Spencer's Cove

by Missouri Vaun

  “What are you afraid of?” For the first time, Foster realized that Evan wasn’t just being an angry jerk. She was worried, possibly scared.

  “Any time this much power is endowed, someone wants to take it for themselves.”

  “You think someone might try to hurt Abby?”

  “It’s possible.” Evan crossed her arms over her chest. “I’d rather be prepared for the worst than get surprised by it.”

  Foster nodded. She actually agreed with that approach.

  “I’ll sleep in the chair in Abby’s room. Wake me if anything happens.”

  Foster stood and took a few steps toward the door before Evan spoke.

  “Hey, Foster…”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m on your side. In case you had any doubts about that.”

  Foster nodded, even though she still had her doubts. “Good night, Evan.”

  The house was quiet and mostly dark, except for a lit sconce partway down the hall, as she made her way to Abby’s room. The almost life-sized sculpture of a majestic buck cast a long dark shadow across her path. All the sculptures along this hallway gained an ominous presence in the low light.

  Her head was spinning from all that Evan had said. Sleep would likely elude her as she replayed the day’s events. She’d stopped by the guest room first and changed into a T-shirt more comfortable for lounging. She also brought a book with her, one of the volumes she’d borrowed the first night, a collection of poems by Keats. When she reached Abby’s room, she sensed that something wasn’t right. The lights were off, but there was enough ambient light from the lamp in the hall that she could just make out the outline of Abby beneath the covers. She wasn’t sure how she knew something was wrong, she just did, almost like a sixth sense. She knew as clearly as if Abby had spoken to her from across the room.

  “Abby?” Foster set the book on the bedside table. She walked to the side of the four-poster bed. Abby’s eyes were closed, but she wasn’t asleep. Energy radiated off her. “Abby?” Foster whispered her name again.

  When Abby didn’t respond, Foster climbed onto the bed, letting one foot keep contact with the floor. She didn’t want to crawl into bed with Abby without an invitation and was acutely aware that she’d probably already crossed some boundary of intimacy just by touching Abby while she was asleep.

  When she put her hand on Abby’s shoulder, an undulating pulse of electricity traveled up her arm. The sensation was oddly similar to an experience she’d had at church camp one summer when one of the do-it-yourself deacons had accidentally crossed wires on the hot water heater so that if you were in the shower and stood on the drain and under the spray at the same time while holding the handle, you’d get a low-level electrical charge. This sensation was very similar, noticeable, but not painful. However, Abby’s furrowed brow told her that she might be in pain.

  “Abby?” Foster spoke a little louder.

  Abby moaned softly and pressed her fingers to her temple. She drew her knees up to her chest under the covers and rolled away from Foster.

  Instinctively, Foster moved all the way onto the bed and spooned against Abby’s back. Abby rocked against her. Foster encircled Abby with her arms and squeezed.

  “I’m here, Abby. What can I do to help?” More electrical current vibrated off Abby. Foster could feel it, and the muscles in her arms twitched, but she held on.

  To her surprise, Abby rolled toward her, wedged her head under Foster’s chin, and her face against Foster’s neck. Abby’s lips brushed against Foster’s skin, sending shivers down her spine.

  “I’m here, Abby. I’m here.”

  ***

  This was too much. Everything was too much. Abby had retreated to her room, her sanctuary, only moments before the headache overwhelmed her like a tsunami. But something was different this time. She wasn’t alone in the dark place. She sensed a presence. Someone held her. In the strange, otherworldly murkiness of the dreamscape, it took her a moment to realize that someone was Foster. She couldn’t see Foster’s face, but she knew with certainty that Foster was there and that the physical contact between them was keeping her from getting lost. Foster was grounding her, a lifeline, a way back.

  As before, she heard voices. A growing hum of many voices, like the loud murmur of an airport terminal. Around the edges of the ethereal landscape, dark figures gathered, not menacing necessarily as they undulated along the horizon of her view. One tall, slender, obviously female shape separated from the mass of swaying figures and slowly approached. The woman was only visible in silhouette until she drew closer. Aside from the vision with Mercy on the ship, this was the only time someone had presented themselves clearly to Abby in one of her painful visions.

  Other smoky, ghostly shapes hung along the margins of her vision, and the headache was still there, thundering in the background like an approaching storm. Abby squinted and tried to focus on the advancing figure.

  “Hello, Abby.” Some of the woman’s features were unclear. It was hard to tell anything about her clothing, except that she wore some kind of black draped clothing, which only made her pale, narrow, elegant face more ghostlike. Did she have long dark hair or was it something else that swirled in slow motion around her face? Abby felt no movement in the air around them.

  “Do you know me?”

  The woman’s words sent goose bumps up her arm.

  Abby shook her head. Obviously, the woman could see her also, because she’d called her by name.

  “You will know me soon.” The woman was taller than Abby by a few inches. She pressed into Abby’s personal space. “I am coming for you.”

  “Who are you?” This woman was menacing, and Abby was suddenly afraid. Instinctively, she squeezed Foster’s hand, reassuring herself that Foster’s presence was still with her, even though she couldn’t see her.

  “Your keeper cannot save you from this.” The woman held Abby’s face in her hands. Her fingers were icy and seemed to lengthen around Abby’s throat like tentacles. “I will see you soon.” She kissed Abby’s forehead.

  Abby tried to speak but couldn’t. She tried to free herself, but the tentacles had morphed into something else, an ever-expanding tangle of tree limbs or roots covering her face. She couldn’t breathe. She was being pulled under. She felt Foster’s fingers slipping away. And then she heard a faint sound pierce the murmur of noise.

  “Abby.”

  Her name, faint, but distinct.

  “Abby.”

  She closed her eyes and focused on the sound of her name.

  “Abby.” This time louder.

  She concentrated on Foster’s voice.

  “Abby, wake up.”

  When she opened her eyes, she was in Foster’s arms, in her room. It was dark, probably late. Foster brushed strands of damp hair away from her face.

  “Abby, are you okay?” Concern was evident in Foster’s question.

  “It was a dream.” Abby faltered, her throat was dry. It was more than a dream, but she wasn’t sure exactly how to explain.

  “Apparently a bad one.”

  Foster reached for a glass of water on the bedside table and handed it to Abby. She tilted her head up to take a few sips and then dropped back to the pillow. The headache was receding. Like distant footsteps, the pounding was beginning to ebb.

  And then she remembered.

  Foster had been there, with her, in the dream. Foster had been her way back.

  She met Foster’s gaze. The moon, from the window, was a speck of white in her dark eyes. Abby became acutely aware of their bodies pressed together, of Foster’s arms holding her protectively, of the warmth of Foster’s skin, the pulse near her exposed collarbone, and her lips, slightly parted, as if she were about to speak.

  Abby angled her head up just enough to kiss Foster. At first tentatively, not much more than a brush of light contact. She waited to gauge Foster’s reaction, which seemed to be surprise. She’d only ever kissed one woman before, in college, with catastrophic fallout. Not that
Elissa had minded the kiss, but the static discharge that resulted from the physical contact had thrown Elissa across the room and scared Abby. Scared her so terribly that she hadn’t acted on a physical attraction with anyone since. But this was somehow different. She’d just kissed Foster and there’d been no event. No electrical storm, except the one snaking through her nervous system. She wanted Foster, badly.

  She kissed Foster again, and this time Foster kissed her back.

  As Foster invaded her senses, she forgot to be afraid.

  Abby was under the covers, while Foster was on top. Their bodies were pressed together, but the covering was an unwanted barrier. She tugged at the comforter without breaking the kiss, trying to indicate that Foster should join her.

  Foster fumbled with the covers, but finally managed to shimmy underneath. Abby snuggled against Foster’s shoulder, in her arms. She tilted her face up. With eyes closed, she brushed her face against Foster’s cheek. Foster’s skin was soft, warm, and smelled of something sweet, vanilla perhaps. Abby rotated her body so that their legs became entwined, Foster’s thigh was between her legs, and she shifted against it. Her skin was on fire. She had the strongest urge to rid herself of her clothing and make love to Foster. Only, she’d never been with anyone like that and didn’t know where to begin.

  Her eyes were still closed, but she felt Foster’s lips press against hers. She opened up to Foster. Their tongues danced lightly as Foster tightened her embrace. Foster’s mouth was hot against hers, and Foster’s hands began to roam under the hem of her T-shirt and up. Foster’s hand grazed the outside curve of her breast, and she exhaled sharply against Foster’s mouth. Their closeness was causing the most exquisite pain deep inside, a need to be touched, to be loved, to be possessed.

  “Abby.” Foster whispered her name in the darkness.

  She blinked and pulled back, as if hearing her name had broken some trance she’d been in.

  “Abby, you’re so beautiful.” Foster feathered kisses along her neck as she teased Abby’s nipple under her shirt.

  Abby covered Foster’s hand with hers. She didn’t necessarily want this to stop, or did she? Her head was in conflict with every other cell in her body at the moment. Her head was reminding her that less than forty-eight hours ago she’d wanted Foster to leave. Now she wanted nothing in the world more desperately than Foster in her bed. Was this change of heart because of what had happened in the graveyard? There was an intensity to Foster that she couldn’t ignore, or was the intensity hers and Foster only its focus? It was impossible to know. Everything was getting all jumbled up as Foster shifted her thigh more firmly against her sex. She tightened her legs around Foster’s and rocked against her.

  ***

  Evan stayed in the kitchen for a while after Foster left. She needed a few minutes to think. Foster was smart. She’d asked all the same questions that Evan would ask if the situation was reversed. The only problem was Evan didn’t have all the answers. In truth, she was unsettled and she couldn’t put her finger on exactly why.

  After staring into space for about a half hour, she trudged upstairs.

  She wanted to check on Foster and Abby before retiring to the adjoining room. The bedroom door was ajar, but the lights were off, so she knocked lightly. A rustling of covers signaled they weren’t asleep. Once again, she felt like a chaperone, which was not the role she wanted to play. She was a little older than Abby, but she and Foster were about the same age.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” She spoke from outside the door.

  “It’s okay. Is something wrong?” Foster asked.

  “No, nothing like that. I was just checking in. Sorry I bothered you.”

  “It’s no problem.” Abby sounded like she meant it. “Sleep well, Evan.”

  “You too.”

  Evan settled into the room next door. As she took off her shirt, she realized she liked Abby, really liked her. Because Abby was a candidate, she’d tried to keep some distance between them, but Abby had stolen past her defenses. Maybe that was one of Abby’s gifts, breaching defenses. She’d watched Abby do it repeatedly with the horses she sheltered.

  Abby had a sweetness about her that was hard to resist. Obviously, Foster was having a hard time resisting. She didn’t really know what she’d interrupted, but it wasn’t hard to imagine the sexual tension building between Foster and Abby. Transitioning was like going through adolescence again, but worse. Abby’s desire for sex would only increase, and transmutation would whip her hormones into a frenzy, kicking her libido into overdrive.

  I hope Foster can handle it.

  She couldn’t help smiling as she sank farther under the covers. Foster seemed capable enough, for one of those nerdy bookish types. Foster didn’t seem completely inept anyway, so that was good news.

  Evan had no idea what it felt like to be a keeper. She’d known a few, but not well enough to ask personal questions about their connection to their bonded witch. Not all witches became sexually involved with their keepers, but some did, and the connection between them when you were around them was palpable.

  Evan wondered what that felt like. A deep, soul connection with another person. She’d like to find out…someday.

  ***

  Foster was frustrated by the interruption. Although it wasn’t Evan’s fault. How could she have known? Even Foster hadn’t anticipated this and she’d known she was attracted to Abby from the first moment she saw her. Abby’s wounded, soulful blue eyes, her remote shyness, her unspoken cry to be saved, all of it was like a drug for Foster. Abby was Foster’s type six ways to Sunday. Yeah, in every way possible. And she might have been able to tamp down her attraction if Abby hadn’t kissed her, but that first tentative kiss had stoked a flame Foster had been tossing water on since she’d arrived.

  Evan’s interruption had ruined the moment.

  Abby kissed Foster on the cheek and rolled away from her, facing the wall. Foster wasn’t going to be so easily dismissed. She scooted close, spooned against Abby’s back, and draped her arm around Abby’s waist.

  “Are you okay?” Abby’s abrupt shift away from her was almost painful.

  “I’m fine. I…I shouldn’t have let things go so far.”

  “Things didn’t get very far.” Not nearly far enough, from Foster’s perspective. Nothing more than a sweet taste of possibility.

  Abby rolled over in Foster’s arms. The expression on her face was so serious that Foster felt bad for making light of things. She really wasn’t taking any of this lightly.

  “I hardly know you, Foster, but I want to do things with you.” Abby hesitated. “Things I’ve never done with anyone.”

  Was Abby saying she’d never had sex with someone before? That seemed highly unlikely.

  “I’m not sure what you’re saying.” Better to ask than assume, or guess.

  Abby looked away for a moment, as if she was embarrassed by what she’d revealed. When she turned back, Foster could see the wet path of a tear on her cheek catch the moonlight from the window. Abby wiped it away with her hand.

  “Foster, I’ve never been with anyone like this before. I don’t know what’s happening, but before, when I’ve been close to someone I’m attracted to…things happened, people got hurt.”

  “Hurt how?”

  Abby sighed and covered her face with her hands.

  “The last time I kissed a woman was in college. We were in a park, under a tree. It was dusk, and we’d been lying on a blanket talking for hours.”

  “That sounds terrible.” Foster was trying to lighten the mood by making a joke.

  “It’s not funny.” Abby uncovered her eyes and looked at Foster. “When we kissed there was a flash of light and an electrical surge, and Elissa was thrown several feet away.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to joke at your expense.”

  “Elissa assumed that we’d been struck by lightning and I didn’t correct her.” Abby paused. “I didn’t tell her the same thing had happened before.”
>
  “When?”

  “I was a teen and I kissed a boy on the beach.” Abby paused as if she were visualizing the past. “The EMT said it had to be lightning that time too.”

  “But you knew that wasn’t the truth.” Foster brushed Abby’s cheek with her fingers.

  “If it had been lightning, why wasn’t I hurt…that’s what I kept thinking. Deep down I had this feeling that it was my fault.”

  “You were just a kid—”

  “A kid with the beginnings of strange powers she didn’t understand.”

  “Hey, that was the past. You didn’t hurt me.” Foster stroked Abby’s arm. “I’m holding you and kissing you and I’m totally fine.”

  “I know, and that scares me, because I have no idea what’s going on.”

  Abby rolled away again, but she let Foster hold her. Foster kissed Abby’s hair. She wasn’t sure what was happening either, but for some reason, she wasn’t afraid of it.

  She held Abby as she transitioned to sleep. Abby’s breathing was deep and even, her energy calm and restful. Foster felt it was her duty to keep a vigil until Abby drifted off. She listened to the sounds of the Pacific. The ebb and flow of the distant surf were soothing. Her libido eventually eased off the accelerator. The rhythmic crash of the waves against the rocky cliff and the warmth of Abby snuggled in her arms lulled her to sleep.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Abby directed Boots to the path along the cliff. The morning was pristine. The marine layer had chosen to sleep in and hovered at the horizon, hiding the curved edge of the earth from view. The sea was a dazzling azure blue, reflecting back the brilliance of the cloudless sky above.

  How could her mood be so dark on a day such as this? She blamed the dream.