Brave (Healer)

by April Smyth

  He doesn’t need to tell me twice. I should be more concerned about how good this feel but I’m not. I fall fast asleep in his arms within seconds.

  FIVE

  I wake up in a sweat with Oliver’s body collapsed over me. His face is nuzzled into my hair and he is snoring loudly. I try to turn over but his arms have me locked in a tight grip. This is the first time I have ever woken up next to a man since that fateful night in the hotel room in Paris with a very drunk Gabe.

  I wait a few minutes before giving him a light shove but he just grunts and barely shifts at all so I pat his hairy cheek repeatedly until eventually his eyes stutter open. ‘Morning,’ I smile at him and he grimaces. Somebody obviously isn’t a morning person.

  ‘What time is it?’ he releases me from his grasp.

  ‘Dunno,’ I shrug. We prop ourselves up with our elbows but our faces are still so close that there is no option but to look right into each other’s eyes. Why can’t I be lying next to Gabe? It is so unjust but I banish these thoughts from my mind. In the morning it is easier to swallow down any bad feelings until they come spewing back out like acidic bile at night.

  His grumpy morning face softens into a smile and his chocolate eyes melt. ‘How are you feeling? Any better?’

  Much better next to him, I think, but it is too presumptuous to say out loud. Isn’t it? Although I’m not so sure Oliver is being particularly subtle with his affections towards me. I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. He is just friendly and he’s worried about my sanity. Just because he’s in my bed doesn’t mean he fancies me.

  ‘Yeah, I feel better,’ I say. I want to kiss him. Badly. He is biting his lip as if he knows and his teasing leaves me tingling with expectation. I’m suddenly overcome with mortification at my childlike outburst last night. The last thing I wanted him to see was me all snotty nosed, bleary eyed and screaming like a wild woman. I awkwardly apologise, ‘I’m sorry for last night...’

  He strokes my hair with the back of his hand. His sticky breath is making me even hotter and I’m aware that there is a thin layer of sweat all over my body. I touch the nape of my neck self-consciously and it’s damp. The way he is touching my hair fondly and looking into my eyes is making me feel as if I am sacred stardust which he has to protect. I think he might even want to kiss me or at least compliment me but he just smiles and goofily says, ‘What do you want to do today?’

  I find myself laughing at the moment killer. The romantic tension has fizzled out now. ‘Uh I don’t know, what do you normally do up here? Surely you don’t just sit in the house all day alone?’

  It would be a lonely existence even with the company of June who seems hilarious. Surely he has friends and a family who he visits. What about a job? Or is he a full time babysitter for vampire prey?

  ‘Pretty much,’ he shrugs and I feel guilty for mocking his, let’s call it, humble existence.

  ‘No job?’ No girlfriend? I wonder. Oliver would make the perfect boyfriend. I seriously can’t find a fault in him. Thinking about that makes me think of my own ‘boyfriend’ back home. Calling Jonathan that makes me squirm. I care about him, I do like him and I would never want to hurt him but there is no electricity. I felt like I was being burned every time I looked at Gabe, I feel that fiery current running through me whenever I even think about him, but with Jonathan there was only numbness. The laughter was empty and his touch made me feel nothing. I can’t deny there is definitely a spark with Oliver; I just have to be careful not to let that spark ignite into something that I can’t control.

  ‘Nope,’ he shrugs.

  ‘How can you afford this place?’ I ask. ‘Well, not this place obviously but your house.’

  He starts to stroke my hair again. He makes it seem as if not touching me is difficult to him. He explains and I listen and watch his face intently as he speaks, ‘Uh well my parents were very, very wealthy and this house has been in my family for generations and well there’s only me left so I have to keep it.’

  ‘Don’t you think about moving away though? It must be so lonely,’ I say. No parents, no friends or even distant family to keep him company and evidently no significant partner. It’s just him and June in this mansion in the Scottish countryside. There’s nobody for miles around. I feel sad. I thought I was alone in this world.

  If he is sad he doesn’t show it, ‘I guess it can be lonely but I always find things to occupy my time.’

  ‘Movies and junk food?’ I laugh.

  ‘Something like that,’ he smiles and the crackle is back between us as we smile at each other. Heat rises from my toes and up through my thighs. I wish I had never discovered the animalistic sexuality that I found with Maurice. Having sex with him was meaningless but it was incredible nonetheless. I wonder what it would be like to feel Oliver... I get goosebumps down my arms at the thought of his rippling muscles.

  I am determined for him not to chicken out this time. He should definitely kiss me. It can’t hurt. I hold his gaze for his long as possible but he looks away and props himself up to sit on the bed. ‘Let’s get breakfast.’

  Oliver doesn’t seem phased by walking through the freezing cold in only his pants as we make our way back to the main building. I keep a few steps behind him so I can watch his pert bum as he walks. He is scrumptious. I need to take a cold shower and get these thoughts out of my head. I am miles away from my love who incidentally doesn’t even realise he loves me. My family are in grave danger of being brutally murdered by a vampire all because of me. Oh and that vampire is desperate to see me dead too. Yet all I can think about is how much I want Oliver to fuck me. I must be delusional.

  After staying with Maurice, I half expected June to conjure up a feast of homemade pancakes, bacon, or whatever my heart desires, but Oliver and instead I enjoy a modest breakfast of coco pops and a glass of fresh orange juice alongside pleasant morning conversation. I wouldn’t trade it for Maurice’s home in a million years.

  ‘You need a good bath, Cassie,’ June says with her hands of her hips like a disapproving mother and Oliver laughs so hard he almost spits his orange juice out all over the dining table.

  ‘She’s not been here a day and you’re telling her she smells. No wonder we don’t have many guests up here, June,’ he smiles wiping orange dibble off his bearded chin.

  ‘No! She looks freezing and terrified. What she needs is a hot bath and a cup of tea,’ she smiles at me. ‘And cake. Cake always helps.’

  Cake would be delightful right now. So I’ve gained some weight over the last six months. I may be running more, it keeps me sane, but comfort eating has also become a hobby of mine which I indulge in too often. Food fills the void temporarily while Gabe isn’t there to fill it. I examine my body and feel dejected by the doughy tummy and overflowing breasts but, well, I need cake.

  ‘Oliver run the girl a bath and I will make her a cake,’ June commands. I want to giggle at the role reversal of employer and staff but I just keep my eyes wide with wonder at this bizarre pair. I feel like I am stumbling in on their own private world. They exist in perfect harmony here on their own and I am bursting their bubble. Maybe I’m providing some needed excitement or just making life difficult.

  Oliver grunts jokingly and beckons me with a finger so I follow him into the master bathroom which is reminiscent of a wooden cabin except much more decadent. The wooden slats on the floor are heated and the low, sensual lighting is motion censored. I perch myself on the toilet and watch Oliver start the bath and grab a handful of scented bath salts from a potato sack slouched in the corner. ‘Smell these,’ he pushes his cupped hands towards my face and I inhale the refreshing scent of sea minerals which I could smell faintly on Oliver’s skin earlier.

  ‘Good?’ he raises his eyebrows and slowly sprinkles them into the hot running water.

  I am supposed to be keeping my mind off of impure thoughts but the steamy bath is doing nothing to help. I wander off into another world where Oliver would tear my clothes off, pick me up with an effortless
swing and throw me into the bath. He would join me and would wash every inch of me. Once I was clean he would kiss every inch of my soft, newly cleaned skin then dry me off with a towel before carrying me to his indigo paradise of a bed and we would spend the whole day there.

  The sound of the water abruptly stopping brings me back out of the daydream and at this point my breathing is shallow and Oliver’s half-naked body is even more enticing. ‘Where’s your head at, Cassie?’ he asks and tests the temperature of the water with his hand.

  I gulp and struggle to find an answer which doesn’t resemble ‘huuuuunnfff’ or ‘ugggnnnnn’ and worst of all, judging by the smirk on Oliver’s face, I think he knows what is going on inside my brain. ‘Oh silly me always daydreaming. Thanks for the bath,’ I say awkwardly.

  ‘No problem,’ he is hovering. There’s no reason for him to hesitate so long unless he wants to join me in that bath as much as I do. My leg trembles with anticipation. I haven’t had sex in six months and all of a sudden I have been reawakened to how much I want it. He smiles at me, ‘I have to say I have outdone myself.’

  ‘It does look very welcoming,’ why is breathing so difficult?

  ‘Very,’ he is staring at me intensely. I stand up shakily. He moves towards me swiftly and puts his hands on my waist and my whole body turns to jelly. If he doesn’t kiss me now I will have to punch him for being such a tease. ‘Well enjoy,’ he grins widely and is gone in seconds.

  Fuck him, I think, angrily. I look at myself in the mirror as I pull my clothes off. The folds in my stomach are accentuated and my breasts are heaving. Am I too fat for him? I shake my head. I need to not think about it.

  I lie in the hot water and let the steam and bath salts take over. June was right about a bath making me feel better; I just wish it would eradicate these potent desires I am having.

  I dry myself off with fluffy towels which have been heating up on a radiator and realise all my clothes are in the cabin outside. Bastard. Now I have to awkwardly, half-nakedly ask to borrow something from him. I step out of the bathroom and knock on his bedroom door across the hallway.

  He answers quickly. He is disappointedly covered up by a loose checked shirt and tatty jeans. He has just stepped out of the shower by the looks of his dripping wet hair. It only makes him look sexier and makes me think about the bath scene again. ‘Can I help you?’ he looks me up and down and takes in the fact that I only have a towel protecting my dignity.

  ‘Some clothes?’

  He laughs and throws me one of his shirts and boxers. ‘Turn around while I put them on,’ I scold him. He turns his back and I take my time dressing in the hope that he is tempted to sneak a peek at me.

  ‘You can look now,’ I say once I am done. I feel odd in his baggy clothes like he can see through them. He opens his mouth to say something when June shouts:

  ‘Cake!’

  SIX

  The phone rings in the middle of cheerful chatter and cake eating. There is a contemplative silence and Oliver looks at June knowingly making me suddenly aware of who is on the other end of the call. It has been a day since I spoke to Rose and she told me so little about the situation. I am scared to hear back from her in case it’s bad news. I’ve always been an advocate for no news is good news. Would I rather know nothing?

  ‘Hello?’ Oliver answers and I pay close attention to him while he talks. There are lengthy pauses between everything he says so Rose must have something vitally important to tell us. ‘Yeah... shit... obviously not... right... right... okay... I’ll pass on the message... Not a problem, Rosie, I’m enjoying the company... Yeah see you later.’

  Then he hangs up without letting me to speak to her. No matter how adorable and sexy this man he is what right does he have to take away the very precious time I have speaking to my best friend? I miss her polite English voice and maybe some of her optimism would rub off on me. Hearing her might give me some optimism. I am just enjoying my last few days as best I can but I know that is all they are: my last days.

  ‘She can’t talk right now,’ he says apologetically. I try to hide my scowl. I’m sure she could have spared a few minutes to reassure me that everything is okay. I need to hear from her that my family will be safe and that Gabe is happy.

  June hands me another plate of chocolate cake and I shovel the gooey mess into my mouth to stop myself from mouthing off at Oliver. Knowing that speaking to Rose was so close has stressed me out but it’s not his fault.

  ‘You’ll have to roll me back home,’ I say as I finish my third piece of cake. June is a goddess in the kitchen. I don’t know how Oliver keeps in such good shape with cake like this permanently on offer. Great, now my mind is back on his perfect physique. Then there is an awkward silence as we all contemplate whether I will even make it home. I got lucky last time in Toulouse but we had the element of surprise on our side. It had been a blur but, now, Maurice will have a careful strategy to avoid that happening again.

  ‘What did she say then?’ I ask, fed up with the tension. Honesty is the best policy, I remind myself. No more vagueness because that gets me no where. I wince at the thought of Gabe, knowing that if we had both been more honest with our feelings and confessed rather than hiding and lying, things could be have been a lot different. At least I could have spent more time with him rather than spending weeks arguing and hating each other.

  ‘Maurice has left the UK,’ Oliver starts.

  ‘Oh my God!’ I squeal with delight. ‘That’s great news!’ My family are safe for a while longer and so am I. The relief I feel knowing that my life is going to last at least a few more days is unequivocal.

  Oliver continues, ‘He’s gone to find Claire.’

  My heart sinks. The relief I felt for a minute is washed away swiftly by dread. Claire, Gabe’s ex-girlfriend, is a Healer too with no memories of her mixed up past with vampires or even Gabe himself. Maurice can’t want to see her to toy with her lapsed memory or to taunt Gabe. No, it’s obvious. He needs Healer blood to make himself indestructible and if he can’t have mine then he needs to get it somewhere else. The only other Healer he knew was my mother and he killed her a long time ago.

  I feel the blood drain away from my face. If Maurice takes Claire’s blood then even a strong werewolf like Oliver or witches like Arrow can’t help me. ‘Don’t panic, Cassie,’ Oliver says. June hurries out of the room as she senses an eruption about to happen.

  ‘Don’t panic? How can you say that when you know he is going to win, Oliver?’ my breathing quickens. Did I ever think he would do anything but win though? The last six months have just been a speed bump in his long lasting rein of terror. I was always going to be the loser in his game.

  ‘Listen, Cassie, there are hundreds of witches in America who can intersect him before he finds Claire. He has no idea where she lives so we have weeks before he finds her. No witch will help him do a tracking spell either. You are going to be fine,’ he says calmly and moves in to embrace me. I am trembling and his tight grip steadies me.

  I don’t know what to believe. Are these lies that Rose and Oliver are filling my head with so I can spend my last few days in peace or is it true? Do we still have a shot of survival?

  ‘Arrow is doing a tracking spell today. Shouldn’t take more than a few days though,’ Oliver says then adds, ‘I can’t help but think it would be easier if Gabe still has his memories.’

  Mentioning Gabe’s name sends my body into hyperactivity. My breathing is rapid, my body is shaking furiously and I feel like all of my insides are convulsing. ‘If he still had his memories.’ Oh God. I fight the tears. I am sick of crying.

  ‘Is he okay?’ I break down. I can no longer pretend he doesn’t exist to spare my feelings. ‘Did Rose mention? What is he doing?’

  Oliver holds me at arms length and looks deeply into my eyes. ‘She didn’t say.’

  I can’t decipher what that is supposed to mean. Is no news really good news like I so often convince myself? The vampire blood might not have been ex
tracted properly and he could have turned. The spell might have been too intense or Arrow could have made an error. He could be dead. The tears bite back harder and I can’t fight them off any longer. I start to weep. I throw myself on to Oliver, hold a fistful of his shirt and sob.

  Without me knowing, Oliver moves me into his bedroom where he lies me on his bed and wraps me in his fluffy throw. My body is shaking intensely; he must think I am cold but, in reality, I am fiery hot with frustration. Between my wailing cries Oliver softly reassures me but everything sounds and looks blurry.

  ‘I can’t do it anymore, Oliver, I can’t be this sad forever,’ I say.

  Oliver looks angry, ‘Don’t you dare give up on this, Cassie. It might seem horrible right now but very soon you will be with your family and your friends again. You won’t have to think about vampires or werewolves or witches ever again.’

  What if I don’t want to leave this world though? I love my family, and my friends have been undutifully good to me, but a world without vampires, werewolves and witches means a lifetime without Rose, Gabe and Oliver. I am tightly bound to them. I look at Oliver and I know that it’s too late for me not to get attached; I don’t want to lose him like I have lost everybody else.

  ‘Do you hear me?’

  ‘Yes,’ I sniff. The height of my despair has peaked and I’m coming down now. I whimper, ‘It’s just so hard. It’s not fair.’

  He lies beside me now that I have calmed down. ‘I understand. I know how it feels to lose everyone you love, to feel listless, to not have a reason to wake up in the morning.’

  I look up at him with glassy eyes and tear stained cheeks and I feel incredibly selfish. Oliver is lonely too, probably much lonelier than me. He has nobody but June yet he is strong and caring and selfless. He has never once pitied himself; I could learn a thing or two about the way he carries himself.