by Deanna Chase
Simon flinched and stood up, shaking his hair free. He faced me directly and it became obvious how exhausted he was as he struggled to keep up the conversation. His voice was weak and without its usual melodic pitch.
“That is what my Creator gave me. A constant reminder that I also know what it is to have a maker who is corrupt. It’s not a mark meant to be touched with such…” He shook his head and flattened his hair over the spot.
“What, tenderness?”
There it was. Simon and I were connected by that similarity, our lives ran more parallel than I had thought and now I knew why we connected.
Quiet hung over the room like a spell where the slightest disturbance would break it. There was movement behind the door ahead and just beyond the opening I saw the silhouette of Justus. He was standing outside, listening in, but not saying a word. I couldn’t make out his face, only his profile. I wasn’t ready to face him just yet and clearly he didn’t want to see me. That hurt a little more than I expected.
“Do you need anything before I leave you to rest?”
“I could use a bath.” I scraped my fingers through my hair in disgust.
Simon walked into the bedroom hall where I heard him drawing water. I glanced back at the door and Justus was no longer there.
“Here, love, lift up.” He slid his arm beneath my legs and carried me. I rested my head against him and, as we neared the tub, I stole a moment to admire him. He wasn’t just decent—he was a man of character.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to join you. I’m going to put you down in the water and you can remove your shirt when I leave. There are fresh towels here. Just go straight back to bed when you are done.”
As he set me down, I felt the delicious water, so inviting, surrounding my body like a warm caress. Simon removed each sopping wet sock, one at a time, before he tossed them into a hamper.
“Do you need anything?”
I ignored him, dunking my head in the water and trying to remove the vile clumps of blood. I heard a cabinet open and close before a hand came across my forehead, gathering my hair up.
“Sit up. I’ll wash your hair.”
I didn’t argue. Simon tenderly held my head as he wet my hair with a pitcher of water, lathering in his hands shampoo that smelled of vanilla and coconut. He gently worked it through my dirty scalp and I sighed in relief.
I tried to remember the last time I had been taken care of like this, and I couldn’t.
A tickle ran down my forehead as suds threatened to infiltrate my eyes, but his finger swept across my brow, wiping them away. In the short time I had known Simon, he surprised me at every turn. There was a softer side to him that I could see he kept hidden very well behind the façade of a tough guy. While we had a brief interlude in the bedroom, we didn’t connect to the degree that I deserved such tender affections.
“Lean your head back and keep your eyes shut.” His left hand supported the nape of my neck and a warm stream of water touched the edge of my hairline; I breathed out a long, restful sigh. Simon repeated this several times until his hand ran across my hair and it squeaked.
‘Okay, I’m going to leave you alone.”
“Simon?”
“Yes?”
I paused, a thank you was in order, but what came out instead was, “I don’t want your pity.”
It was the truth. It wasn’t until I became a Mage that I learned what it was to be cared for. Part of me still resisted it, but it was a nurturing that I never had. But having someone do it because they felt sorry for me—I just couldn’t stand the idea of him looking at me as if I were a broken thing.
He placed his hand on my knee. “That is one thing you will never, ever have from me. You have the heart of a warrior, and someday you will have the strength of one.”
I looked up and saw honesty in his eyes. I knew this was a man who had hidden pain of his own. “I know what it’s like, but just remember, love—a scar will always mark you, but never let it define you.” Simon gently touched my hand and left me alone to bathe.
I found the soap and scrubbed myself raw. I drained the tub and ran the water a second time. Once I felt clean enough, I stepped out of the bath and tugged at the chain until water gurgled down the drain. The towel soaked up water from my damp hair before it was tossed in the hamper. While there were no clothes for me to dress in, a thin black robe hung from a hook on the inside door. The fabric was silky and smelled clean as I settled back onto the bed.
It did not escape my attention the sheets had been changed from black to white, and there were extra blankets for me to cover up in. Darkness engulfed me, and just as I was on the brink of falling asleep—a voice called out. His voice.
“Sillllverrrr… you belong to me.”
I let out a wail, flying out of the bed and sliding across the tile of the bathroom. Samil.
With a sudden bang, the bedroom door kicked in and I scurried to the corner, hiding behind the edge of the counter. I tucked my knees against my chest and held my breath, listening to the ominous sound of footsteps bearing down on me.
“Silver… are you ready to beg?”
When his body moved within my view, I thrust out my foot, kicking him in the groin with no mercy. Immediately, he doubled over and I kicked him again in the chest, sending him to the other side of the room.
My legs sprang up and I snatched a razor from the edge of the sink and flew forward, ready to strike. I saw nothing but blinding rage—I was running in pure survival mode.
Someone slammed into me and knocked the razor free. We fell to the floor but before I hit the tile, he pivoted his body around so that he took the brunt of the fall. I lay across his chest with my arms pinned so tightly that I couldn’t move a fraction. Guttural noises came from my throat as I writhed and kicked.
“Silver, stop!”
I thrashed violently, kicking my legs and flailing my head. While my attempts were genuine, the results were feeble.
“Let it go, Learner. Let it go.” The voice fell to a whisper. “Silver, calm down—it’s Justus.”
I made an animalistic sound before I recognized the voice and stopped struggling. Lying at my feet was a body slumped against the wall with a mop of brown hair covering his face. One knee was bent up with a rip in the jeans and my eyes trailed down to the bare feet.
Simon. I hurt Simon.
I threw my head back in shame as my eyes shut tight; comprehension was beginning to sink in like a dagger. Tightness gripped my chest that had nothing to do with the man pinning me.
“Get him out of my head!” I cried.
My voice dissolved into tears. Whatever held me together was lost. My body shook with unrelenting sobs. I pulled against his solid arms, which held me firmly to him no matter how much I tried to tear them away.
“Stop it; let me go!”
It was like fighting against a wall.
His voice softened against my ear. “Shhh, I’ve got you, Silver, be still. Lean into me. I’m not going to let him take you again. Forgive me. I failed you as a Ghuardian.”
In that moment of clarity, I realized that I did not deserve the respect these men gave me. I wept on his cheek, and the minute I realized what I was doing I jerked away and hid beneath my wet hair. Samil didn’t go as far as he might have, but in the past week I felt violated, robbed of my dignity, stripped of my independence, and treated like an animal. I had tried to stay tough and imagine myself as a warrior—but part of me was still human.
“He ruined me.”
“You are not ruined.” His hand brushed my hair gently away from my tear-stained face as the other still held me. Warmth radiated from his body and my chest rocked with heavy sobs that I was powerless to stop.
Justus cradled my wet cheek. “You break me with those tears, Silver. Please don’t cry.”
I calmed, taking slow breaths until the remains of my despair had faded.
“As long as I’m with you, I will keep you safe.”
“And how long will that b
e for?”
He did not hesitate, answering the moment I spoke the last word. “For the rest of my life.”
Justus pushed himself up to sitting position and loosened his hold. I leaned against him, wiping my face.
“I will train you properly and you will learn to fight. You will have the future you deserve—an independent one. You will be strong enough to protect yourself one day and have a job within the Mageri. I did not prepare you as I should have; this is my fault.”
He jaw flexed and I could see he was taking it personally. There was no need. I’d come to realize that my life was out of my hands, as were many of the decisions.
“This life wasn’t my choice and I used that as my crutch, my out for not following your rules. But I am making a choice now.” I shifted to face him so he could see my sincerity. “I choose to be a Mage; I’ll listen to you from now on and will learn. This is my life, and I accept it.” I sniffed and wiped my damp lashes.
His stare was prideful. “I’ve never given you kind words, Silver. It does not mean that I am without them when I think of you. You’re sterling, that’s what you are. Always remember that.”
My eyes met his, accepting the compliment. Justus hadn’t been taking care of himself. His hair was grown out some and one cut on his face had not completely healed. I lifted my fingers to the gash that ran along his cheek when he caught my wrist. Without a word, I twisted free of his grip and pressed my hand over his wound. As my light began to work itself and heal his cut, it was the first time Justus really looked at me. With my hand cupping the side of his fearless features, his eyes regarded me with admiration.
A low moan redirected my attention to Simon. His head was against the tile wall at a peculiar angle.
I crawled over. “Simon? Please wake up. I’m so sorry.” His eyes fluttered as if he were on the brink, but couldn’t quite pull out of it.
“Move; let me.”
I backed up, sliding across the grey flooring as my robe picked up a little of the water that was left behind from my bath.
Justus leaned over Simon, holding his hands across his chest.
“Simon—wake,” he commanded. I had a feeling there was some kind of energy thing going on that snapped him out of it.
Simon’s eyebrows sank into his sockets and he bared his teeth—hissing in pain before letting out a snarl. I jumped, having never seen a more visceral reaction.
Justus threw his hands around Simon’s head, cradling it like a melon, and tiny threads of light, so fine they could have been cobwebs, drifted from his fingertips.
Within a few seconds, Simon started coughing. Justus pulled him up to a sitting position.
“You okay in there?” He knocked on Simon’s head jokingly and I smiled a little.
Simon’s face strained—the rope of muscle in his neck was taut and he grimaced. Suddenly, he reached for a fistful of shirt and pulled Justus so hard they were nose to nose.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Simon grunted through his clenched teeth, “but fuck my head, mate! Put your bleeding hands on my balls!”
I sat back, laughing, as Justus considered his request.
“I swear I’ll never tell.” I said, crossing my heart.
As Justus aided a friend in need, Simon’s eyes flitted around, falling on me before amusement stirred in his face. “I probably deserved that.”
My humor receded. “I didn’t know it was you. I’m so—”
“Fearless.”
I knew in that moment I had more than an acquaintance in him, and a Ghuardian in Justus. I had companions, men I would be able to count on.
Some men do stick around.
Chapter 25
I had a full night’s sleep in Simon’s bed, smothered with soft blankets of fur. I decided not to ask why a grown man was sleeping on fur; yet nothing about this man was predictable.
Once during the night I woke up in the darkened room and someone was sitting beside me. I wasn’t afraid but felt… comforted. He was holding my hand, and the light drifting within me was so faint I wasn’t sure if I was awake or dreaming. A thumb ran across my forehead and I heard a word softly spoken.
“Sleep.”
When I finally did wake, I emerged from the bed and snatched up an apple sitting expectantly on the bedside table. It was sweet and crunchy and my mouth watered with each bite. I couldn’t finish it because my stomach was aching from the new sensation of food, so I backed off and set it down. Before wandering the house, I glanced at the books on the table. Simon didn’t read adventure stories or even smut. I was completely surprised to find they were books on science, psychology, and history.
Down the short hall, Simon was resting on a chocolate-colored sofa in the living room with his head propped in his hand. A slice of sunlight crept through the edge of a curtain, adding highlights to his hair. The floor was covered with a large brown shag carpet; everything about the room was casual, inviting, and truly lived in. Simon’s eyes lifted and he greeted me with a warm smile.
“Hey, gorgeous, you sleep well?”
I nodded, moving to the empty chair. “Probably too well.”
Some of the sunlight touched my feet, and in the quiet of the room I noticed how distinctly alien daylight seemed. I never imagined I’d see anything but darkness again.
“No TV?”
“The telly is rubbish. It hasn’t been the same since it was live.”
“So what do you do to pass the time?”
“Love a good book. I’m also quite addicted to board games, but it’s not always easy to find a good partner.”
Board games? I thought Simon lived at the bar, had dance parties on the roof, and yet once again he surprised me with the fact that he was a complete geek.
“We’ll have to play sometime.”
His eyes lit up. “That would be brilliant. I’ll hold you to that. I warn you though—I’ve played with some of the best.”
“Well I play a mean hopscotch.” I smiled.
Simon had a cup in his lap and leaned forward, handing it to me. “I just made it, only took a sip.”
The sweet perfume of cocoa tickled my nose. Simon rose to his feet and crouched beside my chair, stroking my hair absently as he stared out of the window. It was something he liked to do as he had done it on more than one occasion; an affectionate gesture one might do to a child.
“What was it that frightened you last night?” he asked.
“I heard him, I heard Samil. It was like he was there in the room with me. That’s not the first time it’s happened.”
Simon’s voice dropped an octave. “Hmm, he’s a Mentalist.”
“I know a little about that. Can he hear my thoughts?”
“Does he say anything that would make you think he can?”
I thought for a moment and shook my head, as I couldn’t be sure. “No, he just calls my name and says things.”
He rubbed his smooth chin and I stared at a tiny little freckle on his lash line. “Justus has a plan.”
“Which is what? I don’t want him challenging Samil. Will the Council punish him?”
“I can’t say for sure. There’s a grey area when it comes to a Creator and his rights to his progeny.” He stood up and stretched his back to a lean arch. “We need to go. I’m supposed to drive you back this morning; he should be there now.”
“In a robe?”
“No, I believe he’ll be dressed.”
“Your humor is legendary.”
Simon stood with his legs slightly apart, staring down his nose. He looked nice today. Just a simple pair of jeans, a clean dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves and a thin, button-down grey vest that wasn’t buttoned. I never imagined Simon in this style, but I liked it. He looked like he had stepped out of a catalog.
“Stay right here.”
I stood up and peeked out of the window, staring down fifteen stories. We were in a high-rise. “How did you get me up here without anyone noticing?”
He strode out of the room without
answering, and my stomach gurgled again. I wasn’t sure if it was hungry or having an argument with Granny Smith.
“Here you are.”
I spun around to a long trench coat held before me.
“Thank you, sir.” I slipped my arm into a sleeve. “What about shoes?” I stared down at my bare feet.
“Apologies, love. My feet are too big.”
“It’s winter out there, you know.”
“I will personally carry you every step of the way; you will never feel a moment of cold.”
“Well, I guess you’ve thought of everything.” My hair fell over my face as I watched Simon fastening the buttons of my coat.
“Simon?”
“Hmm?”
“I just wanted to say thanks, and I’m sorry.”
He finished and pivoted around, shaking his head in disapproval at my apology. Past the kitchen of modern conveniences, spice racks, and a true sense that it was used to its fullest potential was a hallway that led to the front door.
Simon opened a small closet and reached in, pulling out his leather coat. I knew something was amusing him while he zipped up the front. I poked my finger into that little dimple of his.
“What’s so funny?”
“I rather like the souvenir, adds a nice touch to my image,” he commented, tapping at the bite marks in the coat.
“What kind of image are you hoping to portray?”
“Irresistible?”
“Well, you don’t have to try much at that,” I said factually. Simon looked embarrassed and I grabbed his wrist. “Do me a favor, open the door again,” I said, pointing to the closet.
I was unable to decipher the look he gave me before he obeyed my request.
“Holy… you weren’t kidding!”
The inside of the closet was deep and lined with shelves on all three sides from ceiling to floor. I stared at shelves in amazement as each one held stacks of games and cards of every imaginable kind, many of which I did not recognize. This was no ordinary collection of games, this was an arsenal. Simon took geek to a fresh new level.
“Anytime you want to sink my battleship, love, give us a shout.”
“Game on.”
