Upon the River Shore

by Leona Bentley

  “I can’t,” I told him.

  “Then let me see to your back, at least?”

  I did, and he hissed but didn’t do much more than disinfect it. “It’ll hurt, but you’ll be okay.”

  I gave him a wry grin. “I’ve had worse,” I assured him. He didn’t seem to like that.

  “Still.”

  They wanted me to stay, but I shook my head, adamant. “I’ll call you if I need you, but I’d like to sleep in my own bed. You stay with your brother. See if you can’t keep him out of trouble.”

  Corey whined, but it was good-naturedly. Lane gave me a kiss and watched while I drove off.

  ****

  My skin prickled as I pulled into my driveway. The lights were off again, just like they had been last time. I stood in the driveway eyeing the house, unable to force myself to take those final steps inside. Joe popped his head out his door while I stood there, and when he called me over I gladly went. I kept my body half-turned, unwilling to put my back to the house.

  “A friend of yours came by our place earlier,” he greeted, handing me a large manila envelope. I took it, fighting back the nausea his words caused. “He said you asked him to drop this off.”

  “Thank you,” I told him, trying not to look at the familiar messy script detailing my name. By its feel I was sure it was a picture frame. What could be in it, I had no clue, or desire to find out. I hadn’t brought any pictures with me when I ran, not even of my family. Those were locked in storage, safe.

  When I left, I corrected firmly. I came here with my head high, not scuttling off in the dark like a roach.

  Joe squinted, probably just noticing the marks on my face. “Are you all right, son?”

  I smiled as much as I could. “Just tired,” I assured him. “Corey ran into a bit of trouble when we went out tonight, and things didn’t go so great.”

  Joe frowned but didn’t press. “We have a couple coming to stay at the Inn tomorrow, so we’ll be there most of the morning, but call if you need us. Or come on over there. You’re always welcome.”

  “Thanks,” I told him again. “I really appreciate it. Let me know if you need anything, too.”

  He went back inside, and I gave in to the inevitable, opening both the unlocked veranda and front door and breathing my relief when Olive ran down from upstairs to rub against my ankles. Leaving the envelope on the table, I searched the house from top to bottom, refusing to even look at it until I was sure I was alone. Nothing looked out of place.

  Returning to the table, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before tearing open the envelope. When I tipped it, a picture of Morgan and me fell onto the tabletop. A note was taped next to our faces.

  I’ll make it safe for you, baby. Come home.

  -M

  As if anything he ever did was for anyone except himself. As if that were truly any kind of home. It had been a prison, I knew that now. This place, with Lane, Corey, Lillian, Joe, Carole—this was a home.

  I grabbed the frame and the note, closing my fist over the paper and relishing in feeling it crushed between my palm and my fingers. The need to be rid of it swelled through me. Intent only on getting to the riverbank, I took off outside and down the hill, barely noticing when I slipped on the night-damp grass. I just caught myself and kept going.

  At the bank of the river I hurled the framed picture into the water, watching the splash and panting. Closing my eyes, I counted each shuddering breath I managed to take. Slowly, the lightness in my head began to fade.

  It will be fine, I lied to myself. With my eyes closed, every sound I heard was Morgan. I felt like his eyes bored through my skin. It could even likely be him. It had been him here all along, after all. I’d tried to deny it, but how could I now? The proof was crumpled in the palm of my hand. What would he do to Lane? How much did he know?

  Morgan was too high-maintenance to just hide out in the woods. He had to be staying in a room somewhere. Maybe a town or two over? No one was at Lillian and Joe’s other than a few sports they already knew. He would have mentioned something about my friend being with them if he had been staying with them.

  I’d have to talk to Lane tomorrow after work. No one else was going to suffer for my nightmare. I’d give him Olive and go back if that was what it took.

  It’d be fine, I repeated, but the sickness in my stomach made it unconvincing.

  ****

  Ivan was his usual cheerful self the next morning when he came in for breakfast. He gave me an evil eye as he ordered the exact same thing he did every morning he came. I didn’t think much about it, since that was normal behavior for him, but when a few other diners who were usually pretty cheerful treated me to a sigh and a terse order, I mentioned the strange behavior to Carole and Jen.

  “Knowing you got into a fight along with Corey isn’t winning you many points with the older generations,” she smirked. As with most things Corey-related, she found the entire situation hilarious. Considering I still felt it in my back, stomach, and face, I didn’t see it the same way. Having spent most of the night awake and worrying about Morgan’s presence, it felt better to focus on something else.

  “That’s hardly fair,” I sighed, even if it did make perfect sense. Things were as Gramp always said—those on the outside were to be watched and not trusted. They had probably been waiting for me to do something like this so that they could judge me.

  My stomach had been churning since I came home to find the lights on the night before. I forced down a sandwich at break but instantly regretted it. Amy and Carole kept trying to convince me to sit down when things were slow, but I assured them I was fine, blaming it all on a sleepless night. They were all too happy to pin the blame on Corey’s fight.

  When Jess came in an hour before my shift ended she came straight over, patted my shoulder, and told me to head home to get some rest.

  “Thanks,” I answered, grateful. “I’ll make it up to you some time.”

  “Never mind that. Get! I’ll give Corey a kick for you the next time he’s here.”

  It was a relief to be out, but now I had to face the house. He’d broken in twice, so how little likelihood was there that he wouldn’t do it a third time?

  I made myself drive home, but rather than Morgan I found Lane sitting on my front step waiting for me. A quick glance down at my phone when I parked showed no messages. Olive, having been eyeing him through the window, looked up at me and started yowling as I drew close.

  “Someone wants my brother dead.”

  Having been so focused on my own words for him, Lane’s statement startled me into stillness.

  It made sense, considering the attacks and the emotions from the guys last night, but attacking was hardly killing. There had to be more.

  “What happened?” We slipped in through the door and Olive took off, still unwilling to be anywhere near my lover. “Is Corey safe?”

  “The idiot has been getting death threats! He still won’t say a word, but I dug in his coat pocket and found one crumpled up.”

  “It’s too direct for the Faded,” I mused, chewing on my lip. “Did it say anything? Any hint?”

  He was trying to keep his brother safe, and here I was throwing more powder into the fire. I cringed internally but held back, needing to tell him but wanting to see if I could help in any way first. I burned to leave him, but they’d both be safer with Morgan out of their lives.

  Lane’s eyes narrowed at me, something in my answer troubling him, but he just shook his head in answer to my question. “It said ‘Your death will fertilize our new order.’ Sounded ridiculous, but the threat is real enough.”

  Fertilize a new order. The flyer still in the back of my car flashed through my mind, and I grabbed his arm. “Do you still have the note?”

  He pulled it out of his pocket, watching me. I took it, hopping up and digging the other out of the back of my car. It wasn’t quite as crumpled, but it was easy to see that the paper was the same brownish stock.

  I showed the
m to Lane, and he set his jaw, grabbing both and scowling. “Corey’s shift finishes in ten minutes. Let’s go get some answers.”

  “I can’t.” The words came out, and I tensed, struggling to piece together what I’d say. Lane was looking at me, confused, but I couldn’t answer that. “God, Lane, I want to. I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  He swallowed and gave a jerky nod. “I’ll call,” he told me, eyebrows furrowed but asking no questions. He gave me a quick kiss that I tried to pull back from but couldn’t manage more than half a step. Still, he noticed, and I knew by his expression he’d be bringing that up later.

  “I’ll call,” he told me again. Then he was gone.

  I turned my phone off as soon as he was out of the driveway, throwing it into the corner and then throwing myself face-first onto my couch.

  Let him think me a coward, I told myself firmly. It’s the perfect excuse. His brother is in danger and I’m escaping the situation.

  I wanted to, was sure that would keep him safe, but worry over the two of them made me creep over to turn my phone back on. No missed calls.

  That night I kept the phone next to me, but no calls came in, and it was a long, restless night.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I was restless in my skin the next day. I hadn’t heard tell of Lane, and I dreaded going home after the end of my shift. Morgan was out there somewhere, and it was the same question I’d been living with for five long years—did I go with the man who hurt me or did I take my chances alone with the Faded who I was told would want me, a lone mage, dead?

  I had just taken Ivan’s order and was dropping off a young woman’s drink when I heard the restaurant door open. The greeting of Carole’s that I constantly mimicked died in my throat when I turned.

  It had been months since I’d last seen that face in person, but every detail was ingrained in my memory. It haunted my nights, from bright blue eyes to sharp jaw. If only I could get rid of him as easily as I could his picture.

  “Well, baby? Are you going to seat me?”

  Ivan grumbled loudly over the sound of my swallowing. Clutching my notepad, I forced a nonchalant shrug. It probably looked more like a spasm. “It’s self-seating,” I managed.

  “Then I think I’ll take a spot near the front,” Morgan purred. “It’s lovely to see you.”

  I tried to answer, found my words lost, and backed up a quick step before recovering my face and taking off towards the others.

  “You know him?” Carole asked, stopping me on my way past.

  “He’s pretty hot,” Amy threw in. “And look at that suit!”

  I managed a nod, lifted the pad up and practically fled into the kitchen with Ivan’s order.

  Left with my head high, huh, I reminded myself nastily. One look at that face was enough to send me back into my shell of fear. The only reason I’d managed to run at all had been because he was away. Distance lessened the fear.

  When I went back out Carole grinned. “The handsome stranger asked to be waited on by you. He said you were old friends. You’re not going to make Lane jealous, are you?” she teased, voice low. Her eyes were on the paperwork she was writing up, so, luckily, I didn’t have to worry about my expression. Amy, ringing in a leaving customer, cackled.

  “No,” I assured them both. “He’s just an old friend I didn’t know is in town.”

  There was nothing I could do but my job, so I steeled myself and headed his way.

  “What can I get you?” I asked, seeing as he already had a menu folded closed in front of him. I eyed it like it was a snake, wondering how to make my move and take it without getting snared by him.

  “You know what I like. Why not make a good guess?” He flashed his teeth, and I bit back a shudder.

  “You aren’t going to find fifty-dollar steak or ribs here, Morgan.”

  “C’mon, baby. Wouldn’t want any complaints, would you?”

  “The hot hamburger sandwich,” I managed.

  “That sounds lovely.”

  I hastily scribbled down his order, but when I started backing up he surged forward and caught my wrist, shifting his fingers to brush the bare skin of my hand.

  Annoyance, lust, impatience, determination, and possessiveness—he had no doubts about his right to be there, only distaste for the need. His anger blazed around the rest, fueling him as always.

  I jerked away, and he let me go.

  Amy gave me a worried look when I fled past her into the kitchen. She followed me, cornering me near the back.

  "What was that? Are you okay?" She asked quietly, shooting a look through the doors towards Morgan's table. "Is he saying something to you? I thought you knew him?"

  "I'm okay," I assured her. “It’s nothing.”

  Carole popped up next to Amy, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “You said he’s a friend from out west. Is everything okay out there?”

  Such a sickeningly close guess. I nodded, using every ounce of my willpower to keep my face composed. “He knew my boss. It’s probably why he stopped by to visit.”

  How he knew the way to, at least.

  I managed to convince them that I was fine, and, fortunately, Morgan didn’t try to touch me again. He did motion for more coffee three times, despite the fact that he had never enjoyed coffee, and he complimented the food at each visit. I hovered near Carole and Amy when not taking other orders, not wanting to leave him alone with them any more than I wanted to give him a chance to have me alone.

  I was discreetly watching him out of the corner of my eye, my gaze directed towards the door, when Carole let out a shocked cry. I whipped to face her, Morgan forgotten. I caught her by the shoulder when she twisted my way.

  “There was an attack,” she hissed, then, seeming to remember where she was, grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the back of the counter. Amy followed us, hovering fretfully over Carole’s shoulder.

  “What is it?” I asked, shooting a look over to where Morgan was finishing up his supper. He quirked an eyebrow at me with a smug look. Shivering, I turned back to the girls.

  “Zach,” she told us. “Zach Bennett. He’s dead. His skin was flayed from the bone, his ribs spread like a—oh God.”

  Dread spread through me. She shook her head, all color gone from her face. “They’ll think it was Corey. Everyone will point at him.”

  I shot another look at Morgan’s table, but he was gone. I bit back a curse and practically ran to where he had been sitting. There was a note scrawled on a napkin beneath a fifty-dollar bill.

  Sorry you got hurt for me, baby. I told you I’d make it safe and I did. Didn’t mean for you to take any heat, but all is fixed now. Sorry to not say goodbye, but we’ll be together soon.

  -M

  I had to tell Lane. I couldn’t hold this back, not anymore. Shaking, I told Carole I had to leave and, shoving the money from the table into her hand, I took the napkin and ran.

  ****

  Lane was furious when he opened the door, his cheeks colored with the temper he must have worked himself into. He relaxed as soon as he saw me, and did his best to manage a weak smile. If I’d had any doubt Corey was taking the blame for this then it was gone now. There was a chance I’d just make things worse when I told him it was all my fault, but I had to do it.

  Getting the words out was even harder than making the decision to go to him. I knew he wouldn’t listen, but I had to find a way to make him.

  “Look,” I blurted, “your father is right. Not in the way he thinks, which I do get, but he’s still right.”

  “Wait, what—” He stiffened, and I saw the moment realization hit him, his face going cold and still. “The party.”

  I gave a small half-shrug and a bitter smile. “I went looking for you.”

  “He has no right to judge you like that.”

  “He loves you, Lane. They both do, and they’re right to be worried. They love you.”

  “And you’re my boyfriend!”

  “All the more reason for them to be worried.”
<
br />   “They should have been making you feel welcome, given you a chance.”

  “They don’t know anything about me. And they’re right. I am a danger.”

  “You planning on snapping, then? Don’t be ridiculous. And they have no idea what you are. We kept that, I swear.”

  “I know,” I assured him. “Corey told me.” I hesitated. “Thank you. It means a lot to me, more than you probably realize.”

  “What’s the problem then?” He frowned. “You’re shaking, Brett. C’mere.”

  He was suddenly next to me, his arm around my shoulders as he tugged me inside. “Come sit down. We’ll talk it out. Whatever it is, it’ll be fine.”

  My bitter laugh sounded wet to my own ears. Who knew how it sounded to Lane. “Morgan, Lane. It’s my ex. He must have killed Eve. I have no idea why or how, and it’s my fault he’s here. I’m the reason they’re blaming Corey. He must have killed Bennett, too.”

  “Come on, Brett. What makes you say he’s here, or that he has anything at all to do with this mess?”

  “He was at the restaurant about an hour ago.”

  Lane stiffened, but his arm remained gentle around my shoulders. “And you didn’t call me,” he stated. I cringed. “It wasn’t just today, though, was it?”

  “I got a note from him yesterday,” I admitted. He squeezed me once but then went still, waiting. “It’s why I need you to stay away from me. He killed my old boss. What’s to stop him from killing you? God, I shouldn’t even be here, but I can’t let Corey take the fall for what’s my fault!”

  "You should have called me when you saw him. You don't have to put up with his crazy, Brett."

  I shuddered, imagining Lane after Morgan had a chance to corner him, those beautiful swampy eyes deadened. It wouldn't come to that. "I don't want you to be a target."

  "I can take care of myself."

  “You have no idea what he's capable of doing,” I argued. “I've seen him kill over and over again, facing challengers with a laugh. He'd lure in fights just for the chance to whet his bloodlust, and I often had a front row seat.” I'd been weak enough to almost welcome the fights, knowing it would temporarily sate his need for domination and power.