The Beckoning of Broken Things (The Beckoning Series)

by Calinda B

  “What time?” Boob’s asks in a quavering voice. She’s still bawling like an infant.

  “You’ll just have to wait for me to let you know. Don’t disappear. I’ll find you. Your smell alone will lead me to you. You two reek of cheap perfume, skank, and a hooker’s desperation.” He smiles. “I liked this. It was fun. And we’re going to do it again. When I say so. Got it?” He reaches for another cigarette and places it in his mouth. “Light this,” he tells Lips.

  She clutches the lighter in shaking hands and brings the flame to the end of the smoke. He inhales deeply, satisfied. I’ve forgotten how much I enjoy controlling women. I’m going to have so much fun with Marissa Engles. Matter of fact, he’s getting hard again, just thinking about it. “Oh, yeah. I’m about to get my power back in spades,” he said. “And you’re going to help me do it,” he says, pointing to the two women. “Now go and leave me to my thoughts.”

  The women scramble off the bed, crying, grab their clothes from the floor, and hustle out of the room.

  “Don’t forget - you’re going to wait for me to signal you,” he calls after them. This is the best afternoon I’ve had in a long, long time.

  Chapter 25

  As I look around the white world of Brookstone Center for Healing, my heart sinks into my belly. “Oh, no,” I groan.

  “What is it? What’s going on? Just tell me, and I’ll do my best to help you.”

  “Don’t you remember? I escaped. You even helped me.” I stare at the window, looking for signs of repair from Chiara shattering the window and frame with the beat of her giant wings. It looks untouched, just like it was when I first arrived.

  All Smiles bites his lower lip. “Um, I’m afraid that’s a pretty fanciful tale, Miss Engles. I sure won’t tell Dr. B about that.”

  “Dr. Bellows! Did he recover from his accident?”

  “Sure did. Rafe sure clocked him a good one.”

  “Rafe! Is he still here?”

  “He’s somewhere. They kept him in isolation for a while, but he managed to get out. He’s a lucky guy.” All Smiles grins and shakes his head like Rafe’s a frisky boy.

  Lucky - right. It’s called self-care…or maybe it’s self-flagellation. I shake my head, unwilling to believe I’m back in this place.

  “So you’re telling me I never left? I didn’t escape?”

  All Smiles’ face furrows. “Escape? How could you escape? This is a locked facility.”

  I throw back my head and groan again. “Oh, God! You saw me! You saw what I can do! Don’t you remember the burnt sheets?”

  His face furrows as if he just might remember something. He stares at me, deep in thought. The grin returns. “You’re a creative one, I’ll give you that. Now get yourself out of bed. It’s time for dinner.” He strolls from the room, whistling.

  I push back these goddamned, scratchy white sheets and drop to the floor. How am I going to get out of here - again? Why am I here again? I’m wearing the exact same thing I had on when I left. Did I ever leave? Am I crazier than I thought?

  I head for the room Rafe occupied when I was here last. I don’t care what All Smiles says - I did escape and I will again. I shuffle down the hall, past the nurses’ station, past the drinking fountain, and notice that the janitor’s storage closet is ajar. That’s odd. They were always so afraid that one of us was going to get in there and drink Drano or Plumbers Delight or something. I step over to close it and am met with a thump, thump, thump from inside the dark room. I ease the door open. There’s Rafe with his pants down, standing behind Dr. Bellows. Dr. Bellows is steadying himself against the metal shelving, his pants bunched around his ankles. Rafe’s hips are working. A sense of complete illogical betrayal spews into me. How could he do this to me? It’s followed by a flash flood of reason. He’s not mine to do anything with. The flash flood is followed by a swamp of emotion of the most potent kind - jealousy, hurt, and rage.

  Rafe’s head whips around. That same shame-face I saw in him when I first met him colors his handsome features. He shoves Dr. Bellows away from him and pulls out. A rubber droops around his cock. He grabs his pants from around his ankles. “Marissa, it’s not what you think!”

  Dr. Bellow’s voice booms. “It’s her! Get her!”

  I’m already racing down the hall. There’s nowhere to go - this place is locked down tight - but still I’m running. Footsteps are falling after me as I zig and zag through the allowed corridors - the ones deemed safe for the inmates here. I whirl into a dark room - it seems to be a tiny chapel - and quickly close the door behind me. The footsteps pound past the door.

  I steady myself against the back wall and take in my surroundings, trying to catch my breath. There are three rows of pews. Candles glow softly in the front of the room. A carved Jesus hangs from a small cross on the wall. I remember reading somewhere that nails through the hands couldn’t have held him - they’d have to have been driven into his wrists. I rub my wrists in response. A nun prays in the front of the room. She doesn’t stir at my arrival.

  I don’t remember this place. I don’t recall ever seeing a chapel here. My heart is pummeling against my chest cavity and the bitter jealousy and betrayal is replaced by sorrow. A deluge of tears begins. I’m so confused. What am I doing here? What’s Rafe doing here?

  The nun prays, silently fingering her rosary. I’m not one who is stirred by religion - but her presence is very calming. I make my way up to the pew behind her and fall to my knees. I need some kind of guidance.

  As I sit, suspended in the stillness, it’s clear to me now. I am falling in love with Rafe. I’m already in love with Daniel. It’s probably for the best that Rafe took off. It’s probably for the best that I found him here, fucking Dr. Bellows. That thought, however, leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I hate Rafe. I wish I’d never met him. Only thing, my heart disagrees. The blood pools in the center of my chest. There’s no reason for my heart to pump. Instead, it rests, listless underneath my skin and bones.

  “Things are not always as they seem.”

  The gentle voice stirs me from my sadness.

  “Sometimes, enormous growth comes from a storm,” the voice continues.

  The nun’s voice is soothing, calming. It’s as if she’s stroking my hair with her hand, gentling me like my mother used to do. She continues to finger the beads of the rosary, head bowed, as she speaks. Her head is swathed in a simple white fabric coif. A loose black veil drapes over the coif, flowing down her back. Her long black tunic pools around her frame in folds resting on the floor. A long black apron rests on top of the tunic. I know some nuns have taken to more modern dress, but this one is dressed in a manner that I remember from my childhood when Mom used to take me and my sisters to Catholic church. She only did that on holidays, like Christmas and Easter. After she died, I never went back. And it’s sure not a holiday right now.

  “Lend him your ear and your heart before you pass judgment,” the nun continues.

  “Who?” I ask, confused.

  “The one you are weeping over.”

  “How do you know who I’m weeping over?” I blurt.

  Her fingers work quickly over the wooden beads. She doesn’t respond to my question.

  I contemplate her words.

  “You are a strong and beautiful young woman. My son chose wisely. But my son is a fool to bind you without your consent. You must not let him get away with it. He can’t hide from you - or himself - forever.”

  My jaw drops. “Gabriela?”

  “Shhh! Do not speak my name!” Her head whips around to face me.

  Her blue, blue eyes have the same piercing effect that Daniel’s have on me. There’s something compelling and commanding about that gaze.

  “Undo what you have done - immediately!”

  “Uh, uh, uh,” I stammer. “Let’s see. Aleirbag.” I mumble her name backwards, feeling like a complete idiot. Is it really that simple to erase the spoken word?

  Her shoulders fall away from her ears, and she resumes her
prayer, quietly speaking phrases I can’t understand.

  I must have done the right thing. “What are you doing here?” I whisper.

  “I come where I am called. I serve the Numina without their knowing.”

  “Are you here for Rafe?’

  She says nothing.

  I regard her fingers. They’re slender, a warm brown. The nails are trimmed to the quick. Each time a bead passes before her fingers, a small jolt of electricity stirs my heart. “What are you praying for?” I whisper.

  “You. The Stealth Numen. My son. Armando.”

  Somehow, religious or not, it feels good to be prayed for by Gabriela. I don’t know her at all, but she seems genuinely powerful. She seems to be a true healer. Maybe that’s what her gift is.

  “I have something for you. I want you to give it to him, the next time you meet.” Her hand pushes inside her long apron and retrieves a small, simple gold ring. She hands it to me without looking at me.

  My hand flares with light when the ring touches my skin. “Who am I supposed to give this to? Daniel?”

  “No. Give it to Armando.”

  “Armando?”

  “Please. It will mean the world to me. Tell him this is the sacrifice I am making for my son.”

  I turn the ring over and over and over in my hand. There’s an inscription etched into the inside of the gold. It’s so tiny I have to squint. In love with you throughout time. Bonded to you without reservation. AEN. “This is your wedding ring! I’ll guard it with my life.”

  As I tuck the ring safely into my pocket, the door bursts open behind me, interrupting this sudden surprise. Rafe staggers into the room. He falls against the back wall, shivering and shaking, the same way I found him by the pool in Brazil.

  I rush up to him as more footsteps pound down the hall. “The withdrawal?” I ask, but I know the answer. He doesn’t need to say a thing.

  “I should have known you’d be in here,” he says through clenched teeth.

  “Why?”

  “This room doesn’t exist to the others.”

  “Really?”

  He nods, or I think he nods. He’s shaking so hard it could have been the tremor of his head. “It exists in…” He struggles to pull himself together. “It’s a place where…” His teeth grind together so hard I wonder if he’s going to break his own jaw. “It’s part of the shadow realm,” he manages between violent shudders. “It’s my…” Another shudder. “It’s a…” He trembles. “Sanctuary. Safe.”

  I crouch before him and put my hand on his shoulder.

  He instantly calms.

  “There’s someone in here you should see,” I tell him. I turn to look at the front of the small room and there’s no one there.

  “Who?” Rafe asks. Another aftershock of shakes courses through his body. He clutches his arms around his midsection, breathing in big gulps of air.

  “Never mind. You Numina seem to have different modes of travel than the rest of us.”

  “What…what…what are you talking about?” The words come out with extreme effort. His eyes are squeezed shut. Sweat drips from his face, his neck. His shirt is soaked with perspiration.

  “Nothing. It doesn’t matter. Only that I wish I could transport myself the same way that you and…” I dare not speak her name, she who was in the room a second ago. I’ve already been schooled twice. “I wish I could move in the manner that you can.”

  “You can. I can take you anywhere you want.”

  “The way you took me somewhere back in Brazil?” I spit in accusation. “The way you disappeared on me in front of the hospital in Capão Bonito?” All my rage, hurt, and indignation snaps to the surface like a flag in a windstorm. I yank my hand away from him.

  The shudders increase like a violent earthquake. “Please…give me back…your hand…your finger, your toe…anything.”

  “No!” I cross my arms tightly over my chest.

  “Please. I can explain.”

  His body blurs and fades from view.

  “Wait! Come back!”

  A crackling noise fills the air, like he’s shorting out again. He reappears, hugging himself, lying prone on the floor quivering.

  My heart surges with compassion. “Oh, Jesus, Rafe. You’re a disaster.” Without being asked again, I lie down beside him and wrap my arms around him, pressing my entire body against the length of him. The room wavers. I get that same warped glass view as before. In addition, a generous dose of arousal instantly overtakes me. Before I know it, we’re whizzing through Rafe’s warped world of shadows. He’s turned to face me and we’re kissing and we’re kissing and we’re kissing, enveloped in a raging fire of passion. He’s got his hands on my face, on my back, they’re everywhere, roaming, stroking, kneading. My hands rip off clothes with desperation, his, mine, all I know is that I’m grabbing, tearing, fabric is splitting, shredding, and ripping. My arms, my fingers, even my toes, are pushing garments from Rafe’s delicious, solidly muscled body.

  We slam into a tree somewhere. Parrots burst into the air with angry protests. A monkey sails from branch to branch, disturbed from his snooze. The tree bends as if it’s made out of plastic, and we’re flung into my bedroom in the treetops of Brazil. We land on the floor, and Sober awakens with a yip. He looks up to see who disturbed his slumber and puts his head back down to resume snoring.

  We’re naked now and Rafe’s got his tongue in my mouth and his hand between my legs, gripping his erection, working it to find my opening. He discovers it and slides in, moaning into my mouth like an animal. I’m slick, wet with desire. My head arches back as he enters me. I spread my legs wide, welcoming this mystery inside. Our bodies grind against one another, without thought or consideration. There’s only need, a desperate need between us to find out what this is.

  My body is churning, and yes, it’s like I’ve never experienced sex before in my life. This is the hallelujah I’ve wanted my whole life. This is that missing piece I sought as a shy teen. This is the communion I’ve longed for. This is the mother lode of experiences. I throw back my head and laugh. “Oh, yes, Rafe, oh God, yes.”

  He props himself up on his arms, and he’s wordless above me, his face appearing in rapt innocence, pleasure evident in his smile. He pumps his hips and drives into me. “I hoped it would be like this,” he pants. “I didn’t know it would be this good. I love you, Marissa.” He lowers against me, wraps his arms around me, and guides me on top.

  I can’t repeat the words back to him, even though I know them to be true. Just thinking them makes me twist in conflict. Is this the right thing? Am I betraying my… A wash of pleasure assures me that it is indeed the right thing, blowing my bad girl thoughts from my brain like a hurricane.

  Rafe’s hands cup my breasts. He rocks his hips, thrusting up inside of me. He tweaks and twirls my nipples between his fingertips, causing them to ache and yearn for more. He slides his hand behind my neck and pulls me down for another one of his intoxicating kisses. This position strikes just the right chord inside of me, stoking my pleasure. My body flares into a light show, electricity dancing from my surface, shooting into Rafe through my fingers, tongue, and lips.

  A strangled cry of passion erupts from his throat. He breaks the kiss, his head twisting back and forth. “Fire inside. A fucking fire. Can’t stop it, girl. Come for me. Come for me, now.”

  I surrender to the orgasm, arching and bucking as pleasure shoots through my pores, cascading up my spine, down my legs, into my belly and heart and neck, and washing Rafe’s cock with silky juice. Rafe shouts my name over and over and over as he explodes inside of me, his hands gripping my hips so hard I’m sure there will be bruises left behind.

  As the pleasure subsides, I fall on top of Rafe, resting my head on his shoulder.

  He strokes my head like he’s stroking a kitten, gently, lovingly, tenderly. “Oh, baby. That was unbelievable. And that was just for starters.” His softening erection springs back to life. “I’m not done with you,” he says softly into my
hair.

  “I can feel that,” I murmur into his shoulder.

  “Let’s get into that cozy bed of yours.”

  I shake my head left and right. “You’ll come out of me.” My core muscles squeeze the deliciously firm delight nestled inside of me.

  “Want to bet?” he says. He sits up. Holds me close to his hips. Works his legs underneath his torso. Somehow manages to get to his feet, still inside of me. He slowly rises to standing, his cock pulsing, my legs secure around him, locked at the ankles. He takes a few steps over to the bed. Turns around. Sits down, pressing me tightly to him.

  I balance on my knees, luxuriating in the solid heat between my legs. “You feel really good inside of me.” I push a lock of his coppery hair from his eyes.

  His eyes are clear and luminous. “I sure do,” he answers. He lies back, pulling me with him and rolls back on top of me. “Ready for more?”

  I laugh. “I kind of feel like we haven’t done anything yet. I feel like what we’re about to do has never been done before, at least not by me.”

  “It hasn’t. And it will always be this way with me. Each time, I’ll get to experience you for the first time ever and you with me.”

  “I thought your abilities didn’t affect you that way.”

  “It seems they do with you. I think it’s because I love you. I told you I never loved anyone before.”

  “Ah,” I say. I still can’t bring myself to say the words to him. “So let’s do this, my teenage lover.”

  A small smile appears on his face. “Teenage lover?”

  “You look like you’re 17.”

  “You do, too.” He thrusts his hips.

  A wave of energy ripples up inside of me. Rafe is just the right size. Just the right fit. Just the right everything. So why do I feel like I’m doing something wrong, like I’m the Great Betrayer? The devil inside of me protests. I visualize throwing black paint all over that thought, gagging the devil with a leather hood and ball gag and sink back into the pleasure of this gorgeous, copper-haired man.