Something Wanton (Mystics & Mayhem)

by Myers, AJ

  I let myself out of the room as silently as one of my ghosts—and then came close to becoming one of my ghosts from cardiac arrest when I turned around and came nose-to-chin with Skippy.

  “That was a very kind thing you just did,” he said quietly, his eyes gentle. “Someone as beautiful as that young lady should not have to live with scars such as those.”

  “No, she shouldn’t,” I agreed, lowering my eyes. “She’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever known, Skippy. Not just on the outside, but on the inside, too. I couldn’t let her suffer for being my friend. It wouldn’t have been right.”

  “You are a rare creature, Ember, to love as you do.” I looked away, embarrassed, and he took my arm and pulled it through his. I gave him a questioning look and he smiled. “I believe I promised to find you some clothes before our guests arrived. Though that robe is much better than your previous attire, I believe you would be more comfortable in something else.”

  He had that right. I looked down at the fuzzy pink robe I was wrapped in with a grimace. The bunnies, on the other hand…yeah, he wasn’t getting those back.

  Chapter 28: Bonding With The Boss

  Skippy's ‘closet’ turned out to be a warehouse the size of a small airplane hangar located behind his home. I balked at first, hesitating to go in. Nathan had told me not to go anywhere alone with Skippy, but there I was, traipsing around in the snow in nothing more than a robe and bunny slippers, doing exactly that. My brightest move? No, probably not. But my reluctance about going into the warehouse crumbled like a soggy Oreo when Skippy threw open the doors to reveal racks and racks of clothing as far as the eye could see. I might not like to shop, but I am a girl, and the lure of all those clothes was just too much to resist.

  “Where did all of this come from?” I asked, idly running my hand along a rack of tops with price tags dangling from the sleeves.

  “I own several fashionable boutiques, both in Europe and here in the States,” Skippy said, waving his hand distractedly toward the racks as he marched toward a stack of boxes. “What you see here is all overstock or damaged items. There may even be a few samples from some of the better designers stored around here somewhere. Once or twice a year I have it picked up and donated to charity.”

  I looked a little closer at a few of the tags and my mouth went dry. I glimpsed Prada, Michael Kors, Gucci, and Dolce & Gabbana, just to name a few. Kim would think she had died and gone to heaven if she could just spend five minutes with all those designer names. There had to have been at least a million dollars worth of clothes alone, and he donated them to charity?

  “It is an excellent tax write off,” Skippy said, interpreting my shocked expression correctly, opening boxes with phenomenal speed and then tossing them aside when they didn't contain what he was looking for. “Take whatever you like. I think we should bring everyone out and let them shop. Most of the poor unfortunates inside lost everything in last evening’s attack. It will save me having to call for another pick up next month.”

  “You pay taxes?” I asked, laughing.

  “But of course,” he huffed, shooting an exasperated glance in my direction. “Doesn't everyone?”

  A criminal kingpin who actually paid his taxes? Too weird. Before I could voice my curiosity about it, he was back to digging through his boxes. Since he had given me permission to select a new wardrobe, I decided to take him up on it.

  I went from a girl who hates to shop to a fashion freak in about ten seconds. Everything from coats to boots ended up in a pile by the door that soon grew into a miniature mountain. Prada, Gucci, Diesel, Boss. Then Abercrombie, Hollister, Adidas and Nike. It all just drew me in and whispered, “Please take me home.” How could I possibly refuse the pleading of such poor, neglected, homeless treasures?

  I had forgotten all about Skippy until I heard a very un-Skippy-like whoop of triumph from the center of a box canyon and something pink and lacy flew out of the void and straight into my hands. I held the scrap of lace up and rolled my eyes, a wry smile tugging at my lips.

  Skippy was such a guy. While I’d been drooling over Prada, he had been looking for Victoria's Secret.

  “You do not care for the color?” Skippy asked, his face appearing between two boxes. For a second, he looked like a floating head.

  “The color’s fine,” I told him, laughing and shooting the bra back at him like a rubber band. “It's the size I have a problem with. I haven't been a B cup since sixth grade.”

  When it seemed like he was having a little too much fun lingerie shopping for me, I took over the task. Then, mountain of clothes ready and waiting, we erected a dressing screen out of four Vera Wang wedding gowns and his mountain of boxes and I started trying things on.

  “So tell me about you, Skippy,” I called out from behind my wall of satin and lace.

  I really was interested, but mostly I wanted him thinking about something other than the fact that I was undressing mere feet from him. I was uncomfortable enough with the arrangement as it was. I peeked through the gowns and found him sitting on an overturned wooden crate with his back to me, his eyes fastened on the door and the falling snow.

  What a little gentleman!

  “What would you like to know?” he called back.

  “Let's play a game,” I suggested, finally comfortable enough to strip out of my robe since it looked like Skippy was going to behave.

  I pulled on a pair of hipster panties and the matching bra Skippy had picked out—which I had traded for one in my size—and then started putting together an outfit at random. It was actually kind of fun, like playing dress up when Kim and I were little. I decided then and there to go shopping with Kim every chance I got from then on.

  “What game were you thinking of?”

  “Twenty questions, of course,” I said, sticking my head through a gap in the wedding gown wall and grinning at him. “You can even go first.”

  “Ah, she finally develops some respect,” he sighed happily, nodding his approval.

  “Nah.” I giggled when his face fell. “But, you know, age before beauty and all that crap.”

  Laughing again, I ducked back inside my fortress just as something hit one of the voluminous skirts shielding me from view. Still giggling, I waited for him to ask his first question. I should have known what he was going to ask, but somehow I was still surprised.

  “Tell me about your friends,” he called out, the words echoing through the warehouse.

  “Which ones?” I asked, rolling my eyes. “There’s the live ones and the dead ones and the not-quite-dead ones.”

  “You see the dead?” he asked excitedly. “Tell me about them.”

  It took four wardrobe changes to tell him about my dearly departed comrades. The part about my ghosts teaming up to protect me from Bastian seemed particularly fascinating to him. He asked question after question about them, firing them at me so fast I could barely keep up.

  “My turn!” I sang out when I couldn’t stand any more questions about my still-missing earthbound companions.

  Before he could protest or think of another question that he just had to have an answer to, I ran back to my dressing area and pulled the gowns closed. I thought about what I wanted to know as I stripped again. I wanted to know everything, obviously, but I wasn't sure where to start. In the end, I started simple.

  At least I thought it was simple.

  “How old are you, Skippy?”

  Silence.

  I peeked around the gowns and saw him chewing his lip like he wasn't sure if he should answer or not. If I hadn't been watching him so closely, I would have missed it when he sighed sadly. Then his gaze flickered to my dressing room and his features hardened into a defiant expression.

  “I am seven hundred and seventy-three years old. I was born in Greece in the year 1240.”

  My mouth fell open and I nearly collapsed into the pile of clothes next to me. He was almost a thousand years old! He had lived for most of a millennium trapped in the body of a preteen? T
hat must have been awful for him!

  I peeked out at him again and saw he was staring intently at the gowns hiding me. It took me a second to realize he was waiting for me to freak. My poor Skippy. How many people had he confided his age to only to have them reject him or make fun of him because of it? We were really going to have to get him some real friends. I was even willing to share mine.

  And, how had we gone from thinking about killing each other to me claiming him as my own, you might ask. What can I say? I’m a sucker for freckles.

  “I bet you've seen some crazy awesome stuff in seven centuries, huh?” I was proud of how completely normal I sounded, and I gave myself a pat on the back when Skippy's face lit up with a brilliant smile and his shoulders relaxed.

  He told me about some of the things he’d seen as I changed into one ensemble after another. Viewing history through the eyes of someone who had been there rather than reading it in a book gave it a whole new kind of depth. Of course, it didn’t hurt that Skippy didn’t mind gossiping a little. He seemed to take particular delight in giving me the details of the scandalous behaviors of this king or that queen.

  “So, how did you become a vampire?” I asked, changing into what I hoped would be my last outfit of the afternoon. We had been out there for quite a while. I was sure Nathan and Grams were starting to worry.

  “I fell in love with a vampire,” he said, his voice low and sad.

  “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to,” I told him quickly, stepping out to model for him one last time.

  Instead of giving me the thumbs up—or down—he stared off into the warehouse. I could see by the look in his eyes that he wasn't really there with me anymore. He was somewhere far away, lost in his memories. They couldn't have been very nice memories, though, because the agony etched on his features took my breath away.

  Wanting to comfort him somehow, I sat down beside him and laid my hand over his where it rested on his knee. My touch seemed to bring him out of his memories and he looked down at our hands and then back up at me. I saw indecision in his eyes and gave him a gentle smile.

  “You really don't have to tell me,” I told him again, squeezing his hand.

  “I find that I want to tell you,” he said softly, not looking away. “Only, I do not believe now is the time for that sad tale. But, I do feel compelled to share my story with you someday. I believe you, of all people, might understand. Do you find that odd?”

  He started to turn away and finally caught sight of the sunshine yellow Chanel dress I was wearing. His eyes widened comically and his face twisted in distaste. I found his expression hilarious.

  “Dear God! What are you wearing, Ember?”

  “Chanel,” I told him, grinning and jumping up to twirl around in front of him like a ballerina. “What? Don't you like it?”

  “It's hideous! With your hair lying against it like that you look like a shredded honey bee!” I laughed and his lips twitched despite his horrified expression. “I refuse to talk to you while you're wearing that. Off with you!”

  “Oh, sure,” I drawled, already headed for my dressing room, “this coming from a guy who looks like he just climbed out of his own coffin. You know, Skippy, a makeover would do wonders for your outlook on life.”

  “Perhaps another time,” he muttered, shuddering. Typical guy reaction. “You should hurry. I doubt Nathan will allow me to keep you to myself much longer. If you were my mate, I would have retrieved you already.”

  “You know, I’m actually kind of disappointed that you had all these great clothes lying around,” I told him as I bounced back to my makeshift dressing room—and I really kind of was. “Now I have to stop calling you ‘Skippy’.”

  “No!” Skippy said quickly. I turned to look at him, one eyebrow arched, and he dropped his eyes in the only genuine sign of embarrassment I’d seen from the little crime lord. “If you prefer to call me Skippy, I will afford you that privilege. But, and I feel I should make this very clear, I will extend that privilege only to you. I admit I do not find it as offensive when it is you calling me such a childish name.”

  “Aw, Skippy!” I exclaimed, clasping my hands over my heart. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me!”

  “I very much doubt that,” he said with a chuckle. “Now, off with you. We must get back and I will not be seen with you in that dress.”

  “Aye, aye, cap’n!” I chirped, saluting him with a grin. “I’ll be ready in five minutes.”

  As it turns out, all the designer labels in the world couldn’t change what I really liked. I ended up wearing a comfortable pair of yoga pants, a long-sleeved t-shirt and a pair of Nikes. Kim would have had a stroke over my trading designer fashion for workout clothes, but Skippy didn't seem to mind.

  “I should be appalled that this is what you choose to wear in my presence, but somehow I find myself quite taken with it,” he said when I pushed back the wedding dress curtains for the last time and struck a pose. “It is just so very…you, Ember.”

  “Thanks—I think,” I told him shrugging. “I dress like this most of the time. I'm comfortable in it.”

  “Ah, to be comfortable in one's own skin. What I wouldn't give for such peace.”

  I smiled slightly, but didn’t comment. I had finally found something we had in common besides a fondness for music and literature. I had never felt comfortable in my own skin. Even before I became a darkling I’d had a self-image problem. It was yet another character flaw I would have to work on.

  “Are you certain you are ready for this, Ember?” Skippy asked when I propped my foot on the crate next to him to lace up my shoe.

  “Ready for what?”

  “To take on men like Hamilton and those who follow him,” he said, softly, watching my expression. “It will not end well, my dear."

  “I kind of figured that out already.” I finished lacing my shoes and sat down beside him again. “You know, Skippy, if I didn’t know better, I would think you were worried about me.”

  “I am,” he admitted simply. “Vengeance can do terrible things to the soul, Ember. I know this from experience. There is such light, such goodness, in you. I would hate to see that light die, strangled by hatred and anger. It would be such a waste.”

  “I have to do this, Skippy.” I stared out through the open doors, watching as the snow picked up in force. “I have to do it for all those people I didn’t save. I have to do it for Kim. She’s my best friend. And he did that to her. To someone I love more than I love myself. I can’t let him get away with that. I can’t sit around and wait for them to do it to someone else. It’s not in my nature to back down. I don’t think I would even know how.”

  For a long moment neither one of us said anything. We stared out at the snow instead, watching the flakes falling thick and heavy in the weak winter light. Everything was dark and gray, and yet still breathtakingly beautiful. Not everything dark has to be ugly and horrifying. Beauty can be found in the dark as well as in the light. All you have to do is look for it.

  “Very well then, my little warrior,” Skippy said finally in a hushed tone, “if you are truly determined to fight, I will fight by your side. Together, we shall show them why humanity fears us as they do.”

  I smiled at him, kissed his cheek, then bounced up and started gathering up all my new goodies. We were all going to fight together. How often did that happen? I mean, I knew vampires and witches could get along when they wanted to, but Grams said they very rarely did. And demons? Forget about it. Nobody liked demons. But now we were all banding together to face a common enemy. I wondered if that was one for the record books.

  I was busy packing up all my new things when I realized Skippy was still right where I left him. I turned around to ask him if he was planning on helping me and smiled at the expression on his face. His fingers were tracing the spot on his cheek I had kissed and he looked really confused.

  “Why did you do that?” he asked, quietly.

  “Because you’re my f
riend and I wanted to,” I told him, shrugging. “Now, are you going to help me get all this crap inside or not?”

  “You are a wonder, my darling girl,” he said, chuckling and getting to his feet. “Everyone else fears me and you insult me and then shower me with affection. I truly don’t know what to make of you, Ember.”

  “That’s a good thing, Skippy,” I told him, tossing him a box.

  “And why is that good, pray tell?”

  “Because, if you’re cracked enough to figure out how my mind works, I’ll have to start worrying about you again,” I laughed, rolling my eyes. “Come on. If you don’t want Nathan and Tyler coming in here to save me from the fashion monster, we’d better get moving.”

  It took six boxes to pack up my new wardrobe and Skippy insisted on carrying four of them. The snow was really coming down when we closed the warehouse doors behind us and it had been joined by a sharp, cutting wind that blew the flakes against our skin in stinging pellets. We dashed across the space between the buildings as fast as we could with our cumbersome load and didn’t waste any time getting inside.

  Rather than go up to my room, I decided to go sit with Kim. Skippy gallantly offered to help me take my boxes down with me, and I accepted with a smile that brought out another one of his.

  We had barely stepped off the elevator on the hospital level when a furious shriek echoed through the halls. I let out a little scream of surprise and dropped the boxes I was holding. Skippy moved to stand in front of me, like he would protect me from whatever danger might come our way, and I patted his shoulder to let him know everything was all right.

  “Stand down, buddy,” I told him, sighing loudly. “It’s just Kim. Don’t worry, I got it.”

  “She would not harm you, would she?” he asked, looking worried, as I stepped around him, dodging the boxes we had dropped in the process.