by W. J. May
He stood by the bed, an amused look on his face most likely due to me blatantly checking him out. I scooted to the far side of the bed, thankful the sheets were cool, as I’d suddenly grown warm. He hopped on top of the sheets and lay down, resting his hands behind his head as he crossed his ankles. I couldn’t stop staring; he looked like a Greek god. Change that, he made Greek gods look like poor, lowly little boys.
He sniffed the air. “You smell different.”
“I brushed my teeth.”
“No, it’s not that. I didn’t notice it earlier because of Caleb’s office but I can smell it now.”
My face burned a few degrees higher. Grace, I’m so going to beat the crap out of you. “It’s perfume,” I mumbled. Would he still like me if I murdered his sister? Mind you, it really wouldn’t be murder if she’s legally dead already.
He inhaled. “Pretty. What kind?”
How he kept a straight face was beyond me. “Grace put you up to this?” I leaned on top of his chest, tapping my finger where his heart rested. “The truth.”
He chuckled. “She may’ve mentioned to ask the name of your perfume.”
“She’s dead tomorrow. Double dead.” I rolled off him.
“Hey, get back here!” Michael pulled me back on top of him.
It knocked me breathless, and not from his strength. I could feel his rock hard chest underneath my thin pajama top. New, incredible sensations coursed through my body, through my veins, in my stomach and lower. The little electric shocks when we touched hands were nothing compared to this. I searched his face for a sign that showed if my body had given away any of its secrets.
He smiled and kissed me lightly on the lips, keeping his eyes open. “I knew there was something special about you that night in the cemetery.” He shook his head. “What kind of girl goes running around dead people?”
“Not many.”
“And you’re still doing it.”
“Sure. ‘Cept now, it’s a hundred times more interesting. Before, I just liked the peace and quiet.” I interlaced my fingers on top of his chest and rested my chin on them.
“Silly girl.” He twirled a strand of my hair around his finger.
“You know,” I swallowed and whispered, “I-I’d give you my Siorghra if I had one.”
He pulled me tight and kissed the top of my head. After a few moments, he spoke quietly, “Can I ask you a question?”
“Ask away, I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” My heart stepped up its pace a few notches.
“What’s the name of the perfume you’re wearing?”
I pretended to shoot him a dirty look and slid away from him to settle on my side of the bed. “I'm going to skin Grace alive tomorrow.” I rolled back and punched him in the arm, grinning despite his uncanny ability to ruin a perfectly good moment.
“You said you’d tell me.” He snuggled against me and pushed his face under my shoulder. His hot breath fanned my back as he chuckled. He popped his head up. “Please?”
I rubbed my face. “Fine, but you can’t mention it again. Or laugh.” I ran a finger across his soft lips. “No laughing.”
“Scouts' honor.”
“You have no honor.” I sighed. “Fine. It’s…Eternity.”
He burst out laughing, shaking the entire bed. “Sorry. I-I’m much b-better now. Is this something you bought before, or after you met me?” He tried to sound serious, but the bed still trembled beneath us.
“Way before. It's going in the garbage tomorrow.” I debated about turning to the wall and pretending to go to sleep. It is kinda funny. Not that I’d admit it out loud.
“No, keep it. Please. The smell suits you. I do like it.”
I didn’t reply. It seemed like a great idea to dump the bottle over Grace’s head. “It’s my turn to ask you a question.”
“Fair is fair. Ask away.” He tucked his hands behind his head.
I chewed the inside of my cheek, trying to pick the right question. Fun’s done, I want to know stuff. “What happened…the night you and Grace… you know?”
Michael lay quiet. Then he slowly sat up and leaned over to turn the light off.
Wrong question. Instantly I regretted opening my mouth. Me and my great mood killers.
He took one of my hands in his and spoke in a quiet voice. "It was eighteen seventy. I remember the exact date because Congress amended the constitution so African-Americans would be allowed to vote. During dinner, my father was ecstatic as he had always believed in equal rights. He told my mother he believed women would have their right to vote shortly as well. They were so amazing, my parents. You’ve never seen loyalty and love like theirs. No Siorghra could ever come close.
“It was early summer, the strawberries had just come into season and their smell hung in the air around the house. It was my mother’s favorite time of year and after cleaning the dishes, she went to sit on the front porch to watch the fireflies dance. My father sat in the living room reading and journaling. Grace and I were in the back of the house in the kitchen, playing cards, and if you ask her, she’ll tell you she was beating me.”
He chuckled, but it sounded forced. I lay without moving, afraid to hear what happened next, but yearning to know more.
“I didn’t hear them come to the house. You know animals when they hunt, quiet and cunning as they stalk. Only, I have no idea if they were hunting us, or if our plantation sat in the wrong spot at the wrong time. If only they’d just passed us by. They must’ve smelled mother. She barely screamed before it got cut off.” Michael shuddered. “It was an awful sound. My father jumped up and ran to the front door. I was halfway out of my seat when the door flew open and three enormous monsters jumped in. Awful, devil-sent beasts. They killed him like he was nothing.
“Four more came in through the front with, you aren’t going to believe this, a man. I was too shocked to even move. Grace whimpered and the beasts heads p-popped up at the s-sound.”
The break in his voice tore at my heart. I transported back in time, watching the horror like a fly on the wall.
Michael continued, his eyes shining. “I scrambled in front of her, not sure if I would be able to protect her, but was not going to fall without a fight. There was a knife on the counter I picked up. The man spoke in some weird language, and… and the Grollics all dropped to their haunches, as if waiting.
“I’ve somehow blanked out what happened next. For years I’ve tried to recall but it’s a blur. I remember his movements were fast like ours are now, but he led the Grollics like he was one of them. I was human, no match against him. He wrestled the knife away before I could even use it. He turned and stabbed me.”
Michael swallowed, loud against the quiet of the room. “It was a fatal wound to my chest, one blow and I was lying on the floor, bleeding. I could feel my life fading. I begged him to leave Grace. He laughed viciously and taunted me – telling me I would get to watch him rape and kill my sister before I died. Then he grabbed and flung her to the floor like a rag doll, holding the knife so it stabbed her in her back as she fell, paralyzed.” Michael sighed, a long shaky one. “Grace never said a word, or had a single tear in her eye. She smiled at me before spitting in the man’s face and closed her eyes. I shut mine as well and gave in as death would be better than watching her die.”
Tears ran silently down my face. What a horrible, horrible memory.
Michael shifted slightly. “I don’t know what exactly happened next. All I know is I heard Sarah’s sweet voice. My first coherent thought: I’m in heaven and that’s the voice of an angel. That thought quickly changed when she said the woman out front, my mother, had been attacked by the Grollics, and killed my father. She grabbed my hand, and promised to protect us. She’d explain what we could not understand.”
He lay quiet, a shaky finger trailing down my arm.
I pulled free, put my arms around his shoulders and hugged him. “What a terrible story,” I whispered.
“I haven’t talked about it in forever. It no
longer seems real. It…It feels like someone else’s life now. Thank goodness we had Sarah there to explain the, you know, after.” He shrugged. “It was about fifteen years later when Caleb found us.”
“Did you ever find the man who killed…” I couldn’t complete the sentence. “Or the Grollics who attacked the house?”
“I tried for years. Grace begged me to let it go and move forward. Eventually I stopped searching.” He pulled me tight against him and kissed the top of my head. “I did find out my mother had been raped the day of her wedding. It didn’t lead me any closer to the beasts or the man. They had nothing to do with her rape or our birth. I never dug deeper.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Pardon?”
I could feel his head lift to try and see my face. “I’m sorry you and Grace had to suffer before you died.”
“You’re a silly-soft little girl. Don’t be sorry. It’s in the past and it brought me to you.” His head dropped back onto the pillow. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
I didn’t believe him. It still did matter and, one day, Michael was going to hunt down the truth.
Chapter 14
In the morning I woke in the same position I had fallen asleep. Michael lay quiet beside me, his fingers tracing my shoulder, along my tank top strap, across my shoulder blade and making a circle somewhere around my birthmark. I didn’t want to move or open my eyes. Laying here forever suits me fine. Maybe I could get another ten minutes of bliss, if I pretended to sleep. A small sigh escaped my lips as I snuggled closer to him.
“I’d gladly lie here with you all day, but Grace won’t get out of my head. She keeps asking if you’re awake.”
“Hmm,” I murmured. “If I tap your head, can you tell her I’m snoozing for twenty minutes?”
Michael stayed quiet a moment, obviously talking to Grace.
“It’s fascinating you can talk to her in your head.” I stretched my legs, but not wanting to leave the warmness his body offered.
“You kill me.” He laughed. “We’re reincarnate some kind of angel offspring fighter beasts referred to as Grollics, and you think it’s cool I can communicate with my twin? You continue to amaze me.” He lifted me up on top of him so my head was inches from his. “Most twins have their own language or way of communicating with each other. It’s not so unusual. I would thi—”
I kissed him on the lips. I didn’t know why I had no problem with the fighting Grollic thing, my gut feeling wanted them dead as well. Trying to remember whatever else Michael had just said seemed beyond my scope at the moment. Waking up beside him was far more interesting.
Minutes later, Michael held me slightly away from him and groaned. “Grace is bugging me again. She can hear we’re awake and warned she’s barging in the room in two minutes. Either we need to get up or,” he said, grabbing my elbow, “we can give her something to—”
I pulled back and jumped off the bed. “I’m up! I’m going to the bathroom. You do what you want!”
As I closed the door, a soft thump hit the back side of it. A pillow. I smiled in the mirror and gave myself two thumbs-up.
Twenty minutes later I emerged from Grace’s bedroom showered and dressed in my favorite red sweater and jeans. Down in the kitchen Michael, Grace, and Sarah sat talking quietly.
Michael went to the counter and offered me a croissant. “I made you coffee.” He poured me a cup. “Milk and sugar’s on the island by Grace.”
I settled down and dropped in three heaping teaspoons of sugar and lots of milk.
“Wow, you like a lot of sweetness,” Grace said, watching me.
“Just tastes better.” I took a sip, trying not to shudder. Michael still made lousy coffee, no wonder I was the only one drinking it.
Michael sat beside me. “Sarah and Grace organized the pool house for you. It’s officially your place, but as long as Damon or any other Grollic is around, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
Sarah opened her mouth, but Michael held a hand up. “For the sake of argument, she turns eighteen in six days.” He smiled and bit into his croissant.
“If it’s okay with Rouge,” Sarah replied smugly. “She might want space. And you do exactly as she says.”
They all looked at me.
They wanted me to tell them how I felt about Michael in a room with no adult supervision? Not going to happen. “I’m just incredibly thankful you guys are letting me stay. You’re the ones with Grollics chasing you. Whatever it takes to keep you all safe, I’m cool with.”
Grace laughed. “You’re worried about us? So cute.”
Michael harrumphed. “Want to see the pool house?”
“Sure.” I pushed the three-quarter full mug away.
We headed out the sliding doors in the kitchen into the cool morning air. Without a coat, I had no problem snuggling into Michael’s warm, outstretched arm. Walking around the Olympic size pool, I stumbled as I stared at my temporary home.
Simple stucco walls with large windows and a heavy slate roof. The place had to be eight hundred square feet, and Grace said it was small. The windows reflected the closed pool. They were obviously the one-sided kind -- you could see out from the inside.
Michael handed me a key from his pocket. “Voila. Your castle.”
Too shocked to reply, I unlocked and stepped through the door. The open beige and brown painted room had wood flooring, a king size futon set in front of a humongous TV. Behind the couch, a pair of bar stools sat neatly tucked under a marble counter. Standing on my toes, I could see a small chrome mini fridge and dishwasher. I sniffed, the place smelled like lemons and cleaning detergents.
“Grace brought your stuff.” Michael pointed to a dresser neatly set against the wall. “The bathroom has a large closet where your hang up clothes are. There’s also a washer and dryer in there too.” He grabbed his cell phone out of his back pocket and checked the screen. “Do you think you’ll be alright for a bit? Caleb needs me. I can send Grace over if you’d like.”
“I don’t mind hanging out here on my own for a bit. Unless you think Grace might be offended.”
Michael laughed. “She’s a big girl. She can watch from the window.” He pushed me gently toward the futon. “Go. Relax. I’ll be back as soon as I’m done.” He quietly closed the door behind him.
Alone, I sat down and put my feet on top of the coffee table. My right ankle slipped against a magazine. Leaning forward, I caught it just before it hit the floor.
The Grollic journal.
Grace must’ve put it and my laptop on the coffee table thinking I’d want to do some work.
Maybe on my own, in the quiet of the room, I could figure something else out from the book. Getting up I went and checked the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, then settled back down.
I flipped open to the front page. Might as well start at the beginning. I didn’t understand any of the writing, but maybe using the Internet I might find a word or two which might explain something—anything. I flipped the laptop open and as I waited for the computer to load, I turned to look at the first few pages and diagrams of the journal. It all looked foreign to me.
I came to the drawing of the Grollic and man. A caption underneath read: Vargulf Bentos Monstrum. “Whatever that means,” I mumbled to myself. So I did what any normal human being would do. I googled the words.
The last word brought me to links on monsters but none of it made sense. All I could find on Bentos was some relation to a Portuguese name. “These words have no connection to the drawings,” I mumbled.
The following page continued in the strange language. One underlined phrase made me curious. Vilkacis diakonos. I typed it into the Internet. The phrase “Wolf eyes” seemed the going theme for Vilkacis. The Grollics freaky yellow eyes looked like some kind of wolf or scary beast. I typed in diakonos and the word I could make out, and still made no sense was: service. It was like trying to connect the dots without the numbers.
Afternoon faded into early evening before I rea
lized how long I’d been working. Flipping the lights on, I made some pasta from the cupboard and turned the futon into a bed to get more comfortable. A knock on the door startled me, causing me to throw the bed cover instead of shake it out to flutter onto the mattress.
Michael poked his head through the door. “Hi, beautiful. You should lock the door if you’re on your own.”
“You’ve never knocked before.” I smiled and hopped onto the bed. “Do you honestly think a locked door will stop one of you or some Grollic?”
“This place is actually equipped with bullet proof tamper glass and the door is –”
“Why in the world?” They were immortal, why need protection?
He chuckled and gave a half shrug. “Caleb’s business creates and sells all sorts of inventions. He likes trying them out at home.”
“He’s got a business on top of the whole Coven-thing?”
Michael laughed. “He’s a genius and likes making money. Plus, it’s a good cover for the Coven. Interesting board meetings.” He sat on the bed and squeezed my hand. “I won’t bore you with details.”
“I don’t think you can ever be boring.” I stifled back a yawn, turning red since I had been serious when I spoke. My tired body thought otherwise.
“Liar.” He winked.
“Honest. I’ve just been reading and searching the internet for anything I could find.”
“Any luck?”
“Nothing you don’t already know.” My gaze travelled along the outline of his body, the perfect blond hair, broad shoulders with their little boney parts sticking out over sculpted muscles. I reached out and brushed my hand over his back, enjoying the warmth that seeped through his shirt onto my hands and deep into my core. “What’s it like, having already died once?”
“Fascinated, aren’t you?” He crawled over my legs and settled down beside me. “It’s hard to explain… my human life seems so long ago. I’ve forgotten a lot of things. My living memories seem like trying to remember something you did as a child. Sometimes a picture triggers a thought or memory. Everything is so much easier now.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s weird. I remember my parents and the day we were killed very clearly – better than Grace. I can remember everything from that day –the sound of my mother’s voice, the sweet smell from the nearby fields, how dark the night became, all of it. I’m not sure why. I’ve asked Caleb, but he didn’t have an answer either.”