Lucy at Peace

by Mary E. Twomey

  “Good to hear you drugging other women isn’t a common occurrence, then. Back to the lesson. If you want a friendship with me, keep it business for now until I can trust you a little bit one day. Then try your wink.” I managed a small smile. “But make sure you do it in front of Jens next time, so he blackens your eye properly. I love Jens, and Foss is dear to me. You’ll not make jokes at their expense.”

  Tucker chuckled. “Ah, Jens. It’s strange to me that he’s so taken with you. With anyone, actually. I’ve never known him to be monogamous. Something tells me he hasn’t been the best little soldier at staying faithful, though.”

  I winced, frustrated that he was wasting time poking at my scabbed-over wounds when I could’ve been learning how to make myself useful with magic. “We’re fine.”

  His laugh had the edge of mocking to it now. “Oh, I can see that hit a nerve. Was it one of the many Huldras who are so taken with his reckless ways? Or did Bedra abscond with his will and his trousers again?”

  I stood. “You can’t teach me elf magic. You’re just jerking me around. Though, why that is, I can’t figure out. You’re over a hundred years old. Maybe you’re just bored.” I glared into his mocking eyes. “Get a hobby.”

  “Apparently being your tutor will become my full-time job.” He spoke with the drone of approaching a chore, though it had been his idea in the first place.

  “You have yet to teach me a single thing. All talk and no action. Typical womanizer with nothing to back it up.”

  He touched his heart to indicate I’d stung him. Then he stood, towering over me as he ran his thumb down the slope of his left suspender in a manner I suppose was meant to be… intimidating? Seductive? I couldn’t tell which and didn’t care.

  “Love, I can get you casting spells by supper and porting in a month. I’m the best you’ve ever had.”

  I despised his suggestive tone that made me confused as to what we were talking about. “Prove it, playboy.” I stood in front of him, wishing I could leave the cramped space.

  Tucker picked up my hand and traced two lines on my palm. I jerked away from him, affronted. He frowned. “I thought you wanted an education.”

  “I do, but you don’t need to touch me for that.”

  “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. I can tell a lot from an elf’s hands. Give it over. Let’s have a look.” I debated, but obeyed with great reluctance, wishing Jens would hurry up so I could get out of the peach-infused claustrophobia. “Alright, that’s your wind ability. No surprise there. Your birth father gave you that gift, but I don’t think we’re ready to tap into it just yet. I don’t fancy you blowing another hole in a house I own.” He gave me a frustrated sigh. “It’s hard to read your palm with these stars blocking the view.” He pointed to a small line that looked not even halfway formed near the heel of my hand. “This one. This is Alrik.”

  I leaned closer to my hand to examine the oddity. “Huh. Well, I’ll be. Weird. That’s a good thing, right? Does that mean I can do water magic?”

  Tucker picked up my right hand to study the palm. “It means we can try to do basic elfish charms. Elemental study is beyond your capability right now.”

  “Rats.” Images of shooting ninjas with my firehose hands disintegrated, much to my disappointment. “Okay. Lesson me. What do I do first?”

  He took my hands and pressed the palms together between us so it looked like I was praying. His hands sandwiched mine, pushing them tighter than was comfortable. “You have to find the elfish blood inside you.” He blew warm breath on my fingertips. “Feel the heat there? Close your eyes.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t make me regret this.”

  His smarmy smirk made me grimace. “Darling, I’m not doing it right if I don’t live to make it on your regrets list.”

  Instead of biting back, I chose a different route. I dug past the indignation and anger, stopping when my shovel hit something tender that didn’t often see the light of day. My eyes softened when I looked up into his, revealing a sensitive spot in my heart I didn’t like to admit was there. “Tucker, I’m serious. I’m the weak link at every stop. I hate making Jens have to work so hard to keep me safe. You love Jens, right?”

  I could tell he was debating between snark and sincerity. Finally, he settled on gentleness. “I do. I’ve been through a lot with him. Solid bloke.”

  “Then teach me how to do this. Help me not to be so helpless. If they’re going to hunt me for being this awesome weapon, then I want to give them something to be afraid of. I can’t protect Jens like this.”

  Tucker met my gaze, searching for something there I couldn’t place. When he nodded once, it was with the air of finally shedding his annoying playboy persona. “Alright, then. I have some herbs that might help strengthen the magic in you. I didn’t suggest them because they tend to have a hallucinogenic effect, and you look like a lightweight. Have you done much LSD?”

  My nose scrunched at the question that shocked me. “I don’t do drugs. Let’s try a different route.”

  “I wouldn’t give you LSD, sweetheart. I don’t think my friendship with Jens would withstand that. Have you tried smoking lemon balm before?”

  My head tilted as I sized him up warily. “Well, that’s a weird thing to ask. I’m allergic to lemon balm. Why would you even think to suggest that?”

  Tucker touched the underside of my chin to look closer into my eyes, as if he was trying to see secrets hidden behind the hue of my hazel irises. “I’m betting that’s a trick of good old Hilda. Chocolate makes you short. Beer makes you sick. Parents tell their children all sorts of lies to get them to fall in line. Dollars to donuts, you’re not allergic to lemon balm. Your mom didn’t want you to know what you were, and she probably didn’t want you getting high. Lemon balm is a mild herb for tea for normal humans, but for Undrans, it has a much stronger effect. Relaxing if you do it right. Incapacitating if you do it wrong.”

  I didn’t relish the idea of losing control of my faculties in front of the stranger. “Let’s try the more traditional route first. Do the blowing on my fingers or whatever. If that doesn’t work, we can talk to Jens about other avenues.”

  I was surprised that Tucker was closing in on a minute without a lewd comment. “That sounds reasonable. Close your eyes, Guldy.”

  The nickname pinged a longing for Foss I wished I didn’t still have. I hoped that, wherever he was, he was enjoying his life. Part of that wish rang false. I was the one who forced him to take time to enjoy life. I’d picked out the luxurious bed for him. I was the one who made sure there was a shelf in his cupboard stocked with treats he would never waste his time on, were they not there. I planned all our fun outings and days off. I was the one who held him, granting him his few moments of breathing without dogged purpose. I wasn’t there, and though I wished a peaceful life for him, Foss did not understand the importance of that quest.

  Foss is okay, Lucy. You don’t need to worry about him. Jamie’s consoling coo made me wrap up the feelings of longing I wished I could stamp out altogether. I knew my yearnings were too strong if they seeped over to Jamie’s side. I shut the door tight between our minds without a word.

  Tucker pressed his palms to the outside of my hands that were mashed together and pushed inward, exhaling on my fingertips again. “Do you feel the heat? Focus on the warmth from me and see how far you can trace it.” He exhaled again. “Heat from your fingers travels through your hands. Then where do you feel it?”

  “My wrists. About halfway down.”

  “Good. That’s real good.” He exhaled again, and the heat traversed further down to my elbow like he was blowing a paper boat along the surface of a pond. “Find the thread in the heat. There should be a string you can pull on inside your body. Instead of a mass of warmth, find the thread and pull it up your arm, down your shoulder, between your firm breasts…”

  I pulled my hands out from between his and slapped him hard across the face with only a small tug of remorse. “Don’t talk
about my breasts. Be less pervy, Tuck. For real. I’m trying to concentrate, here.”

  “Sorry, Sister Kincaid. Strict little nun, you are. Follow the heat down your gender-neutral sternum.” He resumed our hands where they’d been and breathed.

  “Better,” I sniffed, squinching my eyes tighter to grip the thread I was losing my hold on. I huffed. “Now I can’t concentrate. Can we start over?”

  Tucker nodded and whispered, “Var min. Aldrig avviker… önskar mig.” He puckered his lips over my fingertips, not quite kissing them, but dragging his lower lip across my nails slowly as he exhaled. “The heat, Lucy. Find the heat.” His lips closed over my tallest fingers as he laved his tongue over them and sucked.

  I slid my hands from his and shoved him hard, moving him backward a few steps. “Knock it off!” I was ashamed I’d resorted to violence twice now, and also a little proud that I’d stood up for myself.

  “You don’t want me?” he asked, perplexed.

  I was floored at how off the mark he was. “I’m dating your friend, you jackfish! You remember Jens, right?”

  Jamie’s confusion confirmed my growing indignation. What is he doing? I felt that on my end. Lucy, I’ve seen elfish children taught to find their magic. They use a fireplace to trace the heat.

  “You must think I’m such a slut! Sure, lick my fingers, and I’ll forget all about Jens. You’re a tool!” I wanted to further yell at Tucker for trying his I’m-so-seductive tricks on me. Instead, I put distance between us and folded my arms over my chest so he couldn’t suck on my fingers again and pretend he was being helpful. “We’ll wait for Jens. You need a chaperone. I thought Jens was your friend. Quit making everything flirty and dirty.”

  Tucker looked at me, confused at my resistance to his “charms”. “Why isn’t it working?”

  “Your lame attempts at flirting? Because you’re a jag to hit on your friend’s girl. You don’t even want me, so I don’t know what your game is here. Is it just a challenge to see if you can get every girl in the world to fawn over you? I know your type. You have to be the center. You have to have every eye look your way, whether you look at them or not. I went to school with hundreds of you. You’re not my flavor, Tucker. Jens is the best, and I don’t settle.” I held my nose in the air.

  “Sure, but the begär charm usually has a soporific effect. That combined with, well, me, usually gets the most corroded soul swooning.” He cupped my chin again to look into my eyes, searching for that same mystery element. I slapped his hand away, but he was unperturbed by my blatant rejection. “Pesta put her arv on you, but it can’t be deeper than Alrik’s. You mentioned Alrik’s has been on you much longer than Pesta’s, correct?”

  I started talking with my hands, gesturing about to further express my frustration. “Why are you trying to get me to swoon for you in the first place? This is stupid. As I guessed, you’ve got nothing. Jens!” I called, opening the door. “Jens, I’m coming out now, so finish up what you need to do.”

  I stepped out of the bathroom and into the hall, only to find Jamie standing a few feet away, listening in on our conversation. “I didn’t know if I should intervene. Very well done, handling the most unwelcome advance.” Jamie moved past me and shoved Tucker back into the bathroom, closing himself inside with the man in suspenders. I could hear his deadly threat through the door, and loved him for it. “You’ll leave Lucy alone. What’s this about the begär charm? Why are you trying to seduce my syster?”

  “Relax. I don’t want her. It was just a test. That charm takes years to learn to repel, but she resisted.” Their voices turned into mumbles as I stomped away from the bathroom to find Jens.

  Jens came trotting down from up the polished cherry wood staircase when I called for him. “Loos? I told you to hide in the bathroom until I had the house secured.”

  “About that. Tucker’s flirting with me, and I don’t feel like adding that drama to my life. Could you deal with your pig of a BFF?”

  Jens recoiled, distaste plain on his face. “Flirting? Are you sure? Tucker has a way about him. He’s got that ‘I-just-got-laid’ vibe with everyone.”

  I put my hand on my hip. “Really? You think I’m too uptight about that kind of thing now? You don’t like it when Foss kisses me, but it’s perfectly fine for Tucker to suck on my fingers and talk about my breasts? Where’s the logic in that?”

  “He did what? Are you sure?”

  In answer to that stupid question, I turned on my heel and moved to the living room, flopping on the peach-colored leather couch that still had the plastic over it to keep stains off, and to keep people from enjoying sitting on it. I stared up at the ceiling while I listened as Jens’s incoherent mumblings were added to Jamie and Tucker’s.

  The sun was dipping, and I was exhausted. I hoped that Britta had forgiven me, and that Foss was being kind to her. I pictured him sitting in the oversized leather recliner I’d picked out for his living room, sipping on a shot of designer balsamic vinegar and chatting easily with Britta while she read a book. She’d grown attached to American history books, and I loved her every time I saw her nose to the page.

  My stomach flipped when I thought back to the first day the recliner appeared in his ranch. He’d complained about not having the time to care about how comfortable the chair was he sat down in. We’d argued until he finally gave it a try, grousing the entire time that everything in my world was too small for him. When he popped the leg rest out, his protests ceased. I brought him a shot of his favorite cherry vinegar, and he didn’t move off the chair for the rest of the evening. When I came back from a trip to the bathroom, his eyes were closed.

  Foss in a peaceful sleep was a beautiful thing. In rest, he was almost pleasant looking, his hand on his lap and broad chest moving up and down evenly. I’d kissed his forehead, rousing him enough for him to reach out and wrap his hand around my hip.

  He’d kissed me that day far longer than the pecks we tried to limit ourselves to. It had been just a couple weeks before our divorce. Each time our lips brushed, it was a painful release. There was love, of course, but it was always tinged with the loss of what could never be.

  That day we indulged enough for me to end up pulled onto his lap, our hands making themselves at home in the moment we would regret not five minutes later. It was a rush, always followed by that remorse that crashed over me.

  It one of the last times we’d really kissed until we were good and lost. It was a treasured memory, despite everything. Jens had been patient enough, so Foss took the adult step and edged me out of his lean social life, ducking out of dinners and ditching plans at the last minute. I understood, but the loss was there, nonetheless.

  That night, I dragged myself to a guest room done in a beach décor that pierced my nose with that artificial peach I couldn’t escape. I threw on pajamas and long gloves, pulled down the covers and closed my eyes, doing my best to think of nothing, lest I dwell on the things I shouldn’t.

  Twenty-Nine.

  Suspenders, Secrets and Stina

  Of all the things I expected to wake up to, Stina’s nasal screams and incoherent ramblings were the last thing on that list. I jerked up off the bed I’d fallen asleep on, waking Jamie by accident when my fear at someone screaming in the house spiked and reached my laplanded buddy. My heart was pounding as I sneaked downstairs in my opera gloves, soft blue pajama shorts and yellow tank top, and peered into the kitchen.

  Stina was duct taped to a chair in the cheery peach and white kitchen. Her short black cocktail dress revealed her long legs that were sporting several long bloody gashes up and down her shins. Her face was gaunt with fear, and something was wrong with her lips. They were red and swollen with blackened crust on the outer edges. Tucker stood in front of her, unperturbed at her screaming. “Do you want more sanning basilika? I’ve got truth serum coming out of my ears, love. You’ll open what’s left of your pretty little mouth and tell me who sent you after Jamie and Lucy. Keeping quiet will only make me more unpleasant.”r />
  When Tucker stroked his left suspender, Stina’s eyes grew wide with panic. When she spoke, her mouth hardly moved. Her words came out hampered, but still intelligible. “Johannes! He’s the one who wanted Jamie dead, not me! I only crafted the curse for him!”

  Jens was sitting at the oval-shaped kitchen table, his head in his hands as if to fend off the sight that was Stina so beaten. “Why, Stina? Why would you stoop so low as to work for Johannes? He was part of the committee who voted to kick the Huldras out of Undraland!”

  Stina’s tone was mournful. “Jeneve promised me! She told me I’d be allowed back to Undraland! She said if I helped kill Jamie and made it look like an accident that happened on the Other Side, they’d grant me immunity! I don’t know how Jamie’s fighting off the curse, but Johannes is getting impatient, so I took a hit out on Lucy to get to him through their bond! No, Tucker! Stop!” Her high-pitched scream sent ice through my veins. Every word sounded like it was being choked out.

  Tucker had a jagged knife to her pinky finger that was pinned to the arm of the wooden chair. “Talk faster, or I cut the whole thing off!”

  I felt a hand on my back and nearly jumped out of my skin. What is this? Jamie asked in alarm.

  They’re torturing her for information! She poisoned you, Jamie, and put a hit out on me. But I don’t like this! This isn’t right! Martin Luther King would never—”

  I know, syster. Go back upstairs. I’ll take care of it.

  I think both of us knew I wasn’t going to obey. I kept my body behind the wall as Jamie stepped into the kitchen, and watched the scene unfold through Jamie’s eyes. “Stop this! Whatever you’re trying to do, this isn’t the way.” He turned to Jens, who had his head bent down in guilt. “You’re better than this, Jens.”

  Tucker waved off Jamie’s protest. “Jens didn’t do a thing except help me capture her. Getting the truth out of people just so happens to be my specialty.” He took his knife and stabbed it down into the meat of Stina’s thigh, smiling through her screams that reached a new height. “I didn’t tell you to stop talking! Now tell me what Johannes is up to.” He stepped back and sat in the other chair at the kitchen table, his ankle crossed over his knee as if watching a mildly entertaining TV show unfold.