by Ashley Black
My writing playlist switched to Cellrager. Shit. I pulled my headphones out of my ears at once and groaned; too late, his blistering hot dark voice was already in my mind. I scrolled through and found something else to play, and was about to resume my novel when all the lights went out in my house.
I freaked, and hit the button on my remote to lower the security blinds straight away - something I should have done earlier, but I literally got lost in another world when I wrote. I slammed my laptop shut – whoever was out there didn’t need to know where I was. I buzzed through to security. Nothing. I tried again. Nothing. I heard laughter outside. Banging on the windows. I scrambled beneath the table, and shimmied across the room to the little panel showing the security cameras in the linen closet. And my heart froze.
Folk in black gimp masks, at least twenty, I counted, prowled around outside. I heard the door handles being turned at either end of the house (I had all of them dead bolted, of course), some feet thundering across the roof. My mind was racing along with my heart. I bit my lip, thinking hard; was there anyway they could penetrate the house? I heard glass breaking above me. Fuck. Skylights in the study upstairs, of course. Shit. I closed off the first floor as best I could and looked for a place to hide. I had already alerted the police, then I deliberately set off the house alarm to create confusion. As it happened, the insistent jangling bell sound was only enhancing my own. I grabbed my phone and called Brett; he picked up on the first ring. I hadn’t expected that. “Elena!” he shouted down the line.
“I didn’t know who else to call!” I cried.
“Is that the house alarm?” He sounded concerned; I heard his car keys jingling.
“Yeah. I set it off, I’ve tried to alert the police – it’s Thorn’s fucking minions. I made it clear there was no future with their messiah today, and they’re right pissed. Please help me. I think they’re going to kill me. They seriously think I’m a witch, and I’m going to fucking kill him or something. Please! Help!”
“Find something to use as a weapon, anything… and hide.”
“There’s twenty of them out there at least, be careful!” I warned.
“I’ll be careful,” he assured me, sounding amused, although I didn’t know what the fuck was the slightest bit amusing about this situation right now. A weapon, a weapon… my eyes found the medieval sword I had bought for Brett’s birthday, and I scrambled to the wall it was mounted on. Who was I kidding? I had no idea how to use that thing, much less lift it – it weighed a freaking tonne. Shit. I guess a knife would have to do. I hated sharp pointy things, and was loathe to use one. But I grabbed the biggest badass kitchen knife I possessed, and a water gun – it sort of looked real, I reasoned. I tumbled into a closet and shut the door quietly, hearing more glass breaking above. After ten minutes that seemed to last a lifetime. I heard a door fly open on the lower floor, and then the most brilliant amazing sound, Brett calling my name. Brett. Here.
I fumbled my way out of the closet, my terrified gaze lifting to see Brett standing there in the doorway, wearing a black bandanna over his nose and mouth, he motioned me forth, he was already holding my bags. “Quickly now – distraction only, but I tear gassed the stupid little fuckers.”
I filed away for future reference to ask him why an artist had that type of gear on him. He slammed a mask over my face, and pulled me after him as we made a run for it out the door; around us we saw folk groaning, some convulsing on the ground, clouds upon clouds of smoke surrounding the house.
I sped to the passenger side of Brett’s jeep and slid inside; he caught my hand briefly and squeezed it, and then was reversing quickly down the drive, spinning the wheel hard to turn us around. Someone leapt on the windscreen.
I screamed.
“Fuck this!” Brett braked sharply, and the motion threw the person off, then he accelerated and someone dropped from a fucking tree and landed on the bonnet. Brett roared, reached out, grabbed the gimp mask dude by the back of the neck, and simply hurled him from the car.
What the what now? He was channelling the Hulk. I had never ever seen Brett act this way. I was gratified and terrified all at once. Who was this man?
“Call him.” He was trembling with rage.
“Who?”
“That stupid prick, Thorn, call him.”
“Brett, I don’t think” – I started.
He shot me a look.
I dialled.
Thorn answered at once. “Elena,” he slurred; he sounded drunk.
“This is Brett Argosy, fuck face. I just wanted you to know I will fuck you up if you send your stupid little minions to terrorise my fiancé again.”
“What? I don’t understand. I haven’t sent anyone to do anything. Your fiancée, as you put it, blew my heart to pieces today. She is a fucking witch. I keep drinking to numb her out, but I keep feeling her, man. She won’t go away. I won’t rest until-”
“Just stay the fuck away from her, you hear me?” Brett interrupted.
“You can’t stop me,” Thorn laughed a little hysterically down the line.
“Try me, fucker,” Brett snarled, and ended the call.
Meanwhile, I was breathing hard, my heart was hammering in my chest – Thorn wasn’t in the car but he may as well be, the man’s voice was enough to put me in a permanent nonsensical spin of nauseating terror and desire.
“He sounded fucked up,” I said eventually.
“Yes,” Brett sighed, shooting me a pained look. “What did you do, Elena?”
Twenty One
Brett was staying at a hotel. He hadn’t really found any accommodations yet since moving out of my house. It was a nice, clean, well-kept room, aside from the spare bed that had his work spread all over it; he had moved it next to the work desk in the hotel suite to form an L shape mess of art.
We had said nothing to each other since he asked me that question in the car. I couldn’t answer it. In a way, I don’t think it really needed answering. I think Thorn’s unhinged state was enough of a clue about what I had done.
While I ran a bath, I heard Brett order some room service for us to arrive later, I hadn’t eaten yet, and I heard him select our guilty favourite, nachos with extra cheese. I heard him crack open two beers; Corona, another favorite. He rocked my world right now. When I finally slipped out of the satin red gown, I heard a startled gasp behind me.
I cast a look over my shoulder.
Brett was leaning against the door frame in a black pair of sweats, muscled torso bare, dark blonde hair slicked back hanging straight to his shoulders, his brown eyes narrowed on me as he squinted into the murk. I had moved the bedside lamp into the bathroom, preferring its soft warm ambience to the harsh fluorescent hotel lights. I heard him fumble for the light switch. “Elena, what’s wrong with your-”
“Don’t!” I said, but the bright harsh unforgiving light had already illuminated my naked body.
“Sweet Jesus!” Brett’s eyes widened as he took me in. “Elena!” His voice trembled. “What did he do to you?”
“You know I bruise easily,” I muttered.
“Not like this. The man is an animal.”
I blushed. There were no words. Brett had spoken truth.
“Are you…?” Brett fumbled, and he switched off the light again. “Are you all right? I mean, seriously. You and that prick’s relations are all over the news, and now I see he left your body black and blue. Aaron mentions fucking date rape. How are you holding up in all of this?”
I was speechless. I couldn’t breathe. Why should he even care?
“El?” Brett crossed the room and gently took me in his arms.
I hesitated before I felt my arms rise up and hold him. Really hold him. Really feel him. Just focusing on the sensation of the familiar press and warmth of his body to mine.
I wanted to cry. It was like coming home. I had been too distracted. I had been careless. I had nearly lost the love of my life. Perhaps I still had. Still this simple comfort he offered me was more than I could b
ear right now, and then he asked, “May I bathe you? Don’t think me odd. I just want to do this for you. I want to take care of you.”
I nodded, unable to speak for the lump in my throat. I was ultra numb. I slipped into the bath, he lost the sweats and followed, then carefully settled behind me, his legs spread out to the sides of me, encircling me gently. “Jesus, your back is messed up,” he muttered.
I flinched and remembered the tree Thorn and I had fucked against. Yes… at the time that had felt wonderful. I always loved myself a fierce back scratch, but the tree trunk had probably been a bit much. My skin had simply burned afterwards.
“Sorry.” Brett cleared his throat. “I’ll stop making these stupid observations.”
“Thanks,” I muttered. “I appreciate that more than you can know right now.”
He began ever so gently soaping my back. “Later I can do some reiki healing on this if you want. I think you will find it will make it feel a lot better.”
Tears were burning my eyes. At the moment, nothing felt like it was going to feel better for a very long time.
Brett froze, his fingers at my neck. “What is this?” he asked, and fingered the little raven necklace Thorn had given me.
Why the fuck hadn’t I taken it off yet? It made no sense. I made no sense.
“Thorn gave it to me,” I said.
“And you’re wearing it because?”
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. My voice sounded hollow.
“If I take it off, you aren’t going to burst into flames or anything, are you?” Brett sounded quite serious.
My brows rose. “Ummmm, he did say he had it magically bound by a practising Warlock. It binds him to me, so maybe he might burst into flames if it’s removed.”
Brett laughed bitterly. “Then, by all means, let’s remove this thing .” His hands moved to it, and then fell away. “Ow!”
“What?” I straightened, and looked at him over my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“When I tried to remove it, it sort of burnt me. I mean, did you feel its heat when I touched it?”
I shook my head.
“Well…” Brett hesitated, frowning. “I don’t normally believe in all of this supernatural bullshit, but I think we should get a second opinion on this thing before we just go removing it. Why in the hell did you allow him to put anything of his on your person in the first place?”
Flash of Thorn’s mouth, his tongue, his cock rose up in my mind. I squeezed my eyes shut against the assault of images, as if that would help!
“You know someone who can give us a second opinion?” I asked, surprised that Brett would have anyone in his circles that knew of magical lore and demented Warlocks.
“Yeah,” Brett said. “Sorry, it’s a bit awkward, but uh… Clarissa, she’s actually a white witch, she’s very good at this kind of shit. We should see her.”
I nodded. “All right.” I wasn’t the least bit surprised he had fucked another witch. Clearly, the man had a weakness.
“Have you tried to take it off?” he asked.
“I don’t want to take it off,” I said automatically, lifelessly.
“Did you just hear yourself right now?” Brett freaked. “He’s mind fucked you.”
I couldn’t disagree with that. I felt a vague flare of anger. Thorn was the practising warlock who had bespelled this piece of jewellery, I was certain of it. Great. I had just pissed off a very powerful warlock and rock star. Nothing to worry about at all. “We should get out of town,” I suggested.
“Why should we disrupt our lives because of that asshole?”
“I hear you, but I still think it might be a good idea to lie low for awhile, yeah?”
Brett was silent behind me as he continued to gently soap my back. Eventually, he relented. “All right. But we spend tomorrow night in the house before we say goodbye to it for a while.”
We. I liked the sound of that. I had started using it, and now Brett had as well. There was an unspoken agreement between us that we were in this together. I was very glad to have him on my side.
Later, as we rose from the bath, he wrapped me in a big fluffy hotel bath robe and held onto me tightly, his brown eyes staring straight into mine. “I still want to marry the fuck out of you,” he muttered, blushing.
I smiled. “I am so happy to hear you say that,” I breathed. “I mean, if you need time, I completely understand, of course.”
“I don’t need more time.” he traced his fingers gently along my jawline. “I want you, I’m done fucking around thinking about you.” Then he leaned in for a kiss. It was exquisite, like warm silk against my lips, he poured everything into that kiss, I felt how much he still cared for me in it, I deepened it, and he followed, we chased desire, I could not get enough of his mouth. I had always loved Brett’s kisses. We hadn’t nearly kissed enough before everything went to shit between us. I missed this simple but critical intimacy. Damn, he tasted so fine. I could do this, exactly this, all night.
A knock at the door signalled room service.
Brett groaned regretfully, lifting his lips from mine. “Let’s eat.”
Let’s eat each other! I wanted to fire back, but I wasn’t feeling in that kind of mood. I didn’t want to rush or push things with Brett. Just being with him again. This easy intimacy was the most soul-replenishing thing of all.
We lay on the king-sized bed, and fed each other the nachos, sipping our Coronas, and talked about everything and anything. Seriously, it was the most crazy range of subject matter, from aliens to Taoism, to how horrific witch movies were (except for “The Craft” - I had a soft spot for that), and how disappointing and fucking enraging it was that aging was almost always used as a revenge tactic for the evil witch bitch, to creativity, and back to aliens again.
“We should marry immediately, don’t you think?” Brett mused aloud.
I shivered. I couldn’t help but think of Thorn’s reaction to that. I didn’t want to provoke the man until I had a chance to talk with him again. I felt a pulling sensation in my gut when I thought about how I left him. My perfectly awful words. I felt I needed to explain myself to him. Hearing how messed up he had sounded on that phone call with Brett. I realized I should have just been straight up with him; my pointless cruelty, claiming I had only used him, had only antagonised him, and furthermore, he didn’t believe me anyway. I shouldn’t have done that. Not to someone like Thornton Darko. He was a man you didn’t want to be on the bad side of.
Then again, many would say there was only bad when it came to him. But I knew this to be bullshit. Yes, he was a little insane, incredibly fucked in the head, but he was misunderstood, and actually, when it got down to it, a brilliant musician who cared a lot about his fans, and people’s suffering, the human condition, that sort of shit. He felt way too much, he was incredibly arrogant, bratty, and a little entitled, but I believed his Father Bob, when he had told us on that boat his son had a heart of solid gold. No one ever set out intending to be a terrible human, after all. I had to believe that. I could be redeemed. Thorn could be redeemed. He would let me go.
“You haven’t answered?” Brett prompted me gently.
“I would love to get married immediately, of course, but I would like to sort some shit out with Thorn first.”
“You are not going to see him again.”
“I think I can get through to him,” I reasoned.
“Let’s not wreck this night talking about stupid shit I am not going to allow you to do. You are going nowhere near that man Elena,” Brett’s face heated. “If you care about us at all, you won’t do this.”
I swallowed. “Of course. I won’t do it if you don’t want me to.”
“Do you love him, Elena?”
My answer got stuck in my mouth for a moment. I shook my head. “No.”
Liar! My mind leered at me.
As we snuggled in close together, foreheads touching, our mouths sometimes brushing gently over each others, as we lingered over this moment, our
bodies, exhausted, yet stirred, pressing skin to skin like this, I eventually rolled over, smiling when Brett sighed happily, and pulled me closer to him. The heat from his body felt insanely good against my back, and other parts of me, I tried not to think about what it made me want to do to his body. I was physically and emotionally wiped out from today. Time to rest! My phone beeped on the night stand. Damn it! I needed to switch the thing to silent. I picked it up, and squinted sleepily at the message.
Thorn. Shit.
I need to see you again.
I answered with one word. No
Yes. I will find you. I meant what I said. I’m coming back for you Elena.
You are still FREE. Until you are not, you are MINE and I am YOURS.
I want to eat your face. I want to break you with my tongue. These are the things I think about, and the things I think about, I make happen.
Twenty Two
“This is bad.” Clarissa had barely looked at the raven necklace Thorn had given me before she delivered her rather bone chilling assessment.
I had met her in the Revolver bar for this opinion, and at her confirmation, signalled Billy the owner for my usual bad news drink, a vodka on ice with lime.
“Make that two,” Clarissa sighed.
I stared at her in surprise. It was 11am. She didn’t strike me as the ‘drink before the afternoon’ type of lady.
“How bad?” I asked as our drinks were set down before us.
“Very,” she affirmed. “That is some very fucked up old magic. Only Thorn can remove that necklace.”
“What happens if I remove it?” I asked.
“You can’t, so don’t even try.”
“This is ridiculous.” I reached, but sure enough, my hand refused to do anything other than close around it protectively and stroke it. Shit. I literally could not do anything but touch it.
