Skeptic

by Denise Mathew

  "Barriers weaken, even yours," she said, with a cackle. Atticus wanted to throttle her for her insubordination. He fisted his hands and took a step forward, until he was towering over her.

  "Florence, may I remind you that the Elder witches are after you as well as I?" he said, between tight lips.

  He ground his teeth together in an attempt to maintain his composure. Killing the old woman now would be a mistake, but after the ritual was completed there would be nothing keeping him from getting rid of her.

  "Not as much as they want you," Nanny Flo said. Before Atticus could respond, Mira rushed back into the room, her face practically glowing with expectation.

  "These should be better," she said, striding toward him.

  She held out a pair of black leather pants, a matching vest, a full length leather overcoat, and a pair of black polished combat boots that went to mid-calf. Atticus forgot his anger and snatched the clothes from Mira.

  "Yes, these will do quite nicely," he said with a smirk, then unceremoniously stripped naked.

  He didn't bother cleaning the blood from his chest, before donning his new set of clothes. Atticus breathed in deeply and stretched, unfurling his muscles as if he had been confined to a small space for a very long time. He snatched the athame from where Mira had dropped it, and shoved it into the waistband of his pants.

  "Bring the girl," he ordered. His voice seemed to resonate throughout the whole house.

  "What do you need her for?" Mira asked, her expression unyielding.

  Atticus knew Mira was jealous, and it pleased him to see her squirm, but he couldn't let her disobedience go unpunished. He punched the air above his head, then splayed his fingers, before making a fist. Mira clutched her abdomen and fell to her knees. Her eyes squeezed tight, as blood from her nose fell in huge drops to the floor in front of her. Nanny Flo watched the scene unfold. Dakota, looking through Atticus's eyes, thought he detected the barest of smiles curve her thin lips.

  "Please...no...I'm sorry."

  Mira's voice was little more than the sound of air being exhaled, but it was enough. Atticus flicked his hand, then pulled at his fingers until the joints made hollow pops.

  "I see you've forgotten your place in my absence," he said, glaring down at Mira.

  She wiped her bloody nose with the corner of her dress, adding more red to the already stained garment, and slowly got to her feet.

  "It won't happen again," she whispered.

  Atticus curled his index finger, and it was as if Mira was tethered to a rope. She jerked forward in lurching steps, until she was standing in front of him. He dragged her into his arms, kissing her until he tasted her blood on his lips, only then did he release her. She staggered, her eyes glazed over, then shot him a wanton smile, as if she liked having her lips mashed to a pulp. Dakota was horrified, because he felt every bit of the kiss, and the pain hadn't been one sided. Atticus had liked the feel of her teeth cutting his lips too.

  "Go and get her," he said.

  This time Mira didn't protest, and spun on her heel and left. A few minutes later, Elise, her face pasty, with blood sprayed across her blouse, limped in. Her hands were bound behind her back with a thick piece of ripped cloth. Mira followed a few feet behind Elise, prodding her forward with a painted fingernail.

  "Dakota help..." Elise started to say, then paused, tilting her head to the side and studied her boyfriend with curiosity. She narrowed her eyes, as if she couldn't quite grasp what she was seeing.

  "Elise." Atticus's voice seemed to hum through every board and nail in the house.

  "What's going on?" she said, fear clouding her eyes.

  In three long strides, Atticus closed the distance between them. He snaked an arm around Elise's waist, undid her bindings, then reached down and gripped her buttocks. She drew in a sharp breath, and just as Mira's had, her eyes went glassy and she grinned at him with a rapt expression. Mira snarled but didn't say a word, when Elise parted her lips, as if waiting for a kiss. Atticus leaned down and almost touched his lips against hers, but just before he did, his head jerked back.

  "Don't do that again," Atticus boomed, clearly shocked at Dakota's ability to take control of their body, even if it was only for the briefest of moments.

  "It thinks it can control me," Atticus hissed. "It's become too self important. It's a parasite that needs to be cut out."

  "Yes, slice it out," Mira said, her eyes glittering.

  "That can't happen," Nanny Flo snorted. "The part that calls himself Dakota, has just as much right to be there as you."

  "I should cut your tongue from your mouth for that comment," Atticus hollered, spittle spraying from his mouth. His face went red with rage, his eyes flickered from pale green to jet-black.

  "What's wrong with you Dakota?" Elise whispered, attempting to back away, but instead got tangled with Mira, and they both lost their balance and fell to the floor.

  "Stupid bitch," Mira said, and shoved Elise off her outstretched legs. She sprang to her feet, then grabbed a handful of Elise's hair and yanked her up.

  "Careful pet, or I might have to teach you another lesson," Atticus said, glaring in Mira's direction.

  "Sorry Atticus," she said, her eyes wide, her face going pale. She touched a finger to her nose, as if expecting it to start bleeding again.

  Nanny Flo sauntered toward Elise. "You mean Atticus," she said.

  The devilish glint in her eyes made it abundantly clear that the old woman enjoyed watching Elise struggle, and Dakota couldn't understand why.

  Elise's eyes widened, as if she recognized the name, and her mouth fell open. She looked like a fish out of water. Mira moved toward Atticus, wrapping her arm around his waist possessively.

  "So you do remember?" Mira said with a nasty smile.

  Elise shook her head violently. "No, it can't be, you said he died."

  "I said whatever I needed to say to get out of hot water," Mira said.

  "No dear, he's very much alive," Nanny Flo said, joining Mira. "And soon we'll get to finish what you screwed up years ago, and this time nothing will go wrong," she said.

  Elise went bone white, and she dragged her feet to the sofa, collapsing on the flowered fabric.

  "I don't want to die," Elise said, her voice quavering.

  "Oh, but you must," Mira, Nanny Flo, and Atticus said in tandem.

  18. ELISE

  When I came around, I was sprawled on the floor of the garage. Candles illuminated the space with a flickering and eerie glow, and the scent of fresh blood, melting wax, and rot surrounded me. When I did a quick scan of the area, I realized I was alone. I stood up, and that's when I noticed my hands were tied behind my back. I shuffled to the door, butting my head against the coarse wood, as if it would magically open. When that didn't work, I yelled for Dakota until my throat felt raw. When he didn't come, I started worrying about what Mira and Nanny Flo had done to him, and the hysteria that I had up until then suppressed, threatened to break free.

  Knowing that panicking would only make things worse, I forced my thoughts to clear, and glanced around the garage, hoping there might be an athame or something sharp, to cut my hands free. Unfortunately the altar was stripped, and all the tools were gone. With no other options, I closed my eyes and let silent tears slide down my cheeks. A few minutes later, I heard movement outside the door, then the scrape of metal against metal.

  "Dakota?" I whispered.

  The door cracked open, dim light sliced into the gloom. The garage had been so shadowed that the light blinded me, and I couldn't make out who was there until Mira was standing directly over me. All traces of indifference and plastic grace were gone, and she scowled at me with unadulterated animosity.

  "Come on you little bitch," Mira said, grabbing my arm, and digging every one of her talon-like nails into my skin.

  "Hey, easy," I protested, but it only made her grip me tighter.

  "Where's Nanny Flo?" I demanded.

  Mira sniffed. "Like she would treat you any b
etter? At least I'm honest about how much I hate you, she on the other hand..."

  Her laugh was hard and cold, and it bothered me more than I wanted it to.

  "You don't know what you're talking about," I said, throwing my body back against hers. My intention had been to unbalance her, but it didn’t work, and had the unpleasant effect of making her already sour mood worse. She stomped on the top of my foot with the heel of her shoe, I cried out in pain. When I glanced down, I noticed a dime sized puncture where her stiletto had hit me, blood was already seeping from the wound.

  "Try that again, and I won't be so gentle," she murmured close to my ear.

  She shoved me forward, and out the door, not bothering to close it behind her. She was quick to elbow me in the back when I didn't keep the pace. I was scared, exhausted and on the verge of tears, but I was steadfast that I wouldn't let Mira break me. I stiffened my spine, and held my head up high. As we made our way down the flagstone path, I thought about where Dakota was, and my stomach clenched with apprehension.

  "You better not have hurt Dakota," I said, fire in my tone.

  She giggled, and the sound of it iced my blood. Without another word, she pushed ahead of me and opened the door. I ducked beneath her arm, into the house. As we passed through the kitchen, it was noticeably quiet, and devoid of the familiar aromas of cooking food. Mira resumed jabbing me forward.

  Before we got to the living room, I heard a man's heavily accented, gravelly voice. A moment later, we entered the space, and I was both relieved but also a little bewildered to see Dakota and Nanny Flo, deep in conversation. I glowered at Dakota, furious that I had bothered to worry about him, when he clearly didn't care what happened to me.

  But the longer I stared at him, the more I realized that something was different. For starters, I had never seen him in so much leather, and dressed as he was, he reminded me of a magician named Criss Angel. But it was more than the clothes, though I knew it wasn't possible, he seemed taller, and his hair was several inches longer, and now brushed his shoulders. Dakota had always had a muscular physique, but now the lines of his body were sharper, his muscles more defined. Even his eyes were darker, and his skin had lost all of its bronze and had turned milky white.

  "Elise," he said, and I startled, because his voice was so low, and not his.

  Then, he was in front of me, his hand on my waist. It happened so fast that it didn't seemed humanly possible. Even though clothes separated our flesh, his touch was scorching hot, like I was too close to a fire. He opened his mouth and leaned in close. I waited for his lips to press against mine, my heart speeding up, but before he kissed me, his head jerked back so forcefully, that I glanced behind him to see who had pulled him away.

  With venom in his gaze, he abruptly released me. Suddenly lightheaded, I fell back against Mira. She promptly grabbed a handful of my hair, and almost ripped a hank out, but for some reason I was oblivious to the pain, all I could think was how much I wanted to be back in Dakota's arms.

  I heard Mira and Nanny Flo's voices, but I couldn't make sense of what they were saying, because all my focus was drawn to the only thing that mattered in my universe, Dakota. But when I heard the other name, one I hadn't heard in many years, one that I had prayed I would never hear again, I promptly snapped back to reality and walked shakily to the sofa.

  Everything that had happened years before flooded my brain, and I felt sick. Atticus was supposed to be dead; Mira had sworn that he had died right after the ceremony.

  "It can't be true..." I said.

  Dakota couldn't be Atticus, it wasn't possible. My body trembled with shock, my lips seemed unable to form words. I gazed over at the man who I had slept next to the night before, and who I loved more than life itself. I went numb.

  "Leave us alone," Atticus commanded.

  I had no idea where Nanny Flo and Mira went, nor did I care, because even after discovering who he was, I was dumbstruck. He moved too quickly across the room, and swept me up tenderly, and I encircled his neck with my arms, clinging to his blazing flesh. My body almost felt magnetized to his. He scrutinized me, his eyes seeming to penetrate beneath my skin, I shivered. I tried to pry my stare from his, but it was an exercise in futility.

  After what felt like only a second, he placed me on the bed, that I had slept in the night before. I gazed up at him, knowing that nothing mattered but the man leaning over me. I buried my fingers in his hair, and he sighed with pleasure, then his lips, soft yet strong, moved rhythmically against mine. I arched my back, and tried to mold my body to his, and as I did I realized that he was levitating a few feet above me.

  He pressed one hand to the small of my back, and the other beneath my hips, and without breaking the kiss, supported me, so I was floating a few inches above the bed too. I shifted my weight, and we spun in mid-air until our positions changed, and I was on top and he was below me, all the while our lips kept the beat. He nibbled on my lower lip, then thrust his tongue deep inside my mouth, and the eroticism of it made me wonder what it would feel like to have him completely inside me. He moved his mouth down the tender skin of my throat, his tongue tracing a sizzling path down to the dip of my cleavage, and I was feverish for more. If he had wanted my virginity I would have gladly handed it over without hesitation, in fact I wanted to give it to him. I had waited too long for a man like this, to show me the pleasures of making love.

  "Dakota," I moaned. He reared back as though I had thrown cold water over him.

  "I'm Atticus," he roared, his Irish brogue heavy and distinct.

  We dropped to the bed with a soft thump. By the time I rolled over, he was standing at the side of the bed, irritation marred his perfect features. And when I stared at him, I saw Dakota, but also more.

  He watched me, not saying a word, his fists flexing and releasing. A muscle in his jaw contracted, and his lips pulled back from his teeth into a sneer. I should have been scared of him, he had tried to kill me years before, but it was hard to separate my feelings for Dakota, from those I felt for Atticus. What made it even more confusing, was that every time he laid a hand on me, it felt like each individual cell in my body was supercharged, like I was plugged into him.

  "Say my name," he said, his face softening.

  "Atticus," I said, and just saying the name, one that had instilled fear in me for years after that terrible night in the woods, tasted like honey on my tongue. He closed his eyes, and drew a deep shuddering breath. He spread his arms wide, the muscles in his biceps pushed against the supple leather of his coat.

  "Again," he said, his voice growing in pitch.

  And when I said his name for the second time, the air hummed like a million dragonflies beating their wings at once. He tore off his coat, then his leather vest, and I studied the fresh cuts in his chest, crusted with dried blood.

  "Who did that to you?" I asked.

  He flicked his hand dismissively, and the corners of his mouth turned up in amusement, then with speed that left me speechless, his body was hovering over mine.

  "It should be her, not you, that dies at the ritual," he whispered, his breath light on my face. The scent of Dakota's cologne wafted from him. I knew I should have been alarmed by his words, but somehow I wasn't.

  "Nobody has to die," I murmured, getting lost in his stormy eyes.

  His exquisitely perfect face, contorted with emotion, before he shook his head and gave me his bad-boy squint. Our bodies were still inches apart, and though I should have been surprised at the fact that he could levitate, I wasn't.

  I wet my lips, ran my finger along the line of his jaw, feeling the sharp bone beneath his flesh. Mesmerized by his eyes, I cursed at the trick that fate had played on me, because I had somehow managed to fall in love with the same man who had once tried to kill me.

  A flood of memories of the night of the first ritual seven years earlier, raced through my mind. That night, Mira had tricked me into agreeing to meet the new coven of witches she had joined. She had played it, like only she could
, and though I had been instinctively wary of witchcraft, I had finally relented. The moon had been blood red from the smoke of a forest fire that had been blazing a few miles north of us, and I was convinced it was a bad omen, but Mira said it meant nothing, and that I was being foolish for thinking it did.

  Mira had told me that the coven was going to meet in the woods at an abandoned house. At twilight, we had taken our bikes down the cratered dirt road that led to the house. By the time we were halfway there, our bare legs were splattered with mud and dusk had just turned to pitch. I hadn't been to Samy's mansion in years and when I laid eyes on it again, with its boarded windows, sloping tin roof, and grey weather beaten façade, it seemed more ominous than I had remembered.

  Samy Dawson had been a hermit who had died years before, and when none of his family had stepped in to claim the house, it had gone into disrepair. It didn't take long for the local teenagers to claim the cabin for their own. Over time, the place had been furnished with mismatched sofas, old chairs, and pretty much anything people could drag into the woods. For a while, it had been used for parties, where teenagers drank cheap wine, and danced to the beat of the latest music, but when too many people reported seeing Samy's ghost gliding through the house, they had ditched the hangout. I had been to the cabin a handful of times, but never once had I seen Samy.

  From the outside, the cabin appeared deserted, and I wondered if Mira had somehow got the meeting place wrong, but as we parked our bikes, the main door cracked opened, and a woman in her twenties stepped into view. She was dressed in a full length black hooded cloak, and had shoulder length mousy brown hair, with doe brown eyes that were trained on me.

  "Welcome," she said in a low voice and smiled, showcasing tombstone shaped teeth that seemed too big for her mouth. Behind her, I glimpsed hundreds of lit candles, illuminating the cabin with a wavering light.

  "Hi Diva," Mira said.

  Mira cut a sidelong stare my way, and I rolled my eyes, careful to angle my head enough that Diva couldn't see my expression. Diva spun toward the building, and moved in.