Phantom

by Laura DeLuca

  “Look at you. You’re a mess.” She gestured towards his face. “You’re bleeding.”

  Justyn looked confused at first, like he hadn’t even realized he was hurt at all until she pointed it out to him. He flinched a little as he gingerly fingered his broken lip. When he lifted his hand away and saw the bright red stain on his fingers, his already chalk white face turned an awful combination of gray and green. Rebecca only barely caught hold of his arm as his legs gave way beneath him. She did her best to gently ease him to the ground, even though he was almost twice her size.

  “Justyn!” She exclaimed.

  She was already digging into her handbag for her cell phone, sure that she was going to have to call for help after all. For a split second, she imagined him completely passing out, slipping into a coma, and never waking up again. She pulled the phone out of its casing, and was just about to start dialing. He stopped her before she hit the first digit. Then he gently pulled the phone free from her fingers, closed it back up and handed it to her.

  “I’m okay. Really.”

  Was it her imagination or did he actually sound a little sheepish? Well, it didn’t matter. She wasn’t falling for it.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “I swear that I’m fine. It’s just that I’m . . . .” He looked like he was fighting back the urge to gag as he looked at the blood on his fingers again. “I’m not really good around . . . blood.”

  If he wasn’t so pale, he might have blushed. Rebecca felt a little relieved, and had to smile, even though he was completely mortified by his confession. She couldn’t resist the urge to tease him just a little.

  “You’re afraid of blood? What kind of vampire are you?”

  Now there was no denying the fact that he looked sheepish. He was even pouting a little. “The kind that’s a vegetarian.”

  She actually laughed out loud which coaxed the smallest of smiles out of him. “Okay, tough guy, stay here. I’ll get something to clean this up before you go and pass out on me.”

  Rebecca ran across the hallway to the nearest ladies’ room, grabbed a few paper towels, and wet them under the sink before emerging to play Florence Nightingale. Justyn was sitting on the hallway floor, with his head between his knees. Somehow seeing him so wretchedly human for the first time since they had met made her want him that much more. She smiled as she knelt down by his side, and gently lifted his chin. He grimaced a little as the cold water stung the open wound.

  Rebecca gave an exaggerated huff. “Come on, now. Don’t be a big baby.”

  He certainly would have smirked if it wouldn’t have made the bleeding worse. She noted with slight humor that he actually kept his eyes closed while she dabbed the blood away, and didn’t open them again until he knew the stained paper towels were disposed of. After tossing them into the nearest wastebasket, she gave him the go ahead to open his eyes.

  “There now. All better?”

  Justyn notably grimaced as she helped him to his feet. She felt his hands tremble, so she knew he was a far cry from better. But he didn’t complain as he tossed a few textbooks into his bag. Rebecca chewed her lower lip nervously as she watched him. Actually, studied him would be a better way to describe it.

  “Can I drive you home?” Rebecca asked when he headed toward the door without another word. She wasn’t sure what to make of his attitude. She liked it better when he was talking, even if it was sarcastically.

  “I’ve got my bike.”

  Rebecca felt her mouth fall back open and wondered if it might be possible for it to get stuck that way. “You can’t ride a bike home. You’re hurt.”

  He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

  “You hit your head pretty hard. What if you have a concussion? What if you pass out or something?”

  “I said I’m fine.”

  He actually had the nerve to sound annoyed about her concern. That of course made Rebecca annoyed, and she considered leaving the stubborn jerk to his bike and going back to practice. She even stopped dead in her tracks for all of thirty seconds. But then her feelings for him overwhelmed her pride and she started following him again, feeling like a lovesick puppy dog following a grumpy master that might just kick her to the side. But she was glad that she held her ground. Because when Justyn bent down to unchain his bike and than made a valiant effort to climb up onto the seat, he couldn’t deny anymore that he was hurt worse than he was letting on. The bike fell to the ground with a loud clank, and he very nearly doubled over, clutching his side and gasping for breath.

  “Justyn!”

  Rebecca ran up and put her arm gently around his waist, careful not to hurt him worse as she helped him to stand upright. He didn’t fight her. In fact, he leaned heavily against her as he tried to even his breathing. But he still wasn’t ready to completely let go of his stubborn pride.

  “I’m . . . fine.” He insisted.

  “The fact that you’re normally extensive vocabulary has been reduced to two words is all the proof I need that you’re not fine. Now let me see.”

  At any other time, Rebecca would have been just as shocked as Justyn at her own audacity as she pulled his black t-shirt up to see his injured side. But she was too startled by the awful skin discoloration she saw to feel any shyness. She was pretty sure her own face turned as gray as his, and she found it almost funny that he was suddenly trying to comfort her.

  “It’s okay,” he said soothingly. “Really. It’s not a big deal.”

  “So you’re a doctor now?” she asked, once she had recovered the use of her vocal cords.

  “It’s . . . aghhh . . . .” He bent over again. “It’s . . . nothing.”

  “You’re a little off on your acting today. You’re not convincing me.” She gave him a hard stare. “I think you need to go the ER.”

  He shook his head firmly. “No.”

  “No?” If she weren’t afraid that she might have hurt him worse, she would have slapped him silly.

  “No,” he repeated. “Just take me home. Remember, I told you my mom’s an EMT. She’ll know what to do. I don’t need to go spend hours sitting in the ER.”

  Rebecca was a little appeased, but only a little. She still thought a doctor was better than an EMT. But he wasn’t giving her a choice, so she had to agree. “All right. But I’m staying with you until she assures me that you’re all right.”

  He smiled a little, even though his face was still shadowed with pain. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

  Rebecca smiled back. “Maybe a little of both.”

  She wanted to help him to the car, which was all the way on the other side of the parking lot, but he insisted he could walk on his own. It seemed that Lord Justyn, for all his pretty poetic talk, had just as much pride as any other guy his age. But once they got in the car and pulled away, she saw him close his eyes and try to fight back a spasm of pain when he thought she wasn’t looking. It was almost more than she could bear to know that he was hurting, and that she was helpless to stop it. She did the only thing she could, and reached across the driver’s seat to take his hand. He accepted her small offering. Every time they went over a pothole, he squeezed her fingers so hard that she thought he might break them. She didn’t care as long as it gave him some comfort. She focused her thoughts on cursing whatever idiot had paved the stupid, uneven roads.

  Justyn gave Rebecca directions to his house, and she was pleasantly surprised to find that they lived only a few blocks apart. What she found even more surprising was that Justyn’s mother was pacing frantically up and down the driveway with a phone to her ear.

  Even without the elaborate belly dance costume, it was impossible to mistake her. Her long black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her navy blue EMT uniform didn’t make her look any less like a super model than she had when she was dancing. How weird was it to feel plain next to her boyfriend’s—well almost her boyfriend’s—mother? It was hard not be feel a little envious of her perfect figure and strange, exotic charm.

 
When Darlene saw Justyn in the passenger seat of the unfamiliar car, her face lightened with visible relief. She looked anxious as she ran up to the car. That anxiety deepened as she watched her son struggle to step onto the pavement.

  “Justyn! What happened? I knew something was wrong. I sensed it. I always know when you’re in trouble. Oh, Goddess, look at your face! Look at your beautiful face! Tell me who did this to you and I’ll make sure he knows all about karma and everything coming back three times.” Darlene gave new meaning to speed talking by giving that entire speech in a single, agitated breath.

  “Calm down, Darlene. I’m fine.”

  Rebecca felt like an outsider in an alien world as she stepped out of the driver’s seat and turned to Darlene. Maybe Justyn was going to make light of the situation, but Rebecca was going to make sure his mother had all the facts.

  “He fell off the platform on the stage.”

  “Fell, huh?” She gave Justyn a suspicious look. Then she turned back to Rebecca as though she knew questioning him would be pointless. “How high up?”

  “Maybe fifteen feet.”

  Darlene frowned. “Follow my finger with your eyes.” Justyn moved his eyes back and forth, following the path of Darlene’s hand, though he did it grudgingly. “Did you hit anything other than your head?”

  It was obvious that Justyn had no intention of admitting to anything, so once again Rebecca found herself answering for him. “He hurt his side.”

  Darlene heaved a heavy sigh. “Better come in the house and let me take a look at it. You come in too, Becca. I can use your help.”

  Rebecca didn’t think it was really possible that the darkly beautiful woman could need help with anything, especially not from someone as blasé as she was. She followed them inside just the same. She needed to know Justyn was going to be all right before she even considered leaving.

  Inside the house, it was easy for her to lose track of her thoughts. She might not have noticed as much if she hadn’t read Justyn’s Wiccan book. She saw evidence of witchcraft everywhere. There was a broom hanging on the door. Above the door was a plaque that announced “Blessed Be”, which was a typical Wiccan greeting. There were statues of the Goddess, displayed on shelves, in many different shapes and forms, and pentacles hanging from the walls. A black cat twirled around her ankles. But in contrast, there was an everyday sofa and loveseat combination in the family room. There was a television, too. There was no bubbling cauldron hanging in the fireplace. But there was still no way Rebecca could have walked into the house and not have known that someone unconventional lived there.

  “What’s all the commotion?” The new voice came from somewhere in the kitchen.

  “I told you, Matt. Didn’t I tell you something happened to him? I knew something had happened. And of course he never answers his phone.”

  Justyn shrugged nonchalantly. “I forgot to charge it.”

  “You’re always right about your premonitions, Darlene. But he can’t be hurt too badly if he still has a smart comeback.”

  A smiling, good-natured man walked out into the living room. He looked like a strange match to the Gothic mother and son duo with his shoulder length blond dread locks, hemp jewelry, and Guatemalan pants. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, and even that was pushing it. So Rebecca was a little surprised when he walked up to Darlene and kissed her on the cheek. She realized that the young hippie must be Justyn’s stepfather.

  Matt stepped away from his wife and circled his stepson. He examined Justyn’s bruises with concern. But when he spoke, he sounded more like an older brother than a father figure. “Got your butt kicked, huh?”

  Justyn rolled his eyes. “Thanks for pointing it out, Matt.”

  “Well, you still got the girl to come home with you.” He smiled at Rebecca and winked a green eye. “It doesn’t matter if you win the fight as long as you still get the girl.”

  Darlene punched his arm. “Keep your words of wisdom to yourself, buddy. I guarantee Becca isn’t going to be as easy a conquest as I was.”

  Rebecca’s mind was whirling from the unorthodox conversation. She still hadn’t quite gotten past the part where Justyn’s mother had realized something was wrong before they had even got there. It was a little creepy, but at the same time, kind of amazing. It made her really start to believe that magic—at least magic by Wiccan standards—really did exist.

  Darlene shooed Matt away and led them into Justyn’s room. She instructed her son to remove his shirt, which he did obligingly. He had no idea the effect his perfect, muscular chest had on Rebecca’s fluctuating heartbeat. Every muscle in her seemed to ache with unfamiliar longing as she watched Darlene examine him. She had to turn her eyes away, and look around at the gargoyle and dragon statues at the other end of the room, so her cheeks would stop burning.

  “Looks like we have a few broken ribs.” Darlene observed. Then she sighed in exasperation. “Only a son of mine could choose the drama club over football and still come home with broken ribs.”

  “It that something serious?” Rebecca asked.

  Darlene smiled at her concern. “It’s not the end of the world. They’re going to need to be wrapped. I know some doctors are against that now, but I still think it’s the best thing. It will at least make it hurt a little less. Hold on one second. I’ll be right back.”

  Darlene stood up and glided out of the room, leaving Rebecca alone with Justyn. He was trying exceptionally hard to play the tough guy, but it was one role he was having trouble mastering. His coloring was still pasty, and he grimaced almost every time he took a breath. Despite this, he was beautiful. His bare arms rippled with muscles; every sinew and curve of his chest was masculine perfection. Tom would have had a real fight on his hands if the railing hadn’t helped him.

  Justyn caught her staring, and raised an eyebrow. She walked a little closer, and sat down beside him on the edge of the bed. For the first time, she noticed the tribal tattoo laced around his upper arm in an exotic Celtic design. Rebecca was surprised. She didn’t know many people under eighteen who actually had tattoos.

  “Is that real?”

  He rolled his eyes again. “No, I drew it myself with permanent marker.”

  Rebecca couldn’t be angry about the obvious sarcasm. She heard the hint of laughter in the undertones. Besides, it really was a stupid question. She ran her fingers along the design, feeling that familiar jolt of energy run up her arm as soon as they made contact. She felt him shiver with unexpected pleasure, and was happy to see she could have the same dizzying effect on him that he always had on her.

  “Your mom let you do that?”

  He laughed, and then flinched because it apparently wasn’t a smart thing to do when you had broken ribs. “She helped me pick it out. Darlene is encouraging of individuality and self-expression. She would never do anything to hold back my creativity.”

  “Are you in a lot of pain?” Rebecca was too worried about the flinching to think anymore about the tattoo, even though she had to admit it was kind of sexy.

  “Only when I breathe.” She must have looked completely stricken because he immediately softened his tone, and leaned over to squeeze her hand. “It’s not that bad. Really. And it helps that you’re here. To know that you care.”

  “I do care, Justyn,” Rebecca whispered. “About a lot more than just your ribs.”

  He seemed surprised by her honestly, but if he was going to say anything—or perhaps declare his undying love, for example—the moment was ruined when his mother reappeared in the doorway with a roll of bandages in one hand and a steaming mug in the other.

  “I made you some willow bark tea,” Darlene explained as she placed the cup on his desk. “It will help with the pain. This will work better than any bottle of pills you can purchase at the drugstore. And it’s all natural, one hundred percent organic herbs.” She gently lifted Justyn’s arm out the way, and started to wrap the bandages around the darkening bruises.

  “What’s willow bark?” R
ebecca asked.

  “Darlene’s what some people would call a kitchen witch. She’s into home remedies and old wives’ tales,” Justyn told her.

  Darlene rolled her eyes. “Willow bark is just a plant. Mixed with feverfew and valerian and a few other choice herbs, it will help with whatever ails you. In this house, we’re not real big on pumping our bodies full of drugs. Though, I have to tell you, Justyn, by tomorrow you might want to pop at least a couple aspirin. If you think you’re hurting now, wait until you wake up in the morning. You’ll be lucky if you can get out of bed at all.”

  Rebecca didn’t like the sound of that. She didn’t like that Justyn was in pain at all, especially when it was at least inadvertently her fault. Darlene finally finished wrapping his ribs and left them alone. Rebecca hesitantly reached over to run her fingers along Justyn’s back, desperate to do something—anything—to ease his suffering.