“I left them in your room. It’s just two.”
Matt couldn’t possibly understand how frightening the contents of those boxes were. He still had both his parents living in the same city. “I’m not sure I’m ready to open them.”
“Your mom was awesome. Ignoring her memory is not going to make you heal any faster.” Matt poured a generous shot of Irish crème into the mug before sliding it over to her. “Take this. We can go through the boxes together if it helps. You can have a good ugly cry with me tonight.”
“Marry me, will you?” Tears were already beginning to form. And he was not only giving her permission, he’d offered to put up with her at her worst. She couldn’t ask for a better friend.
“I would, honey.” He winked as he held up his mug and took the first sip. “But you’re just not my type.”
“I’m good with an open relationship. I just want to lock this down.” She waved a hand between them. “You know. Because no guy will ever measure up to you.”
“Next time Josh is over, I need you to repeat that.” He pointed to the hall. “Now, go get those boxes, and let’s have a pity party.”
Looking just as ominous as the last time she’d laid eyes on them, the two banker’s boxes with Miranda’s name written on them taunted her, daring her to open them and reveal the cursed treasure inside. She set them down on the kitchen table and took a chug from her coffee for strength. “Where’s a ‘disarm traps’ spell when you needed one?”
“No games. This is the real world. Now, rip that band aid off!” Matt cheered.
Hands shaking, she sliced the tape around the edges of the first box. Dust poofed out as she lifted the lid, and her eyes settled straight away on an item she recognized. Right on top, folded neatly, her mother’s leather jacket. Tears could not be held in check as she pulled it out and caught a whiff of perfume. The notes of bergamot and tangerine had always been the essence of happy, bringing up her mood no matter how dark, but for the first time ever, they failed to elicit that response.
“That’s a sick jacket. Put it on,” Matt demanded.
She held it close, caressing the supple leather worn buttery soft through years of use. The inner lining had a few small tears and odd seams where hasty repairs had been made. But none of that rendered the jacket unwearable. Sage slipped one hand into the sleeve. The satin lining caressed her arms, inviting her to be its new owner. The other arm slipped in just as easily. She shrugged the jacket up over her shoulders, feeling it mold to her body as if it had been meant for her all along. She’d often asked to borrow the jacket, but mother had never let her. Wearing it now almost felt naughty. She told herself if she didn’t, the jacket would never see the light of day. And that would be a betrayal of her mother’s memory.
The approval in Matt’s eyes said he agreed. He cleared his throat and twirled his finger.
Happy to play model, she spun slowly for him.
More coat than jacket, it draped below her hips, ending just above her knees. A wide notched collar with buttons that started below her breast and a slight taper at the waist gave the coat a clearly feminine look.
No need for a mirror; she knew how awesome the jacket looked.
Loops left wanting for a strap of leather said there had once been a belt, but that had been lost years ago. After a round of applause from her roommate, she dug further into the box, hoping to find the missing piece.
Envelopes filled with documents, multiple passports from various countries, and a handful of pictures made up the next layer of her mother’s things. Each new artifact stung as she pulled them out to examine, but Matt was there with a nod of solidarity and a fresh shot of Irish crème for her coffee. Liquid courage to continue, though she had yet to feel even the slightest bit buzzed.
Tucked into the side of the box was an impressive-looking knife and leather utility belt.
“Damn. Mommy was a badass.” Matt whistled appreciatively, reaching in to pull out the belt before she could. He held it up, fiddling with the fasteners and opening the small compartments. “Shit. She’s got throwing knives in here.” He opened a pocket and pulled out two slim knives with a ring on the end.
“She was a weapons expert. One of ASSET’s best.” Sage remembered her mother in demonstration fights with her effortless grace and form, as if she were dancing rather than engaging in battle. Miranda had the reputation of being able to take down opponents larger than herself and disarm them without breaking so much as a nail in the process.
Below the belt lay a soft velvet cloth. Sage unfolded it and revealed more weapons: daggers– most likely meant to fit into the pocket of the weapons belt Matt had laid claim to– and some very odd-looking needles that were clearly not for knitting.
“Do you have dark pants?” he asked. “Maybe leather?”
Sage narrowed her eyes suspiciously at her roommate. She could see the wheels turning in his devious little brain. “Why?”
Matt waggled his eyebrows at her and held up the weapons belt. “You could totally pull off this outfit.”
“No!”
“C’mon. Give a guy his fantasy.”
All those years spent together – all the times she’d made passes at him when she was too drunk to know better – he’d been her rock. Never taking advantage; never judging. Matt was safe. He was gay. How could he now suggest this as a turn on? “Dude, seriously?”
“Eye candy, honey. A badass in leather is sexy no matter what the gender.”
Sage let out a very unladylike snort. “Well, in that case!” She’d deny it if asked, but part of her wanted to play dress up, to become that image of the dangerously hot chick in leather, if only for a moment.
Matt squealed like a girl and clapped his hands, offering to refresh their drinks while she changed.
Some leather pants, her best push up bra–too bad she didn’t have a corset handy–combined with a tight-fitting shirt under her newly acquired jacket gave her the look she was hoping for. She stepped into the thigh loops of the utility belt and then pulled it up to her waist, clipping it tightly.
“Something is missing.” Matt scrutinized her look. “Boots. You need kickass boots. You still have those black ones with all the belt buckles on them? Killer heels?”
Matt treated her like his personal doll, dressing her and pulling her hair into a severe ponytail. Smoky eyes and the reddest of red lipstick finished off the ensemble. By the end of it, even Sage had to admit she felt the part.
Hours passed as Irish coffee turned into full-blown shots. As much as Sage had drunk, it might as well have been water for all the numbing effect it was having on her. But the simple act of playing the part had been just the therapy she needed.
Matt succumbed to the long hours and alcohol and snoozed loudly, draped across the living room couch.
Still unable to sleep, Sage continued to look through the photos and memories her mother had chosen to save.
By the time she broke into the second box, all apprehension had faded, and she dove in with an eagerness to explore.
Buried at the bottom was a small sealed jewelry box. She opened it, and a handwritten letter bloomed from within, falling to the floor as it unfolded in the open air. Sage set aside the box and bent to retrieve the last words her mother might have written.
Sage,
I am so sorry for leaving you alone in this world. There is so much I wish I could have told you, so much I wanted to prepare you for, but it is not our way. You are not ready for the darkness in this world, but you must find strength in the days to come.
Our family is special. We all share an inner light that is passed down from generation to generation. Find the light within yourself and allow it to illuminate your future.
Remember that true strength comes from determination. Like your birthmark, you must find new avenues when one becomes blocked. There is always another way. Defeat is not an option.
When the time comes, you’ll understand why I had to remain silent. But know that I have never once left you vulnerable,
and even in my absence, I thought of your protection.
Enclosed is my final gift to you. Wear it close to your heart and you will never be far from the light we share.
Love always. Until the end of time.
Mom
“Way to be cryptic there, Mom.” For all the alcohol she’d drunk, her mind remained sharp, but her mother’s final message still felt like a riddle she couldn’t even begin to answer.
She retrieved the box that the letter had come with and found a necklace inside. The pendant matched the pattern of her birthmark down to the roots, but circling around it were symbols in a language she couldn’t read. Not the kind of jewelry she normally wore, but because it came from her mother, she immediately put it on. It hung from a simple silver chain, long enough to be worn under a shirt with the pendant to sitting close to her heart. Just as her mother had requested.
ELEVEN
The hangover she expected from drinking so much the night before never came, a small win that Sage didn’t dare to question as she popped out of bed and had a look at the clock. The day had passed her by in dreamless sleep, and her stomach ached for food.
Matt had long since departed, leaving a note on the kitchen table next to a bottle of pills.
Drink some OJ and take two of these. Doctor’s orders.
He really was the perfect man. She smiled to herself, thanking her lucky stars to have him in her corner. But juice and pills would not sustain her, and cooking wasn’t something mommy had ever had time to teach her. Her hunger demanded something much more substantial than a microwave dinner.
Sage popped down to her favorite neighborhood pub and claimed her regular back corner booth.
“Is lover boy meeting you here tonight?” Julie asked, as she came up with a beer and a bowl of chips to set on the table.
“What…No! Why would you…” Before Sage could finish her sentence, Mr. Blue Eyes himself strolled into the bar. “Shit!” Sage ducked behind a menu.
“You need me to run interference?” Julie asked with restrained laughter. “Or is that just nerves talking?”
Sage thought about it for a minute. Her eyes drifted over to his tight fitting grey shirt. A black canvas jacket, and loose cargo pants were a far cry from the secret agent disguise he’d had the last time they met, but he still walked in with a cocky swagger. Even his hair had casual slept-in waves, giving him a devil-may-care vibe that screamed bad boy!
Mr. Blue Eyes scanned the room, possibly looking for her. Damn. She was a glutton for punishment. Intuition said no. Do. Not. Engage! But the part of her still wearing leather pants and a push up bra–showing maximum cleavage desperately wanted a win. Just minor flirting over dinner was exactly the kind of ego boost she needed. “How about I give you a signal if he crosses a line?”
“Just order a white wine spritzer and I’ll know you’re in trouble.” Julie set down the mug of beer and dropped a bowl of chips on the table.
“What if I order a tequila sunset?” Sage joked.
“You’re on your own, babe.” Julie snickered and headed back to the bar.
Sage buried her head in the menu again, more to cover embarrassment than anything else. She stuffed chips into her mouth to stave off the growling in her belly, all the while trying to rein in her nerves.
“Found you.” He appeared above the menu, smiling as if he were part of some inside joke. “Looks like you’re up to girl code tonight too.”
The eagerness in his voice caught her off guard. This kind of thing never happened to her. She’d dated plenty of guys, not all of them good, but this one made her stomach do somersaults, and though she hadn’t eaten much, the pangs of hunger had all but vanished.
“Stalking me now?” The words came out of her mouth before she could stop herself, but not before awkward embarrassment settled into a nice bloom on her cheeks.
“Would you blame me if I said yes?” He slid into the bar as smoothly as he’d delivered the line, and her mouth fell open in stunned silence. “But something tells me you’re just as happy to see me as I am to have found you here tonight. And let me just say” – he waved a hand at her, his eyes devouring every curve the expensive bra highlighted – “Damn!”
“Name…” Words floated above her, but as if in a stupor, she couldn’t seem to grasp as many as were needed to form a complete sentence.
“I was hoping you’d ask. You left in such a hurry yesterday I thought I might have spooked you.”
“You did.” Sage found her voice, grounded in skepticism.
“I get that. I was here with a girl and then came and chatted you up. Looks pretty shady, huh?”
“You said it, not me.” She cracked a smile, and the pressure in her chest released. Nerves were bastards like that; tying her tongue while choking the connection to her brain, making real conversation damn near impossible. But playful snarkiness always came out with ease.
“Zack.” He set those icy blue eyes to work, daring her not to smile back at him.
“Sage,” she replied stupidly.
“I know,” he laughed.
“Did it again, didn’t I?”
He cocked his head to the side in an adorable little move that made him look like a confused puppy.
“Open mouth. Insert foot,” she replied.
“Nah, you’re just bolstering my ego a bit. I’ll enjoy the compliment.”
Julie wandered up. “Can I get you two something?”
“Yeah, maybe another beer,” Sage responded, hoping at some point alcohol might effectively shut down the nerves. If not, she was doomed to sound like the village idiot all night.
“And for you?” Julie asked Zack.
He waved away the question like a buzzing fly. “Nothing for me now.”
“Not thirsty?” Sage asked.
“Maybe later,” he replied slyly.
Julie met Sage’s gaze for a moment, silently questioning whether or not she was okay. Always looking out. Sage set down the menu, butterflies filling the space where hunger had once been, and answered Julie’s concern with a nod.
Zack’s eyes followed the movement of her hands, and she caught the familiar light in his eyes as they landed on her wrist. Not wanting to have that conversation again, she sent her hands to rest in her lap, under the table.
“So, tell me about you,” he asked, after a moment of uneasy silence.
Small talk. She cringed at the thought. Inane conversation meant to fill empty space. That was the worst. She would almost rather discuss how much her birthmark looked like a tattoo over topics like the weather or where she saw herself in five years. But, as she met his eager expression, she knew he was just doing the awkward first date type thing, fishing for something to start a real conversation with, so she tossed him some bait. “I’m a time-traveling alien from the planet Gallifrey.”
“Where’s your big blue box then?” he replied, without missing a beat.
Geekery was something she could talk about for hours. His speedy response gave her hope. Maybe he was just as much of a nerd as she was. Good looks and good taste might even knock Matt out of his place as Mr. Perfect. “You passed the first test with flying colors, but how do I know you’re not an imperial spy or something?” she shot back at him, silently daring him to answer incorrectly.
“I am one with the Force.” He smiled back at her. “And among my other affiliations, I’m a Browncoat, as well as part of the rebel alliance.”
“You sound like a proper nerd.” She laughed, feeling more at ease than she had all evening.
“I aim to misbehave.” He waggled an eyebrow at her.
“Before I entrust you with my secrets answer me this.” Sage paused, reaching back into her databanks of nerdy trivia and catchphrases for something truly obscure. “What comes after second breakfast?”
“Elevensies, of course.” He laughed, and she caught sight of those brilliantly white teeth. Clearly a man who took care of himself. “Then luncheon, and afternoon tea.”
“You don’t need
to know much more about me than that.” Sage took a swig of her beer. “I’m a total nerd.”
“I don’t know a man alive who doesn’t appreciate a woman who knows her sci-fi or fantasy.”
“Oh really?” She snorted in disbelief. “Should I bring up the Princess Bride then?”
“As you wish! But only if I can counter with Labyrinth.”
“Marry me.” She snorted, and immediately realized how bad that was to say in a first date situation. She said it to Matt all the time, knowing it could never be misconstrued, but the awkward pause that followed slammed her right back into reality. “I mean, you’re like the perfect guy. Who knows the classics, am I right?” Her backpedaling didn’t stop Zack from looking like a deer in headlights.
“You have to have some appreciation for the fantasies of man,” he replied slowly, his wording catching her a bit off guard. “Truth is stranger than fiction, they say, so where do people come up with the Goblin King, for example, or trolls or vampires, for that matter?”
Sage shrugged, having never really given much thought to it. Fantasy was just make-believe. “Reality is kind of harsh, I guess. We need some kind of escape.” The idea of trolls being real had never been a consideration before, but then she had just witnessed her boss turn into one the day before. What if all the stories she loved had a basis in reality? What if they had been written by people who could actually see them? What had that guy Grey called himself? A Terra? If she had any writing ability of her own, she’d put her story on paper and see if it were worth selling. For that matter, if all of it was true, where was the Doctor? Because she could definitely use a timey-wimey, wibbly-wobbly big blue box to help her escape the awkwardness that had developed during their silent pause.
“Escape is such a perfect word.” His tone sharpened.
She’d probably scared him off, so she offered him an out. “Feel free, if you need to.”
“I would, but only if you’d join me. I came here hoping that I could convince you to give me a chance. We don’t have to go out to a club or anything. Maybe just a walk. There’s a park nearby.”
“What’s wrong with sitting here?” Her suspicions returned, setting her internal alarms off. Not even five minutes in, and he was already angling for them to move to a new location.
A Weapon Of Magical Destruction Page 8
