by P. Kirby
Giving him a stern look over her glasses, Dr. Jones said, “You’d better get that one right. She’s been here all night.”
Lien? How’d he know that? The doctor continued the exam and Maya’s mind wandered, following silly teenage tangents where she tried on Benjamin’s name. Maya Stephenson-Black? The idea still struck her as ridiculous, since his acceptance of her lie didn’t constitute any kind of proposal. Meanwhile, in the background, Benjamin’s tone of voice changed, picking up a petulance she’d never heard before.
“So I can’t go home?”
From behind, Maya could see Dr. Jones’s short graying curls shake with her head. “You have a skull fracture. I’d like to keep you under observation for at least another day.”
“Observation?” She saw the ghost of fear in his face and knew exactly what he was thinking. He smiled crookedly, his face taking on a charisma, which, whether he knew it or not, was effective. “What’s to observe? Broken leg, broken skull, all present and accounted for.”
“Mr. Black, you could develop a hemorrhage.”
He shrugged. “I haven’t yet, though, have I?” The smile broadened, picking up a sly charm.
Casting a look over her shoulder at Maya, Dr. Jones said, “Is he always this uncooperative?”
For an instant, Maya almost spoke the truth. I don’t know. I’ve only known him a few days. Instead she frowned at Benjamin, hiding the tenderness she felt toward him, brought on by his terribly human belligerence. “He’s not fond of doctors,” she finally said.
“Ah. Well, you’ll find I’m quite pleasant. And besides, you have Maya here to protect you.” She smiled, baring small, white teeth. “Relax. Think of it as a vacation with really bad food.” With a smile at Maya, she left the room.
Benjamin watched her go, his expression like that of a child who has just learned that Santa Claus isn’t real. After a second, he snorted and said, “Yeah. I’m going anyway.” He started to fumble with the IV line, obviously gathering the courage to yank it out.
The emotional dam inside Maya broke. Belligerent could only be charming for so long before becoming exasperating. “No. You’re not going anywhere. No one suspects you’re anything but an ordinary human.”
Gathering a head of steam, she let loose on Benjamin. “You heard the doctor. I’ve been here all night. All night! And—and most of today.” Maya gestured at the wall clock. “When you first came in, they said you might be in a coma. I thought I’d lost you—twice. First at the outlet mall and then when the doctors said you might never wake up. Then they wouldn’t let me see you because I wasn’t next of kin. So I lied and said I was your fiancée.”
She drew in a great breath, far from finished. Benjamin stared at her, expression startled and trapped. “Do you know how hard it is for me to deal with that big a lie? They wanted me to help fill out paperwork. They asked me questions about your employment and health insurance, and address.” Raking her hand through her hair, she continued, “And I felt like an idiot. I couldn’t remember your address and what am I supposed to say you do for a living?
“I love you, Benjamin Black, and if you have one iota of feeling for me then you’ll stay in that bed until the doctors say otherwise.” Finished, she crossed her arms over her chest.
He stared at her, dark gray eyes swimming in a wide sea of white. “Okay,” he said, chancing one last mournful look at the doorway. Finding a fascinating patch of fabric on the bandage on his left arm, he picked at the cloth. Finally he met her eyes. “It’s 315 Calle De Los Torros. I tell people I’m self-employed and if they dig deeper, I say ‘investments.’” He tried a weak smile. “My insurance card is either in my wallet or sitting on the kitchen table at home. I forget which.”
“You have insurance?” Maya said, balloon of anger punctured by the concept of him being part of something as mundane as the health insurance system.
“I got it when Isabel and I were together, thought it would make me more legit. It’s not all that great, the deductible is high. I think it might be easier to just pay out of pocket.” His face shadowed by a sudden sneakiness, he said, “I still have some money left, although most of my accounts are now in your name.”
“What?” Maya blinked, startled. “Your accounts?”
“I signed everything—investments, bank accounts—over to you. I kept about five hundred thousand, in case our plan worked, but the rest, about 7.5 million, is yours. I wanted to make up for the mess I made of your life. The way things were going, it wasn’t like I was going to need it anyway.”
Maya’s knees turned to stone, which was fortunate, because the rest of her had turned to jelly. “Mil-million? How, what?” She snapped her mouth shut, because her brain and tongue were as tangled as strings of old Christmas lights. After a beat, she said, “You can’t give me that kind of money.”
“It’s already done. I assumed I wouldn’t be around when it happened.” His gaze danced nervously back to the door. “Anyway, you’d have access to it as my wife, wouldn’t you—fiancée?”
Maya uncrossed her arms and put a hand to her face, partially to cover her blush. “I didn’t want to leave you here, alone, in the hospital. Telling them I was a close relative was too icky, after all we’ve done together. I didn’t think they’d take ‘girlfriend’ seriously and ‘wife’ was too big a lie.”
Turning away, he picked at the bandage again. Without looking at her, he said, “I don’t mind being your fiancé, Maya.” Lifting his head, he grinned, some charm shining through his caution. “I just wish you had let me propose first.”
Hand over her mouth, holding back what would only be stupid-happy babbles, Maya felt as though she had liquefied inside, warm joy soaking throughout her limbs.
Her response to Benjamin’s comment was cut short by voices and footsteps in the hall. Seconds later, Roland, followed by Eric, still on crutches, entered the room.
“Good timing. The nurse said Rip Van Winkle was awake and could have visitors.” Roland smiled a high-voltage smile.
“I’ll sign your cast if you’ll sign mine,” said Eric, carefully wiggling his injured leg.
Benjamin squinted at Eric’s cast. “I don’t think there’s any room left.” Very little of the cast’s original white surface remained, most covered by signatures in a variety of ink colors.
“So what do you think, Eric?” Roland pointed at Benjamin. “Am I right?”
Eric’s eyebrows scrunched above his nose. “Give him his get-well plant.” He pointed at the potted plant in Roland’s hands. “Do you think this is the time to discuss this?” Maya couldn’t quite read Eric’s face, the stern set of his brows and sparkle of his eyes at odds with each other.
Roland was unperturbed. “Now’s as good a time as any.” Moving to the bed, he handed Benjamin the plant, a fern. “Get well soon, time’s a-wasting, life is short.”
“Thanks,” Benjamin said.
“What are you talking about?” Maya asked.
“Roland.” Eric scolded but didn’t really put much effort into it.
Roland lifted his hand to his mouth, doing a stage aside, and said to Maya and Benjamin, “He doesn’t want to talk about m-a-g-i-c.”
Eric chuckled and rolled his eyes.
“I don’t know what this is about,” Benjamin said, “but you should tell me before I slip into another coma.”
“Not funny,” Maya said, pinching his arm gently. She noted, however, that despite his good humor, Benjamin’s eyelids were drooping and his smile not so easy. “Maybe you should get to the point. Benjamin still needs a lot of rest.”
But Roland didn’t want to be deprived of his drama. Posing like Sherlock Holmes about to let loose a string of deductions, he grinned. “Why’s he still here?” he said, pointing at Benjamin. “You destroyed Adam’s drawing, correct? Adam went poof.”
“I love you, hon,” Eric said, “but you couldn’t find the point if it poked you in the ass.”
“Humph,” Roland said. “My point is that if the book is cor
rect, Benjamin should have been hauled along to EverVerse.”
“Maybe they weren’t linked,” Maya suggested.
Roland did his smug Aztec chieftain smile. “He’s in bad shape, isn’t he? I thought immortals healed fast.”
Maya looked at Benjamin. The redheaded thief nodded. “I’m not immortal anymore. I’ve never felt this much pain in my life and I’ve been hurt much worse. Usually, I can feel myself healing.” He shrugged. “Now, nothing, just pain.”
“You’re mortal,” said Maya in a hushed tone. Benjamin nodded and squeezed her hand. “How’s that possible?” she asked Roland. “Is it because the link between him and Adam was broken?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Roland said. “It’s because Maya yanked away his immortality.”
“I what?” Maya asked.
“I found it in The Lore of the Formed, in English, no less.” Roland pulled a sheet of paper from his jacket pocket and read. “‘The immortality of the Formed is fragile, bound to the spark of life in what is often a mortal physical framework. Calculations in Chapter Eight suggest instability in the spark’s recharging mechanism, resulting in a high probability of spontaneous failure.’” Roland paused for breath. “It goes on to say that there’s a possibility a Formed person might only live a few decades before this spark of life thing breaks.”
He shrugged. “Or, a Formed person could live forever. It’s pretty much a toss of the dice.”
Balancing precariously on his good leg, Eric tapped Roland with a crutch. “The point?”
Enjoying himself too much, Roland ignored Eric and read some more. “‘Because of the instability, the Formed spark of life is inclined toward a state of greater stability, i.e., a mortal construct. Consequently, it is theorized that the Formed being’s designer can convert the spark from immortal to mortal, via a new key drawing.”
“I guess it’s the head injury, but I don’t understand,” Benjamin said.
Roland started to speak but Eric spoke first. “Have you done a drawing of Benjamin lately? Not the comic book character, but this Benjamin?” he asked Maya.
“Yeah. She did, yesterday,” Benjamin answered. “That did it?”
“Yep,” Roland said, beaming.
“I did this?” Maya looked at Benjamin, his broken leg and bandaged head. “I’m sorry.”
Benjamin scrunched up the right side of his face and arched an eyebrow. “Sorry? After all the whining I’ve done about being immortal?”
“Besides,” said Roland, “his immortal engine thingy might have broken down, and he might have lived a shorter life than us mere mortals.”
“It explains why I felt so weird, tired and drained after you did that drawing.” He smiled at Maya. She stared at him, letting her gaze roam along the familiar path of his jawline and down his neck to his chest.
Maya felt his fingers tighten around hers and she returned the gesture. He cleared his throat and with a cheeky grin, said, “Now you have to marry me.”
Though her heart skipped, she let out a haughty sniff. “‘Have to’?” This is the twenty-first century. I don’t have to marry anyone.”
“You stripped him of his immortality,” Roland said. “The least you could do is grow old and gray with him.”
Benjamin’s auburn eyebrows arched toward the fringes of red bangs. His gray eyes, wide with feigned innocence, reflected the green in Maya’s sweater. “Make an honest man of me?”
“No,” Maya said. “I won’t.” Gently, she cupped his chin in her hand. “I don’t want an honest man. I want the thief I fell in love with.” She kissed him. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
Blinking rapidly, Roland waved his fingers in front of his eyes. “I know this is stereotypically gay, but I’m getting choked up.”
After a round of congratulatory handshakes between the men and hugs from Maya, Eric and Roland said goodbye and left Benjamin to his much-needed rest.
The second the two men exited the room, Benjamin’s eyes shut and he sagged back into the pillows. Standing in the doorway, where she had followed Eric and Roland, she studied him, feeling a cold icicle of fear. Did the bruises on his face look darker or was it her imagination?
Though he didn’t open his eyes, he lifted his right hand toward her. “I’m all right, but I feel like somebody dropped a building on me… Oh, wait…”
Maya hurried to his side and took his hand in hers, loving the contrast between fair and dark skin. She smiled at him, ignoring the silly tears that threatened to slide down her face. Eyes half open, he managed a crooked, closemouthed smile. “I don’t like it here,” he said, sounding very young.
Settling into the chair, Maya rubbed his hand. “I know.” Closing her eyes, she pressed his hand to her cheek, feeling the slow flow of magic between them. “You’ll be home soon.”
Chapter Thirty-three
He had no idea what he was doing.
Newspaper crunched and crackled under his feet as he crouched by Maya’s door, the tool held uncertainly in his hand. Benjamin dipped the putty knife into the plaster mix, scooped a glob of the earthy-smelling mixture, and started to smear it on the final buckshot hole in the plaster. The smattering of holes by the front door were the last reminder of Ms. Kalman’s attempt to take a bite out of crime, one Benjamin at a time. Maya had suggested hiring someone to do the job, but Benjamin thought it was time he learned something about home repair, seeing as he was now a homeowner.
It took a little urging—the idea conflicted with Maya’s independent nature—but she agreed to let him pay off her mortgage. A week before his current home-improvement project, he’d brought the subject up. “Even if you come to your senses and dump me, it’s the least I can do for you,” he’d argued.
“Dump you? After all I went through to keep you?” She’d pinched his arm. “Don’t be a dork, Benjamin. If we’re using your money, then this is your house too.” With a wink, she said, “Take out the trash, huh?”
Smiling at the memory, Benjamin scraped the knife’s metal edge along the wall, removing excess plaster. “Home,” he whispered.
“What’s in this stuff?”
Benjamin startled and turned to see Maya lift the empty bag of plaster.
“The fumes have got you talking to yourself.” She squinted at the package labeling.
“It’s either me or Delilah, and she’s not much of a conversationalist.”
Maya’s dark eyes reflected her smile. “You’ve got plaster in your hair.”
He rose, wincing at the pain in his right leg. “I’ve got plaster in places I didn’t know I had places.”
Dark eyebrows converging above her nose, Maya frowned at his leg. “It’s not healed, is it? I can’t believe you took the cast off.”
Three weeks after the explosion, the itching threatening to drive him crazy, he’d taken off the cast. Other than the occasional twinge, the break didn’t hurt and he’d already stopped using crutches. The ability to heal in a few days was lost along with immortality, but it seemed he still healed faster than most people.
“It’s okay. I imagine it’ll be touchy for a while.” He ruffled her hair.
“Ugh! Plaster in my hair.”
He withdrew his hand and bent the tip of the putty knife, releasing it and flicking a few tiny white globs at Maya. The speckles of plaster stood out starkly on her brown skin.
Mouth agape, she spluttered. “I can’t believe you just did that.”
He tried to stop her but she lunged past him, reaching into the plaster. Just as he grabbed her arm, he realized the mistake. Letting herself get caught, she fell into his arms. “Mmph,” he said as she opened her hand and shoved the plaster into his face, rubbing it into his jaw and cheek.
“This is war, Black.”
“War is hell.” He grabbed her face and kissed her sloppily, sharing the plaster on his face. She struggled for a second and then put her arms around him and leaned into the kiss. Magical power, so hot it almost scalded, poured from Maya’s mouth into his and need surged dow
n to his groin.
The doorbell rang.
“Ignore it.” Maya gasped the words after breaking the kiss. “It’s probably a Jehovah’s Witness, here to save your heathen soul.”
As if in response to Maya’s comment, the bell rang twice more in quick succession and Benjamin heard the faint squeak of the button being pressed too hard. They shared a sigh and Maya turned away to perch on tiptoes and peer out the peephole.
“Next on my list—lower the peephole,” said Benjamin. “Who is it?”
Rather than answering, she flipped the deadbolt and opened the door. “Hello, Breas.”
The vampire said nothing for several seconds, his cold gaze raking over their plaster-whitened faces. “I pity your children.”
“Evening, Breas. What brings you to our humble abode?” Benjamin shot a glance at Maya and she smiled at him.
“Aren’t you two nauseating? There are days I wish I could still throw up.” He turned and gave the neighborhood a long look. “Is that the neighbor that shot you?”
Benjamin leaned out the door and waved at Ms. Kalman, who watched them through her side window. “Yep.” The woman didn’t return his greeting.
The vampire turned, boyish profile soft with a closemouthed smile. Lifting his right hand, he wiggled his fingers at Ms. Kalman.
Benjamin peeked out the door in time to see Ms. Kalman smile and wave back.
Maya saw the gesture as well. “Stop that. Don’t Mesmer my neighbor.”
“I gave her happy thoughts,” Breas said.
“I know,” Maya said, hands on her hips. “Ms. Kalman doesn’t do happy thoughts. She’s Hungarian. She broods and scowls. You’ll give her a stroke.”
Finding Maya’s willingness to scold the vampire a little unnerving, Benjamin cleared his throat and said, “Was there something you needed, Breas?”
“The book.”
“Book? Oh, you mean the elvish dictionary.”
“No. The Lore of the Formed, Volume Two. It needs to go back to the Holders’ library before they miss it.”