by N M Thorn
“Yes, ma’am... um... River.” He chuckled at his own awkwardness. “Sorry, old habits die hard.”
“So, what did you want to ask?”
“It’s the middle of the night,” he said, glancing out the dark window. “Your door is broken, and the security system is down. I think I should stay with you for the rest of the night.” Her eyebrows climbed up, and he quickly corrected himself. “I mean not with you in your bedroom, but with you inside the house.” He rubbed the back of his neck, realizing how awkward he sounded. “I just don’t want you to be alone, and you need to get some sleep. Tomorrow is a workday.”
Partly, he was expecting her to turn his suggestion down, just as she had when her partner had offered the same thing. Since she didn’t reply right away, he nodded and took a step, heading toward the exit.
“Damian,” she called him, and he halted, turning to face her. “Thank you. Yes, please stay here. I know it sounds childish, but... I don’t want to be alone tonight...” She dropped her head, fidgeting with her wedding band. “There are quite a few empty bedrooms here. There’s one right next to mine.” She pointed to the left. “Take any one of them.”
“I’m not planning on sleeping, ma’am,” he objected slowly. “I’ll survey the house one more time and then stay guard while you’re asleep. Won’t be the first time for me.” He reached the door and pushed it open. Then he half-turned and offered her a tiny smile. “Good night, River.”
Chapter 8
~ Damian Blake ~
Damian walked through the house, getting familiar with the plan of the right wing. The location of the rooms was similar to what he had seen when he and Sam visited the left wing. However, when he reached the very end of the hallway, something seemed to be different. Maybe he was too tired, but at this point, he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. Since he had copied the architectural plans of the house, he could compare the blueprints to the actual layout of Paradise Manor, and he decided to do that as soon as he was back at the hotel.
As he walked into the foyer, he approached the mirror and stopped, staring at it for a few seconds. Besides his own reflection, he didn’t notice anything else. Just to be sure, he cast a spell and checked the walls of the house and the plywood barrier blocking the entrance into the left wing, but except for the protective rune on the plywood, he didn’t detect anything supernatural.
After a while, he returned to River’s bedroom and lowered himself to the floor outside her door. He spent all night staring into the darkness, fighting the exhaustion, but he couldn’t allow himself to close his eyes even for a moment. The hallway had no windows, and the doors of the other rooms were shut, so when the first ray of the rising sun touched the house, he couldn’t see it. His wristwatch beeped at seven in the morning, and he stared at it in shock, realizing that the night was over.
Damian doubted that whatever had attacked River would dare try again during daylight, but he didn’t want to leave her sleeping in a house without a front door. The events of the last night took their toll on him, and he felt drained magically and exhausted physically. He groaned and closed his eyes, leaning his head backward against the wall.
Come on, River, he thought, fighting the fog in his mind. Don’t you have to go to work? Wake up... wake... up...
Exhaustion took over, and he blacked out for just a few short minutes—at least he thought only a few minutes had passed. Feeling a rough kick in his side, he jolted to his feet to find a standard issue police pistol pointed at his face.
“What are you doing here, asshole? Lost your way?” hissed Jesse, his deep-brown eyes dark with scorn.
Damian glowered at River’s partner, anger rising to a dangerous level within him. He didn’t think. Instinct and years of training did all the thinking for him. In one swift motion, he ducked to the side slightly, grabbed the gun with his left hand and slammed Jesse’s arm with his right hand, disarming him. Squeezing the gun in his hands, Damian stepped back, pointing the weapon at Jesse who gaped at him, dumbstruck.
Before Damian could say anything, he felt the barrel of another gun pressed against the back of his head.
“Damian, you’re assaulting a police officer.” River’s cold voice sounded behind him. “Turn around slowly and give me your gun.”
“It’s not my gun,” started Damian but didn’t move, his attention on Jesse.
“I don’t give a damn. I said, stand down!” she barked, thrusting her gun against the back of his head with some force. “It’s an order!”
“Yes, ma’am...” Even though everything inside him was boiling, he couldn’t allow for the situation to escalate where River would shoot him in the head and see him rising as if nothing happened. Damian turned around, his jaw pressed so tightly, his teeth squeaked.
River lowered her weapon, her face flushed with anger. She ripped Jesse’s gun out of Damian’s hand and pointed at the floor next to the door into her bedroom.
“Sit!” she yelled, her voice ringing on high notes. Then she turned to Jesse and gave him his Glock back, a sarcastic smirk curving her full lips. “I didn’t think I’d see the day when a handyman would disarm the almighty Jesse Williams.”
“River, I found him sitting by your door and assumed the worst. What did you expect me to—,” Jesse attempted to explain, but she interrupted him just like she’d interrupted Damian a few minutes ago.
“He was here with my invitation,” she growled, pushing her long copper hair out of her face, anger still shining in her eyes. Then she took a deep breath to calm down and added, “Let’s go. I’ll walk you out, Jesse.” River pushed him in the direction of the exit, and even though she looked calmer, the tone of her voice promised nothing good to her partner. Then she switched her attention to Damian, pointing at him. “You sit here and don’t make a move until I come back. I need to have a word with you. Am I clear, Mr. Blake?”
“Crystal,” grumbled Damian. He lowered to the floor and bent his legs, resting his arms atop his knees.
“Down, boy. Stay,” purred Gypsy snidely as she passed him, waving her bushy tail in his face. “What a good boy you are.”
I swear... I’ll kill this cat... Damian lowered his head atop his folded arms and closed his eyes, his mind drifting on and off.
River came back a few minutes later and touched his shoulder. He flinched and raised his face, looking up at her. She didn’t smile, her face void of emotions.
“Follow me,” she said, and he knew that even though her voice sounded soft now, it wasn’t an invitation but an order.
She led him into a light, spacious kitchen and motioned for him to sit down. He didn’t object. Feeling too tired to argue about anything, he pulled one of the chairs out and sat down heavily, stretching his long legs. She measured coffee into a coffeemaker and added some water. Then she turned the machine on and placed two empty cups on the counter.
A few minutes later, the warm, bitter aroma wafted through the air, and he inhaled deeply. He loved the smell of coffee in the morning even more than he liked the taste of the actual drink. River turned around and narrowed her eyes, observing him with unconcealed interest. He averted his gaze under her steady stare, and his hand went up automatically, brushing his hair over his face.
“You don’t need to do that,” she murmured, waving her hand in his direction. “At least not on my account.”
“Do what?” He raised his eyes at her and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the edge of the table.
“This.” She smirked and pulled a long strand of her hair over her face. “You don’t need to hide your scar, and you definitely shouldn’t feel self-conscious about it. First, it doesn’t spoil your appearance. Second, it is part of who you are. Our scars tell the story of our lives. Some of them we can see in a mirror, but some of them, we can only feel. And those are the worst type.” She sighed, frowning, sadness shadowing her features. As the coffee machine beeped, she turned away from him and poured the drink. “Milk and sugar?”
“No, thank yo
u,” replied Damian, now feeling more self-conscious about his scar than ever before. “I take my coffee black.”
She chuckled, shaking her head as she added creamer and two spoons of sugar in her drink. “I don’t think I can drink it without milk and sugar.”
River placed a cup in front of him and sat down across the table to face him. Gypsy hopped on her lap, and she threaded her fingers through her long fur absentmindedly. He took a sip of his coffee, carefully observing her over the rim of his cup.
She had a pleasant oval face and the kind of pearl-white, almost translucent, complexion only true redheads had. Her long, copper hair wasn’t pulled back into a ponytail, and it fell down her shoulders, reaching the middle of her back. Dressed in sweatpants and a simple T-shirt, she looked slim, but her well-toned muscles—maybe a touch too bulky for a woman—suggested she was a regular at the local gym.
Noticing his attention, the corners of her lips quirked up just a little, but she didn’t shy away from his gaze. Lifting her cup, she took a sip and then placed the cup back, visibly enjoying the taste.
“Let’s talk,” she said at length.
“About?”
“You.”
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said no,” he repeated calmly. Taking one more sip of his coffee, he placed it back on the table and got up. “I need to have an hour of sleep and then I’ll come back with your father to fix your front door and check your security system. Thank you for the coffee.” He turned around, ready to leave.
“I didn’t say you can go,” she called after him, tones of authority in her voice. “Sit your ass back down, Damian Blake.”
“I don’t need your permission.” He turned around to face her, trying to stay as calm as he could. “Don’t assume for one moment that you can boss me around like you do your partner, and that I will obey your every command.”
“I assume nothing.” She slammed her palm against the table. “But until I understand what’s going on here, you’re going nowhere.”
“Goodbye now.” Damian pivoted on his heels and headed toward the exit.
“Damian, stop!” she yelled after him, tones of desperation ringing in her voice.
He winced inwardly but didn’t slow down. She ran after him, halting him by the door. Grabbing his arm, she forced him to turn around. Damian looked down at her, exhaustion adding to his aggravation.
“Damian, please,” she said quickly. “If you have some criminal record, I don’t care. I’m a cop. You know that if I wanted to check your background, you wouldn’t be able to hide anything from me. But I don’t care about that.”
He smirked, taking her hand off his arms gently. “Good luck with checking my background, my lady.” He inclined his head in a slight bow, sarcasm in his every move.
“My lady?” she repeated, looking confused, but then shook her head as if trying to chase some unwanted thoughts away. “I don’t care about your past, Damian. Whatever it is you don’t want to speak of, I’m not going to force the subject. I promise... If I ask something you don’t want to discuss, just tell me to shut up.” She stopped talking, her eyes pleading with him. “But I have to understand, and to do that, I will have to ask a few questions. Please, Damian.” She threw her hands up and sighed. “I need help. As a detective, I got used to trusting my gut, and right now, it tells me you’re the person I need.”
He didn’t reply, staring silently at her.
“The way I talked to you...” She looked to the side, into the darkness of the hallway. “You’re right. It was uncalled for. I guess it’s because of my job. I have to speak with people a certain—"
“Bullying someone into submission is not a good way to ask for help, ma’am,” he interrupted her dryly, but his aggravation started to simmer down.
“River?” A guilty smile crossed her face as hope lit up her eyes. “We used to be on a first-name basis just a few hours ago?”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose, frowning. “I know I’m going to regret it, but let’s do it...” He walked back into the kitchen and sat down, wrapping his hands around the still-hot cup of coffee.
“Yes,” she whispered, but his sensitive hearing caught it, and he smirked, thinking that the bad-ass detective wore pajamas with kittens and could get excited like a little girl.
River sat down at the table across from him and for a few seconds remained silent, staring out the window. Then she sighed and looked at him.
“Let’s proceed with caution, Damian,” she said softly. “I’ll ask you a question, and if you don’t feel like answering, just ignore it. I promise that I have a reason to ask all these questions. It’s not my curiosity. Okay?”
He nodded, still unsure he made the right decision by coming back to this light, clean kitchen stuffed with modern tech to the brim.
“Damian, I just witnessed you disarm a trained police detective, who happened to be ex-special forces,” started River, her eyes boring into his. “You did it without thinking. It was pure instinct. Where did you get trained?”
“It’s classified, I already told you,” replied Damian, sounding flat, almost bored. “But I can tell you that the agency where I served took my training seriously. So, yes, it’s embedded in me.” He smirked bitterly and added in his mind, Literally.
“When I told you that I had seen a reflection of my late husband in the mirror and that I had heard his voice, you didn’t blink an eye,” she proceeded with her next question. “It wasn’t your first encounter with something... um... supernatural, was it?”
“I’m an open-minded person.” Her question set his mind on high alert. Remembering all the effort Sam had put in to keep his only daughter away from the World of Magic, he didn’t like where all this was going.
“Do you believe in the supernatural?” she asked. Her eyes widened in the expectation of his answer, and he noticed that she held her breath.
Dammit... I can’t tell her the truth, he thought, cringing inwardly, and then added out loud, “My personal beliefs are irrelevant.”
“I see,” she mused, regaining her calm. Her eyes stared into his without blinking, and he felt as if he was submitted to a lie detector test. “Have you heard the story about the ghost of Paradise Manor?”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe it has factual bases?”
“My beliefs are irrelevant,” he said again, avoiding the answer. “Do you believe it to be the truth?” He leaned forward just a little, arching his eyebrow at her.
“I do,” she replied quietly. “Before Nick passed away, he told me he saw her reflection in the mirror.”
“The antique one? In the foyer?”
“Yes.” She nodded, biting her lip. “A few days later, Nick committed suicide.” She frowned. “I don’t believe he took his own life, Damian. He wasn’t depressed. We were so happy... He would never...”
Her voice trembled, tears gathering in her eyes. She averted her gaze, pressing her fingers to her eyes, and for a few long seconds, heavy silence enveloped the room. Damian shifted slightly, not sure what he should do in this situation. On one hand, he wanted to comfort her, ease her pain somehow. On the other hand, he didn’t think it was appropriate for him to do that.
“Anyway.” She cleared her throat, composing herself. “I believe in the supernatural. I believe the Lady of the Mirror killed my husband. I don’t know how, but something tells me you may know more about this stuff. Am I right?”
He remained silent.
“I’ll take your silence as a yes,” she continued. “When we spoke earlier, you said staying guard while I was sleeping wasn’t the first time for you. What did you mean?”
He stifled a sigh. “I used to work as a personal security guard for a while,” he replied without going into any details.
“A bodyguard?”
He nodded. “Something like that.”
“Do you lie, Damian?”
“What kind of goddamn question is that?” he asked, wondering where sh
e was going with all this. “We all lie. Do I lie? Yes, I do when I have no other choice. Am I lying to you now? No, I am not. But if you push me any further, I will—just to make you stop.” He got up, moving his chair back with a loud screech. Then he leaned across the table, towering over her. “What do you want from me, River? Speak plainly, or I swear I’ll turn around and leave, and you won’t be able to stop me this time.”
“Fine,” she said through clenched teeth, rising. “I’ll tell you straight, and you can think whatever you want after that.” She stood with her arms crossed, angry twinkles dancing in her eyes. “I believe my husband and the rest of his family were murdered by a ghost—the Lady of the Mirror. I’ve seen her a few times after his death, and I believe she is after me now. I need your protection. I want to hire you as my personal bodyguard.” She stopped talking, her chest rising and falling with angry breaths. “Was that plain enough for you?”
Damian froze in place, cold perspiration covering his forehead. A chain of memories flashed in his mind, images replacing each other faster than he could capture the meaning. The eyes of another woman gazing at him with love as she took her last breath surfaced in his memory—the woman who had trusted him with his life, and he let her down.
Before he knew it, he shook his head no. River circled the table and stopped in front of him, taking his hand into hers. The touch of her soft skin to his ripped him out of his stupor, and he shied away from her. Swallowing hard, he gathered his thoughts.
“River,” he said, his voice hoarse, “I don’t think it’s a good idea... Besides, I don’t think your father would—”
“My father wants his daughter alive, and something tells me he’s just as open-minded as you are,” she objected, filling the word ‘open-minded’ with enough sarcasm for him to feel it. “He would be happy if he knew I wasn’t alone here. The house has plenty of empty bedrooms, a gym, and an inground lap pool. Everything here is at your disposal if you agree to help me.”
