If he heard her words, he didn’t acknowledge them. He laughed again as Aunt Bea scolded Andy for something.
Calleigh stood and kissed her father’s cheek as her heart broke into pieces. “Bye, Daddy. I love you. I’m sorry about all this. I really am.”
“No peas, no peas, no peas…” He rocked in the chair.
A new emotion sluiced through her like a flood surge. Brighter and sharper than any anger she’d felt before in her life, this had a raw, wounded edge to it. Her hands fisted at her sides.
She wanted to hit something. Or someone.
***
Alrik paced the brownstone’s wood floors until he thought he might wear a path. Where was Calleigh? Her car was parked outside but she was not home. The sun was well set. She should have been home by now. He worried that the shock of the change might have caused her to do something rash.
Snickers yowled, weaving his furry body between Alrik’s legs.
“I do not know where your mistress is, little cat. It worries me, also.” He bent down and scrubbed the cat’s back with his fingers.
The doorknob jiggled. He glanced up as Calleigh entered. Her face was pale, her eyes and nose red. She had been crying. Still, the sight of her made his heart leap. He wanted to protect this woman. Freya was right, much as he hated to admit it.
He had fallen in love with his charge.
He stood and held his arms out. “Calleigh lass, I am so sorry—“
Her chest rose with a sudden inhale. She slammed the door. Her eyes narrowed, the muscle along her jaw tightening. “You.”
Not the reception he had hoped for, but one he had known was possible. “I know it was not as you—“
She wrenched her coat off and threw it over the couch. “You have no idea what it was like.”
He started toward her. “I can expl—”
“No.” She held her hand out. “I’ve had enough. Enough of you. Enough of your warped magic.”
Plainly exhausted, she slumped onto the floor and gathered the cat into her arms. Her body shook with quiet sobs.
Pain radiated off her in waves. The scar over his heart throbbed like a new wound. “I know you are hurt. I tried to tell you this—“
“What?” Her chin lifted. Wet trails streaked her cheeks. “You never tried to tell me this would happen. If you had, I never would have made this change. Never. My mother is still dead, you know. That wasn’t what I asked for. And my father…”
Her voice cracked. She turned her head away, new tears wetting her face. “My father doesn’t even know who I am.”
He blew out a breath and kneeled beside her. How many times had he been through this with a charge before? “I did try to tell you but you insisted on having your change immediately. Everyone has an appointed time to die. That cannot be changed unless their time is unjustly cut short.”
“You don’t think cancer is unjust?”
He shrugged. “It is not for me to decide.”
She shook her head and rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands. “Just make this change go away.”
“As you wish.” He reached to help her up but she pulled away.
“I don’t need your help.” She got up on her own and crossed her arms over her chest.
He dropped his hands to his sides. He understood her hurt and although he wanted to ease her pain, he left her alone. Once the change was undone, she would feel better.
Opening his arms, he tipped his head back and thought the Words of Power. Heat shot up his spine and across his back as the wings unfolded. The fire surged through him, molten and needy. It clawed at his belly, tightened his muscles and caressed his skin with a lover’s urgent touch. Thick as honey, the fire swept over him. The Phoenix was reborn.
“Come,” he bade her.
“I don’t have to wait three days?”
“Not if you wish otherwise.”
“I do.” She stepped into the circle of his arms. Resentment burned in her eyes, brighter than the reflected flames. “It will be all right,” he whispered.
She closed her eyes without answer and turned her face away from him.
Resigned to her silence, he wrapped his fiery wings around her and gave the fire its release.
When the flames burned out, they were back in Calleigh’s living room. The television still displayed the same pictures. The hands on the mantel clock still pointed to the same hour. The change was undone. She should be happy now.
“You are home, fair eyes. Safe and sound.” He smiled. Perhaps she would kiss him again. He burned to tell her his feelings. But what good would that do either of them? When her third change was made, he would be gone. Better he save her that hurt.
“Is this a game to you?” she snapped.
“A game? I play no part in the changes that are made. I am simply the messenger.”
“Well your delivery sucks. I’m so mad at you right now I can’t think straight and you act like we’ve just been out for a Sunday drive.”
He shook his head. “Nay, I tried to explain—“
“Yeah, I know. You tried real hard.” The muscle along her jaw twitched as her mouth set in a hard line. He was reminded of the way Freya had recently looked at him.
“Changes are not always for the good.” She just needed time to cool off, he decided.
“Are they ever? Because I’m two for two in the red here.”
He furrowed his brow, unsure of her meaning and not wanting to upset her further. “Perhaps if you would just allow me to explain—“
She pressed her fists against her eyes and moaned, a deep guttural howl that Alrik had never heard from a woman before.
He stepped back.
She pulled her hands away and stared at him. “Get out of my house.”
“But I am to stay until—“
“Get out. Now.” Her jaw muscle twitched again but her eyes never left his. “I command it.”
Stung but compliant as he must be, Alrik nodded and removed himself to Valhalla.
Chapter Fifteen
After Alrik’s vanishing act, Calleigh stayed in for the next few days. Not even the thought of pad thai could get her out the door. She turned off her machine and didn’t answer the phone. Didn’t check her email. Tried not to think about Alrik. That didn’t work quite as well.
She was mad. At herself, mostly. And for the way she’d treated Alrik. She’d struck out in anger. It wasn’t his fault she’d gotten what she’d asked for. The expression on his face when she’d demanded he leave stuck in her head like an overplayed commercial jingle. The hurt in his eyes haunted her. Even his body language had changed. The proud set of his shoulders had become the slumped posture of wounded little boy.
She owed him an apology and not being able to give it to him was making her miserable. Compounding that was the way she just plain missed him. His smile. His accent. The smell of cinnamon when he was in the room. The way butterflies stormed her stomach when he got close.
She was a horrible person. Despicable. Worse than an eBay sniper. She deserved the life she’d gotten if that was how she treated people.
Even a quart of peanut butter fudge ice cream couldn’t make her feel better. She needed to apologize. Had to. And she would. Just as soon as he came back.
He would come back, wouldn’t he? He had to. She still had one change left.
She moaned. One more change to go. There wasn’t a single thing she could think of that she even wanted to attempt changing. She’d screwed up the last two royally. Why torture herself with a third?
Nothing looked good in the fridge. The cheese was green, the lettuce was brown and whatever had been in the plastic container was starting to reproduce. She was out of toaster-tarts and cereal bars and all the other pre-packaged goodness her cupboards usually held. It was really time to do some grocery shopping.
The doorbell rang so she shut the fridge and went to see who it was. Maybe it was a delivery man gone astray. Hopefully from Thai’d Up. If he had curry, she’d offer him dou
ble to leave it with her.
The blurred figure on the other side of the leaded glass was not a delivery man.
“Hi, Uncle Seamus.”
“Where have you been? I’ve called and left messages here and on your cell, I sent you emails…nothing. I was beginning to think you’d run off with the Norseman.” He winked.
Clearly, he thought himself amusing. She crossed her arms. “Hardly. I’ve been busy.”
“You’ve been busy? With what? Or shouldn’t I be askin’?” He laughed. “Can I come in or are you going to make your poor uncle stand outside all day?”
“Yes, you can come in. I’ve just had a lot on my mind is all.” Like a certain Viking who still deserved an apology.
Seamus made himself comfortable on the couch, so she joined him. He looked around and wrinkled his nose. “Have you given up on cleaning?”
She scooped up the empty ice cream carton, the sticky spoon, empty soda cans and food wrappers that littered the coffee table. Arms full, she headed for the kitchen. “Did you come over to comment on my housekeeping abilities or did you actually have a reason?”
“Now, don’t get yer knickers in a snit, love. The way you keep house is your business. And if himself doesn’t care, then more’s the merrier.” He laughed again and shook his head.
She stomped back into the living room. “For your information, himself hasn’t been here in days. And what makes you think I care what he thinks anyway?”
Her uncle’s brows shot up. “You two have a tiff? Tell me it isn’t so…”
“Why does it matter to you all of a sudden? Usually you and Uncle Corri are happy when the men in my life disappear.” Disappear indeed. If only Seamus knew the truth of that.
“Don’t tell me he’s gone.” He shook his head slowly.
“Why? What does it matter to you if he is?” She recrossed her arms, miffed by her uncle’s sudden interest in Alrik.
“What does it matter? My career is at stake here! Lass, the Uber Homme boys are throwin’ a grand party to announce their new campaign this Saturday night. And Alrik is the guest of honor. Give him a ring, will you love? I really need to speak with the lad.”
“He doesn’t have a phone.”
Seamus blew out a long breath. “Send him an email?”
“No computer.”
“Page him?”
“No pager, either.”
He strummed his fingers on the coffee table. “We’ll just have to pop by for a visit then.”
She shook her head while the color drained out of her uncle’s face.
“Why are you shaking your head? Don’t shake your head at me, Calleigh Siobhan McCarthy. I need him to be at this party or my reputation is ruined.” He crossed himself, then stood and paced the room, wringing his hands.
“I can’t go back to shooting corporate portraits and socialite weddings…I just can’t.”
He spun around to face her. “We’ll go to the school. They’ll know how to find him.”
She shook her head again and dug her toe into the carpet. How was she going to explain what Alrik really was?
“No more headshaking! Why can’t we go to the school? You said he was a student at NYU.”
She wound a curl around her finger, tugging absently. “He’s not really a student.”
“What is he then? Is he an illegal alien? I don’t care, the city’s full of them.” Seamus’s eyes were a little wild now.
“I wouldn’t exactly say he’s an illegal alien.”
“Merciful Joseph, lass! Quit talkin’ in riddles and just tell me where to find the lad, will you?”
Calleigh moved so that the couch sat between herself and her uncle. “Well, see that’s the thing. I don’t really know where he is or how to get a hold of him.”
***
“Remind me why I play Tabula with you.” Marcus Augustus Vincentius sighed when he saw the three dice Alrik had thrown. A few of the other Phoenixes sitting in the courtyard smirked into their mugs before turning their attentions back to their own pastimes. Another pair played Senet. Some reclined under the massaging hands of Freya’s hand maidens.
Ignoring the jest of the Roman, Alrik stayed silent as he moved his round markers on the board. His mind refused to let go of the way Calleigh had emphatically dismissed him. She had been livid, but how could she blame him? He had tried to explain. Not hard enough. You should have protected her. You knew.
“Daydreaming about something? Or someone?” the Centurion asked.
Torchlight glistened off the polished glass markers. Alrik finished his play and looked up. “What?”
“You of all people should know that women bring you nothing but trouble,” Vincentius said. He drained his mug of ale without taking his eyes from the game.
“She is not trouble,” Alrik gruffed.
“So there is a woman involved. I should have known.” Vincentius swept his hand across the Tabula board, brushing the glass chips into a neat pile. They clanked softly when he scooped them into a leather pouch. “We will play again when your mind is on the game. I do not want to take your money unfairly.”
Alrik shook his head. “I could beat you with one eye closed.”
“Then perhaps you should try that. You have yet to best me using both.” The Roman laughed and a few other Phoenixes joined in.
“It is just as well. I have had enough of games for now,” Alrik said.
Vincentius’s gaze traveled past Alrik and his voice lowered. “Then I suggest you take your leave. The goddess comes this way.”
“Is Eros with her?”
“Nay. She is alone. And I can think of other places I would rather be. Hail, brother.” Vincentius tucked the Tabula board beneath his arm and strode toward the arched passage that led to the Hall of Swords.
Not a bad idea, Alrik thought. A few rounds of swordplay might be just the thing to wear the tightness from his muscles.
He stood, rolling his shoulders like a man preparing for a brawl, which in a way, he was.
Freya’s thick perfume arrived before she did, a silent paean to her need. Her great blue cats accompanied her. They flanked her when she stopped in front of Alrik, lolling on the polished marble like sated dinner guests.
“Poor Phoenix,” Freya purred. She walked her fingers up his arm. “Your charge may not want you, but I do.”
He laughed and her brows inched up in surprise. “Is there a Phoenix you would not bed? You want me most because I want you least. Not a quality I desire in my women, goddess.”
Her perfume soured and the cats growled, showing teeth. She spoke loudly for obvious benefit of the audience around her. “You would rather want one who wants you not at all?”
A few of the gathered Phoenixes groaned.
Alrik looked around but not a single gaze met his. Every activity they were engaged in had just become of utmost importance. He did not blame them. Few wanted to cross Freya. A happy goddess was much easier to deal.
“She does want me and you know it,” he countered.
“I suppose that explains why she banished you here?” Her sticky sweet tone conveyed false pity.
“A change gone bad is not an easy thing to take. She is only hurt. She needs time to heal.”
“Perhaps Dagny was only hurt as well.” Freya adjusted the perfect pleats of her silk robe, studying the fabric with sudden interest. “Perhaps she also needed time to heal. Maybe someday you will find out for yourself.”
She glanced up and he knew by her pleased expression the anger on his face must be plainly readable. She brushed a curl from her cheek. “Although I think that day will be very long in coming.”
***
Calleigh torched one of the talisman’s wings with her long-stemmed candle lighter. She didn’t really want to throw the thing back into the fireplace and fill her house with smoke but if she had to, she had to. She’d only persuaded Seamus to leave by promising him she’d get Alrik to the party or die trying.
The little flame had no effect on the wing
s.
She flicked the lighter off. Maybe it just needed more oomph. She adjusted the flame higher and turned the talisman around on the glass pie plate to look for the most combustible spot. Aha. Dark brown felt covered the base of the statue.
She tipped the talisman on its side and applied the lighter again. The felt caught fire but barely. Smoke snaked toward the ceiling in a sooty ribbon and the acrid smell of burning wool stung her nose.
“Ew!” She picked up the pie plate, headed for the kitchen window, unlatched the sash, pushed it up and started fanning.
Hopefully no one would see the smoke and think her house burning down. She didn’t need a living room full of firemen when she was trying to summon Alrik.
The felt was still burning when the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“I know what you’re up to, Ms. McCarthy.”
“So nice to hear from you, Mrs. Crouper.” Calleigh knew immediately the smoke had not gone unnoticed.
“I can smell that wacky weed you’re smoking! I will call the police if you don’t—“
“Mrs. Crouper, please. It’s just a little kitchen fire.” Calleigh nudged the faucet on with her elbow and doused the talisman to put out the smoldering felt. She let the glass plate clatter into the sink.
“I know the smell of marijuana, Ms. McCarthy, and I best not smell it again.”
Calleigh doubted the old woman knew the smell of anything besides Bengay and Preparation H. She rolled her eyes and gritted her teeth. “Kitchen fire’s all out now. Good night, Mrs. Crouper.”
She hung up. Apparently burning the talisman was now out of the question.
The carving lay on its side in a puddle of gray water. The partially-burned felt peeled off the base where the heat had melted the glue.
She looked a little closer. There was something carved on the base beneath the felt.
Grabbing a dishtowel, she picked up the dripping statue and wiped it dry. It was still a little warm. She gingerly peeled off the remaining felt and took another look at the writing. Hadn’t Alrik said something about an inscription when he’d first shown up?
All Fired Up Page 19
