The Witch's Familiars

by G. A. Rael

  Darren looked up at her with curiosity dancing in his eyes. Jordan's face grew warm, and her only consolation as that she blushed so often around him that maybe he would just think it was her natural state. "Sorry," she whispered, "I guess I'm just a bit self-conscious."

  "Don't apologize," he said, digging his fingertips into her plump waist as his gaze explored her. "I'm just not sure what there is to be self-conscious about."

  Before Jordan could formulate a response, Darren pulled her zipper down slowly, exposing the blue cotton panties underneath. He upset the little bow on the front with an amused puff of air through his nose and began tugging her jeans past her hips.

  Once she was naked save for her underwear, Darren paused to examine her closely. Jordan squirmed under his gaze, newly aware of every flaw on her body--every stretchmark and the few faint scars that had been put there by other hands. "My God, you're beautiful," he said, breathing the words she thought would be far more appropriate in reference to a piece of art than her body.

  "You really don't get a lot of women here in Cold Creek, do you?" she teased.

  He held her gaze without a hint of amusement. "None like you."

  Jordan didn't know how to respond to that, either.

  "I'm not going to do anything that'll hurt," he promised, looking her in the eyes with such gentle certainty that any hesitation she might have had was quelled. "Tonight is all about you."

  At first, she didn't understand what he meant, but his actions were more of an answer than words could have provided. Her fingers worried at the bedspread as he explored her with his mouth, rousing sensations she had never imagined were there. If she didn't know better, Jordan could have sworn he was deriving pleasure simply from giving it to her. It wasn't at all in keeping with what little she had been taught about sex, but his efforts were too dizzying to question it.

  Jordan bit her lip as a sharp cry of bliss tore from her throat and her body convulsed. She covered her mouth in horror, hoping desperately that the television downstairs had been loud enough to mask the sound. Darren rose from his knees, a glazed look in his eyes and a lopsided grin of pride on his face as he stood.

  "I'm so sorry," she whispered, her hand clamped firmly over her mouth as she sat up and pressed her legs together. "I don't know what came over me."

  "That's kind of the whole point," he said, chuckling as he climbed into bed next to her.

  "That was supposed to happen?" she asked doubtfully.

  "The orgasm? Absolutely," he said with confidence, leaning back against her headboard as he pulled her against his side. "The scream? If the guy knows what he's doing, yeah."

  "Oh," she murmured, leaning into him if only to hide her hopelessly reddened face.

  Darren pulled the throw at the end of the bed around them both. "I take it you enjoyed that."

  She nodded sheepishly. "Let's just say if I already booked my ticket to Hell, I think they just bumped me up to first class."

  He laughed. "Coming from a Pentecostal, I'll take that as a compliment."

  She laid her head against his chest, gazing up at him. "Is there...anything else you'd like to do?"

  "No," he said, cupping her cheek in his hand, "You get some rest and I'll take a cold shower."

  She watched him in bewilderment, but before she could ask, he added, "I told you I wasn't going to do anything too serious tonight. You're a virgin and your first time should be special. Some things are worth taking slow."

  Jordan bit her lip and snuggled closer. "You're full of surprises, Darren St. Clair."

  "That makes two of us, whoever you are," he teased lightly, pressing his lips against hers. Jordan melted into the kiss, then into his embrace. She didn't know how long he held her like that before she finally drifted off, only that it was the first time she could truly remember feeling safe.

  Thirteen

  A few weeks later, Jordan had settled nicely into small town life. Even easier had been the transition to being the doctor's girlfriend. Maybe it was because the town gossips had moved on to other topics, the distraction provided by the festival, or even because of the fact that she belonged to Darren, but Jordan now received only few stray looks from Cold Creek's more curious residents when she went out. Even those began to die down.

  Most importantly, there were no more vandalism attempts or strange phone calls. As the full moon rose overhead, Jordan was relieved that Darren had called her over to his apartment that night. He wouldn't say what it was on the phone. Some sort of surprise. She was just glad for the excuse not to be alone. She doubted Hermes would try anything in front of an audience even if he was prowling around in human form.

  The light in the clinic was still on, which meant that Darren was likely still with a patient. Jordan had the feeling his surprise was that he was going to make dinner--a labor of love if his barren refrigerator was any indication--so she decided to stop at the bakery for dessert. Apparently, half the town had the same idea, because a line had formed that was wrapped around the door. Someone called her name across the sit-in area of the shop and Jordan looked over to see Chase Wilde waving eagerly.

  Pretending she hadn't seen him wasn't an option, so she took a deep breath, put on her best smile and hoped that Darren had been exaggerating about the lawyer's infatuation with her. He stood to greet her and took her hand in his with a warm squeeze.

  "It's good to see you again, Jordan."

  “Likewise,” she said politely. She realized after their last encounter that he hadn’t been kidding about making his presence scarce in town. Amid the vague rumors and generally dismissive way people spoke of him, it was easy to forget how charming Chase was in person.

  He stopped to pull out a chair for her. “Why don't you have a seat and chat for a minute while the line thins out?"

  Jordan glanced back at the intimidating queue that didn't seem to be growing. He was right. She would probably get out of the shop at the same time whether she spent the wait standing in line or talking to him.

  "As long as I'm not disturbing you," she said, sitting across from him at the small table. There was a box full of sugary pastries in front of him, and they seemed to be arranged by color.

  "The company of a beautiful woman could hardly be called a disturbance," he said with such sincerity that it was hard to consider it a pickup line. Before Jordan could formulate a response, he continued, "I hear you're dating the town dog whisperer."

  She blinked in surprise. He laughed. "Forgive my bluntness, I've been at trial all week and my filter has grown weak from disuse." He slid the box towards her. "Danish?"

  "It's fine," she said with a nervous laugh. "And no thanks. I’m about to have dinner. I’m picking up dessert for later.”

  "I have a bit of a sweet tooth," he said with resigned self-loathing before taking a bite of one of the pastries. He scowled at the flaky crumbs that fell onto his lap and swept them off. "You'd think they would have found a way to make these neater by now." Then he noticed her watching him and tilted his head. "Did I say something?"

  "No, I'm just having a hard time coming to terms with the image of someone like you having a weakness for pastries," she admitted, unable to keep from smiling.

  "Someone like me?" he asked, his light brows knitting in confusion.

  "You know, someone so elegant and professional," she explained quickly. "I didn't mean it in a bad way."

  He chuckled. "No, that's probably the nicest thing anyone in this town has ever said about me."

  "That can't be true."

  "Oh, it is. They all shake my hand and smile to my face, but I know the things they say behind my back." The most disturbing thing to Jordan was the fact that he said it all in such a pleasant, casual tone. "It's alright, though. I can hardly blame them."

  "Why?" Jordan asked nervously.

  His blue eyes twinkled with mischief. "Let's just say I was a different person in high school."

  "Even if that's true, it's hardly fair to hold you accountable for what you did b
ack then," she said carefully.

  “A small town never forgets."

  Jordan gulped. When she saw that the line was being cleared, she stood. "Well, it was nice seeing you again, Chase.”

  "My pleasure, as always," he said, smiling. "Enjoy your evening and tell Darren I said hello."

  "I will," she said, deciding not to ask how two meetings constituted "always." She made it to the counter, ordered a few assorted desserts she thought Darren might like and left the little shop. She walked quickly to Darren's apartment and glanced at the clock on the administration building to see that she had gone from being much too early to being ten minutes late.

  The lights above the clinic were on, so Jordan walked up the stairs and knocked on the apartment door. She could hear someone moving around inside, but he didn't answer right away.

  "Just a minute," Darren called from inside, sounding uncharacteristically frazzled. A moment later, he opened the door and Jordan's nostrils filled with smoke and the smell of burnt Italian food.

  "I uh, tried to cook," said Darren, wiping his flour-covered hands on a dish rag. "I had a last-minute walk-in, and I thought it would be fine to leave it in the oven for a second. Guess I'm better at making breakfast."

  Jordan tried not to laugh as she stepped inside. "I'm surprised the smoke detector isn't going off," she said, looking around at all the smoke the open window and fan were doing little to help with.

  "That's because I took out the batteries after I threw it across the room," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Don't tell the fire marshal."

  Jordan laughed, unable to resist the temptation anymore.

  "Glad you find my culinary ineptitude so funny," he said dryly, shutting the door behind her.

  "It's just that you remind me so much of the bachelor archetype in those old movies," she said, setting her purse down.

  "Oh yeah?" he challenged, crossing his arms. "How's that?"

  "Well," she began carefully, "He can't cook, he's a bit messy, and he always seems cold and grumpy on the surface."

  He stepped closer. "Go on."

  She reached out and trailed a finger down the crisp line of buttons on his shirt. "But underneath, he always surprises you because he's really quite a gentleman."

  Darren's amusement faded into a new look she didn't recognize as he cupped her chin between his thumb and forefinger. "You know, you remind me of one of those movie girls, too."

  "How's that?"

  "Everything," he said. “From the way you speak to the things that startle you, even the way you dress. Sometimes I'd swear you stepped out of a time capsule from the ‘50s."

  She laughed nervously. "Yeah. I really should get out more."

  "So," he said, letting his hand fall away. "Either I can take you out or we can order something and watch a movie."

  "A movie here sounds great." She took a seat on his couch, noting that there was no more errant laundry to be found.

  "What kind of pizza do you want?" he asked, picking up the phone.

  "Anything but meat."

  "Right," said Darren, waiting until someone picked up before ordering a veggie and whatever a "meat storm" was. When he hung up, he flopped down on the couch and motioned for her to sit beside him. "Dinner, take two will be here in twenty."

  Jordan settled in at his side and for a while they simply cuddled in silence. As always, her anxiety seemed to melt away at first contact with Darren. She had never met someone who put her at ease the way he did, in spite of their rough start. She had never met someone who could get her riled up the way he could, either.

  "Is that all you brought?" he asked, nodding to her small bag.

  "Oh, well, yeah. I didn't know if I'd be staying over or if bringing a bigger bag would be weird," she admitted. "It's got everything I need, though."

  "I can always swing by your apartment," he said, giving her shoulder a squeeze. Even though it still hurt, it dissolved the stiffness in her joint. "You're really tense. I should give you a massage after dinner."

  "That sounds nice." What she didn't admit was that she was tense because she was afraid the white cat would be paying her another visit now that the moon was full.

  "I see you brought dessert," he said, picking up the box of pastries.

  "Yeah, I saw that you were still in the clinic so I figured I had time," she said. "I ran into Chase Wilde. He asked me to sit with him for a bit and he mentioned that he knows we're dating."

  "I'm sure he was congratulatory," Darren said wryly.

  She hesitated. "No, but he didn't say anything negative. I got the feeling he was just lonely and looking for someone to talk to."

  "Oh, I'm sure."

  "Really," she insisted. "What is it that's so bad about Chase, anyway?"

  He sighed and seemed to be at least considering giving her an answer when there was a sharp knock on the door. Darren bolted to the door, and Jordan couldn't help but feel like his haste was more about changing the subject than hunger. A moment later, he placed two boxes of piping hot pizza on the coffee table.

  "I'm not going to get an answer, am I?" she asked, leaning forward.

  “Chase’s past isn't exactly a date night topic," he said, handing her a plate before he took his own.

  "If I'm going to avoid someone like you seem to want me to, I at least need to know why," she said, feeling only a hint of guilt for the manipulation.

  He groaned. "Fine. I've known Chase my entire life and it seemed like he found a new way to be more of an asshole with each year that passed. He was always that kid mouthing off to his parents, tormenting some poor freshman for not having the right shoes, just general spoiled rich kid bullshit. I'm pretty damn sure he was the reason behind a bunch of neighborhood cats that went missing when we were teenagers, but I could never prove it. When we got to high school, he kind of mellowed out. At least, that's what we all thought."

  Jordan's stomach churned. Even after being stalked by one, the idea of anyone hurting a cat made her feel ill. Now she knew why Darren hadn't wanted to discuss it over dinner and wished she had listened, but it was too late.

  Darren paused to crack open a can of beer and took a long gulp. "There was a rumor about one of the girls he dated. She disappeared and her parents accused Chase of having something to do with it, but they never had proof and it fizzled out eventually. I always figured his parents paid them off one way or another. The police never even found her body.”

  "You really think he killed his girlfriend?” Jordan asked, unable to hide her shock. As little as she knew of Chase, it was impossible to imagine a man who blanched at the sight of blood and had a fondness for pastries doing something so ruthless.

  He shrugged. "The police couldn't find enough evidence to press charges, so it's not my place to say. Other folks in town don't feel the same way."

  "But he's so..."

  "Pleasant? I know. He's been like that ever since they dropped the investigation," Darren replied, helping himself to a third slice of pizza. "Maybe he is innocent and it scared him straight. Who really knows? Honestly, he creeps me out now more now than he did before. At least you knew what you were getting with the old Chase.”

  "Thanks for telling me," she murmured.

  "Did it have any effect?"

  She couldn't help but smile. "Are you trying to ask me to stay away from him?"

  "That's exactly what I'm trying not to ask," he said. "Especially at the risk of seeming like one of those possessive, misogynistic rednecks you're probably used to."

  "But you are asking."

  He rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'm asking."

  "That's all you had to do," she said, snuggling into his side.

  “That easy?” he asked doubtfully.

  Jordan shrugged. “I’m not in the habit of letting people tell me what to do, but I care about you and if it’s that important to you, I’ll trust your gut. Now, how about that movie?"

  "Sure," he said, clearly relieved. "We could rent something off my movie channels."


  “Sounds good to me.”

  "Your pick."

  Jordan stared at the remote and its dizzying array of buttons. No matter how long she’d had to play catchup with the modern world after her Puritanical upbringing, it would never cease to overwhelm her just how complicated entertainment technology had become. She surfed through the channel list until she found something she recognized.

  "Oh, this is one of my favorites," she said, settling in with a piece of pizza.

  "Rear Window?" Darren asked, squinting at the description before she put it on. "That's Hitchcock, isn't it?"

  "Yeah," she replied. "It's kind of creepy."

  His lip twitched. "I think I'll be alright. You sure you don't mind watching it again?"

  "No, all the best movies get better with time," she said, moving closer when Darren's arm draped over her shoulder. He made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a snort, which Jordan decided was one of the most charming things a man could do.

  As the movie began, they continued eating. While the story usually captivated her, Jordan found herself far more riveted by the steady rhythm of Darren's heartbeat next to her ear. Her anxiety faded as she snuggled up to his side with his strong arm wrapped around her, absently stroking her side. She had grown less nervous about him touching her stomach, but his touch still sparked a bit of self-consciousness.

  Before the second half of the movie was over, Darren's steady breathing clued her in to the fact that he had fallen asleep, and before long so had she.

  Fourteen

  The full moon came and went without incident, much to Jordan's relief. The fitting for the costume Cindy wanted her to wear for the equinox festival hadn't taken as long as she had thought, so she dialed Darren's number on the cell phone he had talked her into getting. Without going into more of her past than she cared to divulge at this fragile juncture in their relationship, she couldn’t come up with a decent excuse for not joining everyone else in the 21st century.

  Sure, it was safer for most people to carry a phone around at all times, but the constant fear that her father would somehow track her down made the idea of being off the grid incredibly appealing. Still, she had finally given in after coming to terms with the fact that if she truly wanted to start over, that meant living like a normal person, privacy-erasing technology and all. She had, however, refused to get a smartphone model in favor of a much more manageable flip phone.