by Eve Langlais
Kane frowned. “And then activated it without setting up specific guidance?”
“So that’s bad?” I said in a tiny voice.
“With no instruction, your spell will end up in a loop that siphons magic to feed it until it combusts, usually killing the caster.”
“I didn’t die.”
“Then you were lucky. An unbound spell of recollection might have brought you back to the dawn of time and exploded your mind.”
“Well, it didn’t, and I don’t remember a single thing.” I shrugged even as his words niggled. Something had happened to me. I just couldn’t recall what exactly. His revelation begged the question, “How do you know all this?” And why did the one guy I was trying to keep away from have all the answers?
“I was taught.”
“By who?”
“No one you will ever meet.”
“Then how am I supposed to learn?” Because while I’d assumed magic should be handled with caution, my experience the previous day proved as a warning that it could have deadly consequence.
“Your grandmother was supposed to teach you.”
“Obviously she didn’t.” Or I’d forgotten. “You could show me.”
Showing a rare reluctance, Kane shoved his hands into his pockets. “I can’t.”
“Why not? You said you’d teach me sword fighting. How is this any different?” I expected him to make a crude demand. He’d teach me in exchange for sex. Kane was outrageous in that respect.
“I can’t because I’ve already betrayed enough for you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Is this about your mother again? Because your family hates me?”
“It would be easier if I could hate you. Then I could accomplish the task that I’ve been training my entire life for without regret.”
It was the most cryptic thing he’d ever said, and chillingly honest, judging by the bleakness in his gaze.
“Is this about me not selling my property again? Is the company putting pressure on you to close the deal?” His family had many business interests in the world, acquiring property being one of them.
He cupped my chin, running a thumb over my jaw, his stare intent. “It was never about land, only ever about you. But you made your choice. And it wasn’t me.”
“It was never going to be you and me.” No matter how he made my pulse pound. There was something dark about Kane. Raw. Violent.
A part of me waited for him to kiss me. Another wanted a reason to shove him away.
Instead, he gave me a sad smile and said, “Au revoir, mon amour.” The French equivalent of, “Farewell, my beloved.”
I must have misunderstood.
14
By early afternoon, I had a list. A massive list that spawned baby lists, who had little lists of their own. I’d compartmentalized the things I had to do and buy to get my business up and going again. I had a plan.
A plan could be the mightiest tool of all.
It involved a lot of phone calls to order services, mostly shut down until January second. But I got appointments made in between my shower, petting my cat, and getting dressed to go shopping. I still needed underwear and a dress.
Trish finally answered her phone.
“Hey.”
“Hi.” My best friend sounded out of breath.
“Sorry our shopping trip got messed up,” I said with a laugh that lacked any kind of sincere mirth.
“Totally understandable.”
“Thanks for finding me on the ice.”
“Bad enough we lost your grandmother to the cold. We couldn’t lose you, too.”
We? Weird choice of words. “I don’t suppose you’re available today?”
“Hold on a second.” The pure silence of the mute button meant she was discussing it with someone else. Mostly likely Marjorie. I wondered at the secrecy though. Did they already have plans? Was I intruding?
Trish returned. “I’ve got until supper time. Then Jojo and I are meeting with another couple for dinner.”
“Oh.” I’d not known they had other friends, which sounded horrible even in my own head. Of course, they did. The fact I didn’t have many didn’t mean everyone sucked at building a circle of companions.
“We’d invite you, but it’s couples euchre night.”
The explanation didn’t help. It just reminded me of Kane’s words. How Darryl didn’t spend much time with me. He’d been scarce since Boxing Day—the day after Christmas.
“That’s fine. I suck at cards.” I’d not played since college. Martin and I used to until the kids came along.
“Meet you at the Pink Lace Don’t Tell store at the mall in thirty minutes?”
“Sure.” I hung up and sighed.
I needed to not let everything be so personal with me. Needed to stop second-guessing motives and perceiving slights that didn’t exist.
Maybe Darryl and I could have our own couple thing, like bowling night, or we could train Herbie to do dog shows. The thought of that ginormous, gangly dog wearing a bow and prancing around was enough to make me smile as I headed out.
Maybe I’d pop by Darryl’s place on the way back just to say hi.
It took me just under thirty minutes to arrive at the mall, meaning I was already browsing when Trish joined me. My cheeks felt hot. It was too hot. I think I was having a hot flash in the store.
“Please don’t tell me you’re going to wear black. The popping of your widow cherry deserves something joyous for the occasion,” Trish declared as she waded the racks of provocative underwear.
“I’m not a virgin,” I reminded her, sifting quickly past the scrap of fabric with the hole in the butt. I planned to start with the basics, which meant front and back covered.
“You were with one man for more than twenty years. One. Man,” Trish said with a shudder.
“And? You telling me you’re not planning to be with Marjorie forever?”
“Yes. But the plan is to build a stable of dildos, one for each letter of the alphabet to make sure we keep changing things up.”
I had nothing to say. Literally nothing. I had a purple pocket rocket bought at the pharmacy because hey, if they sold it, it must be healthy for me. The idea of a stable… It had merit.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Trish exclaimed. “I’ll have you know a properly made phallus will never disappoint. Even without batteries they can still do the job.”
“But they can’t hug you after. Or share popcorn while watching a scary movie.”
“Good point, which is why it is time for you to lustily go after what you want.”
She was talking about me and Darryl. “Why do you think I’m here?” I fingered a pair of pink satin panties with a bold pattern of flowers.
“I’m surprised you haven’t taken him for a test run yet.”
“We’re taking things slow. Waiting for the right time.”
“The sooner you pop that hesitant cherry, the better. You’ll feel better.”
“I feel fine.” If slightly nauseous.
“You’ll feel finer after.”
I laughed. “That isn’t even a word.” But I understood the sentiment.
“Try these on.” Trish plucked several garments and handed them to me. Most were not the type I would have dared contemplate.
“You need me to help you get into them?” Trish asked with an exaggerated wink.
“And have your girlfriend kill me?” I shook my head. Not to mention, no one had seen my body in a long time, unless my family doctor counted.
The inside of the dressing room was spacious enough to spread out. I removed my purse and clothes and left them folded on the bench. I did my best to avoid looking in the mirror. I’d kept my underpants on because I wasn’t putting on any bottoms without anything there, but my breasts hung heavily. I hated them but stuffed them into a bra and straightened.
I usually stuck to sports bras. Easy to stow and forget the boobs, but the contraption I wore—made of stiff fabric and wire—did something to my breasts
. Lifted them and shaped them into something that made smile.
I’d had nice boobs in my twenties. This bra took twenty years off my current set. It made me wonder if I should make an appointment and talk to a plastic surgeon. Research showed lots of women my age opting for some work. I could certainly use it on my stomach.
My cotton undies went up to the waist and covered the loose skin bulge. I slid some panties over mine, the crinkle of the paper in the crotch making me think of a pad. They sat bikini style on my hips. The sideways profile had me tearing them off quick. Nope. All the tinier scraps ended up being a no. But I did like the boy shorts in lace, tight enough to hold everything in, and a hole on the bottom for access. Which made me blush so hot I thought I’d pass out.
Once I got over my embarrassment, I liked that they could stay on and I wouldn’t have any jiggly bits if things got vigorous.
Oh gawd.
Just in case I changed my mind when I got home, I bought a second set of bottoms, fully sewn shut.
As for the dress, we went with an empire waist round neck and half sleeves. The skirt flared around my knees, and in the mirror, I couldn’t help but smile at the hourglass shape.
“I love it.” I twirled left then right.
“It’s flattering and has easy access,” Trish declared with satisfaction.
“I just wish we didn’t have to go to the party.”
“You have to go.”
“I’d rather spend it with Darryl at his place, or mine.” Just him and me.
“Where’s the fun in that?”
I could think of plenty.
Trish and I split up at the food court. Her to go home to get ready for dinner and card night. Me, I had a salad with grilled chicken and daydreamed about my New Year’s Eve date.
We’d go to the party and dance, kiss at midnight, and then he’d take me home.
No, his home where there weren’t any kids.
We’d make love in front of his fireplace.
Wait, I didn’t know if he had one. Didn’t matter, we’d make love, and I’d wake up to him touching me. Sliding into me from behind like they did in the romance books.
I couldn’t wait. It would be just the start of sleepovers. Which had me biting my lip. I’d bought a few sets of matching lingerie, but I’d neglected a nightgown. I dropped off my bags at the car and back to the store I went. A big girl who didn’t need a friend in order to choose something slutty to wear for her boyfriend.
I settled on trying three different styles, the baby doll one being my top favorite. As I did the shuffle to ditch my clothes and put on the first sexy lace gown, I heard the changing room door beside me slam shut and then two voices.
“I’m not even sure I should bother buying any lingerie. He told me that after spending time with her, he likes to see my perfection.”
“How long before he can stop the charade with her?”
“Not until it’s all done. He doesn’t want to mess anything up.”
I wouldn’t deny I listened to the sordid tale. A mistress waiting for her lover to leave his wife. Would he? Martin had.
“I don’t know how he does it. She’s so old and hideous.”
“He hates it so much he’s extra ardent,” boasted the mistress.
“Are you seeing him tonight?”
“Yeah. We’re meeting at his station.”
I froze at the words. She could mean any number of places. Fire station. Police even. It seemed unlikely she spoke of the gas one.
Still, my paranoia made her words about me. Me and Darryl. Not true of course. I was hardly a wife he couldn’t leave.
I bought the tamest nightgown and fled. Prepared myself to drive straight home when I saw the gas station sign ahead. Before I knew it, I’d slowed down, searching for Darryl’s truck. It wasn’t there.
A part of me sighed. I kept going and gave in to my earlier impulse. I turned on to the road that would take me to Darryl’s place.
The gravel drive to his house was packed with cars. The family situation he was obviously dealing with. Had someone died? Shit, I did not want to walk in on that kind of family matter.
I stopped midway up the line of them and started to reverse.
As I reached the road, I had to pause; a vehicle was passing. Before it cleared, I heard a honk.
A glance in front of me showed a blue pickup, and Darryl getting out of the front seat.
15
What seemed like a cute pop in for a hello had just turned tragically wrong. He would think I was crazy, driving out to his place and not stopping in, now staring at him like a deer in headlights about to get murdered. As he leaned down to peer through my window, I lowered it. Waited for him to ask me why I was being so creepy stalkerish.
Instead he smiled. “Naomi. What a pleasure to see you.”
“I chickened out,” I blurted out. “I saw all the cars and…”
“I’ve got a few guests, as you can see.”
“For how long?”
“Awhile.”
There went my New Year’s Eve fantasy involving his plaid couch. “I’m sorry. I should have called or texted before coming over.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m always happy to see you. Just right now is a little busy.”
“I get it. I do.” I didn’t actually because he’d not really explained anything. Surely, he would when he had the time.
“I was actually going in to work,” he said.
I tried to not remember what that woman said. “Oh. You meeting someone?”
“Ha. Only if it’s called a misbehaving register.”
I could have slapped myself for being suspicious. “That sucks.”
“It gets me out of the house for a few minutes. I can’t wait until tomorrow night,” he said.
His words eased something inside me. “Me, too.”
“Later.” He tapped the side of my car and stood.
No kiss. I was admittedly a little surprised and disappointed. Then again, we probably had an audience.
I made it home and ran my stuff upstairs like it was candy contraband in my teens. My grandmother hated me eating that processed crap. She called it poison.
I tossed my things onto the bed and stretched. Body parts popped. Getting old sucked. Every year, something didn’t work like it used to. Especially the joints. They made noises now. Sometimes ached when a storm was coming.
My phone beeped, and I dove for my purse on the bed. I juggled it, saw a notification about my lives being replenished for a game, and dropped it. Only as I scrambled on the floor to find it under the bed did my fingers touch the box.
Martin’s box.
Which was supposed to be in the trunk of my car.
How had it gotten back inside? And more importantly, when would I burn it?
I pulled it out and glanced at the second-to-last journal. Not the one he kept in prison but the one before he walked out. It started two years ago.
It didn’t prove hard to find out when he met his mistress. To see how he went from middle-aged man feeling guilty about cheating on his wife to full-blown adulterer who saw his wife as getting in the way of his happiness.
Helena understands me.
The statement oddly hurt. I’d understood Martin once upon a time. We’d been best friends and partners. We just grew apart, and instead of finding our way back, he moved on with someone else.
Then tried to kill me. I had to wonder if the idea came from him.
Helena says I shouldn’t have to share everything I earned. I worked for it. It’s mine.
The ramblings continued in that vein and then stopped the day before he came to find me in Canada. The last line being:
It ends now.
I shoved the box under the bed again and, suddenly restless, threw on my snow gear and went for a walk. As usual, it led me to the lake and an oddity in the center of it.
A dark spot. As if the ice were melted and the water seeped through.
Weird. Maybe a bunch of fish peed in the sam
e place. Or a gas was released. Maybe an alien craft crashed.
Which was to say it could be anything. I wasn’t a biologist or whatever. I was sure I could find a hundred professionals if I posted the question on social media.
Whatever the reason for the hole, I chalked it up to my lake being special. I knelt and placed my hand on the ice. The snow had been swept clean in some spots. I could have sworn I felt a faint hum.
The hair on my neck prickled as if I were being watched.
I stood and turned, eyeing the strip of forest between me and the cottage. The shoreline was empty. Nothing moved, and yet the sense of not being alone persisted.
I stared until the cold bit through my clothes before heading back to the house.
“She knows you’re watching.” His lover spoke as if he cared to hear her words. She’d failed in her attempt at controlling the source and now thought to cater favor with Leviathan, the chosen one.
The raven he possessed was perched at the very top of a tree and struggling. It didn’t want to be there. The protections on the land made it itch to move away.
He knew the feeling. Each time Leviathan visited, he just wanted to leave. It hurt to be that close. It disgusted him to have to pretend with her.
“She might know, but she can’t stop anything. Not now. Not this close.” He’d finally gotten things where they needed to be.
“You should have bedded her by now. Cemented your position.”
“There have been complications.”
“There’s a pill for that, you know.” She mocked, and he retaliated by grabbing her by the hair. Dragging her close.
“Do I need to remind you of my virility?”
“Yes, please.” Her pupils dilated. Pleasure parted her lips. She ran her finger down his chest.
“Don’t be greedy. You know I need my energy for tomorrow.”
She didn’t take offense. She licked her lips and smiled. “Are you sure she’s going to cooperate?”
“She doesn’t have a choice.” By submission or force, he would bind the witch to him.
16
I woke on New Year’s Eve way too early. I couldn’t help myself. I was a mess of nerves.
