by W. J. May
“Trust me when I say I’m not right for you.” Michael’s voice took on that husky rasp which made my breath catch. “I’m no good for you.”
My heart sunk. Grace had been wrong last night when she said Michael liked me. My brain kept sending my heart mixed signals. I responded the way I always did. I got defensive. “Isn’t it up to me to decide what’s good or bad for me?”
“I was afraid you’d say something like that.” Without another word, his hands pulled at my wrists, forcing me to look at him. The anger in his face softened as his eyes danced back and forth. His face close, he leaned forward and as he opened his mouth to speak, he brushed his lips lightly against mine. Fire and ice. Like dynamite exploding inside my head.
Without thinking, one of my hands touched his face and the other went behind his head, its fingers curling in his soft hair. Then he kissed me, this time with intention. It was intoxicating, left me completely breathless.
As quickly as he’d begun, he pulled away, heaving. “Sorry. That wasn’t supposed to happen.” His eyes were shut tight.
“I didn’t mind at all.” Could my mouth, for once, keep up with my brain and shut up?
“Rouge,” he whispered. I loved the way my name rolled off his tongue. “This can only end badly.”
“How do you know? We’ve barely started. Why not give this a chance and see what happens?” Terrified he’d push away, I reached out and grabbed his wrist. I’d never wanted someone like this. I’d been content to live my life on my own and suddenly it seemed the loneliest option in the world.
Michael rubbed the light stubble on his jaw. He appeared torn, trying to wrestle his version of good versus evil. He sat perfectly still for a few minutes and finally turned, his blue eyes boring into mine. “Screw it. I can’t fight this. Just promise you won’t hate me in the end?”
“As long as we don’t burn in hell, we’re good to go,” I joked.
His jaw dropped and his eyes grew big. Then he laughed, a deep throaty one straight from deep inside. “Alright. Let's head back to my place. Grace is already bugging me, wondering where you are. And,” he swallowed, “it’s time you met Caleb.” He squeezed my hand and turned the car around.
The way he spoke made me anxious. I thought about those terrible yellow eyes again. Thankful now it’d been too dark to see the thing properly. “What are they?”
Michael sighed. “Grollics? They’re human but biologically messed up. Something’s wrong within their natural order. It’s impossible to explain.”
I had no reply. I didn’t get it nor could I fathom it. If I hadn’t seen those freakish hollow eyes last night, I wouldn’t believe a word Michael said.
We drove for a bit in silence. My mind raced at the thoughts of a possible relationship, of monsters and of why in the world my hormones were all jacked up. Why did Michael know so much about grollics? A sudden thought crossed my mind. “How old are you?”
He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “How old did Grace tell you I was?”
“She dodged answering the question, like you are now.”
“You asked her about me?” He grinned. “I’m…nineteen.”
“I’ll be eighteen in January. However, I think I’m seventeen going on thirty. I’ve been grown-up for so long.”
He chuckled. “I know the feeling.”
Another thought hit me. “How old’s Grace?”
The question took him by surprise. He appeared about to say one thing but seemed to change his mind. “We’re twins.”
Totally weird. Now how’d I have a hunch on that? “How come you’re done with school?”
“I work with Caleb.”
“Did you drop out? Or skip a grade?”
“No.”
That didn’t answer anything. He obviously didn’t want to talk about it – yet. “Why the pretense she’s younger than you?”
“She is younger, by a bit.”
“You born first?” Grace had said he was older. Too many weird secrets. “Are you guys in some kind of trouble?”
“Questions, questions.” He grinned. “Has anyone ever told you, you talk a lot?”
“Never.” I shrugged, feeling giddy. Not once in my entire life. “One more question, and I promise I’m done.”
Michael raised an eyebrow.
“Why was one of those monstery-things after me?”
“Now there’s a loaded question. Caleb might know the answer.” He glanced down at the book sitting between us.
“One more question.” He opened his mouth, so I quickly added, “Can we stop at Starbucks and grab a latte? Sorry to say this, but you make lousy coffee.”
Chapter 6
Rocking slightly side to side, I now hesitated outside the house. Maybe the reason my body didn’t want to go in had to do with the horrible memory of the beast. If we went inside and talked about it, I’d be admitting it was real.
Michael reached for my hand and squeezed it, giving me the courage to cross the threshold. Little currents of hot and cold raced across my skin.
Does Michael have them too? I blinked, trying focus on the task ahead. This was serious. I really didn’t want to be some monster’s dinner.
In the middle of the living room, Michael stopped. Grace and Sarah relaxed on the couch and a man sat at the desk Sarah had occupied yesterday. My heart stuttered.
Caleb.
He was older than I thought he’d be. Maybe late fifties or sixties. The tightness in his face and posture made him appear ready to pounce. Or overreact? The kind of guy who shot first and asked questions later.
Where everyone looked tanned, Caleb was pale like me but even more so. Almost pasty white against the dark, expensive clothes he wore. He had the same intense blue eyes as the others, but with years of knowledge behind them, like he’d been through the wars. He was handsome, in a strange way, with strong facial lines. He sat almost regal.
When he glanced at me, his eyes darted from my feet to my head to my feet again, a harrumph escaping his lips.
I wanted to disappear.
“’Tis a pleasure to meet you.” He spoke with an English accent – very proper – and polite. However, his words sounded automatic—years of being taught what to say.
“Hello, Mr....” I paused. I didn’t know their last name and it seemed wrong to call him Caleb without permission.
“Knightly.”
“Hell-Hello.” Should I curtsey or kneel?
He leaned back in his chair, fingers clasped tightly together, resting on top of the desk. “It seems you had an altercation last night with a grollic.”
Wow. Straight to the point. “Michael’s been trying to explain.” I played with a loose strand of hair which had escaped my ponytail. “He seems to think there’s a…a grollic after me.”
He tutted. “Possibly, but not confirmed. That’s the first sighting of one in a very long time. We assumed they’d become extinct in this area. It seems they may have just burrowed underground.” He twirled a large ring on his right hand. “Do you have the slightest inclination why one would fancy you, of all people?”
I shrugged, suddenly conscious of the book lying in Michael’s car. I shook my head. It made no sense the two were related. “I just moved into town. I haven’t done anything since I got here. Met Michael and Grace, got a job…normal stuff. Last night, I stepped into the trees on an off-chance. It wasn’t something planned.”
“Maybe you caught it off guard. Maybe it was curious about the noise from the kids,” Sarah said.
Good point. Maybe I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“Perhaps…” Caleb rubbed his chin, his eyebrows drawn close together. He stood. He was a lot taller than I originally thought, at least half a foot taller than Michael. “We must remain aware of our surroundings and be cognisant of any possible threats. Grace and Michael will keep an eye on you, and we shall see if this grollic has any other intentions. Perhaps it was hungry.”
The way Caleb looked at me—or through me—
I felt like some carnivore’s dinner, nothing more. I gasped and took a step back. He strode by me, without a second glance, to his office, the antique door closing with a cold click from the brass doorknob made me jerk.
“It’s just some freak of nature, some kind of wild animal. Caleb talks as if the thing can think and plan an attack. Animals can’t do that.” I spoke to no one in particular. Who’re you trying to convince? Them or yourself?
Michael slipped an arm around my shoulders. “Nothing happened last night and nothing’s going to happen to you. I promise.”
“It was definitely a one-off.” I loved it that I believed him. He made me feel…safe.
Thank goodness school started without a hitch. No monsters came knocking at my door. I did joke with Grace, with me practically sleeping at her place all the time, a grollic could’ve come but bolted when it got to my neighborhood.
It sucked but I barely saw Michael. Caleb apparently had him travelling for work.
Simon made it his priority to introduce me to everyone at school. While the weather stayed warm, a group of us sat in the courtyard every lunch break.
One Friday, near the end of October, the guys, being their usual rowdy selves, started a game.
“Rouge,” Simon said. “Are you going to come with me to the Halloween Masquerade?”
Before I could think of an excuse not to go, Damon dragged Simon to a desk chair he’d set in the middle of the courtyard.
“Help me set this up. Then let’s jump over it.” Damon pointed at us gals sitting together. “You ladies keep score.” All the guys scrambled over to join them, each one easily clearing the chair. Soon two, then three chairs were lined up. When a few guys knocked out, Damon dragged a picnic table to replace the chairs. He scraped his foot in the grass to make a line ten feet away. He declared they had to stand behind the muddy line. The remaining three cleared the table sideways. They turned the table long. After Damon and Simon barely cleared it, they pulled two together.
I leaned toward Grace. “Maybe they should fill their pants with rolls of toilet paper.”
“What’s that Red?” Damon paused in his work and grinned at his nickname for me. “Chumming up to your little pal?” He glared at Grace. “It’s obvious Red’s you’re new little Barbie doll. Poor new-gal didn’t stand a chance once you sunk your claws in her.”
How old was this guy, nine? “I have a brain, thank-you. I’m a Barbie. Maybe you’re just jealous she wouldn’t let you be her Ken?”
He stepped forward and leaned down, his face inches from mine, hot breath hitting my cheeks. “What’d you just say?”
My courage flew out the window. I dropped my gaze. His eyes were red, nostrils flared, lips curled in a nasty smile. I locked on his neck where a birthmark, which also looked angry, peeked out from the edge of his polo shirt near the buttons.
Simon pulled Damon back. “Leave her alone. You’re scaring the poor girl.”
I gasped for air, not realizing I’d held it. With a shaky hand, I covered my mouth, not sure what else to do.
Damon blinked and jerked his arm out of Simon’s grip. “Whatever. Sorry, Red.”
“You’re such a jerk, Damon.” Grace grabbed my arm and led me inside by the elbow. “You okay?”
Leaning against the cool, cement bricked wall, I tried to calm my nerves. “Bit insecure, isn’t he?”
Grace laughed. “I usually just try to ignore him.”
“How do you ignore someone so big?”
“And ugly?”
I grinned, feeling better. “You so missed your chance when you turned him down.”
“I guess he never got over it.” She pretended to clutch her heart. “It started the first week I was here, but he was just so big—”
“An’ ugly.”
“An’ smelly. It turned me off.”
“I don’t blame you.”
The bell rang. I had chemistry and she had art on the other side of school.
“See you after classes. Try not to pick anymore fights.” She laughed and disappeared down the hall.
Afternoon classes flew by. At the end of the day, I made my way out to the parking lot to Grace’s car. My heart skipped a beat when a dark blue Mustang sat parked beside the Smartcar.
Michael stood waiting between the two cars, leaning against his door.
“Hi.” I hadn’t seen him for two weeks and he looked awesome. I made tight fists, warning my fingers not to reach up to his blond hair begging to be tamed. His blue eyes piercing with their intensity, his lips and slight stubble – all of it made my blood rush.
He nodded a hello, but his face remained serious. “Grace told me what happened. I thought I might have a word with this Damon boy.”
Boy? Damon was like a year younger than him. I waved my hand. “It’s nothing. Damon probably took too many steroids and had some reaction.” Bummer. I had been hoping for: I missed you.
Michael’s head shot up and his body tensed. I turned around to where he looked.
Damon pushed through the school front doors, strutting across the grass with Simon in tow. They headed to the other side of the parking lot. He kept glancing our way with an irritating, cocky smile, but he continued to his car. He gassed the engine and sped out of the parking lot.
“Michael!” Grace’s singsong voice made both of us turn. “What a surprise.” Her cheeks and most of her face burned slightly red.
“Really? You contacted –” Michael stopped mid-sentence.
Something passed between the two of them, but I couldn’t figure out what. It might take a bit of patience, but I intended to find out. Why would Grace call Michael and tell him about lunch? It was no big deal. Then it dawned on me. “It seems your old flame’s still holding a bit of a nasty grudge.”
Grace shrugged. “You win some and, in his case, you lose again. The guy’s a meat-head.”
“Maybe it was good I wasn’t here.” Michael turned and smiled at me. “Well, if my knight-in-shiny-armor services aren’t needed; is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Well…” I said. “There is this Halloween Masquerade. We are actually required to go for drama class. I could really use a date.”
Chapter 7
Of all the Halloween themes, we got stuck with famous couples. Grace convinced Simon to go with her and she took charge of all our outfits. She bought a Spartacus costume for Michael and a Roman slave one for me. I’d come to trust her and she made me laugh with her charity shop and eBay shopping.
The night of the dance I sat in her bathroom on a stool, letting her curl my hair and pin it up. “Doesn’t Spartacus’s wife get murdered?”
She dropped the curling iron.
I swore she caught the hot part in her bare hand but didn’t even flinch.
Setting the curling iron on the counter, she grabbed a few bobby pins. “Aren’t all famous couples tragic?”
Her hand was obviously not burned. I pointed at her in the mirror. She was dressed as Fashion Fairy Tale Barbie. “I don’t think Barbie and Ken have a tragic ending.”
“Touché. But if Damon see’s the outfits, he might change that.” She giggled at my shocked looked in the mirror. “I’m just kidding. He’s the one who gave me the idea.” She pinned the last bobby pin in my hair. “Stand.”
We stared at my reflection. The faded grey-blue slave’s dress had tattered sleeves and hem but I was willing to bet, no slave ever wore a dress this formfitting. Grace had tied a black scarf around my waist for a belt. She’d bought the gorgeous pair of strappy sandals from a second-hand shop.
She traced her fingers along her collar bone. “Something’s missing.” Snapping her fingers, she disappeared out of the room.
I stared down at my red polished toe nails and leaned against the doorframe. Grace had found a gladiator costume on eBay in Michael’s size. The thought of his body in a fighter’s outfit created a tingling in my lower abdomen. I was willing to bet Spartacus had nothing on Michael. Hopefully I didn’t embarrass myself with s
taring, or even worse if I’d start salivating.
“Wear this.” Grace held something shiny in her hand. “It’s not a choker, but we can link the clasp on a shorter part of the chain and make it look like one.
The necklace, beautiful and obviously antique, was made of sterling and shone like Grace had just polished it. “I can’t wear that.”
“I know Roman slaves wore copper, but this is so perfect. It’s--”
“Too expensive.” My fingers had a will of their own and reached for the silver. The chain was cool, but the aged Celtic pendant had a unique feel. Heavy but…different. I couldn’t tell if it was hot or cold. I held it up to the light. The pendant turned out to actually be some sort of vial with a ruby inside. “Is this some kind of family heirloom?” I’m not wearing this -- my luck it belonged to Caleb’s mother.
“Just try it on.” Grace took it from my hand and clipped the chilly metal around my neck. Against my skin, the pendant gave me goose bumps but warmed instantly. How in the world did it do that?
“Don’t you look adorable, little sis,” Michael said sarcastically from the hall doorway. “Apparently your idea of tragedy is quite different than the rest of the worlds.”
Grace’s bouffant hairdo blocked my view of Michael’s face. A round shield covered his body, except for his bare legs and sandaled feet.
“Hardy-har-har.” Grace faked a girly laugh. “My shopping helped you though. You’re quite dashing.”
“Half naked in October? Don’t you th—” He froze as I stepped beside Grace.
Grace grinned, a wacky, I-got-you-good smile totally meant for her brother. “Come on, don’t look so serious. It’s Halloween! Let her be your slave for a night.”
