by Amy Faye
But what’s going to keep us from using it? Nothing.
“Good.” His tone leaves no room for questions. “Now, Sarah? Hailey?”
My ears prick at hearing my name come out of his mouth, without even thinking about it.
“Is something wrong?”
His voice is low and strong. Even though it’s only one word, I can feel myself wrapped up in it. “Sleep.”
I close my eyes. Sleep sounds like a good idea. I’m asleep practically as soon as my head lays back against the head rest, and I don’t wake up until he shakes me awake.
“Is everything okay?”
He smiles softly. Again, I’m struck by the feeling that he thinks of me as something not entirely sexual. Like a kindly father, or a priest. A priest who’s been inside me, so the metaphor doesn’t really work. Or maybe it improves things. I don’t know.
“Everything’s alright. We’ve landed.”
I look around, taking my surroundings in with a sweep of my eyes. He’s right. We’ve landed.
“What? Where are we?”
“We’re in Traverse City.”
“That’s where I live,” I say dimly. The conversation from before is finally starting to come back to me in bits and pieces.
“You’re right, it is.”
“Oh.”
“You’ll want to get yourself dressed for the weather. I asked the stewardess to go ahead and get some sweaters.”
I look around again. Sarah’s already wearing one. It’s heavy and yet does nothing to hide her bust. If anything, the heavy covering only accentuates it.
“How long have I been asleep?”
“Only a little bit,” he says. It doesn’t do much to comfort me. If anything, the whole thing makes me a little nervous.
“Only a little bit?”
“Calm down. There’s nothing to worry about. Not yet, anyway.”
“Nothing to worry about?”
“Not in the slightest.”
He smiles. “Now, come on. Get up.”
I do. There’s nothing making me, but it sounds so nice. My legs are sore after sitting so long. I stretch them out, and then work my shoulders until I’m feeling almost like a human again. I take the sweater.
It’s snowing again. I guess that the warm spell wasn’t an early spring after all. Not that there was any hope of that in January, but a girl can dream.
“How does it feel to be home?”
“It feels like I’m in a nightmare,” I said. I hoped that it came off as a joke, because I meant it that way. “I’ve got a thousand things I need to take care of, and being out of the country was a good excuse not to deal with them. But if I’m back…”
“Then don’t deal with them,” he says. “Easy.”
The words sound awfully tempting. But I know better.
“That’s not how it works.”
“No?”
“I wish it was, but…”
He smiles at me. “Let’s take this in baby steps. You can get Sarah acquainted with the snow, and I’ll get the car. You know, I don’t think she’s ever been in the snow, have you, Sarah?”
She scowls at the window. “No. It’s too cold.”
“Oh, it’s not that bad,” he says. He leans to look out the window. “Nice and cloudy, too. A great day. Do you know anywhere that we can go skiing?”
“No,” I answered. I probably should. There probably is some place. But I don’t know of any such thing.
“Shame. Well, come on. Let’s disembark and let someone else use this space, shall we? I’m sure that the crew are getting very impatient with us, waiting around. I wouldn’t want to get on their bad side.”
He started for the door. Sarah followed, and I followed behind her. The sweater is a good one. Warm, and not totally tasteless. I wish I had a heavier coat, but to my surprise, in spite of the snow, it’s not all that cold. Only 25 or 26 degrees, Fahrenheit. I never had any reason to learn Celsius before I went to Spain, and now I never will.
“How do you live like this?”
“You get used to it,” I said. She shivers on the tarmac as we wait for some instructions on where we’re going. I’ve never climbed off an airplane like this. Like the President or something.
“How? You die of exposure and then you’re reborn as an Eskimo?”
I laugh. “Something like that.”
Looking at her again, I have to admit for the second time that she’s an attractive woman. Attractive enough to have caught Ben’s eye, for one thing. The snow falling on her blond hair catches in her eyelashes. It’s a good look for her. You could take a picture of it and put it right on the cover of a calendar.
“So what do you do here?”
“Not much,” I said. “Just, you know, the usual. Ice fishing, dog-sled races…”
“You’re joking.” She says it with such a scandalized tone that I can’t help laughing.
“Yes, of course I’m joking. This time of the year, what do you do? You stay inside. Obviously.”
“Let’s work on that.”
“Already on it,” I answer. I just want the damn car to pull around, and I want it to be toasty once we get inside it.
Then a black sports car pulls around. It’s moving slow, but the engine is kicking and screaming like it’s being tortured for information.
“Sorry, one of you is going to be tight in the back.”
As it turns out, that someone is going to be me. It makes logical sense. I’m the thinner of the two of us, and the shorter. Which means that I don’t have much case for being the one in front. With one exception, of course; I’m also the one whose house we’re staying in.
I swallow my complaints and climb in like someone climbing into a cannon.
“And you’re sure that we’re not going to get hit again? I don’t really want to be stuck in here like a sardine if we go flying end over end.”
His voice is sharp and certain. It cuts off the conversation with no room for discussion on the subject.
“No, we’re not. I’m not going to let that happen, and the Ferrari isn’t exactly as cumbersome as the Land Rover was.”
“Well, I guess that’s good.”
“It’s going to have to be,” he says. “But I’m not worried.”
I’m glad he isn’t, because I sure as hell am.
Eight
I don’t know what I expected. Then again, I don’t know what I expected from any of this. Or, perhaps, I do know. Perhaps I know that I expected nothing crazy to happen four days ago. I’d go out, get drunk, get laid, and go home.
Then I’d wake up the next morning, and look forward to doing it again. Maybe look forward to a handful of painkillers, too, while I was at it.
I certainly didn’t expect to find myself in Spain. I certainly didn’t expect to be wondering whether or not I’d been in the car when three women died.
I certainly didn’t expect to be thinking that maybe it meant a little less competition, and that he’d think about me a little more. Because there are a thousand reasons, and the biggest is that I barely know him. Second place ought to be higher on the list: it’s an awful fucking thing to think about anyone. I’m not a psychotic.
I guide him in to the house. It isn’t hard to find, though he seems to have a good sense of where he’s going. Too good. The words repeat in my mind. I know a lot of things.
He said that the first time that he used my name, and I realized that I hadn’t given mine any more than he’d given his. Which meant that he could read my mind. It seemed impossible to believe. But it was the truth, impossible to believe or not.
Maybe he knew everything about me. Maybe he’d been stalking me, or maybe vampires could read minds. Some people said that they could. Other people said they couldn’t.
There are a lot of things that I don’t know about him. It’s not exactly fair, I think sourly. Everyone seems to be one step ahead of me, while I’m just sitting here letting people stay in my house until we figure out our next move.
�
�Home, sweet home,” I grumble. It occurs to me in an instant that I don’t actually know what happened to my keys. When Ben changed me into different clothes, I didn’t get my purse back. He fished in his pocket for a moment and pulled a set of keys out. My keys.
“You don’t mind if I let myself inside, do you? It’s awfully bright out here.”
I looked at him for a long moment before deciding that the answer was obvious whether I liked it or not. Of course he could go inside. I just wanted to go inside myself.
“Go right ahead,” I said. He turned the key and stepped through the door, and I suddenly realized what had just happened. He’d asked me for permission. It wasn’t his place. It was mine, and he needed permission to enter. Or was that just a story, and he was polite? I didn’t know. But I filed the knowledge away in the back of my mind.
“It’s nice,” Sarah said, rubbing warmth into her arms. “Cold, though.”
“Oh, shit,” I growled, and ran through the door, past her. I flipped the switch to run the heat. “I wasn’t thinking about that.”
“You had the heat off? In this weather?”
“It was only a few hours, and I like it off when I sleep. I get overheated.” I shifted uncomfortably, trying not to look as defensive as I felt. “How was I supposed to know that I wasn’t coming back any time soon?”
Sarah shivers. I shiver. Ben doesn’t seem to notice the cold in the slightest.
“Fair enough,” she says at last. Her teeth chatter loudly. “Are you okay?”
“What?”
“I just… wanted to know if you were feeling alright.”
“I’m fine.”
“You look tired.”
“I’m fine,” I repeat. “Is there some reason you’ve decided to take a sudden interest? You tried to kill me three days ago.”
“That was three days ago,” Sarah said, gruffly. “And a lot has changed since then. You’re our host, and making sure that the Master has a place to stay. That means that I’m in your debt. So of course I’m going to be polite to you. That’s just basic manners.”
“Well, either way, I appreciate the question. But I’m fine. Just not looking forward to having to deal with… you know, everyday life.”
“Are you having some kind of problem? I’m sure that we can help take care of it for you.”
She’s staring at me as she says it. Intent on my face. I don’t know what it is she’s looking at, but she’s real interested in whatever it is.
“Is there something on my face?”
“What?”
“You’re looking at me funny.”
She steps closer. “Am I?”
My chest thumps. “Yes,” I say. “Is there something wrong with my face, or something?”
Sarah looks at me for another long moment, silence stretching into what feels like forever, but might be as little as ten or twenty seconds.
“Nothing at all,” she says, finally, and then turns. “So, are you going to show me around the house?”
Breaking eye contact feels like it’s breaking a spell. I breathe out a lungful of air that I didn’t realize that I’d been holding. “Sure, I guess.”
It’s not a very large house. At least, not compared to the manor. But I suppose in another sense, I lucked out in finding it. The place is large for one person. Perhaps even too large for real comfort. With three, it’ll be just about the right size.
“The kitchen is through here,” I say. It’s the same as I left it. A stack of envelopes on the bar by the sink. There’s a line of stools opposite the kitchen area that I use as a breakfast bar. There are three stools because there’s enough space for three. I only ever use the one closest to the door.
“It’s nice,” Sarah says. It is nice, compared to most I’ve seen. I was very proud of my kitchen, until I saw the Manor.
“Thank you,” I murmur. It’s hard to get over the fact that I know without a shadow of a doubt that she’s been in much nicer places. There’s just the simple reality that I don’t have anything like what she’s probably gotten used to by now, and there’s no way that’s going to change any time soon.
“Uh… ground floor bath there,” I point. It’s a half-bath, but hey. For the ground floor, it’s alright.
“You obviously saw the den. Through here is the dining room, if you want to call it that.”
It’s designed for a formal dining area; I don’t have a formal dining set, though. I have a wooden table that I bought from a thrift store for twenty dollars. It’s a split-top round design with a leaf in it, making comfortable seating for four. I would have removed it to save the space, but the leaf appears to have been glued in, because I can’t get it open.
“Uh… upstairs. Upstairs, we have the bedroom…” I point over to my bedroom. It conjures up the realization that I’m going to be sleeping in it tonight. I have a large bed, but for three, it’s going to be a very, shall we say, romantic night.
“Through there is the office.” It’s a second bedroom, technically, but since there’s no bed inside it, and instead there’s a computer desk and a few shelves worth of textbooks, I count it.
“Upstairs bath right there,” I point again. The proper bath.
Sarah stops by a door. I hadn’t pointed to it, and hadn’t mentioned it. I could see through the window, Ben was standing out in the cold, staring off into the distance. At the water, I thought. It was only a few miles off. He ought to come with us for the next part, if he wanted to see the lake.
“What’s through here?”
“Stairs,” I answer. “Open it up. Third floor, I guess.”
It’s not totally wrong to call it a third floor. Just misleading. I know that she must have seen it from outside. My little tower, as strange as it is to have one of those in this day and age. I follow behind her up the steps. I watch her ass in her jeans. It fits well. With her wide hips, it’s almost mesmerizing. Left, and right, and left, and right, rolling from side to side. I blink when that ass comes to a stop right in front of me and I nearly bump into it.
“Is something wrong?”
“No,” she says. “I just… it’s interesting. Sorry. I got caught up looking around.”
I push past her up the steps. It’s cramped on the narrow spiral stair, and for an instant we’re pressed together all the way from my hip to my shoulder. There’s something vaguely comforting about it. I’ve never been interested in a girl before, and the realization that I’m attracted to her is a weird sensation. Like finding out that you’re adopted, or something.
“It’s my little tower,” I tell her. “I come up here to read sometimes.”
“It’s a nice space.”
It is a nice space. About ten feet across, round, and you have a three-hundred and sixty degree view of the surrounding area. Of course, it’s blocked by houses on the city-side, but the yard is long. Behind it is more sparsely populated, too, which means that if you pick your sight lines, you can see all the way out to Lake Michigan.
“Thanks.”
Then her body is pressing against mine, and her lips are pressing against mine, and I can feel my mind going blank.
Nine
For an instant my skin feels incredible. Every touch is impossibly pleasant. Every little bit of it, and then… I push her away.
“What was…”
Sarah is breathing hard, and it’s not from the trip up the stairs.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”
“I don’t know what came over me, either,” I say. It’s the truth, though I have a better idea than what I’m willing to let on.
“I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t… upset you, or anything.”
She settles into a chair, and manages to look impossibly sexy doing it. Like she’s posing for a men’s interest magazine. Maybe she used to do that, before… Ben.
“No, you didn’t upset me,” I answer. The only thing that upsets me is how much I didn’t mind any of it one damn bit. It forces me to ask questions abou
t myself that I’m not particularly ready to think about.
“I’m glad. I wouldn’t want to do anything that would harm our friendship.”
I blink. This is the come down from her seriously hitting on me, isn’t it? I don’t think about it. Because I don’t want to think about it.
“No problem.” I start back down the stairs for a moment before turning back. “If you want to grab a shower, there’s towels in the bathroom closet. Can’t miss it, it’s right by the door.”
Then I head back down the stairs and try to rub the cobwebs out of my mind. What was I thinking? What was she thinking? I must not have been. Then again, with how everything has been these past days, I can’t blame myself for that.
I’m not exactly in my right mind, after all.
“You look flushed. Is everything alright?”
I jerk in my seat on the couch. Ben’s standing above me. His face is straight, and there’s no hint of amusement in his expression or his voice, but I can’t help feeling as if he’s laughing at me.
“I’m fine.”
“As long as you’re sure,” he says. “Who knows you live here?”
“Who?”
“Is there anyone who’s taken a recent interest in you? Someone who’s been asking around?”
“Yeah, I can think of one guy,” I answer. I wait a beat. “He’s a little taller than me, maybe about your height, and he’s got a beard and he tickles my daddy complex. Oh, and he’s got a big dick.”
Ben’s eyes shut. “Oh, good. I’m glad you’re paying such close attention, then.”
“I always aim to please, you know.”
“Anything else?”
“No,” he says, but he looks exasperated by the whole thing.
“So we’re safe here,” I say. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Except?”
I bite my lip. “Except that the bed’s going to be a tight fit for three.”
“Oh, then that’s no problem,” Ben says. He’s got no hint of sarcasm as he continues on to say, “Sarah and I can take the bed, and you can have the floor.”
“What? That—”
“What, would that be a problem?”
“Hell yeah, it would be a problem!” I blink hard at him. How is he not seeing how that would be an issue.