by Jaime Reed
To my left was a closed office door where my dad stood on the other side, filling out paperwork and doing what he did best. Negotiate.
He picked me up after school and brought me here to get my new ride since the old one bit the dust Thanksgiving night. My Nissan Juke had been turned into scrap metal, thanks to Tobias’s violent display of love and jealous rage. Dangerous and gorgeous as he might be, the hotness level drastically declined after that stunt.
Though I was furious about losing the car I spent years saving for, being a pedestrian for three days taught me to count my blessings. I didn’t care what kind of car I got as long as I escaped the ill fate of parental and public transportation.
I was sure Dad didn’t buy the whole “freak storm” excuse about the car, but at least the insurance covered enough to get a replacement. Being a corporate lawyer, he could smell BS from a hundred yards, and the odor was coming off thick from my direction. It didn’t seem fair that Mom knew my dirty secret, yet Dad was left to question my eye color change and strange behavior. He was set in his ways with deep beliefs, and I couldn’t bear to have him look at me with fear or contempt. I was his first born, his Baby Girl, and I wanted to stay that way a little while longer.
Before little Larry decided to mark his territory on my leg, I took a walk outside to do some wishful thinking. I drifted from car to car, stroking each glossy veneer and wincing at the price stickers on the windows. Tearing my eyes away from a Mustang that I could never have, I spotted a black Jeep at the end of the row similar to Caleb’s. It was fascinating to see what his Jeep looked like in its initial state, free of mud splatter and a huge dent on the right side. Cake Boy really knew how to wear down a car, and as of late, he was spending more money on repairs than the original purchase.
Staring at the front grill of the Jeep reminded me of his accident. It seemed odd that he would have a reaction to my blackout while behind the wheel. My previous trips into the abyss hadn’t seemed to affect Tobias’s ability to drive, so what made Caleb so different? Why couldn’t he remember how he got the dent in his Jeep?
“Okay, baby girl. You ready to check out your new car?” Dad asked behind me.
I turned around and smiled up at the tall man in the tailored suit with a proud strut of victory. Mr. Keith Watkins, esquire, had apparently worked his magic, ensuring I was leaving out of here on four wheels with cash to spare. Big Larry himself fell in step with Dad, looking just as greasy as advertised. His gut fell over his belt and the buttons on his white shirt held on for dear life. His sagging jowls and droopy brown eyes seemed to support the myth that people look like their pets.
“We got you a great deal on an O-five, little lady. It’s a bit old, but the mileage is impeccable.” Big Larry smiled down at me, showing a row of straight, tobacco stained teeth. “Your daddy is a tough nut to crack, but I’m willing to make a few concessions for such a pretty customer.” He winked.
What a flirt. Whether it was his sales tactic or Lilith’s influence, I didn’t care. Hell, if I played my cards right, I could roll out of here in that Mustang I had my eye on, but I didn’t want to push my luck. The power I had over men wasn’t a toy.
Big Larry led the way as we moved to the side of the building to where a green Maxima waited for me. It wasn’t my Juke, but it was in my favorite color, which earned a ton of cool points in my book.
I wrapped my arms around Dad’s waist and squeezed as hard as I could. “Thanks for doing this, Daddy.”
“No problem, although it appears you go through cars faster than clothes these days.”
“It was a storm. I can’t control the weather.” Or the crazy demon that compelled that weather, I thought.
“So how’s your mother?” he asked me on our slow approach to my new whip.
“The same as when you asked me on the way over here.” That question was just as random the second time around, and I had a feeling it’s been sitting on his tongue long before today. This little father-daughter trip had taken an awkward turn as he continued to pry into Mom’s personal life, specifically her relationship with a Cuban detective from New York. Knowing I would be too grateful to deny him info, he picked this exact time to launch his interrogation. Well played, old man. Well played.
“For a married guy, you seem awfully interested in what another woman is doing,” I said. “Does Rhonda know about your side hobby?”
“I’m just concerned for Julie’s well-being, nothing more,” he replied indignantly. “She is after all, the mother of my child.”
“So is Rhonda,” I countered. “You remember those two six-year-olds that live at your house, don’t you? Dad, you have a whole other life and Mom deserves a chance at that too. Let her move on.”
Not to sound gross, but Dad looked good for his age, and why he married a hateful gargoyle was one of life’s many riddles. I got my baby face from him, and very few people believed he was thirty-four, with not one wrinkle or blemish marring his mocha skin. I wasn’t sure if it was out of anger or something else altogether, but he seemed to age twenty years in a matter of seconds. “Yeah, well your mother’s judgment has been cloudy lately. You do remember that last man she tried to date.” His dark eyes narrowed at me, drilling his point with deadly precision.
Of course, this wouldn’t be a proper argument without bringing up past mistakes. And Caleb’s father, Nathan Ross, was a fatal mistake, one that I singlehandedly removed from the earth.
“Mom’s fine. She knows how to take care of herself,” I assured.
“And what about you? Your taste in men is a little questionable as well.”
I was about to comment, but the words fizzled in my mouth. I knew Dad disliked Caleb, but that didn’t make his statement invalid. Caleb was cryptic—that was what drew me to him—but that mystique can get old real quick when enemies vanish, vehicles get wrecked, and people wake up on the ceiling. It’s hard to fully trust a person and doubt him at the same time, but not impossible. I did it every day. Telling by the skeptical look Dad was giving me, I wasn’t the only one.
After dinner, another game of twenty-questions, and yet another petition for me to consult a therapist, Dad and I parted ways with the promise of meeting up before the Christmas madness kicked off. Too many people had died around me this year and Dad wasn’t sure if I was dealing with my grief properly. He was right; I wasn’t, hence the dead girl in my living room that no one could see but me. A shrink couldn’t help with my particular issues and being labeled a head case might ruin my chances of getting into law school, so I could tough it out for a while.
I didn’t go home right away; instead, I made a pit stop at Caleb’s hotel across town. He and his brothers were staying there until Caleb could either find a new apartment or salvage the old one from the wreckage that Tobias left behind. Caleb never told me at which hotel he was staying and with everything going on, I hadn’t bothered to ask, but I didn’t need a name or directions. I would always know where he was and vice versa.
In my experience, there was no such thing as a broke Cambion; their charm afforded them many luxuries and allowed them to get away with murder, quite literally. Caleb came from money, but he lived humbly; slaving through the grind like the rest of us indentured servants. So imagine my shock when my Spidey senses led me to the gated palace of the Charlotte Hotel.
A massive water fountain stood on a thatch of grass in the center of the circular driveway. The place was a throwback to the roaring twenties set under the soft glow of antique lanterns. All that was missing was a bell hop, a couple of flapper girls, and some gangsters with machine guns. The place screamed of good living, from the cheerful valet who took my car, the openly gay concierge behind the check-in desk, to the piano jazz playing in the lounge near the lobby.
This wasn’t the place that took kindly to loiterers, so I rushed to the wall of elevators as if I knew where I was going. I stepped inside and punched all the numbers, much to the annoyance of the elderly couple in the car with me. The doors opened on each fl
oor, and I poked my head out in search of any trace of Caleb. The empathic pull grew stronger, thicker, all-encompassing the higher we climbed, so I knew I was getting warm.
The couple got off on the fifth floor as a young man with dark shades stepped in. Not that I was checking him out or anything, but the guy was well-built and dressed even better with a leather jacket, turtle neck, and black gloves. Definitely from out of town. He reached to push his floor of choice then paused at all the lit buttons on the panel.
“Kids.” I shrugged and gave him room to stand.
He stared at me, not saying a word, and grew more fascinated than deemed appropriate for such a small space. Through the cover of the shades, he stared at me with a level of intensity that gave me chills. I glanced up at the tiny security camera in the corner and hoped it wasn’t placed there just for show. I had half the mind to get off on the next floor and take the stairs when I felt that familiar tingle gain pressure against my spine. I leapt out on to the eighth floor as soon as the doors opened.
I sucked in a deep draft of air, reaching out for Caleb’s essence on my way up the hall. I looked to the passage to my left, then the one to my right, and decided to keep moving straight ahead, following the remnant of French toast and conceit in the air. It would be just like Caleb to request breakfast at night. His brothers were no better when it came to food and I was sure they were giving the room service staff a run for their . . .
Why was that guy still staring at me? He must’ve gotten off the elevator when I did, and he now stood in that stoic manner that gave me the heebie-jeebies. The dark shades hid his eyes, but not the creepy vibe he was giving off. The feeling only got worse as he took a step and then another, gradually picking up speed.
Maybe he had a room on this floor. Maybe he was one of those crazy killers on the news that Mom kept going on about. Or maybe Lilith was using her mojo again.
Being male catnip, as Mia once called it, had a nasty disclaimer where the attraction could turn violent quickly. I was smaller than him, so I couldn’t fight him off if things came to blows, but I was more concerned for his safety than my own. Lilith would shrivel this guy to dust before he so much as copped a feel, but I’d seen my share of dead bodies to last a lifetime.
He wasn’t shy about his pursuit, but took his time as if knowing he would catch his prey eventually. I walked to the end of the hall until there was nowhere to go. No emergency stairs or freight elevators offered an escape, and the solid wall ahead seemed to mock me.
I turned around to face my opponent head on. My heart pounded in my chest, my muscles clenched while I waited for him to make the first move. To my surprise, he simply turned to the hallway to his left, but his stare stayed locked on me as he disappeared around the corner.
I lifted my head to the ceiling and pushed out the breath I’d been holding. My bag fell from my shoulder and my limbs relaxed under the rush of relief.
“Sam? What are you doing here? What’s wrong?”
I jumped and clutched my aching chest. My heart was seriously getting a workout today. Caleb stood inside the opened door behind me, looking annoyed and very damp.
“Don’t scare me like that!” I yelled and swung my bag at him.
“From what I can tell, you were already scared,” he replied, ducking the blow. “I felt you while I was in the shower. What happened?”
“There was a guy by the elevator. He made me nervous.”
Caleb poked his head out of the door and searched the hall. “Where?”
“Nothing, never mind. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
Caleb looked down at the towel hanging low around his hips then smiled at me. “Depends on how you look at it.”
I took that moment to check out the merchandise, and what an eyeful. Water dripped from his hair and trickled down his chest, and a glob of shaving cream clung to his right ear. My gaze journeyed south to the hills and valleys of his stomach, counting the smooth knots of muscle that stood in bas relief under his skin. He wasn’t weight lifter material, nor did he achieve underwear model status, but he had a little somethin’-somethin’ going on, subtle, and well proportioned. A healthy beige tint covered his skin, and he no longer looked like a walking corpse. He must’ve fed recently, allowing Capone to munch on something other than his host for a while.
Checking my mouth for any drool and dodging his wolfish grin, I barged into the room. Caleb didn’t bother to step aside, but let our bodies graze each other intentionally. The smell of soap wafted off his skin and water soaked the front of my sweater as I passed.
Caleb’s room was actually a ginormous suite with a window that stretched the entire left wall and overlooked the pool area below. It had a modern look with funky art deco furniture and bright colors, but it was hard to drink in its full scope with luggage, boxes, and Caleb’s music library cluttering the room. I would figure that half this stuff would be in storage with the rest of his furniture until he got his place fixed. His long bow and extra arrows weren’t exactly dire necessities, but to each their own.
It would seem that I had suddenly rolled up to the club without knowing. Electronic rock music played in one of the bedrooms in the back of the suite—some trendy, obscure European band only Caleb would appreciate. Music snob that he was, he had remarkable taste and could easily make a career out of mixing if he applied himself.
I stepped down into the sunken living room and plopped on one of the red couches. “This is a bit swank for your taste,” I commented.
“Yeah, I was staying at the motel a few blocks from here, but got moved to this place.”
“Moved? Why?”
“After I took you to school, I found a bunch of moving guys in my room bringing all my stuff here. Evangeline set it up—no notice or anything. She booked the top floor for when she comes to town. She wants to keep all her ducks in a row.”
“And keep you and your brothers on a short leash,” I added.
Snapping his fingers, Caleb perfected the image of absurdity: A pale white guy getting his groove on wearing nothing but a towel. The sad part was he was actually good.
“I’m not paying for it, so I don’t mind being a pampered prisoner,” he said. “Michael and Haden have those two rooms over there, and I got the master bedroom.” He did a little shimmy dance as he strolled inside said room. As the youngest, it was a rare occasion for Caleb to one-up his older brothers, so any small victory was momentous.
Thoughts of the dynamic duo inspired my next question. “Where are Michael and Haden anyway?”
“They went out on an errand, but they’ll be back later tonight,” Caleb yelled from his room.
I craned my neck to see his bedroom door. “What kind of errand?”
“They didn’t say. Probably off to get some beer. They’re not big fans of the local selection around here. They only drink Smithwick’s and Beamish.”
Beyond the cracked door, a white towel hit the carpet and my train of thought took a detour into forbidden territory. Staring at laundry had never felt so dirty.
“So what brings you to my not-so-humble abode? Does your mom know you’re here?” he asked.
“Who? Oh, right. No, I just wanted to stop by and tell you that your taxi duties are officially over. I got my new car.”
“That’s great. I’m not in the habit of getting up at seven. A guy needs his beauty rest.” He entered the room again and pulled a gray t-shirt over his head.
My stare moved toward his freakishly long and jacked-up feet, which were covered in bandages. He had escaped the hospital and walked six miles to his house barefoot as a result of Capone’s hostile takeover. If anyone knew the extent of damage a wayward spirit could cause, it was Caleb, so I’d come to the right place.
I tucked my feet under me, getting good and comfortable before I dove into the real reason for my visit. “I wanna ask you about your blackout. Did you have any memory lapses or lost consciousness?”
He joined me on the couch, but made sure there was plenty of space b
etween us. “Why do you ask?”
“Humor me,” I said.
His stare drifted to the far end of the room and considered his answer. “No. I had a type of déjà vu, Groundhog Day feeling, like I’d lived the same day before. I’m driving to work, but the weather’s different—sunny. I’m wearing a different shirt, and a different song is playing on the radio. Then I get out of the car and it’s snowing. I’m in my work shirt and there’s a big ass dent in my car. You say that you lose time, but there was no time gap here. All I know is I never want to go through that again.”
“Maybe you have a different type of blackout. Maybe you were dreaming and you had a memory implant, like that Dicaprio movie.”
He gave me a skeptical look. “Right. Well, your guess is as good as mine, and to tell the truth, nothing about what we are surprises me anymore.” Caleb stretched and slung his arm over the back of the couch. “Do I have permission to leave the witness stand, Counselor Marshall?”
“Not yet. I’m trying to figure something out.” When I told him about Malik Davis, aka Tobias’s disappearing act and the abandoned vehicle found on the parkway, he finally understood why I was so disturbed. Since each of us were connected by a three-way link—and a really sick twist of fate—it was possible for us to share a reaction in different places. Caleb had his alibi, but where was I when all this vehicular damage was going on?
“God, Caleb, you have no idea how much this bugs me. Two hours of my life are missing and I can’t get an answer from her. She won’t even explain the whole ‘climbing the ceiling’ thing. You were right about her being traumatized and scared, but she’s shutting me out of her feelings.” I grabbed my bag on the floor, dug inside, then passed him the note that Lilith wrote to me.