really they’d enjoy a good night’s sleep or a conversation with someone a lot more.”
I was about to defend my late-night TV watching practices when I realized that wasn’t what we were discussing. “How does any of that relate to only dating other earth witches?”
“Oh.” He had the decency to blush. “Sorry, I got off topic. I do that sometimes.”
Phoebe rolled her eyes at his “sometimes” but kept her mouth shut. “The point is: I light my house with candles. Earth witches don’t even blink when they see that, but other people t
hink it makes me a zealot.”
“But you’re a cute zealot, so I forgive you,” Phoebe told him with a smile.
A young woman in a heavily embroidered peasant dress came by, her dreadlocked hair covered by a kerchief; it took me a minute to realize she was our waitress. When it was my turn I ordered a salad with free range, hormone free, grain fed chicken, wondering if I would be able to taste a difference. Predictably, Jakob ordered nothing. Ethan waited until the waitress left to talk about it.
“You don’t have to skip your meal for me. I’m an advocate of vampirism.” Everyone at the table looked at Ethan as if he’d grown a second head. It was rude of us, but you don’t throw something like that out there and expect people not to notice.
“Really?” Jakob asked his voice barely concealing his disdain. Ethan completely missed it.
“If you’re not going to be vegetarian it’s the best diet, karmically and environmentally anyway. Vampires don’t have to kill their meals, they can even keep them from feeling any pain. That’s a lot better than most factory-farmed chickens who live in squalor and are slaughtered without any regard for their feelings.”
“You’re the first person I’ve ever heard express that view.” Jakob’s strained smile was somewhere between indulgence and disbelief.
“Mind you I’m not saying we should all turn ourselves into vampires, but it’s not the worst option. It’s at least a thousand times better than eating fast food every night. What they do to cattle is—”
“Not polite dinner conversation,” Phoebe finished for him. “What’s going on at work, Mal?”
“We’re investigating a murder case that’s not going anywhere and this morning during a run I stumbled onto a half-dead body. You know, same old same old,” I joked.
“Walter Lloyd?” Ethan asked with a smile.
“Excuse me?”
“Representative Lloyd, Concordia Parish, he was found this morning at Rivermont Park, multiple stab wounds.” He described the case.
“You knew him?”
“I’m an environmental lobbyist. I’ve been fighting against him for years.”
“Against him? I guess you’re not upset he was attacked.” Really, I didn’t need to say it; his upbeat tone answered the question for me.
“Not at all, it’s a victory for the cypress trees. He was a strong supporter of industries that cut them down to make mulch.”
“Doesn’t mulch cut down on the amount of watering people have to do? Isn’t that a good thing?” I asked.
“Sure, but not when you’re cutting down trees that remove pollutants from the environment, are decades old, and can’t be replaced. Not to mention he killed a bill to require loggers to replant. Honestly, Lloyd’s got his face on a wanted poster in my office.”
“I understood Representative Lloyd stood firm on most environmental issues,” Jakob said, surprising me. I had no idea he followed politics. “I’ve had him consult on projects in the past; he always seemed to favor an environmentalist view.”
“Not enough.” Ethan sounded almost angry. “He’s one of those ‘approve a tax break for electric cars and call it a good day’ types. We deal with them all the time. They think doing some little thing to encourage environmentalism is enough when really they should be mandating it. People won’t act unless they’re forced to and that’s what our leaders should be doing. If Lloyd is out of office maybe we can get someone in who will.”
I swallowed hard. Ethan seemed like a nice guy but most people had the decency not to speak ill of someone who was a victim of violent crime. I was glad when the waitress interrupted us; I didn’t know what else to say. Thankfully after our plates were set down, Phoebe steered the conversation to travel.
Ethan had been to Africa, and his travel stories lead to Phoebe’s funny stories from work, which eventually got Jakob to open up about his work issues with foreign economies. Dinner was over before I realized it and we all walked out of the restaurant relaxed. Ethan slipped his arm around Phoebe’s shoulders and I could see she was in heaven.
“When you’re not saving the environment you hike, go mountain biking, and rock climb.” I shook my head at Ethan’s life style. “Are you sure you can keep up with that, Phoebe?”
“I can try.” She laughed. “Don’t worry, there are a few sports I’m the expert in.”
Ethan’s blush told me the sport she was talking about usually took place on a horizontal court and might have explained why they hadn’t slept together. I was almost sorry we didn’t have more time to talk. Almost, but not quite; walking next to him something about Jakob’s body language seemed forced.
“Is that your car?” Ethan said. We’d made it to the parking lot and standing in front of us was the world’s most perfect vehicle.
Oh yes, she’s mine, I thought. My perfect wonderful Jeep, Lara, the special edition won in a raffle, a gift from all the gods above. I liked my car, a lot.
“Yes,” I said out loud, happy to contain myself in front of him.
“Careful, sweetheart, Mallory is completely in love with her car. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out she sacrificed small animals to get it,” Phoebe teased.
“Shows what you know, no one was harmed in the winning of my Jeep.” I grinned as Jakob opened the door for me with a smile of his own. There was something magical about a man who could appreciate the way a girl loved her car. I was going to have to show him how much I appreciated him tonight.
****
“Are you all right?” I asked Jakob after fifteen minutes of silent driving.
“No.”
Actually, I guessed as much or I wouldn’t have asked. “Is this about the advocate for vampirism thing?”
“Yes.” Another one-word answer. This wasn’t looking good.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“What is there to say? The man’s a fool.”
“Or he’s never met a vampire before. On paper his argument is sound; it only falls apart in real life.”
Jakob’s laugh was more of an angry bark. “Most vampires don’t have enough self-control not to kill their prey. Not because they aren’t old enough or strong enough but because they want to kill it. We’re not just people who happen to drink blood.” He stared through Lara’s plastic window fuming. “He’s a fool.”
I shivered remembering the one time I had seen a vampire feed. It wasn’t Jakob or Mark but a merciless killer the SIU put down as he devoured his victim. He’d enjoyed it. Worse, trying to control him I called the magic, and when the victim died it brought a rush of magical power.
“My love?” Jakob broke into my memories of the case.
“I was remembering a case, it was a…you know it was months ago, you probably don’t remember.”
“I remember. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to dredge up painful memories.”
It was my turn to laugh in a cynical way. “They aren’t painful, love, they’re exciting, enticing. I enjoyed watching someone die. I’m sick that way.”
“You never told me that.”
“It’s a pretty shameful secret to have.”
“No, it’s who you are. Death witches are strongest when death is present. Why wouldn’t you enjoy it?”
“Because it’s twisted and wrong?” I pulled into his driveway, stunned I had to argue this with him.
“No, it’s part of you, you have to accept it or it will drive you mad.”
“How can I accept that the things that make everyone else turn away make me high?” I gave up trying to talk about it in general and brought up an obvious and painful example. “The magic can feel so good but that means someone’s dying…” I shivered remembering all the times I’d enjoyed it; it felt better than anything else, a perfect natural high, magic singing through my body. “It’s weird and wrong, and I don’t know how to handle it.”
I turned off the car and stared straight ahead. Any minute now Jakob would try to convince me I was perfectly normal. That it was perfectly normal to feel the things I did, to do
the things I could. It would be lies, comforting words but lies all the same. I waited for him to speak but instead he got out of the car.
He opened the door for me and led me inside the house, out of the cold night air. He didn’t stop until we were in the living room in front of the fireplace. I wasn’t sorry it was unlit. This wasn’t a moment for romance.
“It may be wrong, it may be distasteful, but this I know, my love. If you don’t accept who you are and what you enjoy you’ll tear yourself in two. You can’t loathe yourself and live your life. I know, I’ve tried.” His voice filled with pain and he kissed me gently. “You have to accept yourself. You have to see that no matter how the world views it, it’s who you are.”
“I know, it’s just that…” What should I tell him? How honest could I be here? Oh to hell with it, we were sleeping together, he’d asked me to move in, might as well tell him everything. “I liked it enough that I dream about it. That I want it. No, that’s not true. I don’t want to watch someone else kill; I want to use magic to pull people toward death, I want to take them. I want to feel the magic.”
I couldn’t look at him. I had to face the floor. “I could see myself giving in to it, doing it, turning into the kind of person I hunt every day. It wouldn’t be hard to just give in.”
“But you won’t and that’s what saves you.” He held me close, our bodies pressed together, held me despite what I’d just told him, despite what I wanted.
Chapter 9
Monday morning found me contemplative and calm. I’d spent Sunday with Jakob, watching football, cheering on the Saints to another record-breaking victory. Any minute now my dreams would come true and they’d go to the Superbowl. My passion, my obsession for the game dominated the day. Jakob hadn’t brought up my guilty admission from the night before at all.
He knew I liked feeling death and it didn’t seem to bother him. Maybe I shouldn’t have worried about it in the first place; maybe everyone in the world would be that accepting. I dismissed the thought even before I got out of bed. People might understand doing magic felt good, but I’d seen how they freaked out at the thought of death magic. I was lucky to have a man in my life who understood but I suspected he’d be one of the select few.
Blood, Dirt, and Lies Page 11