“Not very hungry tonight?” he asked in a low, gentle tone.
Evie glanced at him, and then set her gaze back on her plate as she shook her head in response.
“Come here.” Calvin put his arm around her, brought her close against him.
As she let her arms encircle him, Evie felt his warm, muscular chest rise and fall. Rise and fall. Soon the tightness in him seemed to ease. When he kissed her forehead, she let out a deep sigh of her own, squelching the part of her that wanted to panic. No doubt she had abandonment issues like Dad always said, and she couldn’t let them get the best of her. Still, as Evie let her eyes close, she uttered a silent prayer that Calvin would stay by her side. Forever.
***
Crimson paint corrupted the canvas beneath Calvin’s brush, thick and thorough, spreading like a plague over the surface. Why hadn’t he left Evie alone? He’d received warning after warning and ignored them all. He should have walked away after the very first dream, while the name Evie Wylder conjured nothing more than a pretty face. Of course, she’d always been more to him than that. Everything about her had drawn him in–given him new breath, life and purpose. But now he could lose her. He shook his head, gritting his teeth so hard his jaw ached.
Plunging the brush into the clear, untainted jar, Calvin watched the blood-like swirls twist and dance in the water, cursing the filth that tainted it. He had done that very thing to Evie, and he hated himself for it. A torrent of rage struck, fueled him to clench his fist and thrust it straight through the canvas. “It’s not too late,” he muttered, smearing the wet paint from the back of his hand to his jeans.
Turning his back to the damaged mural, he sunk to the floor. Fiona said there was no use in even trying to breakup with Evie, but she couldn’t know for sure. A knot of determination rolled around in his head, gaining weight and momentum like a rolling stone. It wasn’t too late. He may still be able to set her free of it. At least he had to try.
***
“What’s bothering you, Eve?”
The sound of her father’s voice caused Evie to take notice of the wooden spoon in her hand. She eyed the simmering dish on the stove, began stirring the sauce once more, and tried to pull herself from the ill thoughts plaguing her mind.
“Eve?”
“Yeah?”
He stepped up beside her and nodded toward the sauce. “What have you got cooking?”
He’d redirected his question–a tactic she recognized. “Uh, it’s a peanut sauce. I’m making Asian noodles.”
“Smells good. Is it … just going to be us tonight or–”
“Yep. Calvin’s still in Moab with Parker. He said he’ll come by when he gets back if it’s not too late.” Whatever that meant.
It went quiet as Evie questioned her ability to confide in her father. He’d taken a seat at the counter, a comfortable distance away. “Hey, Dad? I’ve uh, got a question for you. About dreams. Recurring ones. What do you know about them?”
“They can be helpful sometimes, telling.” He left it there.
“Well, I’ve had this one that… ” Images of the nightmare flashed through her mind. Calvin’s pendant, her fierce desire to have it. The way it continued to drift out of reach again and again. “It’s pretty awful.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
“Maybe. You know that pendant Calvin wears around his neck?”
“I think I’ve noticed it before,” he said.
Evie turned off the stove and stirred at the sauce. “In my dream, it’s going to sound stupid, but the whole time I’m just trying to get my hands on that pendant. Because in the dream, it’s dire. Like my life depends on it. And no matter how hard I try, I can never quite get it. It just keeps … slipping away from me.” She shuddered. “I’m sure it sounds trivial, but I literally wake up in tears over it. And even after I’m awake, I want it more than ever. It’s weird.” She ventured a glance at him over her shoulder.
He cleared his throat. “Our unconscious mind is fascinating. It contains information we’re not always aware of. One thing to keep in mind is the objects in our dreams often represent something else. Do you know what I mean by that?”
Evie ran the sprouts under the faucet and shrugged. “Not really.”
“Let’s take your dream, for instance. Is there something in your life you feel is, as you put it, slipping away from you?”
Chills crawled over her skin as she realized what he meant–what the dream actually meant. It wasn’t something, rather someone.
She turned her back to him, clenched her eyes shut, and tried to control the quiver of her bottom lip. She wanted to give in to the pain, let the permeating sting consume her, but was too embarrassed, didn’t want her father to know just how defective she really was. First Mom, next Kelly, and now Calvin. She repelled the people she cared for.
“It’s just weird because …” Though she let the sentence die, she couldn’t stop it from finishing in her mind. Because they’d never had a weekend apart. And now suddenly Calvin wanted all this bonding time with Parker, and she hadn’t even seen it coming. It just came. Fast and sudden. A space between them, a distance she despised. She wondered if her father knew where her mind had ventured. If he knew that the thing she was losing–the very treasure escaping her grasp–was Calvin.
“There’s one thing I want to say,” her dad said. “And then I’ll let it go.”
Great. A lecture.
“You said in your dream, that your life depended on this item. If there’s anything you can take from this, I want it to be the knowledge that … well, that’s not the case. No one is so important that your life depends on them, Evie. No one.”
She gulped. Dad knew. He hadn’t said nothing is so important–he’d said no one.
“People come and go, Eve. It’s part of life. You have to live yours so it doesn’t revolve around someone else. So that your happiness isn’t dependent upon them, their actions, or even their love.”
She’d never pictured herself as the dependent type. It was just that she’d lost so much in her life. Calvin had come at just the right time. He’d somehow balanced it all out in a way that made her feel invincible. Like she could conquer any challenges life brought her way. Only she hadn’t imagined facing them without him.
As she let out a slow, burning sigh, Evie’s limbs grew heavier. The horrid truth repeated in her mind–biting like sharp, jagged teeth. No matter how much she hated it, no matter how much she wished it wasn’t true–Calvin Knight was slipping away.
Chapter Twenty-seven
“Aw, man, why don’t you do anything cool up here?” Parker kicked at the dirt. “Just a normal, stupid canyon. At least make it animated or something. This is boring as hell.”
“It won’t be boring once you’re getting your ass kicked, Parker, so just shut up.” Calvin focused on the ledge he’d arranged for Fiona. He brought it closer to the clearing so she could observe them.
“So what’d you tell Evie? This must be the first weekend you guys have spent apart in months. I bet she’s freaking out.”
“It is our first weekend apart. Not to mention that I hardly saw her all week. Sucks. I told her we were going camping, but that we’d be back tonight.”
Parker rubbed his hands over his face. “Does that mean I’ll actually get some sleep? Can’t believe how late we stayed last night.”
Calvin nodded. “I know. Let’s wrap it up by ten. I’ve got to see Evie.” A thick darkness clung to his final words–a sense of doom and guilt.
Parker helped Fiona onto the ledge. “So how would you like to come clubbing with me tonight?” he asked her.
“No thanks.”
“What? Why not?”
Fiona settled onto the rock. With her legs dangling over the edge, she smiled at him, silent.
“Forget it,” Parker said.
“Same thing today?” Calvin readied himself to create a few beefy brutes to wrestle with.
Fiona bit at her bottom lip. “Well,
something a little different, actually.”
“Aw, great.” Parker moaned.
“I’ve told you how I can sort of hear Jocelyn, right?”
Calvin nodded, remembering how tripped out he’d been by the idea that Fiona could actually tune in to that psycho’s thoughts.
“Well she’s deep into the plotting phase,” Fiona said. “Which means I’ve heard what she has in store.”
The pace of Calvin’s heart increased as he leaned in for the details, wondering how the latest developments would affect Evie. Hoping it wasn’t too late to break her free of it all.
Fiona swung her dangling legs in circles as she spoke. “Right now she’s testing people–exploring all the minds she can access. She’s searching for the most obedient follower she can sink her thoughts into. We call it nudging. Through nudging eager followers, Jocelyn can easily weed out the distracted ones and focus on the most driven and loyal.”
“So who is she nudging? Can you see these people?” The idea gave Calvin hope. They would have a huge advantage if they knew who was coming at them.
“No. In fact, I can’t connect well with her during the nudging process. Only for bouts in between. And that’s the down-side–I won’t be able to hear her at all once she’s narrowed down her candidates, because she’ll be nudging them constantly, keeping them under her watch. At that point, she’ll become silent to me.”
Calvin nodded. “So once she’s silent, we’ll know she’s about to strike?”
“We’ll know she’s got a few choice candidates. It could still take her another month or more; it’s hard to say. One thing I do know, is that she–or rather, the person she’ll possess–will be working with a dagger. Jocelyn practically worships the dagger. In her mind, it’s the tool that gave her passage to immortality. You remember she mentioned it in the letter, right?”
“Right,” Parker said. He’d moved in closer, hanging on every word.
“Anyway, she anticipates some sort of sacrifice, that’s a given. But she’s hoping it will involve one of you.” She looked at Calvin. “Have you seen an altar of any kind in your dreams?”
He thought for a moment as his latest dream came into fast-play in his mind. “Possibly,” he said.
Fiona nodded. “We’ll need a dagger, just one for now. And just one man as well. I want you to observe each other. You’ll learn quicker that way. As for the dagger, the one I’m seeing is ivory and gold, not that it matters. The handle’s about four inches, the blade adds another six inches or so.”
“A dagger?” Parker squeaked. “You’re kidding, right? What if we get stabbed? Couldn’t that kill us?”
Calvin thought back on the scars he’d been left with from their prior battles.
“Well, if either one of you gets pierced with the blade, Calvin will have to fix it,” Fiona said. “It’s your world Calvin, so you can manipulate the physical bodies in it as well as anything else. You’ll figure it out once we get to that point.”
Calvin caught sight of his brother’s face, eyes wide and full of panic. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
Parker’s jaw dropped. “Didn’t you hear that?”
“So.”
“So?” Parker broke into a pace, voice loud and heated. “Did you just say, ‘so’ to the fact that we’re probably going to get stabbed?”
“She said I could fix it, Parker. Get a grip.”
“Well, now I know you are gone! And you, too.” He waved an arm toward Fiona. “I mean, easy for you to say.” He changed the tone of his voice, high pitched and whispery. “Oh, um, yeah, you’re going to get stabbed with a dagger, but it won’t hurt that much.” With an angry glare at Calvin, he shook his head. “I’m out!”
Calvin’s temper flared. He strode over, grabbed Parker by the shirt and gave him one good shake before bringing him close. “This will be real soon enough, Parker. And there won’t be a damn thing I can do about it then. Here, I can fix it. So just man up.” Calvin released him with a shove. When he turned back to Fiona, he noticed the look of amusement on her face.
“O…kay,” she said, drawing out the word. “You guys ready for action?”
Parker patted at the dirt on his jeans–looking like a scolded child.
Calvin glared at him, daring him to speak out.
He didn’t.
Calvin looked back at Fiona, answering as their eyes met. “Ready.”
***
A knock came at the door that sent Evie’s heart into hammering rhythm. Fear clashed with excitement, caused an uproar in her stomach. He had come. That said something. Said that maybe all her doubts and concerns were unwarranted. That things hadn’t changed as much as she’d imagined. That maybe it was all in her head.
Calvin stood on her doorstep, more handsome than she remembered. She eyed the fresh wound on his face–a purple gouge across his upper cheek. “What’s this?”
“It’s just from hiking. Cut myself on a sharp rock while I was repelling,” he said.
She wanted to kiss it better, but worried he might stop her. The act seemed to be more intimate than she had right to be with him anymore, and the thought nearly cut the words from her throat. “Um, come on in.”
“I can’t stay,” he said.
Evie worked to keep the hurt off her face. The stubborn side of her wanted to ask him why he bothered coming at all. To tell him to get the hell out, even. But she wouldn’t. She had to see where he’d go with this. Let the evening run its course.
Calvin cleared his throat. “I just meant that I shouldn’t stay. I’m so tired, I’m afraid I’ll fall asleep at the wheel if it’s too late.”
“Of course,” she agreed.
Silence.
“Well, should we… why don’t I make us a treat,” she said, hoping to find the comfortable groove that used to exist between them.
“Perfect.” Calvin smiled.
Evie settled on crème brulee. She had some cream to use up in the fridge, and making it would take a while; that was good.
“This is my favorite part, right here.” She whisked the yolks. “See how dark they are now.” She continued to beat them vigorously, whipping the gold substance within the small, glass bowl. “Lighter now,” she said, stirring still. “And about right … here is where we want them. Pale yellow.” She pulled the whisk up to let the liquid slide off through the light. “I love watching the color change.”
Calvin’s eyes seemed sad as he studied her. “You know, I could watch you do this all day.” A hint of longing clung to his voice.
“Yeah?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
A strong burst of heat surged through her chest. She almost forgot about the pot she’d put on the stove. “Oh, the cream’s probably ready.”
“I hope you’ll always follow through with this–cooking I mean,” Calvin said, as she slowly added the cream to the yolks, stirring.
The words sounded final to Evie, and against her will, her hand started to tremble. She couldn’t think of what to say back, so she just narrated instead, like she was the host of some cooking show. “Now the vanilla.”
“You will, won’t you?” Calvin prodded.
When she met his gaze, Evie was struck by the sadness in his eyes. She bit at her lip, wishing she could stifle the streak of fear constricting her next breath. Fear that he’d leave her.
Silence followed while Evie poured the mixture into a set of ramekins and placed them into the oven. She looked at the clock. “Those will have to cool after they bake. Maybe I should’ve made something that was a little quicker. Are you going to have to go?” Her gaze washed over him. A rugged pair of work boots, beat-up jeans, and a thin tee shirt that seemed to show a more toned and muscular physique. She gulped.
He shrugged. “No, it’s okay.”
***
Awkward silence–that summed up the bulk of their evening together. Small talk–that covered the rest. Calvin seemed careful not to say any more than he had to. And even then, he only asked about school, Jessica,
Greg, and the kids. He even asked about Kelly and Tawny; it was maddening.
Yet he had said one thing that brought a smile to her face, helped her remember that it was Calvin she was talking to after all. It was when she was caramelizing the sugar on the crème brulee.
“You look hot with that torch, Babe.” He’d sounded like his old self again. Which made her miss him even more, realize just how different he’d been acting.
Evie hadn’t dared confront Calvin about the strange distance he’d placed between them. Too afraid to make it final. Part of her didn’t want to know.
She followed Calvin on his way to the back door, certain he’d turn around and tell her not to bother.
He did turn around, looked at her before speaking, “Come outside with me for a minute, will you?”
Evie’s heart skipped. “Sure.” She looked down at her hands, noticed the way they trembled, and made fists at her sides. She’d be okay, she told herself. Even if he broke things off with her, she would be okay.
The outdoor air didn’t feel cold to her, though she knew it was. Calvin took a seat atop the picnic table, let his legs hang over the edge. He reached for her, secured his warm fingers around her waist, and pulled her toward him.
Evie was surprised to see that he wanted her close at all. She shuffled one foot forward, hesitantly, then the other.
Calvin chuckled. “Come here.” He wrapped an arm around her lower back, pulled her more firmly against him. Laughter had coated his words, but once Evie was face to face with him, there wasn’t a trace of amusement left. In fact, the tightness of his jaw, the crease along his handsome brow gave hints of a deep sadness aching within him. There was something in his eyes that took Evie deeper, straight to his soul, revealing a more vulnerable side of him.
Heat flooded her heart, as if she could actually feel her love for him swelling within her, real, raw, exposed.
The mood changed as Calvin slid his hands up her back. “Evie Mae,” he whispered. He traced the warm tips of his fingers along the side of her neck, up to her face. It seemed as if he might kiss her. The hold he had on her was much too intimate for anything else. But Calvin rarely got lost in moments like these. And she’d been almost certain, only minutes ago, that she’d never experience another passionate kiss with Calvin Knight again. That he’d be leaving her.
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