by Rayns, Lisa
“Sure.”
Tommy kissed my cheek and then raced out of the yard like a getaway driver. Shortly after, the flatbed arrived, and one by one, the driver and his sidekick skillfully pulled each heap onto the trailer. Unfortunately, with the cars gone I could see all the debris that littered the yard. Sighing, I started to clean up. Picking it up kept me busy until dark, but I liked the work. Normally, I did my best thinking while I worked but today I found myself distracted.
I imagined seeing Draven everywhere. He sat on the porch with me and watched as the cars were towed away. He stood beside me while I picked up the trash, then he sat across from me, watching me eat my burnt TV dinner. I knew it wasn’t healthy to obsess that way, and if anyone knew, they’d probably lock me up and throw away the key. No one knew though, so I let it slide.
Tommy showed up the next morning to mow down the tall grass and help me fill the holes in the driveway. When he left, I finished the mowing and planted the flowers. The day was productive, and by dusk, my yard was successfully transformed into a beautiful piece of land.
“You look like you’re twenty miles away,” Tommy said when he stopped by after sunset. “So what’s wrong? Are you getting lonely already?”
“A little,” I admitted, handing him three twenties. “Thanks again for all your help. Can I get you a TV dinner or a soda?”
“No time for the dinner, but I’ll take a pop. Thanks.”
I handed him the soda and sighed. “I’m trying to figure something out.”
He laughed. “That’s easy. Start at the beginning and walk through it.”
Surprised by his answer, I gawked at him curiously. “Is that guy talk, 101?”
“Nope. Learned that one from my momma.”
“Really?”
“Yep. That’s what she tells my dad every time he gets drunk and can’t find his keys. ‘Course she only says it to keep him busy until he sobers up.”
I giggled. “She sounds like a smart woman.”
“She is.”
“It does make sense,” I decided.
“Well, I better get going,” he said as he stood. “The old man threatened to add to my chores if I was gone for more than a half hour. Thanks for the pop, Elizabeth.”
“Anytime.” I waved to him through the screen before I shut and locked the door for the night. When I thought about Draven returning, I unlocked it.
On the bed in my new bedroom off the living room, I scanned the pages of my journal and read through everything I’d ever felt about Draven. I used words like beautiful, intriguing, and mysterious to describe him several times.
As I read further, I remembered the things he’d said to me about the dreams and my past lives. I hadn’t thought too seriously about that or his supposed immortality because it seemed so impossible. My brain couldn’t accept them as real so instead of trying to deal with it, I’d sent him away––out of sight, out of mind.
Was it possible that we’d shared past lives? Could feelings carry over through lifetimes? Could love?
He told me that he knew me, and he grew irritated whenever I told him I didn’t know him. He admitted to waiting for me, and to granting my wishes for most of my life. He looked only four years older than me, but his emotions were real when he described his relationships with those women. If it weren’t true, how could he still have their jewelry?
I had to accept the fact that he was immortal. I sighed. Where did that leave me? Human, fragile, and destined to die young. It wasn’t fair.
Not wanting to think about it, I shooed the thought away. I still didn’t know how he traveled without a vehicle and generated fresh clothing out of thin air.
Pulling my computer onto my lap, I opened a new document and typed:
What I know about Draven Blackrayne:
When I look into his eyes, I feel a peaceful happiness that cannot be explained by any rational thought process. When he’s gone, I feel suffocated with loneliness. I barely know him but at the same time I feel like I’ve known him my whole life. His touch warms my insides, and his kiss makes me ache for him. When he tells me he loves me, I feel it in my soul that he means it. My life had no meaning until the day he walked into it. Is that love?
****
A loud banging in the middle of the night irritated me tremendously. The wind had picked up, and an unknown object beat wildly against the side of the house. Wearing a mid-length white nightgown, I pulled myself out of bed and stumbled out into the warm night to see what it was. A shutter on the attic window swayed in the wind, scratching the paint around it and threatening to smash the window. Unfortunately, the window was too small to fix it from the inside.
“Welcome to the joys of home ownership,” I growled before puttering to the garage.
I carried the hammer and five nails in one hand while dragging the ladder with the other. After pulling it open high enough to reach the shutter, I leaned it against the house. I had to fight to keep it upright in the wind but once my weight was on it, it stayed put, and I made it to the top before it started sprinkling. The first nail went in fine, and the second. They secured the flying disaster waiting to happen but when the third started to go in, I glanced at the window.
Draven stood inside. I could have reached out and touched him if the glass hadn’t been between us. The surprise made me lose my balance, and I started falling backward. In the quickness of the moment, I couldn’t tell if I still held onto the ladder or if I’d let go. All I did know was that I was falling––fast!
Suddenly, the world stopped around me. The wind stopped, the falling stopped, and I sat in my own bed. My heart thumped a hundred beats a minute. I couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t dead or lying mangled on the ground outside. I knew it wasn’t a dream because my skin still felt wet from the raindrops.
I wanted to run up to the attic to see if he was there…but I was so tired.
“Damn it!” Draven bellowed, being careful to hold his concentration that kept her asleep.
The thought of losing her again was almost more than he could bear and she was so fragile, so mortal. Tonight he’d stopped one accident that could have taken her life but how many times could he really outdo fate?
He swore she would die looking into his eyes this time, knowing her death was upon her. She wouldn’t be slaughtered in some alley, stabbed in the chest by a mugger for the fifty dollars in her purse. No drunk, semi-truck driver would take her life instantly while she drove to her twentieth birthday party. No act of God would let a building crumble and crush out her last breath. Enough was enough! He had one last chance, and nothing would to keep him from killing her!
He was delaying again. He knew better. He’d saved her only to have his own stupid ethics ripping out his heart and tearing it in half. He had her right where he’d wanted her for decades, and again he fought against himself.
Pacing back and forth, he pounded the attic floor until it shook, and then he hurled a book across the room that hit the corner of the wall and left a dent. It wasn’t supposed to be like this!
She was supposed to be dead already. He should have taken her that first night while he watched her sleep in the attic. That had been the plan. Why didn’t he just do it then?
He knew why. His problem had always been killing her. He’d put it off for too long each time because the thought of taking anything away from her was torturous.
He screamed in pain, and more objects flew across the attic. No! Like it or not, she had to accept him and accept her death before he could take her life.
Beyond that, her scent drove him mad. She was the most potent she’d ever been in all her lives. Vibrant, focused, beautiful, soft, and she looked so damn good naked. His body had been on fire that morning he saw her standing outside in the nude. Her soft, subtle breasts had seemed to be peaking just for him.
He sighed and then released his will over her, confident that she’d sleep through the rest of the night on her own. Again, he would watch her sleep, like a stalker in the night. His
anger subsided when he reached her side. He knew it would. She’d always possessed a calming aura that soothed him whenever he was angry or upset. At dawn, he returned to the attic with one concluding thought: He had to kill her before fate did.
****
At dusk the next evening, he emerged from the attic and followed her sweet scent to the garage where she worked on putting the porch swing together. When her eyes found him, she tensed, and her heart beat quickened.
“Thank you for saving my life,” she said, then resumed her work of tightening bolts into the wood. She looked down as if she wasn’t alarmed but her heartbeat didn’t slow.
“You’re welcome.” He leaned against the doorframe for her benefit, hoping to relax her.
“The house is beautiful too.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
She leaned her head back, making her silky, black hair fall across her back to reveal her neck. She didn’t appear to notice how sexy she looked in that position or how hard he was fighting to control himself. Her wide, green eyes held curiosity, and her pouty lips smiled without reason. “How do you know magic? Are you a wizard? Or a magician? A warlock?”
He laughed, the sound reminding him of his life with her former self. “No.”
She seemed surprised by his answer but her heartbeat finally slowed. “Hmm, a genie?” she asked, looking directly at him.
“No.”
Though her eyes pulled together with frustration, her voice remained soft and soothing. “Are you real?”
“I’m very real,” he assured her.
The frustration disintegrated after his answer. “Can you read everyone’s mind?”
“Only yours.”
The deep lines furrowed in her forehead again as though she were trying to figure out a riddle. “Why only mine?”
“We have a special bond, Elizabeth.”
“That I believe,” she said with a little laugh. “Can I talk to you wherever you are?”
“You always do.”
She nodded, her eyes softening when she looked up at him. “Do you want something from me?”
“Yes,” he said directly. He prepared himself for her reaction, whatever it might be. It was time to tell her.
Looking down, she grabbed another bolt for the swing. “And that is?”
“I’ve told you, you will die young, Elizabeth. Do you believe that?”
She considered his words for a moment before nodding. “Are you sure you’re not a guardian angel that’s supposed to take me to the next place? I saw that on TV once.”
Surprised by her conclusion, he frowned. “I’ve told you, I am no angel.”
Her eyes narrowed before they lightened. “Are you going to help me with this swing?”
“Yes.”
“Great. I’m going to grab a soda first.” She rose and stopped in front of him on her way inside. “Do you want a drink?”
Licking his canine teeth, he stared at her neck. Yes, he very much wanted a drink. “No thank you.”
He stared at the swing, concentrating and focusing as it pulled itself together and then attached itself to the rafters above the porch.
She seemed only slightly surprised when she returned to the porch and sat down on the completed swing. “Nice. I would’ve liked to have seen that.”
He smirked.
“Thank you,” she said, setting her drink on the window ledge. “There’s room for you.”
He sat down beside her, noting her heart rate increasing by the second until she finally spoke. “So when is that supposed to happen?”
“Soon.”
She sucked in a breath. “But I haven’t…I haven’t had a chance to…I haven’t written my novel yet.”
“I told you to reconsider your plan, Elizabeth. You would have had more time. I thought I had made that clear.”
“But I didn’t believe you then!” She rose and paced the porch. Her heart raced and her eyes watered. “And all this time you’ve just been waiting around for me to die?”
“I have been waiting to offer you another option.”
She paused, her eyes piercing his. “What?”
He shook his head and closed his eyes, certain they would give him away. “Let me.”
“Let you what?”
“Let me…take your life.” He opened his eyes to her horrified expression.
Her thick silence lasted for an eternity while the crickets sang in the moonlight. No other noises sounded; even the coyote’s could sense her anger.
“You will die young regardless of how it happens,” he offered.
“You can’t know that!” she screamed.
“I do.”
She stopped and ran her hands through her midnight hair, yanking it with aggravation. Then she put her hands on her hips. “GET OUT!”
He waited for her to blink.
****
Fate smiled blissfully when her informant arrived. She admired his bravery for accepting her proposition. Sweat rolled off his pale brow, and he stunk of guilt and several days travel. In his trembling hand, he held the item she desired.
“Give it to me,” she purred.
Frozen with fear and indecision, he didn’t move. She thought about killing him, sinking her fangs into his fresh-smelling neck, but decided his death might raise suspicion. He’d proved himself useful enough. Perhaps, he would again.
She held out her hand, and the card jetted into it before she dismissed the rat.
“Elizabeth Tarkson,” she read. The name rolled off her tongue as she thought about creative ways to kill the woman this time.
I never wanted to blink again as long as I lived, which according to Draven, wouldn’t be that much longer. Confusion swirled through my head like a tornado. I wanted to hate him. I should have hated him, but his disappearing act tore at my soul. The sudden feeling of my world being ripped away from me was something I couldn’t get used to, and it didn’t help that his presence made my body pulse with an unreserved need. I’d finally realized how much I loved him when I’d seen him tonight, and that love was more real than anything I’d ever read about in any book. I saw love right in front of me, and I wanted to grab it, fast…
Then he ruined it.
How could he tell me he loved me, stalk me for years, and then ask me…
“Well, that definitely puts a damper on our relationship!” I spat.
I stormed inside and packed my soft backpack; a few changes of clothes, toiletries, several notebooks and pens. After dressing in a short, flirty red dress, I drove Hecate east over the border into Minnesota. I stopped at the first bar I saw. I’d never been drunk before but I felt more than ready for a first time.
The place was a dive. It irritated me a little that I didn’t even get to use the fake ID Brenda had gotten for me but I swallowed shot after shot, feeling the effects immediately. I wiped away the tears that fell without a thought. Even if the alcohol had intensified my feelings, I wasn’t capable of recognizing anything worse.
“You look blue.” The biker who leaned against the bar next to me smiled sympathetically. He was muscular, clean-shaven, and completely bald. Overall, not bad looking. His black leather jacket proudly displayed the Harley Davidson symbol in three spots. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“Yep,” I said with a smile. “Make it a shot.”
He ordered a shot of whiskey and then held out his hand. “My name’s Joe.”
“Hi, Joe. I’m Elizabeth.” When my shot came, I downed it and set the glass back on the counter with only the slightest sour face. My throat had already numbed.
Joe chuckled. “You better be carefully, little lady, you could get drunk drinkin’ like that.”
“That’s the plan. I’ve never been drunk before,” I declared, grabbing the stick out of his hand. “I’ve never played pool before either.”
“Yer shittin’ me?”
“Nope. This is my first time in a bar too.”
With a laugh, he turned to a group of similarly dressed men near
the pool tables. “Looks like we got ourselves a virgin here boys.”
They all laughed, hooted, and hollered playfully.
“Yep,” I declared, gulping down another shot. “It’s time to start living!”
I giggled foolishly while Joe taught me how to play pool. It took several tries but eventually I made a ball into a pocket that I had actually aimed for. “What else?” I asked anxiously, laying the stick across the table.
Joe’s forehead wrinkled. “What do you mean, what else?”
“What else do you do in bars?”
“Oh, darts. Don’t worry, we’ll get you broke in right tonight. I actually feel sort of…honored,” he said with a chuckle.
He taught me how to play darts and foosball before he danced with me for my first dance in a bar. I leaned against him during the slow song. I felt guilty for pretending he was Draven but when I closed my eyes, it felt so much better to be back in his arms even after what he asked.
It seemed like the next minute, the wind whipped my clothing at eighty miles per hour. I knew that because the gauge around the black leather jacket told me so. He slowed down when I tightened my grip around his waist.
“Good morning, beautiful,” Joe called to me. He pulled off to the side of the road. When the motorcycle came to a stop, he lifted the visor up on his helmet and turned toward me. “We’re almost there.”
After mocking his movement with the helmet I wore, I stared at him, completely disorientated by my situation. “Almost where?”
“You said you wanted to go to Valley Fair.”
“I did?”
“Yeah, you did,” he concluded with a frown. “Don’t you remember?”
I calmed slightly when I realized my backpack hung on my shoulders. “Well, why did I want to go there?”
He thought for a minute before responding. “To live a little, you said.”
“That’s right. I’ve never been on a motorcycle before either. Thanks for that.”
“No problem.” He yanked down the shield on his helmet, turned around, and the bike took off again.
The fair had just opened when we arrived. Joe followed me everywhere and rode the rides with me. Under his tough, biker exterior, I found a fun guy who laughed, made jokes, and I enjoyed his company.