by H. D. Gordon
Chris was Caleb’s older brother, who had been in a coma a few months ago. Thanks to me, he was no longer in that state. Caleb didn’t know this, however. I was sure he had his suspicions, but if there was one thing I could count on Caleb for, it was his acceptance of my secrets. I’d asked him when we’d first met not to pry, and thus far, he’d abided by that request.
But he wasn’t stupid. Far from it, in fact. Caleb Cross came from a wealthy family of geniuses, and my relationship with him had developed in spite of his family’s questionable acquaintances. And, I suspected, he had his own secrets to keep.
“How is your brother?” I asked, after sipping at the hot chocolate. With a small start, I realized Caleb knew me well enough to know that I didn’t drink coffee in the evenings, and had gotten me the coco instead.
“He’s doing great,” Caleb replied. “I can’t believe the way he’s recovered.” A certain shadow touched his aura just then, and it made me tilt my head. Caleb continued on unaware. “He’s just like he used to be.”
“You’re not happy,” I said, releasing my warm cup to take his hands again.
Caleb gave me a slightly amazed look. It was an expression he directed at me often, as if he were in awe of me, and it never failed to make me feel warm inside. “How is it you always read me like a book?” he asked.
I shrugged. “It’s a gift, I guess.”
He let out a slow breath, the expensive scent of his cologne pleasantly familiar to me. “I’m happy to see you, of course, but… no, I guess I’m not completely happy. It’s stupid, really. Ironic, even.”
“What is?”
Caleb bit his lip, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to say the words, but did anyway. “Chris was in that coma for so long, and everyday I would pray and pray for him to come back to us. I would beg God to wake him up, to put things back the way they were before that stupid accident.”
He paused, and I waited, watching the kaleidoscope of his aura and feeling all the empathy that made me who I am. Looking back, it’s easy to see how I slowly fell in love with Caleb Cross, because his soul was too tortured for me not to, and I understood this torment better than most. I related to it on a root level.
“I guess his absence made me forget all the troubles we had before he went into the coma,” Caleb continued. “I forgot how much animosity there could be at times. Chris was always my father’s favorite, and he was always hard on me. I guess some things never change.”
I sat back in my seat and made sure my next words were spoken gently. In my experience, it’s always best if truths are spoken so. “Does Chris feel the same animosity toward you?” I asked. “Or is it one-sided?”
By watching his aura, I could see that this question not only surprised him, but also struck a chord. Because he was Caleb, he only gave me his charming smile and sat back, adjusting his expensive sweater. His blue eyes glittered like sapphires. If a girl wasn’t careful, she could drown in them.
“You’re an insightful little thing, you know that?” he said.
I sipped at my coco. “You have no idea,” I mumbled.
“Enough about me and my woes,” Caleb said, not answering my question. I let the subject drop, not one to pry, either. “Tell me what’s been happening in the exciting world of Aria Fae. What have you been up to in my absence?”
I let out a low sigh. “Oh, you know, the usual, just going around being awesome and stuff.”
This earned a laugh from Caleb. “Have you thought about whether you’re going to the New Year’s Parade?” Watching my face, he chuckled and answered his own question. “Of course you haven’t. Well, it’s a really big event that takes place every year… and if you don’t have any other plans, I’d like you to go with me.”
I gave a little smile. “Like, on a date?” I teased.
“Exactly like a date,” Caleb agreed. “My father is one of the sponsors, so I kinda have to go, and you’ll make the loveliest of companions.”
I bit my bottom lip, fighting a grin. This was the reason I so enjoyed being around Caleb Cross; he had a way of taking the weight off my shoulders. It had taken nearly two months, but I’d finally become comfortable around him, able to look directly into his handsome face without the cheeks of my own blooming into rose gardens.
“Okay,” I agreed. “I think Sam mentioned wanting to go, anyway.”
“Great. Then, it’s a date. What are your plans for Christmas?” he asked.
Sighing, I said, “I don’t really… celebrate Christmas.”
Caleb’s brows went up. “Are you Jewish?”
I shook my head. “It’s just not something my... family ever took part in.”
He grinned, his straight white teeth showing. His perfect teeth were one of my favorite features of his. “Does that mean you’ll consider having dinner with my family on Christmas?” he asked, that endearing bit of self-consciousness flashing through his aura.
I swallowed, a knot forming in my stomach. “Like, with your whole family?”
Caleb laughed, something he did often to cover his nerves. “If you don’t want to, it’s cool.”
“I don’t have any money to buy you a gift,” I said, and had to hide my own embarrassment, but it was true. Without funds from the Peace Brokers, I was broke as a joke.
Caleb’s smile now was so bright, and another of those unattributed aches shot through my chest. “The gift of your presence is the only thing I want,” he said.
Before answering, I watched his aura. I couldn’t miss the fact that this really was all he wanted, that me attending this Cross family dinner meant a great deal to him, even if it did put me in the same room as his questionable father and brother whom I’d recently awakened from a coma.
I let out a small breath and smiled. “How could a girl say no to that?”
Caleb leaned across the table and placed a kiss on my forehead, the slight, appealing scent of his cologne filling my senses. When he pulled back, his aura practically glowed.
“You’re safe with me,” Caleb said, and only as he did so did I realize how very much I wanted it to be true.
CHAPTER 19
My plans for Christmas Eve were the same as my plans had been for Christmas—to stay home, eat some food, and read some books, but it would seem Sam had another idea in mind.
She arrived at my apartment Thursday morning at 9 am, which was early for her. I, of course, had been up for hours, working out and meditating, though both activities had proven less effective in easing my mind than usual.
When I opened the door to Sam, I could see from her aura that she was in a bad way. Without a word, I ushered her inside.
“Merry Christmas Eve,” she said, wandering over to my window and staring out at my brick view.
“Is it?” I asked, going to put some tea on. I knew Sam well enough to know when she needed a bit of chamomile.
“No,” she said, without turning back toward me. Her voice was small in that way that always made me want to hug her. “No, it’s not.”
I crossed the small space and stood beside her. “You miss your mom,” I said. It was not a question.
Sam nodded, and I saw that her thick-rimmed, black glasses were fogging up with tears, her strawberry-blonde hair thrown up in a disheveled bun atop her head. “This is the first Christmas without her,” she said. “I guess I didn’t anticipate how bad it would be… How much it would hurt.”
I placed my hand on her shoulder, but Sam knocked it gently away. “Don’t try to take any of it, Aria,” she said, her blue eyes meeting my own. They were tear-filled, but there was a strength behind them that made me proud. “I have to deal with this on my own. Besides, you have your own pain to carry.”
A humorless smile tugged up one side of my mouth, and I dropped my hand. “You know me too well, Samantha Shy.”
Sam leaned against me, resting her head on my shoulder, still staring at the bricks, but seeing something else completely. “I don’t have to be able to read auras to be able to predict your behavio
r,” Sam said. “You’re a hero. You can’t help but help.”
I let out a low sigh. “Yeah, I don’t know how true that is.”
“What do you mean?” Sam asked.
I told her about the way I’d beaten up the pimp in the alley, and what I’d done to Andrea in the locker room after school. It felt good to have the weight off my chest, and I realized that I’d needed Sam just then perhaps even more than she needed me.
“You don’t think she’ll actually tell anyone?” Sam said, her tears drying up to be replaced with alarm.
I gave a small chuckle. “Sam, I tell you that I almost beat a guy to death and nearly choked the life out of a teenage girl, and that’s your response?”
Sam looked at me like I was mad. “Uh, yeah,” she said, “Because I don’t care about either of those losers and I do care about you.” She pushed her glasses up on her nose, her blue eyes narrowing the way they did when she was thinking. “Andrea knowing is not good.”
I gave a nod. “Yeah, I gathered that.”
“Well, you’ll be glad to know I pulled that video from the web. I tried to track it to the source, but there was just no way, the web was too tangled.”
“At least it can’t be viewed anymore,” I said. “Thanks, homie.”
“What’re friends for?”
The teapot I’d put on the stove a few moments ago began to screech, and I moved into the kitchen area and prepared us both two cups of tea. Sam pulled my fold-up bed out of the wall and we settled down on it with our steaming drinks.
I realized how much I’d needed this time with Sam only as it came, how much I’d come to rely on her in only a quarter of a year.
She nodded her head at my pink thermos; it seemed it was the only thing I drank from as of late. “That’s new,” she said. “Was it a gift?”
I looked at the thermos in my hand. “How’d you know?”
Sam’s brow quirked, a small smirk coming to her lips. “Because that’s a nice cup, and you don’t have the money to make a semi-frivolous purchase such as that.”
Shaking my head, I said, “Anyone ever tell you you’re too smart for your own good?”
“Uh, duh, like, everyone. So who gave it to you?” Her eyes sparkled, and she answered this question before I could. “Wait, it was Thomas, wasn’t it?” She raised her eyebrows in a manner that made me laugh.
“Yes, it was,” I said, “but don’t waggle your eyebrows at me like that. It doesn’t mean anything. He’s just a friend.”
“Ugh,” Sam said. “How is it that you have Caleb Cross, hot neighbor, and the Peace Broker hottie after you, and I probably won’t even be able to get a date to the New Year’s Parade?”
“You think Nick’s hot?”
“I’d have to be blind not to,” Sam replied. “That doesn’t mean I like him. He’s a Peace Broker, and my love for you forbids me from liking him.”
This brought to mind the fact that I had left a little detail out of the story when I’d told Samantha about the Scarecrow situation. I hadn’t told her that I had a chance of going back to my old life if the Warlock was apprehended successfully. I hadn’t told her that depending on the events that followed next, I might be leaving her.
Forever.
But it was Christmas Eve, and we were both up to our ears in emotional turmoil already. Now just did not seem like the right time. As we sat and poured out our souls to one another in the way that was our own, part of me wasn’t sure there would ever be a right time.
Really, I wasn’t sure about anything at all.
CHAPTER 20
Later that evening the two of us stood outside Sam’s apartment building, her hand clutching mine as might a frightened child, which I supposed was not that far from the truth.
“You don’t have to do this, Aria,” she said, for what had to be the millionth time.
“I told you I would, Sam. I’m not afraid.”
“He’s been having a hard time lately,” she added. “I don’t know how he’ll be around company.”
I gave her hand a squeeze and nodded my head assuredly. “But you don’t want to be alone, so I’m here. Let’s just go inside. You look cold.”
“Because it’s freezing out here,” Sam said, teeth chattering but making no move. “Aren’t you freezing, too?”
“My body runs warmer than yours. I don’t get cold easily.”
Sam pushed her glasses up on her nose. “And yet another reason I should’ve been born half Fae.”
Taking the keys from her hand, I opened the door to her apartment building and shooed her inside. “Yes,” I said. “Being me is a real picnic.”
Sam waved to the bellman as we passed, and we went over to the elevators and waited for one to arrive.
“Being, in general, is no picnic,” Sam said, worrying her bottom lip, something she always did when she was nervous.
“Everything will be fine,” I said. “Your aunt and uncle are coming, too, right? Plus me, that’s plenty of buffer.”
Sam let out a sigh. “You haven’t met my aunt and uncle yet,” she said.
I wouldn’t admit it, but she was starting to make me nervous. I found it funny that we could face down a Halfling Werewolf together but the thought of a couple of hours with her family had us both uncertain.
Thirty minutes later, I understood why Sam had dreaded the occasion. The five of us sat inside Sam’s apartment, which had been cleaned and smelled much better than the last and only time I’d visited. Upon meeting her aunt and uncle, Patricia and Paul Stein, it was clear to me that Sam had gone to great lengths to impress them.
In a sentence, Mr. and Mrs. Stein were judgmental, hate-filled people, and I didn’t need my aura-reading capabilities to make this discernment. Their airs and manners spoke for them.
As we sat at the neatly set table, atop which lay an array of food that made my stomach growl and my mouth water, Mrs. Stein reached out and grasped my hand, halting it before it could attack the glistening and juicy turkey atop the table.
Sam’s aunt gave me a sharp look over her glasses, and I saw that her eyes were the same brown as her brother’s—Sam’s father. “We need to say grace first,” Aunt Patricia said.
Personally, I’m not a religious person. The Peace Brokers, of course, don’t identify with any manmade faiths, but I am highly spiritual. It’d be hard not to be, as an Empath, an aura-reader, and a Halfling Fae. I could connect with spirit on a level beyond what a full human could understand, and what was God if not another word for spirit?
So, while the manner in which Mrs. Stein had chastised me and slightly embarrassed me would have pissed off most people, I simply smiled demurely and said, “Yes, ma’am.”
Most humans don’t realize how much better and easier their existence would be if only they could control themselves enough to pick battles wisely, to have the confidence not to always be heard, but to hold one’s tongue.
Anyway, my response pleased Mrs. Stein, because she gave a single, righteous nod and held her hand out to Sam. “Samantha?” she said.
With obvious reluctance, Sam placed her hand in her aunt’s, and the rest of the company follow suit.
“Would you like to lead the prayer, Samantha?” Mrs. Stein said.
Sam’s jaw was set, and I knew her well enough to know that when she got that look, she was immovable. “Not really, Aunt Patty,” she said.
Aunt Patty’s mouth dropped open, and I could tell that whatever she was going to say next would only serve to add further tension to the situation. There were clearly dynamics here I was not privy to.
Before Sam’s Aunt could speak however, I interjected. “Mrs. Stein,” I said, meeting her gaze, “It would be an honor if you’d allow me to lead the prayer, ma’am.”
This clearly surprised her, but after a moment of staring into my earnest face, she nodded and bowed her head. The rest of the party did the same.
“Dear Lord,” I said, “Thank you for the food before us. We ask that you bless us all with happiness, h
ealth, wealth, and wisdom, so long as we are worthy. Amen.”
“Amen,” replied the others.
Sam quirked an eyebrow at me, her aura gleaming gratefully, and I gave her a wink that further improved her mood… but it would seem her aunt was one who consistently did not make the going easy.
Things were quiet for a few minutes as we all dug into the feast Sam had ordered out. I concentrated only on putting as much food into my mouth in a manner that would not offend the others present, and loved every second of it. Forget the presents, if every human holiday boasted food such as this, I’d been seriously missing out.
I wasn’t really even aware of the little jabs and thinly veiled judgmental statements someone like Mrs. Patricia Stein was always making, because I was lost in a glorious sea of gravy, floating on clouds of cornbread stuffing, reveling in the bliss that is the first bite of a deviled egg (I’d never known the wonder of a deviled egg, and now I was sure I would be begging Sam to make me some everyday). I’d never had a meal such as this one! I was certain if I dropped dead in the moment, I would’ve died in pure happiness. There was so much of it that there would likely be leftovers!
As I ate, all my troubles seemed so far away.
Eyeing the blueberry pie in the center of the table, I was wondering if Sam had gotten any vanilla ice cream to accompany it when Mrs. Stein snapped me out of my thoughts.
“So what is this mess about a masked vigilante running around the streets of Grant City?” Aunt Patricia asked. “They keep mentioning it on the local news. The Masked Maiden, they’re calling her… More like a menace, if you ask me.”
My jaws froze mid-chew, my eyes darting to Sam, her reaction mimicking mine. I reminded myself to be cool and swallowed down my bite of food, making a little more effort to hide the cuts and bruises on my knuckles.
Mr. Stein spoke up for the first time; he was a quiet, stoic man whose aura told me he let his wife drone on because he had mastered the art of tuning her out.
“That’s right,” he said, looking up from his plate, his balding head gleaming under the light hanging above the table. “I read about the Masked Maiden in the paper just this week. Grant City seems to be depreciating as of late.”
