by A. R. Miller
As the words leave his lips, my tears escape. “Not everyone,” I manage between hiccuping sobs. Slowly everyone turns toward the smoldering remains of cloth and ashes where Dara stood.
Royd’s laughter is a slap in the face of my grief and I return it, my palm connecting with the side of his face.
Brand and his friend step toward me, but he waves them away. The menace in his eyes and grasp on my wrist contradict the smile gracing those lush lips.
“First Arrow, would you reveal yourself and put Miss Fey’s fear to rest?”
Dara enters from the hall leading to the other rooms. Most of her clothing still intact, but any exposed flesh sports a painful looking sunburn.
The instinct to rush over and hug her is flattened by the rigidness of her frame. Her fingers clench, unfurl and clench again as blank eyes stare at me from under scorched bangs.
“As you can see, your vampire is virtually unscathed, Miss Fey.”
Dara takes a step toward him and stops as Brand and his friend move between them.
“In answer to your question, my little Nixie; what you felt was a taste of what Miss Fey is capable of.”
Nyssa shivers as she stares at me.
Great. Just when I thought my friends couldn’t be any more afraid of me, Royd tosses another log on the fire.
“I. Didn’t. Do. Anything.”
“Control your anger, Schattenkind, or we will have a repeat.”
I flop back in the chair in a fit of not–so–righteous anger.
“What about the light and heat?” asks Nyssa.
I’d like to know that too, but Royd just smiles. Looking at Dara, I can practically see the wheels spinning as she studies him. Going to have to pump her for info later, that is, if she even wants to be around me after Royd nearly roasted her.
Royd and his posse huddle together. I want to approach Dara, but I can tell she’s trying to listen in and I’m a little afraid of what kind of reaction I’ll receive. Nyssa keeps watching me from the corner of her eye. Rey cocks his head to one side and wags his tail when I look at him, but doesn’t come within reach.
Maybe it's best I just sit here and let them come to me. After all, we just found out I can summon shadows. Shadows that can kill. Guess it explains why Royd keeps calling me Shadow Child. It kind of tops the freaky scale. Couple that with my magnetic attraction with dead things and it completely blows the scale. Can life suck anymore? You bet it can.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The crowd outside my building has intensified with the discovery of another victim. Royd’s, I mean my lawyer, stands on the steps in all his dramatic brilliance. Explaining how I couldn’t possibly have perpetrated the crime. I had been at home and had witnesses, including the crowd themselves, but it doesn’t seem to soothe the savage beasts.
Curled up on the couch, my grandmother’s afghan wrapped around me, I’ve always felt calm with the blanket near and even calmer with it draped around me. Maybe she wove some sort of spell into it. Don’t care. I’m just plain worn out. I don’t even care what the others are chattering away about I just want to sleep.
Bits of the conversation float my way along with glares from Teiran Rand. Snickering brings an even nastier look, but I can’t help it. Come on, it’s funny—Rand, Brand—and I’m too tired to care. What’s not funny is how beautiful he is, even when he’s sneering at me.
Even though I’m tired, I appreciate the candy store in my living room, maybe a little too much. Alric, sticky sweet honey that you want to drizzle on everything. Teiran, white chocolate and peppermint, smooth and cool on the tongue. Rey, a sweet candy shell with an even sweeter surprise inside. And Var Royd, one of those mystery gumballs where you don’t know if you’re going to get sweet, or sour.
I’m not tired anymore, but hungry and not for food. Every male in the room whets that appetite and the burning need between my legs blinds me to the fact that none of them are on the menu.
I try to pick just one. What about a combo platter? Oh, hel, just take them all. I need to leave the room and quickly.
Flinging the afghan aside, I bolt for the bathroom, slam the door behind me and click the locks into place. Sitting on the edge of the tub, I rest my head in my hands, pictures of naked me and naked them floating behind my lids. Every nerve is on alert and the slightest movement causes an intoxicating sensation of pain mingled with pleasure across my skin.
“What’s happening to me?” I whisper, tears of pain and frustration to spilling. As if this whole shadow, dead thing isn’t enough, I have to morph into super slut.
I flip on the water and strip down, tossing my wet panties against the wall. Step under the icy stream and stand there willing the water to wash away the thoughts, pull the heat of desire away.
The forceful spray stings my skin and I turn my back, shielding already taut nipples, now painfully rock hard. Whoever said cold showers were the answer should be shot. It’s only making it worse. Shutting off the water, I huddle in the tub. Shivering, fighting the desire to call to any, or all males present. A moan is ripped from me picturing taking each of them, or better yet all of them at once. Four sets of hands, lips, tongues... Gods, stop it!
Even my own hands rebel. I pull them away from my breasts, lacing my fingers into my hair, clutching my head. Flesh throbs similar to my calling the shadows, but without the itch, this time with an erotic caress. So tired. If I could just fall asleep.
Dragging myself from the tub, I grab my robe. As the fabric drags over sensitive skin, I bite my lower lip until the metallic saltiness of blood touches my tongue. Forcing my feet across the floor, I make it to the bedroom, waving off the questions that follow me.
Door closed, locks engaged, I fall into bed. Tears flow freely as I give in, letting the sensations ravage my body. Screams minimized to whimpers, buried in my pillow. All I want is release. Darkness hovers, creeping across the room. I’m not sure if they are conjured shadows, or if I’m near passing out. I vote for passing out and let the darkness consume me.
***
“Allow me to heal what ails you.” I feel the warmth of Einen’s breath as it sends shivers of pleasure through me. His hips grind against me, promising even more delights.
“Yes. Please.”
He takes a nipple between his lips again. The veracity of his sucking power promises a huge hickey later, but do I care? Nope. With how good it feels he can suck all he wants as long as he—oh yeah, shares with the other one. My fingers tangle in hair the color of white gold, pulling that magnificent mouth closer. That overly skilled mouth moves between my breasts and down, fingers releasing my sloppily–tied belt.
“Gods,” I whisper as he kneels before me, tongue teasing my belly button.
His explorations move across my stomach, lips and teeth nibbling at my hip bone. My knees buckle and gently he helps lower me to the ground until we are face–to–face, or as face–to–face as we can be. The top of my head rests just under his chin, and I’m not a short girl, standing five ten barefoot. My line of sight hits approximately at his Adam’s apple, which raises and lowers as I press myself against him.
Liking the response, I slide my hands down his chest until they rest on his hips pulling them tightly against me. If the hard bulge I’m feeling against my stomach is any indication, I’d have to say he likes it as much as I do.
Shaky fingers—not sure, if it’s need, or nervousness—pluck his shirt from his waistband. He generously assists me by removing it himself and I stare in awe at a smooth, luminous bare skin. Hesitantly, I brush the cool satin planes of his chest, feeling the rumble of a growl beneath my fingers.
Grasping my arms, he yanks me toward him, lowering his face until I’m looking directly into his eyes. Those pale silvery eyes are black, not just an expansion of the pupil, but the entire eye.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Deep meditative breaths slow the pulse, relax the muscles. Slowly my fingers unfurl, releasing the sheets. The thumping in my chest goes from car stereo ba
se to boom box and finally handheld radio. That was some ridiculous dream. It had to have been brought on by my overactive hormones. Hormones so out of whack that I’m having sex—okay, foreplay—with an imaginary childhood friend. Who, as it turns out, isn’t so imaginary.
The Sisters have never been entirely truthful with me about my past, or my future for that matter. I’ve always just assumed things. Like my parents’ disappearance, my heritage in general, or that they really are my family in the traditional sense. I don’t resemble any of them. Yeah, the fact that I have at least some elven blood makes a world of difference, but still. Recent incidents have brought a lot of this into question.
I don’t have time for a face–to–face confrontation and the thought of the three of them on speakerphone makes my head ache. I’ll never get a straight answer anyway.
Then there’s Royd. Everything he’s said and done. Sure, he saved my butt on a couple of occasions, but I have to ask, what’s in it for him? It’s creepy that he shows up when I’m in trouble, or sends his lawyer. Not to mention the pull he has over me, to go from hating—or perceived hate brought on by hearsay and the media—to wanting to have sex with him.
That brings up a whole new subject. My behavior. I can’t go on forever blaming everything on my new Talents, no matter how much as I’d like to. It also brings up the question of why they decided to manifest now. Why not earlier in life? Like childhood, when I could have been taught how to control them. Replaying the conversation with The Sisters I start to wonder. Is it possible I’ve been deceived yet again?
“Keely, Lorelei will be here soon.”
“Oh crap,” I mutter, looking at the clock. I’ve got about ten minutes before Lorelei is banging at the door instead of Rey. “Be there in a minute.”
Flinging aside the sheets, the cat howls in protest as he tumbles across the bed.
“Sorry, bud.” I hustle my ass to the bathroom for a quick makeover.
Feeling semi–functional, I head to the kitchen, wiggle my fingers at my houseguests—thankfully, the tantalizing trio are gone, Royd and his entourage are the last thing I wanted to see—grab a cup of caffeine and head to the salon.
“So, you’re still alive,” says Lorelei as I open the door enough for her to get in then slam the lock home before anyone pushes in behind her.
“If you can call it that.”
She drops her purse at my station and follows me to the shampoo bowls.
“What no Nyssa tonight? Am I the happy recipient of a Keely’s Magical Fingers Shampoo?”
I laugh piling her hair into the basin and wetting it down. “Yep, complete with scalp massage.”
“Damn, a girl could get used to this.” She practically purrs. “Maybe you should get in trouble everyday so I can have you all to myself.”
“Funny.” I dangle the hose dangerously close to her hairline. She giggles as a fine spray of water coats her face.
“You know what I mean.” She relaxes back and closes her eyes as I begin scrubbing.
I’ve always stood by the idea that a good shampoo is the base for a return clientele. Some people forget this business is all about the client. A good shampoo and scalp massage is the first step to putting them at ease. If you don’t have that basic skill down you don’t have any business picking up the tools. I may be talented with the shears, but my shampoos kept them coming back in the beginning of my career.
“Over already? Can’t you just do that a little longer?”
“Not unless you either want to be late for work, or go with wet hair.”
Her bottom lip juts out as I lift her head wrapping a towel around her hair.
“Fine, be that way.”
I laugh, stepping behind the chair as she slouches down so I can roll the top of her head.
“You ever going to let me cut any more than just the ends off this stuff, Godiva?”
“Funny you bring that up, I was thinking about asking you to bob it to my chin after the party.”
“Wow, that’s pretty drastic. Sure you’re ready for that?”
“Why not? It’s not like you can’t put it back if I hate it that much.”
“True.”
It’s now, or never, might as well ask her.
“About the party...”
The chair swings around, nearly pulling the roller from the half–wound section. “Oh hel no, you are not canceling on me.”
“I wasn’t going to cancel.” I swing the chair back. “I just wasn’t sure you still want me there.”
“Of course I want you there. Why wouldn’t I?”
“What about your other guests, won’t they...um...be upset the supposed Collector is there?”
“Who cares what they say and if they don’t like it they can leave. I just hope they can swim. You haven’t heard from your little receptionist, have you?”
I shake my head. In all the excitement, I’d forgotten the missing Jenny. Makes me a great friend, huh?
The last roller tucked into place, I move her under the dryer and grab the manicure table.
“I repeat my earlier surprise and appreciation,” she says with a grin as she points to her favorite polish. Like I needed a clue. She leans back and closes her eyes as I slowly work through the steps.
It’s nice to be back in the salon, surrounded by familiar smells and sights, even if the place is empty. Even nicer is the leisurely pace I’m allowed to take, giving my one and only client my full attention.
I suppose I should be bitter about this whole mess, but some small part of me isn’t. The experience has made me appreciate everything and everybody I have in my life. I know it sounds like a cheesy, Hallmark moment, but it’s true. Not that I’ll ever admit it out loud.
Now if I could only sort out my new rebellious and unwanted Talents and the secrets that lie behind the scenes. All of which seem to be tied to me in some way, from Royd’s interest to Dara and The Sister’s omissions. I can almost bet Rey and Nys are also keeping things from me. Oh well, not much I can do about it and we’ve already proven bad things can happen when I get upset. That thought just leads to my dream buddy and Vereinen’s world is not one I want to experience right now, let alone drag Lorelei along for the ride. If that’s even possible, but why chance it?
Finishing the last nail with topcoat, I tighten the lid and stand to check her hair. Not quite done. She turns down the offer of a beverage, or magazine and closes her eyes as I replace the hood. I take the time to straighten up my station, then peek around the corner to reception. Outside the reporters hover around the door like the vultures they are, maybe I should sneak her out through Dara’s basement entrance. Not that she’ll let me. Lorelei loves to flaunt what she’s got.
That voice can influence anyone, or anything with the potential to hear. It’s been said she’s influenced plants to grow. Now that is what I call a useful Talent, unlike the ability to call life–sucking shadows to life. Well, at least I can make hair and nails grow, very useful in my line of work. On that cheerful note, I wander back and grab a soda.
Interestingly enough, I’m not the only one in the break room.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
A scrawny figure in dirty hooker wear is scavenging through the fridge. When I flip on the light, she bangs her head and turns a frightened, tear–stained face toward me.
“Jenny? Oh my gods, I’ve been so worried.” I move toward her and she backs away shaking her head.
“Don’t come near me. I shouldn’t have come here.”
“Of course you should have. Are you in trouble? What can I do to help?”
“I’m sorry, Keely, so sorry.”
She backs around the table and I stupidly follow her. Shaking her head, hands held out in front of her she makes it all the way around to the door and darts out. Talk about not all brain cells firing, I should have stayed at the door. Chasing her out and down the hall, she disappears down Dara’s stairs. I hear her tumble down them, grunting with pain as she gets back up and struggles to the outside doo
r. The apartment door opens just in time for me to run smack into Dara, and Jenny slips outside.
“Damn.”
“What’s going on?”
“Jenny,” I say, between pants, definitely time to get my butt back on the treadmill.
“She was here?”
“In the break room. Gone.” I point to the door.
She looks at the door. If looks could kill it would be deader than its knob. It’s still light outside so there’s no way she can make chase. “Damn.”
“Already said that.”
“At least we know she is still alive.”
I nod. “Gotta get back to Lorelei.” So not looking forward to taking those steps again.
“I will let the others know.”
“Okay,” I say, already headed back up the stairs. “Thanks.”
Lorelei’s already sitting in my chair fingering the rollers. “I get it; you did all the extras and expect me to take out these.” Her grin flips as she studies my face. “What happened?”
I take a deep breath, then slowly let it out, rolling my head from side to side before taking out the curlers. “I found Jenny in the break room.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, she ran like a rabbit and I stupidly thought I could catch her.”
“I wonder why she was skulking around.”
I don’t bother answering, shielding her eyes as I mist her hair with spray.
“No clue. I just wish she would let us help her.” I set the can down.
Giving her hair a final fluff, she looks at me in the mirror. “Some people don’t want to be helped.”
I nod.
“And it’s not your job to help everyone. As soon as you realize that, you’ll sleep better.” She winks, flipping a wad of money on the vanity before heading to the door.
I close and lock it behind her, catching a glimpse of the enamored crowd outside before turning away. She’s right, of course, but I still feel responsible for Jenny.
