by Davis, L. C.
"You don't sound very fond of Mr. Mills."
"I'm not the only one," he said as he started walking again. At some point, his fingers had become entwined with mine, and I realized his hand was still warm even though the air was cold. "The guy's a total sleazeball. If you hear anyone talking about Twoface, that's him."
I frowned. "Really?" It was a name I'd heard around town on more than one occasion, and never in any positive context. "You guys must really hate lawyers."
"It's not that. It's... Look, I don't usually gossip, but I'm sure my aunt will fill you in sooner or later and you should know to stay away from him."
I wasn't sure I liked the idea of someone I barely knew telling me who I could and couldn't see, but there was something about Nick that was easy to trust. Something that made me feel safe whenever I was around him, even if his own behavior raised questions.
"A long time ago, there was a girl named Jessica who went missing. She was in Daniel's class and it was a few years before I made it to highschool, so I didn't really know her, but she grew up here like the rest of us," he said with a sigh, motioning for me to sit next to him on a bench in the square. I would have rather kept moving when I noticed the statue of an angel watching over the fountain, kneeling to dip a stone hand into the water where the fountain stirred it. Weeping angels and the like had always given me the creeps, even if this one was beautiful with his serene stone features and long hair that flowed smoothly into his robes. Then again, I didn't have the most positive associations with angels in general.
"What happened to her?" I asked nervously.
"Officially? She was never found, so it's considered a cold case."
"And unofficially?"
"Mills was dating her and let's just say it he was the obvious suspect."
"Oh," I murmured. "But there wasn't ever any evidence that he hurt her?"
He shrugged. "Evidence has a way of disappearing when your daddy has enough money to pay off the feds. My great uncle was the sheriff at the time and he did what he could, but there are influences in this town that go back even further than the Whitakers."
"I figured it was too good to be true. Stumbling upon the perfect All-American town."
"It's like that now, sort of. No place is perfect, but we try to make sure this place is a sanctuary."
"For what?"
"For whoever needs it." He watched me for a moment with that look that made me feel like he was capable of seeing things I'd rather keep hidden, if he kept looking for long enough. "Whatever it is you're running from, Holden, it can't get to you here."
"What makes you think I'm running from anything?"
He gave me a knowing look and cupped my cheek in his palm. "Cute guys don't just pick up and move across the country to live in the middle of nowhere with no connections unless there's something they want to leave behind."
Cute guys? It didn't make my skin crawl quite as much when it came from him, but maybe that was just because I was too busy trying to remember how to breathe. My lips parted, as if his kiss was just something that was supposed to happen, something I had been programmed to respond to long before it ever crossed my mind. His lips were as warm as his hands, but much softer as they pressed mine, gentle at first as he gauged my reaction. His fingers played in my hair and I moved closer, drawn to him by some unseen force as his tongue slipped into my mouth.
When he finally pulled away, I was breathless and the look in his eyes wasn't helping. Neither was the smile on his lips. It suited him, but I could think of far better things those lips could be doing...
"I can protect you, Holden," he said, reaching for my hand in my lap, stroking the back of it as he looked into my eyes. I found myself incapable of blinking or looking away, my hearing focused on the rich sound of his voice to the exclusion of all else. It was so warm and soothing I felt like it was enveloping me as he spoke. Just like his eyes, that sound was tinged with gold. The difference between sight and touch and sound seemed negligible as he stroked my cheek, pulling me deeper into some hypnosis I was all too eager to succumb to. "Whatever you were running from, I believe something else brought you here to me, and I'm not going to let anyone hurt you or take you away."
I felt the urge to respond, to give him whatever he needed to hear, but all I could do was nod.
"Who is it, Holden?" he asked gently, leaning in a little closer. "Who are you so scared of?"
"My father." The words came out like a breath.
"Hm," he said thoughtfully, still absently stroking my hair. "And he wants to hurt you?"
"No," I murmured. "No, he...he wants to take me back."
"Take you back where?"
"To Arkansas. To our church, to the basement..."
Something flickered in his eyes, only it wasn't the reassuring adoration that made me feel like a puddle of happiness. There was murder in that gaze, and it lasted only an instant, but it was enough to make me aware of what he was doing. I had seen hypnotists at work before. My father was one of them, even though he liked to claim his "gift" came from God above. I knew Nick had me in some kind of a trance, but I was powerless to break it.
"Why does he want to bring you back?" His voice was slow and controlled, but rough. It wasn't nearly as hypnotic as it had been, but his spell remained unbroken.
"I can do things," I said, my own voice hoarse from straining against the words he was drawing from me with such ease. "I have power that he wants, that he uses for his ministry."
Something else crossed his mind. I could feel it, like our thoughts were linked somehow even if the influence only went in one direction. This time, it was curiosity. "Power? But you're human..."
I frowned, or at least I could feel the muscles in my face that would have shaped a frown twitch, breaking my mask of complacency. Human? What else would I be? I wanted to ask. Instead, he wound a strand of my hair around his finger and the touch lulled me in deeper. "Holden." My name was a command, gentle yet insistent.
"I'm a witch."
He cocked his head to one side. He seemed surprised, but it faded too fast. "And what kind of 'things' can you do?"
My throat was tight, but I couldn't keep the words down. "Awful things."
"I don't think you're capable of doing anything awful, Holden," he said softly. How could someone who sounded so kind be capable of something so cruel?
"I killed them..." My eyes burned and the tears spilled over.
He frowned. "Who?"
Before I could answer, before he could force me, flames interposed themselves on my vision, blocking him out completely. The fire, the church, the screams, it was all bubbling to the surface, everything I'd tried so hard not to allow access to my conscious mind. Someone else was watching me, from inside my mind, and at first I thought it was Nick, but the silhouette was off. This man was taller, slimmer. I couldn't see his face clearly, but I could see a finger pressed against his lips. Light was coming from his eyes and soon it ate up the flames and made it impossible to see anything in the vision or in reality.
I cried out in pain as a shrill, mechanical scream merged itself with the blinding light and both were so piercing it felt like my mind would split in half. All I remembered after that was being caught in Nick's strong arms, pressed close to his warm body as he whispered some apology I could only half understand. Then, everything was quiet.
Seven
DANIEL
Knock knock knock.
I rolled over and pulled my pillow over my head to drown out the sound.
KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK.
"Goddamn it," I growled. Three nights in a row. Was I not entitled to a few hours of sleep? I had my doubts the people doctors in town had to deal with this. At least they had pagers. You could "lose" a pager if you really needed to. You couldn't lose a front door.
I groped for the knob to the drawer in my bedside table and felt around for the small box that held my glass eye. The box was there, but in place of the smooth half-orb that usually rested on the cloth inside, there w
as only a divet.
"Shitfuck," I groaned, yanking the chain to my bedside lamp. The sudden change from dark to light was threatening the eye I had left, and the asshole at the door wouldn't stop. Probably Mrs. Field with her hypoglycemic goldendoodle.
In lieu of my missing prosthetic, I donned my patch and staggered towards the door. The two last people I was expecting to see were on the other side. Together. Yay.
It took me a second in my half-asleep state to process the fact that Nick was holding Holden's unconscious body in his arms with a helpless look on his face I had only seen once and hoped never to see again. "Daniel, I fucked up."
"We should call an ambulance." Panic had cleared my thoughts enough to know that, at least.
"I can't." He glanced over his shoulder, even though mine was the only apartment on that floor of the building. "Can you help him? Please?"
He was giving me the puppy dog eyes again. "Son of a bitch," I muttered, stepping back to let him in. He rushed inside and I motioned for him to put Holden on the couch. As far as I could tell, he wasn't hurt. I swept the dark hair away from his face and couldn't see any signs of a head wound, but when I stretched his eyes open, he was out cold.
"How long has he been out?"
"Maybe a minute? Two?"
"More than a few seconds is considered a medical emergency. I'm calling an ambulance," I muttered, reaching for the phone on the end table.
Nick's hand shot out to grab my wrist, closing around it with more force than I expected. I looked up at him, frowning. "You don't understand. If he goes to a hospital, he's in trouble."
"Why?" I cast another glance at the unconscious kid on my couch. It was looking like my first assumption about him was right. There were few reasons someone would be in more trouble at a hospital than not, and none of them hinted at a reputable lifestyle.
"It's complicated. Look, he didn't get hurt or anything. He just...blacked out."
"That doesn't make it any better," I growled.
"Please, Daniel. I just need a safe place where he can sleep it off."
"Sleep what off?"
Holden groaned and by the time I turned around, he was already sitting up, holding his head.
Nick rushed to his side, and if there was any doubt the two of them had coupled, it vanished when I saw the way Nick looked at him, trying to stop him from sitting up. So much for his unflinching heterosexuality. "It's okay," he soothed, "just relax, you're gonna be alright."
"What the hell did you do, Nick? I can't protect you if you don't --"
"My head," Holden moaned.
Nick shot to his feet, rummaging around in my freezer until he found an icepack and brought it back over to press against Holden's temple. "There, better?"
Holden looked at him and recoiled suddenly. "You," he hissed. "What did you do to me?"
"Shh, shh." Nick held his hands on either side of Holden's face and his struggling ceased as my friend looked pointedly into his eyes, like he'd seen one hypnosis documentary too many. I watched in morbid fascination as Holden's face went blank and his posture slumped as Nick spoke to him in hushed tones. "You're fine. Everything is fine. Just relax and go back to sleep, I'm not going to let anything happen to you."
Holden nodded, but the movement was jerky, like he was being controlled by an inexperienced puppeteer. I was having a hard time believing what I was seeing, but my gut instinct was that whatever it was, it was wrong.
"Stop that," I hissed, even if I wasn't sure what that was, either. Holden went limp in Nick's arms and he gently propped him against the cushions.
Nick looked up at me with soulful eyes and I found myself wondering how many times I'd been the recipient of that little mind trick. He raised a finger to his lips and motioned to the bedroom. If you had asked me five minutes earlier if there was one person left in this world I thought I could trust, I would have said Nick. Hell, I'd known him his entire life and the better part of mine. All of a sudden, being alone with him was about the last thing I wanted, but I felt like a coward since I was pretty damn sure I could still overpower him physically. I just made it a point not to look in his eyes.
He closed the door behind us, taking great care not to make a sound. His shoulders slumped and he turned to face me, leaning against the door. Something caught his eye across the room and I followed his curious gaze to the blue silk robe hanging from the hook on my bathroom door. "I didn't know you were a fan of satin."
"It's not mine," I muttered. Before he could ask the next logical question, I added, "Less talk about my love life, more about the guy you just mind-melded on my couch."
"Like I said, it's --"
"If you finish that sentence with complicated, I'm calling the cops and Brent can straighten your ass out for himself."
He grimaced. Threatening to call his brother was a low blow, but I was running out of options. And patience. "Okay, okay. Don't do that. Look, I did it for his own good."
"Start by telling me what the fuck you did," I said, folding my arms.
"You won't believe me."
"Try me."
"I'm psychic. Kind of."
"Bullshit."
"I told you that you wouldn't believe me!" he cried, throwing his hands up as he paced to the glass door that lead out to my balcony. "Fucking atheists."
"Look, I'm willing to suspend my skepticism enough to believe you hypnotized Holden," I said carefully, only willing to make the concession because I had seen it with my own eyes--figuratively speaking. "But don't start with all that woo-woo bullshit just because you're fucking the town Wiccan. Thanks for keeping me in the loop on that, by the way."
"You knew about him being a witch?"
The look on his face dashed any hopes he was joking. "He tricks people, Nick. It's what he does. Like I've been trying to tell your uncle, it's a pattern. I looked into Holden when he stole that cat from my clinic, he hops from one town to the next and there's no shortage of news articles about him conning the locals with his little magic tricks. I don't know how you got mixed up with this kid, but you need to get out while you still can."
"I don't think they're tricks, Daniel." He hesitated, sitting on the edge of my bed with his head in his hands. "And you shouldn't be talking to my uncle about Holden, or anything else. I shouldn't have gotten you involved in this, I just didn't know where else to take him."
"Uh, the hospital would be one option. Your house, his apartment, literally anywhere else instead of here?"
"He can't be around my family. Not like this."
I frowned. The panic in his voice gave me pause and made me think this wasn't just another one of his mischievous schemes, of which there had been no shortage over the years. This time, given that Holden's brand of crazy seemed to be catching, I wasn't sure I'd be able to bail Nick out of whatever it was he'd gotten himself into.
"Alright," I said, dragging a chair over to sit across from him. "Cut the bullshit. I can't help you if you keep up with the cryptic mutterings. Either tell me everything, or take him and get out."
He looked up at me and I could tell he was deciding whether or not to call my bluff. Instead, he sighed in defeat. "I'll tell you what I can. I don't fully understand what's going on myself, but I'll try to put it in skeptic-friendly terms," he said dryly. "You know what weird thing my family has about soulmates?"
"Yes," I answered warily. If there was one thing Nick and I had bonded over, it was our distaste for the more superstitious elements of our upbringing. My late mother's fixation on black cats and ladders had nothing on the Whitaker family legend that every member of the family had his or her perfect match walking around out there in the world, just waiting for a spark of love at first sight to unite them forever. To their credit, the family divorce rate was zilch, but that didn't mean they were happy.
"Holden is mine."
"Come on, Nick," I groaned.
"You told me you wanted to know the truth," he reminded me. "That's part of it."
"Fine. Leave aside the fact tha
t you're straight and, long hair aside, I'm at least eighty-five percent sure Holden's a guy. I still don't see what that has to do with you hypnotizing him."
"It's just something we can do with our mates. I've seen it, but I never thought I'd actually do it," he admitted, dragging a hand through his hair.
"Mates?"
"Soulmates," he corrected. "Anyway, it wasn't supposed to hurt him. I just wanted to know what he was so scared of, what he's running from, but it backfired."
"Obviously."
"I don't know how, but he blocked me. Or someone else did, I don't know."
I frowned. "You do realize how batshit insane this all sounds, right? Soulmates, psychic blocks?"
"Insane or not, before Holden blacked out, he told me he was a witch. I think that has something to do with how he was able to resist my, uh --"
"Mind fuckery?"
"We call it compulsion," he grumbled.
"Whatever. You get that real witches are just new agers with a fetish for herbs and crystals, right? It's no more wacked out than all the other fairytales people believe, I guess, but it's not real." If there was one person I never thought I'd have to have that conversation with, it was the guy in front of me, but that night was proving that I didn't know Nick as well as I thought I did."
"I'm not talking about that kind of witch. There are others." The heat kicked in with a creak and his nose wrinkled. All of a sudden, he fixated on the robe again, stalking over to...sniff it?
"The fuck are you doing now?"
"Who left this?" he demanded, dangling the silk off his finger like he didn't want to touch it any more than he had to. He looked around the room warily like I might be hiding a human behind my exercise bike. "Where is she?"
"Not here. He left it last night," I muttered.
"He?" That got his attention.
I snatched the robe out of his hand and did a half-assed job of folding it before shoving it in my drawer. That felt a bit too intimate for a one-night stand, so I took it out and tossed it on top of the clean clothes I hadn't put away yet. "Yes, he. I'm bisexual. You know that."