Sam flinches. “Say that again?”
“Please, I didn’t deceive you on purpose. I just wanted to…”
Sam strides across the hallway and crouches down in front of me. I press myself against the piano. “Laurel, what do I have to say in order to convince you that I’m never, ever, going to hurt you?”
“Then what did you want to say?” I ask in a hushed voice.
“Then I don’t know if you’ll ever get home and if I’ll be able to help you,” he softly says while stroking my hair.
I close my eyes.
Sam sighs. “We’ll talk about it later. You’re right; we’ve been away for too long. We have to get back before someone next door gets heartbroken.”
I open my eyes again. “Renee’s heart?”
Sam reaches for my arm to help me get up. “Don’s.”
I cry out and flinch away. Cursing, Sam lets go. His facial expression quickly changes from horror to surprise. “I barely touched you,” he says and lowers himself to the ground again. He grabs my arm and carefully slides up the sleeve of my cardigan. Inch by inch, the blue and purple marks on my upper arm become visible. Adrian’s fingerprints.
Sam stares at them and calmly gets up.
I push the sleeve back down. “It’s nothing. My skin bruises easily.”
In silence we walk back to the living room, which by now is obscured in semi-darkness. Renee lit tea lights and put on some music in our absence. She is sitting on the floor at Don’s feet, and slightly concerned, I curl up in my chair. This spontaneous sick call is quickly getting rather cozy—or at least for Renee it is.
Don looks at Sam questioningly, but Sam has secluded himself from us. He’s brooding.
I mingle into Renee and Don’s conversation and a lively discussion of the use—and according to Don, uselessness—of eating a vegetarian diet arises.
“Hey, Sampson!” Don calls out to his friend. “I’m being attacked by two vegetarians here, one of which is quite the activist—come help me out, man.”
Sam looks at me—as if I am the guilty one—gets up, and walks away. “Sorry, you’re on your own,” he says to his friend glumly.
Renee jumps enthusiastically to her feet. “I have an idea. You guys are staying for dinner. Laurel and I are alone tonight, and we can use some company, right Laurel?”
“If you say so.”
“I’ll run over to the brasserie to see what today’s special is. I’m pretty sure Martin will give us something.”
Don gets up off the couch. “I’ll help you,” he kindly offers.
Sam and I are left behind, and all of a sudden the room seems too small for the two of us—the air too thick to breathe. Our relationship is so insanely complicated that I don’t know what to do or to say anymore.
Sam is still gazing into the darkness and I get up and stand by him. I can’t help but instantly long for his hands on my skin. I don’t care if that hurts. I am hurt already.
“I asked you multiple times to stay away from him,” he says calmly. “I even ordered you.” He glances sideways. “Do you want me to get on my knees and beg you? Because I’ll beg.”
His words grab me by the throat. “No,” I whisper hoarsely. “That’s not what I want.”
“Do you even care about yourself?”
“Yes.”
He studies my face, maybe trying to fathom if I answered that last question genuinely. “Are you in pain?”
“Yes,” I answer truthfully.
Sam stands behind me and pulls my cardigan down over my shoulders. He leaves it stuck halfway down my arms so they’re strapped.
I glance sideways and catch his grievous look. “What are you doing?” I ask, whispering.
His palm lands on the bruised, stinging spot. He takes one step closer and pulls me against him. His scent and the feel of his skin make me lightheaded. His other arm wraps around my waist to support me. My head falls back and Sam slightly lowers his head. His breath caresses my neck. I feel like I’m in a daze, like he has put me in a light narcosis.
Lazily, I raise my head. Sam appears to be in a trance. His eyes are open, but I’m not sure he sees me. I have never seen his eyes shine quite this intensely. I have no idea what he is doing, but it feels celestial, and I don’t want him to ever let go of me.
The clinking and rattling of dishes and cutlery, Don’s abrupt voice, and Renee’s resounding laugh take me out of my zen-like state.
“Are you guys coming?” Renee yells from the kitchen.
Sam doesn’t move.
“I believe we’re expected in the kitchen,” I whisper.
He answers by resting his lips on my temple. “I miss you,” he mumbles.
I want to hold him, but my arms are still trapped in the sleeves. Sam clears his throat and pulls the knitted cardigan back up. He steps away. The golden glow in his eyes diminishes. All of a sudden, my arm starts to tingle and itch, and I can barely keep myself from scratching the skin raw. With a smile, Sam reaches for my hand and we walk to the kitchen.
With my fork I shove the samphire around on my plate.
“Not hungry?” I hear Renee ask. She’s looking my way.
“Huh?”
“You’re picking at your food.”
To please her, I put a crayfish in my mouth. I secretly smile when I see how Renee keeps praising Martin’s artisan bread, which Don and Sam politely keep turning down. I think it’s cute when Don finally puts a slice of bread on his plate.
Just like in the living room, Sam is quiet, and this time—now that the topic is all about student life—I don’t have much to add either since I’m a society outcast. Fortunately, Don and Renee have about a year and a half’s worth of conversation to make up for, so it’s barely noticeable. Personally, I can only think of Sam’s lips on my temple and about what he said.
Uneasy, I shift and notice Sam is staring at me. I can feel the heat of his gaze, and I take off my cardigan and look down at an unmarked arm. I had completely forgotten about my bruise because the pain disappeared. I look up at Sam and his left eye makes a rapid movement. What has he done?
My fork clatters on the plate and I knock over a bottle of water, which Don manages to catch in the nick of time. “Sam, I would really like to talk to you in the hallway.”
Renee rolls her eyes.
“Are you okay?” Sam asks in the dim hallway.
“More than okay, actually. I feel… great. Energized.”
“Fantastic. So can we now go back to dinner?”
“What did you do?” I ask. “Am I… I mean, did you make me…”
“Today, please? The food is getting cold.”
I square my shoulders and ask him, straight to his face, “Will I stay eighteen forever?”
His sensual lips curl upward at the corners. “You wish.”
“But my arm is healed. That’s impossible.”
“Did you really think I would destroy your life over a bruise?”
“I wouldn’t exactly call it destroying.”
“But I would. So can we now get back to the kitchen please, before they start asking awkward questions?”
Silently, we return to the kitchen and sit back at the table, ignoring the questioning looks.
“Lost your tongue?” Don asks his friend.
“No,” is Sam’s curt answer, while he takes my eyes into a constrictive lock again.
“Then maybe you can put in some effort to add to the conversation? We’re still on a sick call, which means you’re supposed to cheer up the patient, not stare her down.”
“Don,” I say, laughing, “I’m not a patient anymore. I don’t have any symptoms now. I only lost five hours of my life, but according to Sam I’m overreacting.”
“Ice cream, anyone?” Renee calls. She gets up and starts collecting the dirty plates. She is convulsiv
ely trying to hold on to the intimate atmosphere that she created all by herself. The candlelight and the rain that increasingly drums on the roof do the rest. What are we doing? “Martin’s homemade frozen yogurt is pure divinity. Right, Laurel? You tell them.”
I hum something inaudible, and at that moment the plates clatter into the sink.
Immediately on the alert, Don jumps out of his chair and almost takes the dining table with him. “Are you okay, Renee?”
“Don, look.” In one giant step he stands beside her. “Those intense colors… they’re amazing.”
“Yeah, they are,” he says less enthusiastic. He turns around and almost knocks Sam out of his chair. “We have to go, man. We don’t want to be late for our appointment.”
“What appointment?” Sam asks without taking his eyes off me.
“Our appointment with Auntie Iris.”
Sam’s features harden, and he exchanges a glance with his friend before looking out the kitchen window. He abruptly rises and nearly drags me into the hallway. Fear rages through my body. “Who is Aunt Iris?”
Sam frames my face with both hands. “You know who she is.” I desperately shake my head, but he doesn’t explain. “Stay inside today, and stay away from Adrian.” His kiss is hard and short. He rushes out the door, and Don follows suit.
Renee joins me in the doorway.
The guys slowly pull out of the driveway, but once out of our sight, we hear them pull up aggressively.
“This is what I mean,” Renee sighs. “This is so typically Don—taking off in the middle of a date.”
“This wasn’t a date, Renee.”
With a groan she turns around on her heels. “And he still smells good. Dammit!”
I stare outside where the gigantic, brightly colored arcs merge together, and for a moment I feel a sense of déjà vu. Puzzled, I lean against the doorway. I may not know who Aunt Iris is, but I do know that Sam’s look and the double rainbow don’t predict anything good.
35
laurel
It’s horrible weather and I have the house all to myself for a few days. Renee is on campus, and Martin and Mia are on a romantic getaway to celebrate their second anniversary.
I pull my beret a little farther down over my ears and pull my clothes tighter around me while moving through the crowd of shoppers. I shiver, feeling even colder when I think about how Adrian made it clear to me that there is no future for me and Sam, but that there is one for me and him—Adrian, that is. What did he mean? I should’ve told Sam about it instead of walking around with this nagging unease.
From beneath my beret, I glance at the pink townhouse. It looks cozy with the lights on. I have to restrain myself to keep from marching right in and demanding to know where Sam is. After his and Don’s sick call, I haven’t heard from him, and with every passing hour I worry more. Now that I know of Sam’s ancestry—and the parallel world he lives in—my online searches are less complicated. The combination of rainbow and Iris is enough to know that “Auntie Iris” called for them that night. Iris is a goddess and messenger of Zeus, which means that the big ruler himself has summoned Sam and Don. But why? For having a plate of Italian food with two mortals? And how about Renee and me? Do we now have to fear for our lives—to walk around always looking over our shoulders to see where the thunderbolts are coming from? I gaze up at the sky, but the only thing coming down is a light drizzle. I quickly slip into the health food store.
Inside, it smells like essential oils, and with a deep breath, I grab a basket from the pile and stroll along the racks and shelves lined with organic products. I am sick and tired of the daily specials at the brasserie, so tonight I am cooking a healthy dinner and I will be playing uplifting music. And I’ll light candles—scented ones. I’m sure I can find some pretty candles in here to get me into the spirit.
As I walk back to the car, the bottom of the paper bag rips open and bell peppers, an artichoke, and a lavender scented candle fall out.
“Ah, dammit!” With a curse and a sigh, I bend down to pick them back up. From my neck down, a chill runs through my body right through my bones. I feel his presence even before I see his dark silhouette looming.
“Need any help?”
I detect a thread of humor in his voice, and from between the strands of my hair, I peek at the guy who—as usual—is dressed in black. His hair is tied back in a ponytail, and his hard features are now clearly visible. I know—feel—that a cruel and malicious man is standing in front of me.
Adrian hands me the bell pepper that rolled away. “You want me to carry that for you?”
Without touching him, I grab the yellow vegetable from his hands. “No.”
“I’m really curious to see how you’re going to carry all that on your own.”
“I’ll find a way.”
He squats down and pushes my chin upwards. Something dangerous is lurking in the depths of his eyes. “Did you ask Sampson?”
My blood turns cold—I am staring into the coal black eyes of death himself, and I have no idea if he can be fooled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I pull my chin back and wedge the vegetables and other products into my arms.
“What if I carry those for you, and you…”
“Leave me alone,” I interrupt him.
“I have misbehaved, and I’m sorry. The last thing I wanted was to scare you.”
“It doesn’t matter, Adrian. It’s over.”
“No, Laurel, it’s not over. It’s about to start.”
I jerk my head back up. “What’s about to start?”
“You and me. Our time has come.”
“I really have no idea what you’re talking about. I have to go home. They’re waiting for me.”
“I think we both know you’re alone, Laurel. There’s nobody waiting for you at home.”
I blink. He’s watching me.
“It’s not easy to make you listen to me, Laurel, and since a date is out of the question, I’m going to tell you right here, and it’s going to shock you. I wish there was another way. I tried, believe me.”
I watch him carefully. Adrian is on a mission and he will not leave me alone until he reaches his goal.
“You are here on this island because of me, Laurel. You might think that your move to this place was your own choice, but it wasn’t. It was fate that brought you here.”
“My father lives here,” I hiss through my teeth. “I was born here.”
“True. And then you left with your mother, and now you’re back.” He pauses for a moment and looks at my expression, perfectly at ease. “Laurel, you are predestined for me. We are destined for each other.”
I don’t understand what he is saying. “Why are you following me?”
“You have been followed since you were born.”
We’re both still on the ground. People circle past us, looking down in amusement. I can’t swallow anymore.
“You can’t walk away from this, Laurel. No one can. No mortal and not even a demigod. It’s called moîra—fate.”
This is the first time the word demigod is mentioned between us, and it’s like a wake-up call. This is no longer a test to find out how much I know. This is Adrian laying his cards on the table. “What do you want from me?”
“The question should be: what do the gods want from us?”
I shake my head. “What do the gods want from us?”
“A child, Laurel. The gods want you to bear my child—a demigod. One of these days you will surrender to me, and if not—if Sampson keeps interfering with my business—he will suffer for it.”
Inside the house, I run from the back to the front and up the stairs to close all the windows and lock all the doors. Panting, I yank the curtains close. Overcome by paranoia I keep looking over my shoulder; everywhere I look I see death and triple nights.
Because my c
ell phone is still lying around somewhere in the bushes on Adrian’s estate, I grab the wireless landline phone and rush into my bedroom. My old school planner is still in my desk drawer, and I flip through the pages to look for phone numbers. I know Olivia’s number is in there somewhere. With trembling fingers, I dial her number. Almost crying in relief, I sink to the floor when I hear the sound of an angel.
Much quicker than expected, Olivia knocks on the backdoor, and I unlock the kitchen door to let her in. Her hazel eyes look worried—a look I have seen a dozen times before on her cousin’s face. I immediately lock the door behind her—I even double lock it, although I know that still won’t keep the devil out.
Olivia watches me with a furrowed brow. “What’s going on here, Laurel? Why are you freaking out?”
“I’m glad you could come over so fast, Olivia. I’m alone, and…”
I look at the sympathetic girl with the two identical marks on her forehead. She’s the daughter of the Goddess of the hunt, and I hope I am as safe in her hands as I am in her cousin’s. I rub my upper arms. Good heavens, I need Sam to calm me down right now, to tell me what Adrian said is a lie, but I fear the worst, because if Adrian told the truth it would explain so much: from me moving to the island to his tenacity in getting close to me.
I open my mouth a couple of times, but what I have to say is so gruesome and absurd at the same time that Olivia will probably think I’m a nutcase.
Olivia sits me down in a chair. “Take deep breaths first, and when you’re ready you’ll calmly tell me what is wrong.” She fills the kettle with tap water and puts it on the stove.
“I know who you are,” I say as calmly as possible. “Who all of you are.”
Olivia lights a pit. “I know you know.”
“You d-do?”
She turns around and smiles. “Sam and I share everything.”
“Oh.” Everything?
“Sam and I will always have each other’s backs, no questions asked. Whatever choices he makes—even though I might not support all of them—I’ll always protect him.”
A little while later, she puts a steaming hot mug of tea in front of me. “Feeling any better?”
House of Guardians Page 36
