Ethereal Ties

by Elara Skye

  Finn recalled the weeping angel on his television screen, whose human was killed for that very purpose. For conquest. He resented Amelia a little for what she represented, as her very existence implicated the potential of that fate befalling him as well, should anything happen to her. And once she was gone, Finn’s eyes drifted to the glittering skyline instead, where he could see the towering complex he lived in. With a frustrated growl, the quiet of the Ether ruptured as Finn flew out of the area, landing on the rooftop moments later. He made his way down the stairwell and into the building, slamming the door of his penthouse.

  Alaric was already home—as expected—and was draped lazily over the leather couch. He barely flinched at the door slamming shut, too busy clacking away at the controller in his hands.

  “What’s got you huffing?” Alaric mumbled absently.

  “Nothing.”

  The air surrounding Finn was thick. It didn’t take long for Alaric to catch the foulness of his mood and pause his game. “Doesn’t sound like nothing,” he said. “Seriously, what happened?”

  Finn speared a hand through his hair and dropped it back down to his side. “You know how I’ve never been hitched?”

  Alaric furrowed a brow. “Yeah, what about it?”

  “It happened tonight.”

  Silence.

  “You got married?”

  “No,” Finn scowled. “I got a human, Alaric.”

  “Oh—shit.” His partner’s brows shot up. “That’s even worse.”

  “Yes, I’m aware.”

  “This happened just now? Tonight?”

  “At the church.”

  They stared at each other for a moment, absorbing the information fully. It was the first time Finn had said it out loud, and Alaric cringed a bit. “Well…that sucks, man. But I mean, I did tell you to stick it out at the party. Maybe it wouldn’t have—”

  “Seriously?” Finn interrupted. “You want to say that to me right now?”

  “Okay, sorry, sorry.” Alaric threw his hands up. “Who is it, then?”

  “That bartender from last week.”

  “Bartender?” Alaric repeated, and his features lit up when it dawned on him. “The hot slice from a week ago? Seriously?” He chuckled at Finn’s continuously solemn expression. “Oh, you lucky son of a bitch.”

  Finn leveled a flat stare. “This is serious, Alaric.”

  “It was until you said that.” He sat back against the couch. “Poor you, having to spend more time with her. It’s all about perspective, my dude.”

  “I think you mispronounced ‘avoidance.’”

  “Too late for that, buddy.”

  Finn narrowed his eyes. “How do you know that? You’ve never even been a guardian before.”

  Alaric turned over on the couch. “Don’t have to. I still know you won’t be able to avoid her.”

  “Why not?”

  “Lazar had a human a few years ago, said it was like an alarm bell in his head.” Alaric shrugged. “You don’t have to help them, I guess. That’s what he told me. But it’ll take a toll on you if you don’t.”

  “I have some autonomy over it, that’s all I’m taking from that.”

  “Well, that’s not what I said.” Alaric paused again, tossing the controller away. “He said there’s always a reason that it happens. Maybe you’ve just got to find out what she needs from you, and deal with it.”

  “She could ‘need’ any number of things, for any amount of time.”

  “Right, so go figure it out.”

  “How?”

  Alaric shrugged. “Fuck if I know. That’s your job. Get to know her or something.”

  “Get to know her?”

  “Yeah.”

  Finn huffed. “Again, how?”

  “I don’t know. Good start might be getting her to hang out with you.”

  Finn stared at his partner for a moment, realizing that in all the years he’d spent on Earth, he never cared to foster human friendships. The prospect didn’t seem complicated, but it would undoubtedly be a new experience for him. Connections and acquaintances were part of the industry game, but friendships were another story.

  “So,” Finn went on, “am I supposed to just ask her to be my friend?”

  “Sounds simple enough.”

  “And if she says no?”

  Alaric shrugged. “Then you’re in deep shit? I don’t know.”

  Finn groaned, spearing a hand through his hair. “Speaking of deep shit,” he mumbled. “Any news on that demon?”

  “The early collector? No. It’s been quiet so far.”

  Finn clicked his tongue. “Figures.”

  “We’ll snuff him out sooner or later. We’ll probably have to do it ourselves, though.” Alaric quieted, his face sinking the tiniest bit. “Before things get out of hand.”

  Finn doubted that they would. Unrest was frequent among the demons. Humans selling their souls was also nothing new, even if it did fluctuate in numbers here and there. There was a time when Finn cared less about the matter altogether, but maintaining his enterprise and lifestyle became part of the equation. Obstacles and problematic figures needed to be removed.

  Though now, there was the issue of the guardianship, and who knew what kind of obstacle that would pose?

  Amelia Varis.

  No—Amelia var Hart.

  Not exactly a name that rolled off the tongue. Finn preferred Varis.

  Chapter Five

  Figure skating was a rich man’s occupation, something Amelia had discovered precisely three years ago. Private lessons were no longer feasible, so she was left without her ticket access to a rink. Nor could the ice itself could be rented with the contents of her piggy bank. Since hiring a coach was no longer a solution, Amelia became one herself, once a week. After class, the rink would be open for her usage. It’d be freshly groomed, and no one would be around to spoil it until morning.

  Today, however, was the morning of New Year’s Eve. Classes got canceled on account of low attendance, which meant she had the early hours to herself all week—an opportunity she wouldn’t pass up. They were the perfect opportunity to blow off a little steam and clear her head.

  Hindsight was twenty-twenty, and a little bit of distance from Christmas Eve also proved beneficial. True, it ended strangely, but Finn Regis was the proverbial rabbit hole, and it was best that they broke it off the way they did. No point of contact to tempt her back into the dark ages.

  To add to that, despite his undeniable charm and her obvious attraction to him, Amelia wasn’t entertaining romance these days. Nothing beyond the occasional one-night stand. Nor would she consider starting anew with him, of all people. After all, who knew what kinds of skeletons that man hoarded in his closet? Especially if he could palate business as usual with someone like her father. She also didn’t need professional connections—for now, at least, Amelia enjoyed her bartending job and didn’t need to be anywhere else.

  It would’ve been a needless temptation on multiple counts.

  And with that in mind, things did turn out for the best—all swept under the carpet. Forgotten. A chance encounter that came and left like nothing ever happened.

  Standing at the edge of the rink, phone in hand, Amelia blinked away the image of Finn still leaning on the bench—a vain attempt to think less about their encounter, since the conversation was haunting her relentlessly. With a brisk exhale, she wiggled her shoulders and swiped across the screen, navigating to her favorite song. A violin solo began, echoing a bit through the tiny speaker she brought with her. An hour later, there still wasn’t a single passerby to look inside and see her gliding across the smooth ice.

  ...or falling when she attempted her second axel jump.

  Thankfully, her knees and ankles weren’t hurting murderously hours later—that would likely start the following day. Come noon, she was showered and relaxed, and her muscles pleasantly conditioned as she salivated over the aroma of her freshly baked New Year’s pizza. It was a pure pepperoni specimen,
and Amelia proceeded back to bed with it ritualistically. Nyxie was waiting patiently on the edge of the bed and blinked lazily up at the woman—the way every cat did when their personal butler approached.

  Plopping down onto the soft mattress, Amelia looked at the dainty creature sitting in the corner, narrowing its eyes at the hot food. A staring contest ensued as she slowly reached for the remote—as expected, Nyxie lifted a paw the moment Amelia looked away.

  “No.” She swept her hand back, jabbing a finger in the cat’s direction. “Don’t you dare.”

  Nyxie stopped, blinking humorously as she settled back into place.

  Amelia grabbed the remote quickly and flicked on the TV. “That’s right.”

  Following that harrowing battle, Amelia took down the entire pizza within an hour. And after blowing through a whole season of her favorite TV show and hundreds of different poses on her bed, Amelia finally admitted that her do-nothing plan wasn’t entirely cutting it tonight. She was restless enough to get into the shower an hour later and be out the door an hour after that—off into the wicked night.

  Never mind the fact that downtown was as wild, icy, and loud as she expected, it was also the busiest she’d ever seen it. Bright lights and thrumming music enhanced the intoxicating amalgamation of the senses, but Amelia set her mind on a different type of intoxication. Specifically, the alcoholic kind—just a little to take the edge off and sober up in time to drive back home.

  Her boots sank into the sloshy ground as she trekked down the blocked-off street, with icy gusts and flakes of snow brushing against her cheeks. There was a smallness to her existence—an invisibility amidst the crowd—and she found it endlessly amusing that everyone around her was so shamelessly drunk. Of course, why wouldn’t they be? All of them were out with friends, having a good time, welcoming the new year together.

  Amelia scanned them absently as she filed through the crowd. Until a pair of bright, green eyes popped out, stopping her dead in her tracks. Her insides tightened, growing stiff and cold in the winter air.

  No way...

  She gave the familiar face a double and a triple take, taking several seconds to fully confirm who she thought she saw.

  Tall, poised, sharp features, bows softly arched, keen eyes—green as spring.

  Dressed to impress, Finn Regis loomed behind a group of posh-looking men. People from work, she assumed, one of whom was Alaric—who, judging by his mirthful expression, seemed to be having a better time than his boss was.

  Finn happened to glance through the crowd at that moment, pausing when he noticed her hovering in place—creepily standing out, no doubt. Her anxiety piqued as surprise and recognition bloomed in tandem across his features. He’d been at the tail-end of the group and took a second to meet her stare, seemingly making sure that she was also who he thought she was. Her breath hitched as he suddenly straightened up to move in her direction, without the slightest hint of reservation—Amelia immediately sank into her jacket nervously, crossing her arms over its furry collar.

  Finn smiled as he drew near, slating his hands into his pockets. “Amelia.”

  “Hi, Happy New Year.”

  “And to you.” He chuckled. “What are the odds? We’ve got to stop running into each other like this.”

  “Yeah,” she laughed. “Seriously…”

  Seriously—what were the odds?

  “How’s your night so far?” he asked.

  “Not bad, yours?”

  “Also, that.” He glanced over her shoulder. “Are you here alone?”

  “Yeah, my roommate’s still out of town on holiday break.”

  Don’t have any other friends?

  Amelia and Cat didn’t entertain much, but when they did, they were always her roommate’s friends. Coworkers were the second-best thing, but all those friendships never left the bar. Though it wasn’t until that moment that Amelia realized just how antisocial she’d been lately—people had to make friends somehow, and no one did it by being a recluse.

  “I see,” Finn muttered reluctantly, glancing behind him. “Well, I’d invite you to come out with me, but I’m afraid my group has some prior commitments.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I was just going to go down to the bar and mingle.”

  His grin faltered a bit, but only for a moment as his gaze flickered in the bar’s direction. It was just quick enough for her to catch it. “Well, I’d be remiss not to wish you a good night, even if I can’t tag along.”

  There was enthusiasm in his sentiments, but Finn’s overall demeanor didn’t quite line up. He didn’t seem inclined to acknowledge how they’d parted ways last time.

  Amelia was, however.

  She began, “Hey, you know, I’ve been wondering about something all week…”

  “What is it?”

  “Were you okay last time?”

  Finn tilted his head, looking uncertain. “Sorry, what do you mean?”

  “On Christmas Eve. You left pretty abruptly, I wasn’t sure if I did or said something wrong, or if you were feeling okay.”

  Comprehension dawned on him. “Oh, no, that wasn’t you—not at all.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry, I was just feeling a bit ill. I didn’t mean to concern you with it—believe me, you were lovely.”

  The compliment plucked a heartstring, and Amelia nodded slowly. “Okay, well, I’m glad you’re feeling better. I guess I’ll see you around.”

  “Actually, could we keep in touch?” he asked suddenly. “I’m sorry—I know it’s a bit sudden, and that this is very odd timing, but I’ve been thinking about it all week as well. I regretted not asking sooner.”

  He seemed eager. If not for the weather, the paleness of Amelia’s cheeks might’ve sharpened to a generous pink. She quickly answered without thinking, “Yeah sure, that’d be fine.”

  A brief moment passed where nothing happened until Finn’s eyes widened with a snap. “Oh—right,” he muttered as he fished around for his phone, padding up and down his coat before retrieving it from an inside pocket. “Here,” he said, unlocking it for her.

  Finn’s hand was exceptionally warm as it brushed hers. “Cool.”

  Amelia bit her cheek a little to suppress the nervous energy, triple-checking to make sure she’d entered the correct number—briefly wondering when and how her earlier rationalizations had been tossed out the window.

  “Thanks,” Finn said when she handed it back. “I’ve, uh, got to get back to my group, but I’ll be calling you sometime if that’s alright.”

  “Sure. Have a good night—and be safe,” she added quickly.

  A warm smile feathered across his features. “Thanks. You too.”

  Amelia took a deep breath, gripping her own pocketed phone as she turned and walked away—half expecting it to buzz already—and resisted the urge to look back over her shoulder.

  She felt so present before that conversation—so sure of herself—and now, Amelia couldn’t quite tell where her brain had packed up and gone off to. Just this morning, she’d been convincing herself that this wasn’t for the best. That it was better to keep her distance and disinvite the distractions that accompanied Finn’s friendship.

  So much for that...

  Still, his charm and mannerisms didn’t change the simple fact—which, with time, was likely to undo her momentary lapse of judgement—that Amelia rarely liked the men her father was affiliated with. There were exceptions, of course, but it was infrequent to get to know them and discover that they were honest people. As narrow-minded as it was to judge anyone prematurely, experience demanded the necessity of caution. Like attracted like, and discovering the truth was often a gruesome matter—people never showed their true colors willfully. Someone had to get screwed in the process.

  Though, what did it say about her, then, that Amelia managed to stay among them for so long? For all the fraud she witnessed and thinly veiled offenses against the law, what did it say about her? Perhaps she wasn’t one to judge, but she could always ignore Finn’s call if it
was really so concerning. Even if that call was one of the rare ones that didn’t come from Cat, or a coworker looking to get a shift covered. There was always the option to ignore it.

  Amelia continued through the crowd, groaning at her own indecisiveness. Her face warmed the moment she stepped into the bar, where she saw the usual triad of holiday bartenders: Jack, Margo, and their general manager, Pete. Just like on the street, the music was thrumming, and the lights were dim, creating a buzzing atmosphere for the patrons. It matched the pounding bass she felt as she elbowed her way to the bar, mildly regretting leaving her house as she struggled to get through.

  Once there, Amelia plopped unceremoniously onto an empty barstool and began watching her coworkers tend to other customers. It always felt strange to be on this side of the counter, facing the televisions, but it was also amusing in its own way. For one thing, it took some unabashed staring for Jack—her other best friend at work—to finally notice her and smile, flitting in her direction.

  “Hey stranger, Happy New Year!” Despite the loudness behind her, Amelia could hear and answer his celebratory wish just fine. “What’re you doing here?”

  “Cat’s still out of town, I’m going to see the fireworks and then go home,” she said.

  “Wanted a drink first, or what?”

  “Something light, I don’t want to get drunk.”

  “Sure. What do you want?”

  “Surprise me. Something on tap.”

  “You got it.”

  Jack was gone and back again with her drink, then off to take care of another customer. The crowd died down by the time she was halfway through the delicious wheat beer, absently leaning on her elbow as she stared up at the televisions. The groups on either side of her switched out twice and then diminished. Amelia was left looking down at her phone now and again, wondering if and when it would light up with a new message.