Whatever It Takes - A Standalone Second Chance Bad Boy Romance (Bad Boys After Dark Book 8)

by Gabi Moore

  "You have a lot of different ways that you want to live your life."

  "You seem pretty interested, but you're not wearing any jewelry yourself."

  He was switching the topic, but I felt like If I pushed harder, I might be able to pick up something useful about him from this topic.

  He was a powerfully built man, and the trinkets didn't seem like they went along with a warrior type persona. This man was a superstitious magician, through and through. However, just because I could pin down his type didn't mean I had any hope of understanding him without inquiry.

  "They look like rocks to me," I said, wondering if I could bait him into revealing more.

  His response was benign.

  "That's what a lot of people see."

  "But you don't see them that way. To you, they hold more symbolic meaning."

  "I personally believe that lucky charms are just 'rocks' that have an emotional charge attached to them. That emotional charge can be anything, but the point is that it is there. Have you ever heard of a person who has jewelry as an heirloom?"

  I nodded.

  "Well, that jewelry is physically little more than metals, and rocks, crafted together in some sort of clever or stylistic fashion. When we accept the plane material explanation for it, we see nothing more than rocks and metal. However, as soon as we start talking about how it was created, and the intention of the person who created it, then the object begins to grow more pregnant with meaning. Now suppose that you have your entire life to know this person, who would be some sort of grandparent to you. Everything that grandparent has ever taught you, and all of the value that this person has provided for your life will be bound in emotion and memories.”

  I nodded, my attention coming out of my state of fatigue out of sheer curiosity for the extent of this man's knowledge.

  "Now, imagine that this grandmother gives you this ring. All of her memories may or may not still be attached to the object, so if you want to talk about generational significance, or artistic intention in creation, these might still cling to the object. But what is for sure is that all of the memories that you have associated with the grandmother will definitely be attached to the piece of metal."

  "So the ring is symbolic for the value of the grandmother."

  "Exactly, it is a talisman. A symbol for the psychic contents that you assigned to that person in your life."

  "So, those are like heirlooms?"

  I wanted to get the truth out of him, and sometimes, you have to pull a tail until the dog barks at you.

  "No, but they are talismans of a different sort. Memories of people are not the only psychic contents that human beings have to work with, though they can be very powerful."

  I got the impression that he didn't exactly know which ones were effective and which ones were not. All too often, the problem with folk magic is that one simply believes a thing to be true. In reality, magic is based on fundamental cultures of belief, meaning, if it doesn't have a cultural form of validation, chances are that one person's belief is not going to make enough of an impact. I recognized some of the stones that were effective, though I was pretty sure that the others didn't work exactly as he assumed.

  "You know if you're going to hike in areas like this you really should have some kind of back up system."

  "I'm sorry?"

  "Forgive me if I'm a bit too assuming, but it doesn't seem like you were prepared to be caught in that area like you were. If you had broken a leg or something in that fall, we'd be in serious trouble."

  He looked over toward me and made a quick evaluative glance.

  “I might have been able to carry you out you don't want to have to rely on something like that. Besides, that would hurt like hell."

  "Ha! I was lucky you showed up, but I don't have any jewelry."

  He appreciated that, and we walked together closer toward the highway. When I could hear the trucks passing on the road, I began to worry that I would lose touch with him.

  Calm. I had to remind myself. Chasing after something is the surest way to get that thing to run away from you.

  We didn't have to hike too much farther before we found his vehicle. He drove a beat up, tiny thing compared to the other trucks that passed on the road. The inside was just as decorated as his body, and smelled of incense.

  "I wish I knew how your brain worked..."

  It was a true statement, and an invitation all at the same time. I spoke while examining more of the occult paraphernalia which filled our environment. I picked up what appeared to be a bird skull with stone inlets for eyes. The item itself was totally worthless.

  I could feel the magic emanating from one of the objects in the car. If I had been free to cast a spell of identification, or perhaps even pick up each one, I might have been able to tell. For the moment, I was surrounded by both trash and treasure, unable to distinguish for myself why this man would see fit to keep everything.

  "It's all part of my work."

  "I think it's really fascinating. I wish I knew what draws you to collect stuff like this."

  "Oh this, this is nothing. I've got way cooler stuff at home."

  "Can you show me?"

  He paused, clearly not knowing what to make of my proposition. It was clear to me that most people were not interested in what he did for a living. Obviously not many women either, if the surveillance data was right about his sex life. The pause lasted for a good few minutes while he considered his response. We were already rumbling down the mountain when he replied.

  "Do you want to stop by my house? Oh, I'm Erol, by the way."

  I nodded.

  "Aria. I'd love to learn more about your work…"

  Chapter 6

  I woke up while we were pulling into his driveway. The scenic mountain views were all absent now. Instead of hillsides and forests, I was treated to a small run down house adjacent to the railroad tracks, and a vacant lot.

  "We're here."

  As soon as we arrived, the door burst open, and two dogs ran out of the house and came up to the car on either side. Whatever drowsiness had been present inside of me was immediately dismissed by the appearance of the dogs. They were loud, happy, and beautiful.

  "Aren't you concerned about them running away?"

  "They do that on a regular basis, but they come back home again because we are family."

  I watched as he opened the door and all pretense of project based worry left his expression.

  "Oh, hello! Good to see you too."

  Licks, scratches and kind nips on the hand all followed summarily.

  Naturally, my presence had not gone unnoticed. As soon as I made any movement to get out of the car, both dogs were on me. They pushed their nose up into my crotch and jumped up onto me, scratching at my chest with their paws. In spite of the attack, there was no malice in their interaction. The dogs were wet, and smelled like they had just gotten back from playing out in the rain. I was smelled, and decreed "not a threat" by one of them. The other sneezed after smelling me, and backed away with its ears flattened against its back.

  "Don't mind her... if one of them likes you well enough, the other will come around to it. Come on in, I'll show you around."

  The rain was still coming down from the sky, though the showers were gentle, and patches of sunlight shone through the clouds. The scenery was idyllic, and I felt that apart from the abrasive interruption from the dogs, the whole experience might not have been much more than a continuation of a pleasant dream.

  More strange things...

  The observation was targeted at a windmill located outside of the house. It was composed of the rays of an alchemical sun, and the centerpiece was the maw of some mythological creature.

  "Abraxas," he replied, opening the beak of the creature and pulling a few letters out from a box located inside of the monster's mouth. "The post office loves it, even though they don't know why."

  I looked at him inquisitively, which was all the encouragement he needed in order to cont
inue forward with his explanation.

  "Abraxas is a gnostic entity whose function is to unite the dualism present in the world. No God, No Devil, both are absolved in a single concept. The mailbox is a joke of mine."

  "What's the joke?"

  "Each time they put a piece of mail inside, they are giving an offering to Abraxas. My hope is that on some level that helps them contend with the forces of darkness in our world just a little bit easier."

  I paused.

  There wasn't anything particularly funny about that joke. I wished that I could have because when you are busy flattering someone, it is often a good idea to think that their jokes are funny, but I got the sense that this guy had a bullshit detector of some sort inside of his brain. I didn't want to risk coming off as inauthentic if I could help it.

  "I don't see the humor."

  "It's all right. My jokes aren't really that funny. Come on in."

  Interesting thing about the inside of his house is that apart from all of the useless and weird shit, his home actually felt comfortable.

  As soon as we went in, he immediately set about watering his indoor plants, and opening windows so that fresh air could come into the building. In addition to the dogs, he also had a few pet rats that hung out in cages that were as interesting as they were expansive. Likely the most comforting element of Erol's home was that there was an incredible amount of life present within it.

  I meandered around, looking at crystals that hung from the ceiling, and strange skulls that were posted against walls.

  "Found most of them. There's a lot of beauty around here if you know where to find it. This is probably one of the most magically dense areas on the continent."

  "How do you figure?"

  He paused again, as though evaluating me. During his reflections, I knelt down to pet one of the dogs that had been following me around ever since we arrived.

  "Amethyst really likes you. She's usually the skeptical one."

  "Well, she's got good taste."

  "C'mon, I have something I'd like to show you."

  He led me downstairs into a basement room. The walls were lined with books and maps. I imagined that all of the books had been read at some point, and that notes were scattered throughout the text as they were across the surface of each map. There was a madness to the room, as well as a chronic sense of disorganized utility.

  Coffee cups, all empty and stained on the bottom littered the landscape like tiny monuments to sleepless nights. There were reams of paper yet to be used, stacked up next to notebooks full of information and concepts. I took the experience as overwhelming proof that everything this person did with their time could be reduced to spending their life in research.

  "The animals and plants keep you sane, huh?"

  "You got it. That, and my trips out into the field. I stay here until I have a decent shot at tracking one down, and then I get out and try to find them."

  "Find what?"

  He looked at me and blinked.

  "A portal."

  For a moment the two of us stared into each other's eyes. I feel like in that moment, I saw him for the first time. Not as a target to be acquired, but as an interesting character of his own right.

  "I'm listening."

  "All right, well, I've been dreaming of these doors between worlds for my entire life. Ever since I was a little kid. For the longest time, I couldn't find any proof of their reality, except for in science fiction stories and old folktales."

  "So what makes you think they're real?"

  "Well, stories are models of reality transcribed through human experience."

  "That's one way to look at it. Another is that we don't actually understand the world around us as thoroughly as we'd like to believe. I personally would prefer to move forward through a world that still has some mystery left in it. Unfortunately, with the sort of materialistic nihilism that we face in our world today, that's not always an option."

  "Which is why you're tilting after windmills."

  "Quixote."

  I nodded.

  The Fae are much longer-lived than most humans will ever conceive. We've been dealing with this variety of human almost exclusively since the first portals were made.

  "Well, Sir Knight," I offered, "I'm pretty tired. Do you mind if I take a rest?"

  There was a couch over in the corner of the room, complete with a ratty thin blanket. The place looked incredibly satisfying, and whatever adrenaline had been stirred up within me by the dogs.

  "Sure," he shrugged. "Do the light's bother you? I could do some work while you sleep."

  I shook my head and let my shoulders sink down into the earth. Being human was more work than I had imagined, and I couldn't wait to go back to sleep.

  The couch was everything it had promised and more. The cushions were firm. One might go as far as to say uncomfortable, but I was not one of those people. Years of military training left me with little tolerance for luxury. The couch was sparse, and the blanket was worn completely thin. I felt like an accessory in a dingy hovel. For the next few hours, I could feel myself disappear, and that was all right. I had done my work, and now, I needed to adjust to my new form.

  Amethyst actually came downstairs and laid down beside me, on the floor. The other dog continued to be standoffish, and contented itself to stare at us from a position at Erol's feet. The Mad Mystic himself dimmed half of the lights in the room so that the only area that was illuminated was his own workspace. I reclined in comfort, and let my mind drift into a familiar and safe place, all the while stroking the dog's thick fur.

  * * *

  I should have realized that that wouldn't have been enough. I was able to get to sleep, and I didn't fall into a nightmare landscape - both things for which I should have been grateful. Instead of turning into restorative sleep, I ended up waking up seemingly moments late in the astral realm.

  The room was the same, relatively speaking, except that certain books spun about in mid air, while the others bobbed on the surface of the shelves like waves in the ocean. The dogs recognized me, and both of them nodded to acknowledge my presence. Erol, on the other hand, continued his work unaware that I was lucidly operating within a sub-conscious state. He was working on a solution to some sort of problem, and apparently having quite a bit of difficulty about it. He was talking to himself, and throughout the dream, the voice echoed around the room, reverberating against itself.

  "Unreal... unreal... unreal... By all accounts ... counts... counts.., it should have been there .. er... er... er... "

  The sounds of papers being shuffled from one stack to another, as well as the sound of books opening and closing followed suit. Looking down, I could see Amethyst biting at herself as if scratching some kind of itch. She only kept this up for a moment, and then was apparently satisfied with her progress, as she lay back down and offered me a lazy, but inquisitive eye.

  I rose from the couch and walked over toward the workbench where Erol hovered. To my surprise, he was literally three or four inches off the ground in this realm, which I found to be incredibly funny. I stared at him with curiosity until I was too dizzy to continue forward with the inquiry.

  His hands and eyes were moving at incredible speeds. I could literally see the thoughts flying around in his head, and down onto the papers around him. He was working on something, and there was math involved that I wasn't quick enough to understand. I looked down and the other dog was staring straight at me, narrowing her eyes.

  It was a warning.

  “You go anywhere near my master, and I will do everything within my power to fuck you over."

  The message was clear in my brain. As clear as anything I had ever heard from Thane. The dog had spoken.

  I offered a nod, and then stepped back a pace, so I could provide Erol with the space the dog had demanded, while still being able to peep over his shoulder.

  The numbers flew up into the air and swirled around the surface of the desk, forming runes and the mirrored surface o
f a portal.

  He's using math to scry... I thought, staring at him.

  Suddenly, he stopped, and turned in my direction.

  "What's that.. at ..at ..at..?"

  I held my breath and stood there, a phantom against the background of his study. He stared at me, and reached out his hand to touch my form. It passed right through me, and he turned down to the dog.

  "Rosemary, do you see something?"

  The dog snorted, and laid its head down on the ground.

  Over in the corner, sprawled out over a rigid couch, I could see my own body passed out half beneath the worn blanket. I looked naked, as my body pushed outward between the tears in my clothing. Erol stared at my sleeping body for a moment, and then stared back down at the dog. One final glance was cast in the direction of my dream body, and then he shuffled back over toward the standing desk.

  "Rosemary..."

  "Unique that I found... ound... ound... her there. Could be another piece of syner... syner.. er... gystic data.. da..da."

  Experimentally, I pushed up off of the ground with my mind, with the expectation that I would not necessarily come back down again. I began to float upward through the air, where I hovered for some time over the standing desk watching Erol work.

  The frustration was obvious to perceive, and honestly kind of irritating to watch. His mind worked like a maelstrom, circling around the same conclusions over and over again. Every point of his research was pushing toward a singular factor, but he did not have the relief that proof provided. Instead, he was simply being driven by some form of madness, forward into a future that he couldn't quite apprehend.

  I stayed there for a while and watched him, doing my best to absorb all of the information he was working through. The information was abrasive and crude, like a child learning mathematics for the first time.

  He would work something out with utter sincerity, and then make some mistake in calculation or lose his way somehow. The steps backward from that point were arduous, and the scratching of the pencil on the paper made me anxious.