“You promise I’ll get it all back?” I ask my sister with tears in my eyes.
“Yes. Our cells are programmed for optimal regeneration. It’s why we live so long. Are hard to kill. Should only take a couple days too.” She cups my cheek, gives a tentative smile.
“I’m glad your still here, Glory. My sister. I really and truly thought…” One tear drop falls from her eye. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I’m happy. Let’s get you cleaned up and back in bed.”
Bed sounds good. The walk, confronting my appearance took a lot out of me.
I muster the strength to wash myself though. Justice wraps me in a towel, and leads me back to bed, where I have to let her dress me. My muscles are revolting their use by shaking uncontrollably.
“How about my strength? How soon do you think it’ll take?”
She stands from where she was putting socks on my feet.
“With three squares a day? Maybe two or three days.” She lifts my legs onto the bed for me, and I realize I must weigh less than a hundred pounds with the ease of which she maneuvers me.
“Justice we have to talk soon. About so much.” But my eyes are growing heavy and I know I’m fighting a losing battle trying to keep my eyes open. So I close them.
Chapter 22
Three days in a small eight by eight room after a year of being in the same size place.
This room is square and light with visitors. That room was round and dark with desolation.
I’m determined not to think about it. I gave up. But I’m here.
I’ve gained twelve pounds, and even Justice is amazed at how fast my muscles are coming back. I’m not getting back in that bed today though.
I’m not staying in this room another minute. I’m done being put away. Told what to do. Passive. Agreeable.
No, today I venture forth to figure out the rest of my life.
Whatever the hell that might be.
I signed the divorce papers. Given them to Grayson.
Justice and Gray had given me a lot to ponder. The employment contract was to stay here and work for the werewolf council as a consultant. It came with room and board, and a monthly stipend. The generalities of it were limiting and something about it off-putting. Another cage.
Gray confirmed my theories about the other side. A magical parallel universe that we originated in. Back in the middle ages, the other side split amongst themselves. The light and the dark, the good and the bad, Heaven and Hell. However you wanted to label it. Maybe it’s not even that cut and dried. All I know is one side lost, was forced to live on Earth.
Werewolves, vampires, faeries, demi-gods, creatures from myths long ago all settled in with humans. The settling period was a tremendous time of violence. Humans died by the millions. History books write it off as the black death. But what stopped it?
Two things according to Grayson. A natural dying out of magic - perhaps due to the very atmosphere of earth itself - and a large number of new-worlders (I was beginning to understand the lingo) uniting for peace and agreeing to protect humans. Some reluctantly, others for more self-serving reasons.
I scoffed when he told me all this. But as he pointed out - I myself am the very proof that such exists.
There’s a lot to learn about this other side. A whole catalog of myths and legends, not just from popular Christian theories - oh no - the other side was rampant with beings humans had labeled gods, spirits, legends.
And Nevaeh Henries and Alastor Moon? I’d probably guessed close to what they were - a devil and his mistress. Two reluctant magical earth dwellers. Wanting to enslave humans and open the gates. Make earth a revolving door for other siders. Revive the magic that was snuffed out by whatever is on this side.
I’d yet to see outside my recovery room and the larger anteroom, but today is the day I remedy that.
I slide the flip-flops on my feet the minute I’m up. I take a quick minute to use the restroom and freshen up. The only change of clothes Justice has been bringing me are yoga pants, t-shirts and sweaters. So, I won’t be escaping into the Montana summer, although this is probably the only time of year escape might be possible.
I flip-flop out of the hospital room, through the antechamber. It’s large, fifty feet long, set up with hospital beds and medical equipment. Like a giant trauma center. Off three sides of it are more hospital rooms like the one I’d been staying in.
There are no windows, and I know for a fact it’s underground.
I’d consider the council paranoid, except now knowing what I do, I’d call it prepared.
The only thing in the hall is an elevator. I push the call button for up.
I can hear the gears functioning behind the sliding brushed-metal doors. The ding of it’s arrival seems loud against the hush of the hallway. The doors slide open.
I half expected for someone to be inside. Someone to say ‘Stop!’ and force me back to bed.
The elevator is oversized, and functional. The kind you’d find in a hospital. Looking over the buttons, there’s a total of three basement levels. A ‘G’ for the ground floor and four stories above it.
I hit the G.
Ascending.
The doors open to reveal a small white hallway. I turn down it, popping out in a lobby-area of sorts.
It’s just like a office building. Clean tile floors, large windows, front reception desk. The day outside looks pleasant, and out the windows, a sidewalk leads out to landscaped grounds.
I bypass the reception desk, following the opposite hallway. It’s short, ends with double metal doors.
I push on the bar and open one. Despite it being heavy - it opens near silently.
On the other side is a large open gym. A full size boxing ring tucked in the far right corner, all sorts of equipment. Second story boasting a suspended track.
There’s a good-sized crowd at the boxing ring. Two people inside it.
I step in a little closer, and watch them exchange punches. One blonde head, one man-bun. Nick and Gray. Gray is just a couple inches taller than Nick, but those inches make him leaner, rangier. Nick, muscles pumping with blood is the epitome of virile masculinity.
They’re an even match.
When Gray lands a particularly savage punch to Nick’s ribs the crowd gathered collectively winces.
Ringside, Locke and Erik are the only two I recognize. Next to Locke stands a giant with orange-red hair and an orange beard. Then a dark skinned, dark haired man. And finally a guy with arms completely tatted wearing motorcycle boots.
When Nick retaliates Grayson’s punch with a uppercut to Gray’s jaw, I suck in a breath at the savagery of it.
Heads swivel toward me. Gray stumbles back, disorientated. But then lashes out, one right hook to Nick’s temple while he’s distracted. Unprotected.
They separate both looking like they’ve gone ten rounds.
Nick spits his mouth guard out onto the floor. “Real nice, Faoláin.”
Grayson pulls his mouth guard to the side, smiling around it.
“All’s fair in love and war. Right Glory-girl?” He calls to me.
I roll my eyes, but find it in me to close the distance to the ring. Nick pulls the ropes apart and jumps out of the ring, swiping at his lip and heading to a set of doors along the same wall I came in from. He doesn’t look at me, instead slams the door behind him in a resounding bang.
The other guys are dispersing and my attention is divided among the six of them. My eyes bounce from Grayson, chugging water ringside, to the two unknowns heading my way. Tattoos and TDH (Tall, Dark and Handsome) give me nods of acknowledgement but pass out the door behind me without words. Their smell is definitely wolf. Mixed with something...else. I’d like to ponder it, but Erik is behind them, a towel thrown over his shoulder and an affectionate smile for me.
“You’re looking well, Glory. Your sister sure knows her stuff.” He pulls me in for a hug. Then he too, files out the door behind me.
Locke and Grayson are standing with the ginger-gi
ant ringside, and my feet stop when I close their half-circle.
Locke introduces us. “Glory, this is Torren Campbell.”
“Nice to meet you.” I shake his hand, return his affable smile. Three sets of masculine eyes land on me expectantly.
“Umm. I was actually hoping to find my sister. Get some real clothes and…” Get on with my life. Gray picked up the signed divorce papers yesterday and promised to send me finalized copies.
“I’ll take you to Justice.” Locke steps up and tucks my hand into the crook of his arm. I turn back to Grayson, momentarily bewildered that he’s not the one taking care of me.
He gives me a smile and a nod of permission. He’s sweaty, one eye swelling quickly, while his lip is split.
I guess that’s that then. He’s definitely not my husband anymore, and I respect that he’s stepping back to let me figure things out on my own.
Once we leave the gym, my burning question comes out.
“Why were Grayson and Nick fighting?” I ask Locke.
“That’s boxing, not fighting.” He makes the distinction and I roll my eyes at the non-answer.
A few seconds pass as we leave out the front door and he doesn’t elaborate.
“Why were they boxing?” I ask as I realize he’s not going to expound.
Having turned with the building behind us, we’re now following a worn path in grass. It’s cool and cloudless, with the promise of a sun-warmed day.
Our path winds along a forest-like area before dumping us at the mouth of a meadow. More buildings, brick and new. Large windows. Three stories each. It’s a compound.
“Well?” I ask taking everything in.
“Just a disagreement.”
We continue straight past the four buildings set up facing each other.
“I’ve never seen the council headquarters.” I remark momentarily forgetting about Nick and Grayson. And the possibility they might have been fighting about me.
Nick stops as we pass the last building, at the start of another trail.
“Listen Glory. I know you’ve had a lot on your plate. But do you know what your plans are now? You declined to sign the employment contract and stay on here at headquarters.”
His eyes are full of concern. And while it’s sweet, it’s stifling.
“I’m going to live.” The words come out simply. Seriously. Wanting to dispel any of his worries, I rush on, “I want to live by myself for a while. Find out just what I want. Not be a burden to anyone.” I smile to assure him this is good. I’m not sad. I’m fine.
No, I’m better than fine. I’m reborn.
Chapter 23
Bozeman is a nice enough place. Reminds me of Colorado, except colder. Justice is close by at headquarters in Big Sky, and although I haven’t seen her but twice in the past two months, I still get to see her.
I found a house with ease. Money from Grayson had smoothed things out nicely. I had mixed feelings about that, but wasn’t really in a position to refuse. I got a job at a big box home improvement store. At the very least I am putting to use my years of gardening knowledge. Sometimes.
Marc and Gray had helped me pack up my stuff at the house in Colorado. Then drove the small moving van behind me all the way up. I didn’t have much. A bed, the hammock chair, the telescope, my moon lamp and about a hundred plants, cuttings or in pots. It was beyond sweet of them to see me set up, but a part of me was relieved when they left. I had a whole house to myself for the first time in my life. And the freedom was exhilarating. I cooked what I wanted, danced when I wanted, I even slept in the garden when I wanted.
Today though, I’m stuck behind the cash register, ringing up all manner of married couples. It never fails, they come in by the droves on Saturdays. I try not to judge, but this particular instance.
She came in sporting fresh out of the box western wear. Young and bottle-blonde. And she’s buying tropical. I mash my teeth together, knowing these poor plants will probably be subjected to a late summer outside, dying in a matter of weeks.
As long as I don’t have to see it.
I can’t help myself, I give instructions for their care. “You’ll want to bring these plants in at night. And in the fall, keep them in the sunniest, warmest part of your house. A bathroom if possible. Don’t bring them outside until temperatures are above the forties.”
I paste on a smile to soften any insult.
“Oh. I’m just gonna put them in some pots out by the pool.” She smiles at me completely discounting my unsolicited advice.
Her husband gives me a shoulder shrug, puts his credit card back in his wallet and takes the receipt with a look that dips to my chest for a second. I’m not even wearing anything remotely revealing. A flannel shirt over a white camisole. Blue smock.
I definitely judge that couple.
I turn my attention back to my line. Mid-morning and it’s three deep. I work steadfast, mind numb.
Until. His scent. I lift my head and see him standing behind my current customer.
“That’ll be eighty-two-oh-one.” I am the robot cashier. I function. But only on the surface. The rest of my circuits are malfunctioning. Shutting down. Overloaded by his masculine allure.
He steps up to the counter. Drops a small potted succulent between us.
I ring it up with a smile.
“Three-oh-two.”
He hands me a five.
“Going on break soon?” He asks as I punch in the amount on the register.
I get his change.
“At lunch.” I answer, hoping he takes it as a hint to get lost.
“I’ll pick you up at noon then.”
I’m a little annoyed, but the magnetism of him. The mystery of his presence. I can’t resist the combination.
So at noon, I leave the store, and spot him leaning up against a black truck.
Another mind-to-mind conversation takes place as I close the distance between us.
Glory. You look alive. Your beauty lit from within.
If you knew what was beneath this beauty, you’d be running the other direction.
So show me.
Something about him. It brings out the raw in me. I want to show him. I want to slice my claws down his shirt and rip it from his body. I want to bite his neck and mark him as mine. And I could.
I’m not married anymore. Two solid months of singleness.
Thirteen years of aloneness.
No, not married anymore. He agrees. His somber look harkens back to the past. An affirmation.
I took it then, I can take it now. His blue eyes seem to say.
He opens the door for me, and I climb into the cab without an actual word passing between us.
When he gets behind the wheel, I decide to get straight to the point. “What are you doing in Bozeman?”
“I live here. Don’t you remember?”
“I didn’t. I don’t. That is.” I take a deep breath, “I didn’t realize it was Bozeman. Specifically.” I trip over my words. Flap my hand uselessly in the air. Adjust the air conditioner vent in front of me.
“Well it is. Bozeman. Specifically. And I have something to show you.” He turns the key in the ignition.
Chapter 24
We park outside an upscale restaurant. Big picture windows, white linen tablecloths, abundant hanging baskets filled with gorgeous geraniums.
“Look past the flowers, Glory.”
What? Is he reading my mind?
“No. Just look at who’s dining at the table in the right window.”
He is!
“It’s just easy to see what you are thinking. Look in the window.”
I switch my focus. Even in profile I recognize the devil. Alastor Moon.
My muscles clench. Literal hackles rise. Prepare to run. Prepare to fight. Prepare to destroy.
“It’s ok.” A warm hand descends on top of the fist in my lap. “Glory.”
I shake my head, turn to Nick. “Sorry.”
I may have growled. Not cool.
&
nbsp; I take a deep breath and turn back to the devil eating lunch. A pretty blonde sits with him.
I don’t recognize her.
“They’re recruiting.”
“Recruiting.” Guess my robot tendencies are sticking around. Repeating exactly what he’s saying.
“Who is she?” I ask.
“Unknown. But from what I can tell she’s a witch.”
A witch. Great. Another being I haven’t even had on my radar. I want to ask him what exactly a witch is but I’ve betrayed my ignorance so many times with this man. I’d rather stick a fork in my eye.
We watch in silence for a few more minutes. They eat their lunch with quiet conversation. Alastor smiles and lifts his glass. Makes the gesture of a toast, and clinks his glass against hers when she raises it.
Guess this witch made her deal with the devil.
Nick puts the truck in gear and pulls out onto the street. We don’t speak for several minutes. He finds a drive-thru. He gets food and finds a shady spot to park in the neighboring lot.
The scent of the cheeseburger and French fries is a wrecking ball to my quiet thoughts.
I don’t want to be interested in this man. I don’t want to be attracted to him. And I sure as hell wish he hadn’t broken my ignorant bliss about the magical world I live in.
I stuff a French fry in my mouth and chew with annoyance. The salt, the texture are amazing. I groan and stuff another one in. Ever since leaving Big Sky, getting out on my own, and realizing I survived starvation, near death, I haven’t been able to get enough of food. All kinds. Everything from fast-food to pretentious, snobby, high-end eateries - I’ve been relishing taste, attacking every meal as if it is my last.
So much so, even this meal, with its sexy, alluring, companion, is my sole focus.
Nick balls up the wrapper from his burger. He’s finished his meal, and is ready to converse.
“You can’t just turn a blind eye to this, Glory. You want to go back to putting your head in the sand? Ignore what’s going on around you?” He keeps his gaze out the window. “Continue to be a trophy wife?”
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