[The Watchers 22.0] Everlasting Fire - Between Worlds

by SJ West

  I put my hand on Kaylee’s bulging belly. Normally, I don’t have to touch someone to know what they’re feeling, but since little Emma is still safely snuggled inside her mother’s womb I need the extra closeness to distinguish Em’s feelings from Kaylee’s.

  “She’s happy,” I report, cherishing the pure, innocent emotions emanating from my little niece. “And she loves her mommy very much.”

  Kaylee smiles and places her hand over the one I still have on her bump. “Thank you.”

  I bend over and kiss Kaylee on the cheek before turning back around to grab my purse off the table.

  “Don’t forget, we’re taking you out for your birthday tonight. So don’t eat a big lunch,” Kaylee sternly orders.

  I roll my eyes at her. “How could I forget? You’ve been reminding me every day for a month now about our big secret adventure. What do you have planned?”

  “If I wanted you to know, I would have told you a month ago. Just make sure you wear that dress you wore to the faculty dinner.”

  “So we’re going somewhere fancy?” I ask, doing my best to glean some tidbit of information about her plans.

  “Stop trying to make me tell you anything, birthday girl. Just do what the pregnant woman says so you make her happy.”

  “As you wish, Princess Butterball.” I bow in Kaylee’s direction, and get hit in the head with a wadded-up paper towel.

  “Ohhh, just you wait,” Kaylee says like a portent of doom, narrowing her eyes and pointing her index finger at me. “When you’re as big as a house with your first child, I’ll remember you called me that.”

  I laugh and wink at her before heading down the hallway to the front door.

  “And try to take a nap this afternoon!” she yells at my back. “We’re going to be out late!”

  I wave my hand over my head as I make my way out the door so she knows I heard her. After I get into my newly purchased silver Toyota Camry, I crank the engine and end up sitting in Kaylee’s driveway for a good five minutes, trying to decide where it is I want to go. I don’t really need groceries. I haven’t been able to eat that much in the past two weeks. In fact, I haven’t slept that much either. If I can just figure out why I have this feeling that I’m supposed to be somewhere specific, maybe I can get back on track and start living normally again.

  I put my car into drive and take off down the road, having absolutely no idea where I’m going, which is so unlike me. I always plan things out before I do them. Kaylee often picks on me for my obsessive-compulsive disorder, but I know she appreciates my organizational skills, especially when it comes to planning parties and vacations. She doesn’t have to think about anything when we’re traveling together. All she has to do is enjoy all my hard work. But, it really isn’t work to me. I feel happier when I know specifically what it is I need to do. I suppose that’s why I feel so unhappy right now. I don’t know what to do, and I don’t know how to plan for something I can’t figure out.

  I decide to drive around town for a bit to take my mind off my problem. Pecan Acres is a small city in Louisiana, no more than eighteen-thousand people living within its limits. If we want to go to a big city, New Orleans is only an hour away. My town has the basics: restaurants, a mall, a movie theater and, of course, every small town’s staple of survival, a Super Wal-Mart.

  I find myself driving down Bayou Road where the new and old moneyed families live. Some of the houses are old-style antebellum-era homes built in the Greek revival style, and some are newer, more up-to-date versions trying to imitate the historical homes but failing miserably. Personally, I prefer the older mansions. They have a sense of history locked into every nook and cranny, unlike the new construction, which just seem like expensive wannabe knock-offs to me.

  I feel an unexplainable urge to pull off to the side of the road in front of one of the older homes. It’s a custom-built red brick mansion with grand Georgian scroll molding over the front door and four large Greek Corinthian white columns lining the front porch. My anxious feeling seems to subside somewhat as I continue to study the manor. I’m not sure why, but I feel a violent urge to run up to the front door and barge inside. There’s something in there pulling at me, compelling me to throw common sense out the window and simply follow my instincts. Before I completely lose my mind and do something I’ll regret later, I shift my car back into drive and head to my apartment.

  When I finally make it home that afternoon, I try to do what Kaylee suggested and take a nap. I end up tossing and turning in bed until it’s time for me to get ready for my big night out with her and Ben. I pull out the dress she wants me to wear from my closet to see if it needs to be ironed. Luckily it doesn’t. If there is one thing I hate doing in this world, it’s ironing clothes. It’s a little black knit dress with a twisted halter empire bodice and short skirt that comes to just above my knees. It’s a simple outfit but formal enough to wear to a nice restaurant.

  As usual, Kaylee and Ben are late picking me up. Ben knocks on my apartment door almost thirty minutes after the time Kaylee said they would be there.

  When I open the door, I smile politely at Ben who is dressed in a nice baby blue button-down shirt and khaki slacks.

  “Better late than never, right?” I joke.

  “You know how she can get,” Ben grins. “We can’t leave the house if she has a hair out of place. Are you ready?”

  I grab my small black purse from the coat tree and lock the front door before I step out. I follow Ben back to the new family vehicle he and Kaylee just purchased in expectation of Em’s arrival, a silver Dodge Durango.

  “I’m pregnant,” Kaylee uses as an excuse for their tardiness as I slip into the back seat behind Ben’s. “I move a lot slower now.”

  “You know that excuse isn’t going to work after you have the baby,” I tease her, buckling my seat belt.

  “By then she’ll have moved on to ‘It’s the baby’s fault’.” Ben chuckles as Kaylee playfully slaps him on the arm.

  “You two need to be nicer to me.” Kaylee sticks her bottom lip out to garner our sympathy. “I’m doing the best I can.”

  “We both love you more than anyone else in the world,” I tell her. “So stop pouting.”

  Kaylee sticks her tongue out at me, but I know she isn’t offended by our teasing. Plus, she likes being reminded how important she is to both Ben and me.

  “So, can you tell me what my birthday surprise is now?” I ask.

  Kaylee turns her head to look back at me. “We’re going to New Orleans and eating at Arnaud’s. Then we’re takin’ you dancing at a new club on Bourbon Street!”

  “Seriously?” I must have heard her wrong, right? “You’re actually taking me clubbing in your condition?”

  “My doctor said it would be ok as long as I took it easy. So, don’t worry, mother hen. Little Em and I will be just fine. Who knows, maybe you’ll meet somebody while we’re out and about.”

  I shake my head in exasperation but remain mute on the subject. I turn my head to watch the passing scenery outside the window. Unfortunately, there’s not much to keep my eyes busy on the highway besides pine trees and the occasional swamp. I don’t want to argue with Kaylee when she’s trying to do something nice for me on my birthday. Although, I can already tell she’s going to be in full matchmaker mode this evening. I just can’t believe she’s actually thinking about pawning me off on some random stranger at a bar! I hang my head and silently pray for divine intervention. I would like to be spared any embarrassment on my birthday, but the odds of that happening don’t seem to be in my favor.

  The food at the restaurant is probably wonderful. To be honest, I can’t really tell. I haven’t been able to taste food for two weeks. I almost feel guilty for not being able to enjoy my meal since I know the entrees are on the expensive side at this restaurant. I hate not being able to enjoy the filet mignon I ordered. I’m sure if things were normal it would have tasted like a little slice of heaven in my mouth. To be totally honest, I’m relieved when
dinner is finally over.

  By the time we leave the restaurant, it’s already ten o’clock.

  “Shouldn’t we just head home?” I ask them as we stroll down a crowded Bourbon Street. Saturday night in New Orleans probably isn’t the best time to come with a pregnant woman. I try to play defense and walk in front of Kaylee so people who aren’t paying attention to where they’re going, or are simply too drunk to care, run into me first.

  “No, we’re going dancing,” Kaylee states in her ‘don’t you dare argue with me’ voice.

  We end up at a nightclub called the Cat’s Coven. Kaylee knows I’m not much of a dancer. It’s not that I can’t dance. I just don’t like to dance in public. From the way the people inside the club are acting, you would think it was everyone’s birthday and not just mine. There’s a raised wood dancefloor in the middle of the room. It’s so full of gyrating bodies I don’t see how Kaylee expects to survive within the crush of people. There’s a DJ playing music on his own platform against a sidewall. A full bar made of mirrors is located at the back end of the room and is swarming with needy patrons trying to purchase beverages. Kaylee and I sit at one of the small, stool-high tables near the dance floor while Ben fights the crowd to get us some drinks.

  I’m not much for imbibing in alcohol, but I do enjoy the occasional Crown and Coke. Ben brings one back for me, a Corona for himself, and a ginger ale for our Kaylee.

  I’m about halfway through my drink when I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Someone is staring at me. Usually when I’m in a crowd of people, I block my empathic ability so I’m not bombarded by a multitude of mixed emotions all at once. For some reason, I’m not able to block out the emotions of this particular person. Their feelings are a jumbled mess, but the one that stands out the most is hunger. It’s not a sexual hunger, either. No, this is more primal than even that. It’s almost as if this person wants to eat me alive, literally. What in the world is that supposed to mean?

  Kaylee crooks her index finger at me, silently beckoning me to come closer to her. I lean forward so I can hear what she wants to say over the loud music reverberating against the walls of the nightclub.

  “There is a gorgeous guy behind you who hasn’t been able to take his eyes off you since we got here,” she informs me, lifting her eyebrows suggestively as she attempts to play her role as Cupid.

  I lean back on my stool and turn a little in my seat so I can take a sneak peek at the man Kaylee is eyeing as a potential suitor for me. Before I even locate him, I know without a shadow of a doubt that he will be the same person whose emotions I can’t keep out of my mind.

  The room is dark, only lit by the multi-colored lights flashing chaotically across the dance floor. The rhythm of the music seems to beat in time with the hammering of my heart as I slowly turn my head to look where I know he’s standing.

  I see him leaning against one of the concrete pillars in the room, his arms crossed loosely in front of him. He’s wearing a dark grey button-down shirt and black jeans. If I were to say he’s just handsome, I feel like it would be an insult to his beauty. The confident way he holds himself gives him an air of royalty. He reminds me of an Eastern European prince with his dark, short-cropped hair and perfectly pale skin. He has a strong face with a full bow-shaped mouth and hauntingly dark deep-set eyes. His forehead is slightly wrinkled in a troubled frown as he continues to meet my steadfast gaze. The longer I stare at him the stronger his disapproval with me grows. I suddenly feel like a kid who has done something wrong. For some inexplicable reason, I don’t like feeling as if I’ve disappointed him.

  Most people will give you some sign to acknowledge your presence when you catch them staring at you, but this man doesn’t even flinch or try to look away. He just continues to stare at me without any hint of apology or embarrassment. The longer we gaze at one another, the stronger his need to be closer to me becomes. His emotions are so raw and open they almost overwhelm me. There is something so familiar about him, yet strange and mysterious at the same time. The rapid beating of my heart causes a tightness to form inside my chest, making it difficult for me to take in a full breath. I’m the one who ends up looking away first, trembling slightly from the encounter.

  Kaylee touches my arm, breaking the spell the stranger just cast by forcing me to look up at her.

  “Are you ok?” she asks, obviously worried about my reaction to the man.

  I nod my head and try to smile reassuringly. The doubt in her eyes tells me I’m not fooling her for one second.

  “Well, try to pull yourself together because Mr. Gorgeous is heading this way.”

  I didn’t think my heart could hammer against the wall of my chest any faster than it is, but somehow it finds a way to add an extra beat. I can physically feel him get closer to me. With every step he takes the connection between us becomes more solid, like there’s an invisible string tethering us together, growing more taut the closer we come to one another. Oddly enough, I feel myself begin to relax. The anxious feeling I’ve been living with for the past two weeks slowly begins to dissipate.

  I know the exact second he’s standing behind me and can’t stop myself from automatically turning around to face him.

  He leans forward and whispers into my ear, “Come.”

  He holds out his hand to me, not worried in the least bit that I will refuse his order.

  Normally, I would have just laughed in a guy’s face if he had said such a thing to me. But with him, it’s like I don’t have a will of my own. I find myself placing my hand into his, eager to follow him wherever he wants to go. I can only imagine this is what it must feel like when people are hypnotized.

  His skin is cold to the touch, like he’s been standing inside a walk-in freezer for hours. Yet I don’t flinch away from his frigid caress. In fact, I feel myself wanting to melt into him, providing him all the warmth my body has to offer.

  Without saying another word to me, but keeping his dark brown eyes fixed on mine, he leads me onto the dancefloor where the music suddenly changes to a slow song. He wraps his arms around my waist and I drape mine over his shoulders, clasping my hands loosely around his neck. We sway to the music for a while, just staring in each other’s eyes. There’s a soft protectiveness in his gaze that makes me feel inexplicably safe. For some reason I can’t fully understand, I know I can trust this man with my life.

  He slowly pulls me in closer to him. His cold cheek brushes against mine as he whispers in my ear once again.

  “You need me as much as I need you,” he says with a husky yearning, making my body shiver with anticipation of his next words. His voice sounds so familiar and yet completely foreign to me. He has a slight European accent I can’t quite place. It sounds like a mixture of various dialects. “I know you’ve been feeling like there’s something you need to find. As if a piece of you is missing. I am that piece. I’m what you’ve been searching for these past two weeks. Don’t try to fight it, Sarah,” he murmurs before kissing the tender flesh just below my ear. He proceeds to kiss his way down the side of my neck, resting his lips on the pulsating artery just below the thin layer of skin. His breathing becomes labored as he opens his mouth and tightens his lips around my throat. The sharp edges of his teeth gently graze my skin, as if he’s testing how tender the flesh is in that spot. I feel slightly drunk on the intoxicating aroma surrounding him, a mixture of chocolate and cinnamon. I want him to do something to me, but I’m not quite sure what that something is supposed to be.

  Finally, he raises his head and looks in my eyes.

  “Find me, Sarah…”

  When he pulls away and leaves me standing on the dance floor, I feel completely bereft by the suddenness of his departure. I feel light-headed from the encounter, almost like his touch was a drug. I don’t want him to leave without me but am unable to make my feet move to follow him. Every cell in my body yearns to chase after him and demand to know who he is and why he means something to me. Maybe if I at least had his name I could find
him again. What he said to me was the complete truth, not a boast.

  I do need him.

  I just don’t know why.

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Once upon a time, a little girl was born on a cold winter morning in the heart of Seoul, Korea. She was brought to America by her parents and raised in the Deep South where the words ma'am and y'all became an integrated part of her lexicon. She wrote her first novel at the age of eight and continued writing on and off during her teenage years. In college she studied biology and chemistry and finally combined the two by earning a master's degree in biochemistry.

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  After that she moved to Yankee land where she lived for four years working in a laboratory at Cornell University. Homesickness and snow aversion forced her back South where she lives in the land, which spawned Jim Henson, Elvis Presley, Oprah Winfrey, John Grisham and B.B. King.

  * * *

  After finding her Prince Charming, she gave birth to a wondrous baby girl and they all lived happily ever after.

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