She inspects the area below her and, with a little hop, lands on the seat cushion. Walking awkwardly over it, she hops onto the coffee table. She looks at me with one eye, up and down, then continues forward, each step well thought out. She considers my knee and I nod, trembling and smiling.
With another small, more graceful hop, she lands on my knee, instinctively gripping with her talons for balance. I ignore the sharp pain, too excited and elated to worry about such trifles. She puffs her feathers and settles down on my leg. She is light in spite of her size. I feel her little heart fluttering.
My hands are still, folded in my lap. I unclasp them, making my movements slow and deliberate, and move a hand closer to her. She watches it but doesn’t shy away. I lift a few fingers and watch her; I feel her trembling more. I put my fingers down and let them rest right beside her. We sit in silence for several minutes, one another’s presence enough to fill the void. Her breathing is slowing, as is mine, and the tension in her body eases.
Searching for words but finding none, I allow this peaceful time to speak the volumes that words would only diminish.
25
Curled on my side with Ren snuggled into my stomach, I’ve spent the night on the chaise. Several times, she awoke with a sharp croak, then settled back down. In the breaking dawn, she stirs; her feathers brush against my skin as she stretches. Opening my eyes, I am greeted by shiny violet jewels looking back at me.
I dreamt of my last mate, she says.
I adjust the cushion under my head to get a better view of her. Oh?
She looks a little sad at the thought of him. He was a beautiful male, big, strong. Not white like me, there are not many, but black as a moonless night. We had many chicks together. Together for a long time.
I didn’t know you had children.
Oh yes, many, many. The smile in her voice is evident and her eyes brighten.
I’m barren, I say without remorse.
I am sorry for you.
Don’t be. I’m not. That would just be something else to lose.
With that, her head bows and she turns away.
I’m sorry, I’ve upset you. I gently touch her chest with my fingers. Sometime during the night, we’d both relaxed into each other’s presence without even noticing.
It is sad, yes, to live past your mates and all of your children. Time and again. I have become accustomed to it but it is never easy. She turns back to me and leans into my fingers, her eyes half closed.
I have never seen other ravens around you. My fingers trace the labradorite stone at her neck. The charm nestled within her feathers is cold to the touch.
You are gone for long times. That is when I live for myself.
I am amazed how her small words cut into me. I feel myself wanting to apologize for everything she has gone through.
I am so sorry for all that you have suffered because of me. I wish I knew what draws us together.
Do not be sorry for I am not. This is our lot. I cannot ask for better for I know no better. There is no sadness in her voice.
I close my eyes, running my fingers down her chest and her wing.
How many lives have you lived? Do you go in and out of the Veil as I do?
Not die. Never died.
My eyes snap open. Hers are closed and her body is soft. Tightness in my throat threatens to choke me. She feels the change in my energy and opens her eyes.
I search her smooth face. You have lived this entire time? Almost a thousand years? I can barely say these words.
Ren regards me with a tilt of her head. Do not be sad for me. I have had many adventures, I have had many loves. I have lived a good life. This is my lot. The matter-of-fact way she says this pulls me back away from the edge. I want to apologize again but there’s no point.
You have a marvelous attitude. I smile at her. I will no longer feel sorry for myself. This poor creature has a greater curse than I; however, she seems to have come to terms with it, so who am I to wreck that? She is much stronger than I.
It is better now that we are together. She settles back down and rests her beak over my wrist.
I hope Jo’s charm lasts. I need to chat with her about it; maybe we’ll make a backup just in case. Several backups.
After a short while, Ren becomes restless and says it’s time for her breakfast. With a promise to be back, she hops to the end of the chaise and leaps into the air. I drift back into half-sleep, partially aware of the waking morning, the birds chirping, the cars droning around me. A honk and a shout wake me with a start.
Sylvia is helping a customer when I come down after showering. Sylvia is a natural with people; she has never met a stranger and can talk to anyone about anything. Unlike me, she isn’t put off by someone’s bad energy or negativity; she powers right over it as if it didn’t exist. I think she takes it as a challenge to improve their mood if she can. I am very lucky, immensely lucky, to have her and her mother in my life.
The smile on my face as I watch her is instantly struck down by the lurching fear that plagues me. I’m too happy, I have too much, something will take this away. I take a shaky breath and push those thoughts away. Maggie trots to the base of the stairs and looks up at me, tail wagging, tongue lolling. She’s not vexed, she shows me, nor should I be. I long to snuggle her fluffy mane.
My phone rings and it’s Cal. His trip to Worcester is proving longer than expected. He should be back in a day or two and asks me to dinner. It’s hard not to tell him yet about Ren, but it’s too momentous a thing for a phone conversation.
Sylvia is walking the customer to the front gate and, to my surprise, gives her a parting hug. She comes back in, bouncing and smiling.
“That woman was so nice! Bertie. She’s here from Denmark. Apparently, coming to ‘Witch City’ was on her bucket list.” She tells me the woman’s life story and all about her travels in the States. I marvel at Sylvia, wishing I had her zest and love of people.
“She fell in love with the shop! She’s got two friends traveling with her and says she’ll bring them by tomorrow after lunch.”
“Remind me to put you on commission.”
“You bet I will!” She beams at me and trots off to reorganize the shelves that now have vacant slots, thanks to her salesmanship.
“Your mom working this morning?” I call from the library, putting books back in the right order.
She appears in the doorway of the library, looking a little sheepish. “Well…she was holed up in her space all last night.” My eyebrows go up, and I set the pile of books down, giving Sylvia my full attention.
“I know, I know.” She raises her palms up in surrender. “I have no idea what she was doing in there. It was relatively quiet, considering some of the sounds I’ve heard come from that room.” She shakes her head. “She packed up this morning, really early, and took off for the mountains. Said she was going to see her mother.” Sylvia gives me big eyes.
That makes me pause. What would she need to speak to Matilda’s Spirit about? I nod at Sylvia absently, lost in thought.
“Okay, so you’re nodding. I looked at her like she was crazy. I mean, I’ve seen a lot of things—nothing should really surprise me anymore, but come on! Am I the only one who remembers that Grandma is dead?” Sylvia’s exasperated look returns.
I chuckle lightly. “Sylvia, death is not the end, not by any means. It’s possible to communicate with loved ones that have passed. In some cultures, it’s customary to set a place at the dinner table each night for them. Some also make daily commutes to their ancestor’s burial site to sit and chat.”
Sylvia digests this information for a moment then looks at me. “What do you think she wants to talk to Grandma about?”
“I don’t know. I hope she’s not still bothering about this curse business.” I pick up the books and hug them to my chest. “Did anything come up with Claudia or someone from the coven?”
“Not that I can think of. I don’t think she’s spoken to Claudia at all since the pyre.�
� She stares out the window then turns back to me with a little jump.
“Oh, I know! Do that thing you do, peek into her mind or whatever that is. I’m sure you can find out what she’s up to.” Sylvia plops down in the nearest chair, eagerly awaiting my acquiescence to her suggestion.
“No, no.” I give her a chiding look. “That’s an invasion, and I don’t do that unless absolutely necessary.” Sylvia’s face falls. “If she wanted us to know what she was doing, she would have said. We need to respect her privacy.”
“Oh, poo.” She crosses her arms over her chest and feigns pouting, then grins at me. “Had to ask.”
I wave at her with motherly admonition to get back to work.
26
Cal comes by the shop to pick me up for our date. The shop is closed, and Sylvia has gone home to an empty house. Jo is still on her travels. I worry about her traipsing around in the woods alone. If I don’t hear something from her by the morning, I’ll use the Veil to find her.
The moment I see Cal walking up the pathway, I am instantly hungry for him. The door unlocks for him as his hand reaches for the handle, and he snatches it back when it opens without his intervention. I laugh aloud at the look on his face.
He laughs back, shaking his head. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to that.”
He sees me within the shadows cast by the setting sunlight and the mirth melts from his face, replaced with desire. He is upon me in several long strides, enveloping me in his strong arms, covering my mouth with his. I grip his back, feeling the taut muscles underneath his fitted shirt. I dig my nails in for a firmer grip, so he doesn’t, can’t, let me go, and he groans, moving his hands down to my rear, pulling my hips into him. His hardness pushes against me, and I move my hips slightly to taunt him.
He pushes me against the wall by the library and I let him. I wish I had worn a skirt. While my days without him have been full, more than full now with the active presence of the white raven, I need him desperately. I need him inside me; I need the closeness of union that only intimacy brings. I have been starved of this, all of my lives, this passion, this release. Seeing him, I am greedy, wanting to devour him whole.
His hands are under my blouse, raking trails of fire across my skin. I fumble at the button on my shorts. He has them open in an instant, his hands pushing them down past my rear as he bites at my neck. He falls to his knees.
We are late for our reservations, but Cal knows the right person to smooth it over. I follow the maître d’ with Cal’s hand resting on my lower back. Cal pulls out my chair and runs his hand up my back as I sit. I gaze into his glimmering blue eyes, and he brushes my lips with his. My heart is as light as the air around me.
He sits opposite me, looking around the restaurant as he unfolds his napkin. He sees something displeasing over my shoulder and grimaces, looking away. With my Sight, I look behind me and see the unpleasant sight again. Miss Perfect Pants is once again at the same restaurant we are. I roll my eyes.
“I am starving,” I say, picking up the menu.
“Me too!” He snickers and we both giggle over our shared naughty secret.
“Well,” I straighten up, sipping from the glass of water, “tell me about this fun trip you had.”
Cal groans and makes an exaggerated exhale. “There was no reason for me to be there, none. My sister usually handles the inspection stuff, but that jackass doesn’t want to deal with a ‘little girl.’” Cal huffs in disgust. “He’s such an ass. Trish hates him. Well, she secretly loves to torment him because she knows how much he dislikes working with her.”
“I like your sister already.”
“Speaking of,” he swallows and takes a big gulp of water. “My family is having a get-together next month. I’d like you to come.”
The waiter comes back for our drink orders. He is stiff and not particularly pleasant. He leaves quickly with a curt nod after we make our requests.
“You really want me to meet your family?” I ask, wiping my clammy palms on the napkin in my lap.
“Sure, why not?”
“Well, hmm, let’s see. Oh yeah, because I’m a witch. Isn’t your whole family Catholic?”
“Non-practicing. We should be fine if we steer clear of religion and politics. My brother is the loudmouth when it comes to those two topics, but he’s in Afghanistan. And don’t worry, Will won’t be there. He’s going on a camping trip with his buddy and their parents. I’m not real happy about that. He gets more distant every day. He needs to be around his family but he doesn’t seem to give a damn anymore.”
I’m glad to hear Will won’t be there. I wonder if he’s tried to pilfer anything since I hexed his hand.
When the waiter returns, he hands the wrong drinks to each of us. We switch our glasses, and he mumbles an apology as he walks away.
“Sure, I’ll come. But I will be sweating the whole time.” I’m nervous just thinking about it, and I take a long sip of my gin and tonic.
He shakes his head. “No reason to be. Most of my family is pretty laid back. You and Trish will totally hit it off.”
I trace my index finger around the rim of my glass, staring at the lime floating within. “I’ve not met anyone’s family before.”
“Serious? Wow. I assumed that with all the lives you’ve lived…” He stops, his eyes apologetic. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe I said that.”
“It’s all right. I guess it’s not realistic to think the topic will just go away.” I sigh and reach for his hand across the table. He grips mine, reinforcing his apology. “To be perfectly honest, I’d rather forget all about it. I want to live in the here and now, and not worry about what has happened or what is to come. It’s the only way I can get through it.” I didn’t mean to say that last part, but the words fell from my lips without bidding. “I’m sure it will come up again, and that’s fine, no way to keep from it.” An overwhelming urge to erase everyone’s memories of the whole blasted business comes over me but no, that wouldn’t be right.
He pulls my hand up as far as it will reach then bends over the rest of the way to kiss it. There are words on his lips, but he doesn’t speak them. After a long moment, Cal tells me about the lake house his dad built, where the family gathering will be, and gives me the scoop on all the attendees. It’s obvious from his body language that he needs to talk, to ramble about something to push the curse from his mind. I know that feeling well.
Dinner comes and it is delicious. We eat slowly as we continue to talk and laugh, and share a naughty giggle when I wipe a drop of cream sauce from my chin. I am so perfectly happy, so delirious with endorphins, that I don’t sense the severe negativity approaching from behind until it’s right upon me. I gasp inwardly, choked by it and by the toxic amount of perfume that accompanies it.
“Aven!” Miss Perfect Pants’s schoolgirl cry stabs into my ears. A wide, phony smile is plastered across her unnaturally tan face, bright red lips clashing with her glitter-dusted pink cheeks. Her hands are clasped between her enormous fake tits that are stuffed into a tight blouse.
I’m surprised by her gracious and pleasant demeanor even though I know it’s false. Everything about the woman is fake. The very thought of this charlatan angers me, and I realize immediately it was a mistake to send her an invitation to the grand opening; I’d let my cattiness get the better of me.
“Mandy.” I incline my head to her, fully aware that I’m not allowed to call her Mandy, and the flash of annoyance across her face proves it. Her expression quickly returns to the fake, whole-face smile.
She glances at Cal, then turns her friendly mask back to me. “I wanted to thank you for the invitation to your opening. That was so sweet!” A manicured hand snakes out at me, tapping me on the shoulder to emphasize ‘sweet.’ I can’t help but recoil from her touch. “I wouldn’t miss it. Consider this my R-S-V-P.” She spells out each letter with enthusiasm.
Mandy puts her hands on her hips and cocks them to one side. She turns her attention to Cal, who avo
ids her eyes by taking a sip of his beer.
“Hello, Calvin. How’ve you been?”
Her eyes dart over to me to gauge my reaction to the news that she and Cal have met. My passive expression does not change.
He sets his beer down with a thud and looks up at her, his sour expression slightly masked by his own fake smile. “Excellent. You?”
She giggles somewhat uncomfortably and snakes her arms behind her back, accentuating the curve of her hips and breasts. I refrain from giving her a zap. It would be so easy—just a little jolt of electricity into those bangles and she’d flail around like a drowning chimpanzee. I bite my lip to hold back my grin.
“Good! Me too.” She’s run out of things to say. “Well, you two look so cozy, I’ll get out of your hair. See you at the opening!” She wiggles her fingers at me in a childish wave as she struts away.
I exhale loudly when she is out of earshot. Her perfume still lingers, and it’s still just as potent.
Cal gives me wide eyes. “That woman is a mess.”
“She definitely wanted me to know that you two knew each other.”
Cal’s face pinches. “Yeah. We met once when she called us out for a quote to expand the bathroom in her condo. The moment she saw me, she started hitting on me. It was not pretty.” He gulps the last of his beer. “She’s called me a few times since, but I always send my sister out now. Trish loves a challenge.”
I will really like his sister.
Part of me pities Mandy. She’s so insecure that she has to make sure she one-ups everyone around her. Unfortunately, the weak-minded follow her blindly, bowing to her perceived beauty and power. She’s made herself quite wealthy off the gullibility of others, taking advantage of sad stories of lost loved ones. She does whatever she can to make a buck.
“There are too many people like her in this town,” Cal says in disgust. I’m sure he put me in her category when we first met.
The White Raven Page 19
