Synergist

by Chloe Adler

  “But . . .” I look around at the men, who are eating once again. “Who is she? Obviously she’s more than your servant, or she wants to be. You’d have to be blind not to notice her overt interest in all of you.”

  “Oh, we notice,” says Bodhi around a mouthful of bread, “we just don’t act on it.”

  “Or encourage it,” adds Forrest.

  “I hate to break it to you guys, but your plan is not working.”

  “Yeah,” agrees Cedar, “the more we ignore her, the more blatant she becomes.”

  “I get that, but why? Does she not understand the word no? Does she think that she’s so beautiful that she’ll break one or all of you down?” I narrow my eyes. “Or have you shown her interest in the past?”

  Forrest makes a sound in the back of his throat, his long white hair swishing as he turns toward me. “It’s a long story.”

  “I’ve got time.” I lean back in my chair, folding my arms across my chest.

  Cedar sighs. “It’s Candy’s story to tell, not ours but . . .” He exchanges looks with the other men.

  Arch nods, his red hair and manicured beard bobbing with the motion, his green eyes sweeping back to mine. “She’s in the market for a husband.”

  “And she thinks this is how she’ll snag one?” I cover my mouth with my hand to keep from laughing, though I sober quickly. The whole arrangement seems a tad inappropriate to me, and that’s even before I consider the power dynamic here. That makes it almost cruel. I wave my hand around the table. “If none of you are interested in her that way, why keep her on?”

  The men exchange glances.

  “We don’t have a choice about her, um, employment here.” The lights brighten a fraction, catching the flaming red of Arch’s hair.

  “How can you not have a choice? You’re her employers, right?”

  “That’s more of a Vasily situation.” Bodhi’s voice is soft and melodic. “He’s her employer, not us.”

  Ice

  I’m getting ready for bed when someone knocks on my door.

  “Who is it?”

  The door opens a crack and light from the hallway creeps in. “Amaya? Do you have a minute?” Bodhi asks.

  “Sure.” Is he here to finish what we started earlier? I find myself wanting to explore him but I want to explore Vasily more first. What is wrong with me? I can’t have both men. Can I?

  I flip the bedside lamp back on.

  He enters, closes the door behind him and sits on the edge of my bed. “I know this all probably seems strange to you.”

  “Yeah. Very.”

  “I hope you’ll give us a chance.” His voice is so soft I have to concentrate to hear it. “We’re good people, fighting a good fight for a very important cause.”

  Huh? A fight? A cause? “What cause?”

  He shakes his cropped blond mane and turns toward me, reaching out a hand. His fingers are long and thin, slender and quite beautiful. I reach for them and he clasps mine in return. His skin is cool and soft. “Do you trust me?”

  I do. I nod, afraid to speak it.

  “We need you, Amaya. But you need us too.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Don’t you feel the connection? Aren’t you drawn to us?”

  I feel something all right, but I’m pretty sure it’s just lust. “No. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He sighs and lets my hand fall away but the moment he does I want him back again. I want him to keep touching me. When he touches me, it seems like everything is right in the world. Like Bob and Miss Cheryl can’t touch me or it wouldn’t matter if they tried. Like my parents’ house will be fine. Like my parents will be fine. Like my troubles have ceased to exist. And to forget my problems for a few moments is bliss.

  “I hope that you trust me enough to wait this out and make your decision to stay or go once you have all the facts.”

  “And when will that be?”

  “Soon.” He stands up.

  Out of nowhere, an intense chill rushes through me. Uncontrollable shaking overwhelms me and I fall back onto the bed, curling into a ball. He leaps, practically landing on top of me, and throws his arms around me.

  “It’s okay,” he whispers into my hair. “Your powers are blooming.”

  “So . . . c-c-cold,” I manage to say through chattering teeth. My hands are numb. My heart rate is slowing. My muscles are locked. “I’m freezing.” My teeth chatter so hard my entire head hurts.

  Bodhi wraps the blanket around me and then his arms and his own body, pinning me to the bed. Still the cold ravages me, and soon I’m shaking so hard that he’s shaking too.

  “I’m going . . . to freeze . . . to death.”

  Bodhi pushes the button on the wall behind my bed. “Get up here now,” he shouts into it, his normally calm voice on the verge of hysteria. Several agonizing minutes later, all four men rush into my room.

  “Shit.” Vasily. “Get her out of her clothes, now.”

  “W-w-why?” I’m shivering so hard, it’s difficult to speak.

  “We have to do this, to save you. Understand?”

  I nod numbly.

  “I’m sorry,” says Bodhi into my hair. He helps me lift my hands over my head while Forrest pulls off my nightgown.

  I don’t care. Most have seen the goods already, and I’m now a human icicle about to shatter. Vasily is barking orders but I can’t hear them. My consciousness is slipping. The sound of water running comes from the bathroom. I’m being submerged in it, and the heat envelops me, but before I can relax into it, the water in the tub ices over.

  “Quick, get her out!” I hear someone scream right before everything goes black.

  When I wake up, I’m wrapped in bodies. This has to be a dream. Everyone, including myself, is naked. I’m enclosed in a warm, fleshy cocoon of bodies and I like it. If this is a dream, I’ll just keep sleeping, thank you very much.

  I jostle a little, trying to see a face, but from the scents, it’s the warlocks—but no Vasily. No lilacs here. I’m wrapped up in the clean scent of an ocean breeze, cut grass, freshly turned soil and leather. What I don’t know is why we’re all lying in a naked cuddle puddle. My movement wakes them but instead of dispersing, they cling tighter.

  “She feels warm,” says Arch.

  “Hello, I’m right here.”

  “Yes, of course, sorry, you were passed out.”

  “What happened?” I try to pry myself free but no one will let me go.

  “You came very close to freezing to death,” says Forrest. “This was the only way we could save your life.”

  “Really?” I don’t bother hiding my sarcasm. “You’re saving my life by getting into bed with me naked and wrapping your bodies around mine. Uh-huh. Like that’s plausible.”

  “You turned a steaming bath into ice,” says Vasily from across the room, but my warm captors won’t budge, no matter how hard I struggle against them.

  “In under thirty seconds,” says Arch. “We almost didn’t get you out in time.”

  I know they’re right, it’s the last thing I remember. “Shit.”

  “Yeah.” Bodhi sighs.

  “All right, men, only one of you should move away at a time,” commands Vasily. “Arch, you first.”

  The body to my left moves back and I turn my head toward his lime-green eyes. Smiling broadly, he reaches out to brush my hair out of my face. “I’m glad you’re okay, angel,” he whispers and slides off the bed.

  “Are you warm enough?” asks Vasily.

  “Yes.”

  “Good, then Forrest, you’re next.”

  Forrest, who was apparently on my right, moves away but before he gets too far he leans in and kisses my cheek.

  “Cold?” asks Vasily.

  “Nope.” But I totally want to lie and have the men back. Being an Amaya sandwich was amazing. I’ve never had that fantasy before but I certainly do now.

  “Bodhi, your turn.”

  The gentle hunk peels himself away from t
he top of me and heat courses through my entire body when I realize his bare chest was pressed against my bare breasts. But the man is a perfect gentleman and keeps his gaze trained on my eyes as he pushes himself up and off. I slam my arms over my breasts as a breeze passes between my legs. Really? I’m bare there too? I snap my eyes shut to avoid more eye contact, and thankfully someone throws a sheet over me. I’m not uber-modest, but there are five men here and I’d like to leave something to their imaginations. Though I guess it’s too late for that.

  “Still good?” asks Vasily.

  “I wouldn’t say good,” I squeak and all three men immediately leap back on the bed. “I’m not cold, just humiliated.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s not comfortable being nude, Vas. That’s normal for most humans, okay?” says Bodhi, and I want to leap up and throw my arms around him. Except that I’m naked and yeah, that won’t be happening.

  “Roll off of Cedar whenever you’re ready,” says Vasily and I do, clutching the sheet to me.

  My feet get tangled and I sail off the bed, landing on the side in a heap. The men’s laugher is boisterous and kind, cascading down me in waves, and I sit up, bring my knees to my chest under the sheet and laugh with them.

  Out of bed now, I expected to see dangling male parts everywhere, but all the men are wearing briefs. Damn. Could be worse. Yeah, I could have frozen to death in a bathtub. That gets me to my feet, the sheet still clutched around me.

  “Why did that happen to me? And don’t put me off this time.”

  Spells

  “Are you well enough to follow us to another part of the house?” asks Arch.

  “Sure, but can you all wait outside while I get dressed, please? And do me a favor.”

  They look at me expectantly, eyebrows raised, as though they’re ready and willing to do just about anything I could ask.

  “You all please get dressed too. It’s distracting.”

  Bodhi grins. “We’ll come back in ten.”

  They all file out.

  I take the time to wriggle into my clothes. If only I’d thought to bring more of my wardrobe. As it is, I’m stuck with the same pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. Although I’m no longer cold, that kind of scare doesn’t fade quickly and I throw on my jacket for good measure. In the bathroom I stifle a groan. Sure enough, my hair is an absolute frizzy mess, standing on end. That’s what being dunked under cold water for god knows how long does to a girl. I wince and open my toiletry bag to dig out the argan oil. After trying to work my unintentional Afro back into more manageable curls, I give up, grab my comb and pick out my hair. Curls be damned, I’m going ’fro. It’s been a long time since I wore my hair this way, and after I’m done, I admire myself in the mirror. Why don’t I do this more often?

  When I open my door and walk into the lounge area outside my bedroom, all the men are fully dressed. Whew. I cannot take much more of their nakedness right now. Two are sitting in white leather chairs, two on the matching couch, while Vasily stands, facing the windows, his back to me. The Stetlers stand as I approach. When Forrest whistles, Vasily spins around.

  “Damn,” says Cedar.

  “You look amazing,” says Arch. “You should wear your hair like that more often.”

  “You look fantastic no matter how you wear your hair,” says Bodhi, “but that’s a stunning change.”

  I hold my hands up. “Okay, thank you, enough flattery. Let’s get going.” But inside my heart flutters at their words.

  Vasily leads us back to the balcony overlooking their atrium and then to the wing opposite mine.

  “Is this where you guys sleep?” I ask as we walk.

  “We all sleep in the back wing,” says Arch.

  “So I’m alone in my wing?”

  “Candy sleeps in your wing too.”

  Just the mention of her name sends unpleasant chills through my body.

  “Hey.” Bodhi is next to me in a flash, putting his arm around me. “She’s not what you think. She’s not a bad fa—person. Maybe in time, you two can even be friends.”

  Vasily glares openly at him. “Doubtful.”

  Bodhi shakes his head. “Hey, man, remember where you are? Rules are different here.”

  What the hell does that mean? Different from where? Transylvania or whatever country Vasily is from, no doubt.

  Beyond the atrium, the wing’s floor-to-ceiling windows come to an abrupt end. A large, dark wooden door walls off the hallway, the archaic kind with rusted metal running across it and an old-fashioned lock. Vasily removes the key from his pocket. A skeleton key, of course. The door creaks open. Did they add that sound for effect?

  “So what’s in this wing?” Everything here is different from my quarters. Instead of modern, everything here is . . . freaking medieval. Not antique, not old-fashioned. Practically dungeon-esque. The walls are stained dark brown and covered with bookcases sporting rows and rows of glass jars. The wooden floors creak under my feet. The entire area is one open room, sparsely furnished.

  “This is where we perform our spells.” Bodhi takes my hand and squeezes it. Tiny spasms from my past orgasm with him war between my legs and I clamp them together, hoping he won’t notice. “It looks weird, we know.”

  “It’s hideous,” adds Forrest, making a disgusted sound in the back of his throat.

  A low, round, wooden table sits in the center of the room, a giant potted plant that looks like a tree on top, low cushions around it. The whole scene looks like a set from Nosferatu. I had nightmares for weeks after Dad took me to see the Edge Phil perform a live accompaniment to the silent film. I was only seven at the time, and Mom was pissed at Dad for weeks afterward.

  “I wish they’d asked me when they designed it,” Forrest says.

  “Not the time,” says Arch. “We don’t want to rush a decision to help us, Amaya.”

  “We hoped showing you our spell room would ease some tension,” adds Bodhi.

  “And now that you’ve seen it, Forrest will escort you back to your room or help you get home if you don’t want to stay,” says Vasily.

  Forrest steps forward and extends his hand. “None of us want to force you into anything. Quite the opposite, actually.”

  Bodhi shuffles his feet, the awkward motion all the more surprising given his usual spare, elegant demeanor. “We discussed it last night after dinner and if the tables were turned . . .”

  “All of us would run too,” finishes Arch.

  I give my hand to Forrest but when he turns with me toward the door, I stop, curiosity and some freaking connection to this entire bumbling crew kicking in. A connection I’d rather deny, but dammit, there goes that self-honesty thing again. “What’s the alternative?”

  “We perform a spell with you in the circle and we see if it works,” says Forrest. “You wouldn’t have to do anything.”

  “Just be present and see if your presence makes our powers return,” says Arch.

  That sounds painless, and the idea of watching a bunch of warlocks cast a spell and being the catalyst for said spell is quite intriguing. “All right, what do I need to do?” I bite my lip.

  “Pick a seat.” Vasily points to the cushions surrounding the table and waits for me to sit down.

  “Bodhi, grab our grimoire. Forrest, get the herbs we need for a simple spell, your choice. Cedar, go get Candy.” Arch barks out orders but at the mention of Candy’s name, I cease to hear him.

  Why the hell are they getting her? I thought I was the only one they needed. My instinct is to bolt but I check that. Jealousy overshadows common sense sometimes. I force myself to stay seated. I’ll wait this out and see what happens, I already agreed and I’m not the kind of person to renege, unlike Bob.

  Vasily remains glued to the room’s lone window. His entire body is tense, coiled, like a wild animal waiting to pounce. My instinct is to walk over to him and place a hand on his smooth skin. I want to pet the vampire? I chuckle and Forrest throws me a smile until Arch glares at him and
he goes back to his business. He grabs each jar with evident practice, barely even glancing at it. The first one he pulls off the shelf contains what look like white shells. The next has dried flowers, and a third is filled with sand. While he brings them back to the table, Bodhi gathers candles and other implements I don’t recognize, including a very old book. He sets these on the table as well.

  When the door opens and Cedar enters with the silver-haired woman, I’m the one who recoils but Bodhi has an arm around me in a flash.

  Candy seems just as surprised to see me here as I am that they brought her. We glare openly at each other.

  “Candy, please sit next to Amaya on the floor,” Vasily says, pointing.

  So much for having a few minutes to hate on each other. She does as asked, even though it’s painfully obvious neither of us wants to be anywhere near the other.

  All the men join us, even Vasily.

  Bodhi clambers up on top of the wooden table, next to the tree, and reaches his hand toward Arch, who hands him what looks like a remote control. Bodhi points the remote at the ceiling above us and presses a button. The ceiling panel slides away, exposing a glass ceiling. Bodhi presses another button and the glass ceiling retracts as well. Moonlight and a slight breeze slip down from the hole above.

  I gasp, cover my mouth and peek over at Candy. Her eyes grow large and I grin inwardly. She hasn’t been in this room either.

  Bodhi climbs down and takes his place on a cushion. Cedar walks around the outside of the circle, lighting the candles that surround us, and Forrest follows in his wake, drawing symbols in the air with a dagger and whispering something I assume is an incantation. When they’re finished, they return to complete the circle we’ve made by sitting around the table.

  “Everyone needs to hold hands, please.” Arch sits at the head of the table and we all clasp hands, except for him. He busies himself lighting a charcoal disk, which sputters and flames in an ashtray. Opening each of the jars, he brings them to his nose. He pours a small amount of the shells into a mortar and pestle and grinds them up, crunching sounds filling the room while we all watch, silent. He adds a pinch of the other ingredients, grinding and mixing it all together.