Riftkeepers: Reckoning

by Carrie Whitethorne

  “Boyfriend. Don’t worry, he isn’t here with me, he’s with his brother and brother-in-law. He’ll take me home later, saves me paying for a taxi” she explained with a wink as they placed their drinks on the table. “Come and dance!”

  Charlotte allowed her new friend to drag her to the dancefloor, passing a group of young men on the way. One of them made a comment as they passed, causing Ferne to turn and flash them a dazzling grin, followed by a rude gesture. Charlotte giggled after her and began to move as her feet hit the colourfully lit flooring.

  As they danced, Charlotte couldn’t help but wonder at how inexplicably comfortable she felt with Ferne. It was like she’d known her for years, not merely a couple of hours. It must be the drink, she told herself, beginning to feel the effects of the various cocktails she’d drunk before.

  After a while, Charlotte gestured to Ferne that she needed a break, and made her way to the ladies. Edging her way through a crowd, Charlotte jumped as a hand grabbed her already bruised arm and dragged her to the side. She hissed at the pain, flinching away but the hand gripped tighter.

  “You didn’t answer my messages,” he growled in her ear over the thumping music.

  Wrenching her arm from his grip, she spat, “Because I don’t want to talk to you. Leave me alone!”

  Making to step around him, she stumbled as he blocked her with his body and towered over her. “We’re not done, Charlotte.”

  Cowering, she said weakly, “We are done, Zach, just leave me alone!”

  Suddenly, he was torn away from her and slammed into the wall behind.

  “Who the fuck are you?” he bellowed, taking a step towards Ferne.

  She smiled, batting her long lashes, and said, “A friend. And, you see him?” She gestured behind her with a thumb, and stepped aside giving him full view behind her, “The redhead. So is he. Stay away from her, or he’ll be wanting to have a word.”

  Zach paled and shrank back as Charlotte looked wildly in the direction Ferne had pointed. The guy was huge, bigger than huge. Meeting her awestruck gaze, he raised his glass, winked, then sauntered away.

  Ferne looked Zach over slowly, her eyes narrowing as he edged around her. Her lips twitched up at one side, into a smug smirk as she watched him pass. “Off you fuck,” she sang, reaching for Charlotte’s hand. When he was gone, she tugged Charlotte away, leading her to the restroom.

  “Who was he?” Ferne asked as Charlotte propped herself against a wall.

  “My ex. Thanks for that. He’s a complete control freak.” Composing herself, she pushed away from the wall and went to use the toilet.

  As she washed her hands and Ferne checked her makeup in the mirror beside her, Charlotte asked, “So much for a better night without a bloke hanging around. Where did you find him? He’s massive! Is he a bodybuilder or something?”

  Ferne flashed her brows. “He works in security. Comes in handy when other blokes get a bit hard to handle. we won’t see him again tonight unless he’s needed.” Taking her hand, Ferne led her towards the door. “Come on, our drinks wont drink themselves!”

  After her meeting with Zach, Charlotte felt her anxiety building again. She made her excuses and left the club, hoping to miss him. Out in the alley the club entrance was located, she lowered her head against the threatening shadows of the dimly lit walkway.

  “Charlotte.”

  “Go away, Zach,” she sighed, quickening her pace.

  He caught her up, matching her gait, and said, “Look, why don’t we start again?”

  Shaking her head, she stopped and turned to him. “Start again? Zach, I don’t want you within ten feet of me after what you did. No, we can’t start again! Just leave me alone!”

  Before she could walk away, he grabbed her around the back of the neck and pulled her close.

  “Zach, no!” she gasped, hands flat on his chest, trying to push him away.

  “She said no.”

  Zach turned towards the unfamiliar voice and met a fist, full in the face. Staggering back into Charlotte, he swore, cupping his nose with both hands.

  Charlotte swayed with the impact, almost tripping over her own feet trying to regain her balance as firm hand grasped her waist. Before she could protest, she was turned swiftly and led out onto the brightly lit high-street. She allowed him to take her, desperate to be away from Zach, out of the shadows of the alley.

  “Th-thanks,” she stammered, turning to face the stranger.

  He was older than her, tall with a muscular build, she noticed as she took a step away. He smiled, flicking his long, blond hair out of his eyes, and said, “You’re welcome. Are you alright?”

  Her chest tightened. Ignoring the feeling, she glanced back into the alley. Zach was nowhere to be seen. “Yeah, I just want to go home…”

  “Shall I call you a taxi?” he asked, concerned.

  She lifted her head and studied his face. As their eyes met, her chest tightened. “No, thank you,” she said quickly, walking away.

  Arms wrapped around herself, she gripped her bag tightly and hurried in the direction of home. The strange pain in her chest was increasing. Soft footsteps behind gave her a moment of panic before she realised it wasn’t Zach. She felt oddly comforted by his presence, and slowed, listening to see if he did the same. Frowning, she turned and said, “Thank you, for getting him away from me, but, what do you want?”

  He’d stopped several feet away and she eyed him warily as he backed up another step. “I want you to get home safely, that’s all,” he said softly, raising his hands palms out.

  She nodded and continued walking, allowing him to follow.

  Stopping to cross a road, he caught her up and walked quietly beside her.

  “You sound like you’re a long way from home,” she said after a while.

  He chuckled. “Yeah, just a bit. I’m here visiting family,” he explained.

  She nodded. “I’m fine from here, sorry I didn’t get your name.” She stopped walking, standing beneath a street light.

  “Callan. And you?” he asked, head tilted slightly to one side.

  “Charlotte,” she said pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. The motion moved her jacket sleeve up slightly and his brows rose. “What?” she asked, frowning in confusion.

  “That’s an interesting tattoo,” he observed, “don’t see many like that.”

  She smiled self-consciously, tugging down her sleeve, and said, “Yeah… well thanks for walking me home, Callan. See you.”

  Before she could walk away, he stepped closer, tucking another loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Take care, Charlotte,” he said in a low voice, his eyes searching hers. His intense gaze mesmerised her, and she had the distinct feeling she’d been there, with him, before. A small frown formed a line between her eyes, drawing his attention and he huffed a quiet laugh before turning and walking away.

  She watched him go, her stomach fluttering, before walking the remaining distance home alone.

  Locking her front door behind her, she shrugged out of her jacket with a huff, and went straight to the kitchen. Pouring a large glass of vodka, she crossed the small room and flopped onto the sofa taking her phone out of her bag. Relieved to see no messages from Zach, she placed it on the arm of the sofa and gulped her drink.

  “Bastard…” she muttered into the silence, draining her glass.

  She replayed what had happened, how Zach had followed her, how Callan had intervened and gotten her home safely. Thinking of Callan made her stomach clench, tighter than before. Callan, something about him, his name, his eyes, his touch. Her chest tightened.

  “I must be coming down with something,” she sighed to herself.

  Frowning at her empty glass, she placed it on the floor by her seat and took herself to bed.

  Despite all she’d drunk, she struggled to fall asleep. Instead, Charlotte lay awake, allowing images of Callan to fill her mind.

  Thirty-five

  Waking up to a complaining bladder, Charlotte crawled ou
t of bed and made her way to the bathroom. After washing her hands and cleaning her teeth, she stood under the shower, scrubbing the previous night’s makeup from her face as she ran over her meeting with Zach again. Still feeling groggy, the hot water doing little to revive her, she decided she needed coffee.

  Wrapped in towels, she searched the kitchen cupboards. “Perfect,” she muttered, failing to find any. “Café it is.”

  Pulling on comfortable clothing and grabbing money from her bag, she reluctantly left the flat. Pausing at the front door to her building, she noticed a large black bird watching her. It tilted its head to the side before flapping into the air. She watched as it flew directly along the road, the same direction she was headed, and followed.

  Having barely slept, her legs felt heavy and sluggish as she trudged, head down, to the coffee shop a few streets away. A passing motorbike increased the throbbing pain in her head. Wincing, she wondered why the walk was taking so much longer that day. Remembering she usually met Emily for breakfast after a night out, she felt her pockets for her phone and cursed, realising she’d left it behind. Her frustration was quickly forgotten when she saw the coffee shop ahead and quickened her pace.

  Pushing on the glass door, she noticed someone was on their way out and pressed herself into the small wall to her side to allow him to pass. Leaving the door to swing open, he gave her a lopsided smile as he dug his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and strode by. The smell of coffee beckoned her inside and she closed the door quietly behind her.

  Searching for a table, she looked around the room to see a familiar, smiling face.

  “Hello, Charlotte. Join us, if you’d like,” he offered, cheerfully.

  Callan was sitting in a tub chair to her right, a small girl in another under the window, hunched over a sketch pad. She looked up, her platinum hair shining in the light, smiling at her. Charlotte unconsciously grinned back, gazing at her bright, almost lavender, blue eyes.

  “Umm, thanks,” she said, uncomfortably, sitting beside the girl who was now hunched over her drawing, hair brushing the paper. A tiny crystal pendant glittered as it swung from her neck. Paying closer attention, Charlotte realised there was a tiny seashell encased in the gem.

  “Rough start?” Callan asked, drawing her attention.

  Slumping back in the chair, she sighed, “Yeah, and I’ve run out of coffee.”

  Someone approached on her left, and she turned to find a tall, dark haired man looking at her, a curious look on his handsome face. His grey eyes met her own as he bent to place a large mug of black coffee on the table. “You look like you need this.” His smooth, estuary accent, a direct contrast to Callan’s, surprised her.

  “Thank you,” she said, confused as she hadn’t ordered.

  “You’re very welcome,” he grinned, straightening, and turning to Callan.

  The girl had moved to sit on his lap, showing him her drawing. “Is that right, Uncle Callan?”

  He kissed the side of her head as she looked at her drawing and said, “Perfect, Mo Prionnsa.”

  She looked to Charlotte, holding up the pad for her to see and said, “It’s my poppy.”

  The portrait’s subject seemed familiar. He was handsome, with dark features and hard eyes. “That’s really good,” Charlotte praised, frowning as she tried to place the distinguished looking man in the picture.

  When she glanced to Callan, he smiled, amusement dancing in his eyes as he lowered the girl to the ground.

  “Celeste, time to go, sweetheart. We’ll see you later, Callan?” the dark-haired man said, holding out his hand.

  “I expect so,” Callan said, flicking his eyes to Charlotte.

  She sipped her coffee, quietly, pretending not to have noticed.

  The girl skipped to the dark-haired man, taking his hand as he said in an undertone, “I dunno, mate. You don’t half find them.”

  Callan shook his head and smiled as the little girl skipped out of the coffee shop with her father. Charlotte watched them go and smiled back at the girl as she called, “Bye!”

  “He’s lovely,” she muttered, placing her mug back on its saucer.

  Callan chuckled. “He’s an acquired taste.”

  They sat in silence for a while, as Charlotte sipped her coffee. Beginning to feel uncomfortable, she said, “Thank you, for last night.”

  “Don’t mention it. I couldn’t walk by and let that escalate. Are you hungry? I was going to order something.”

  “Umm, yeah, I could do with a slice of toast. I’ll get my own,” she said, getting up.

  Callan held up a hand, “No, it’s fine, I can stretch to toast. Sit down.”

  Smiling weakly, she slid obediently back into her seat.

  When he returned, she asked, “Won’t your wife mind you breakfasting with another woman?”

  He frowned, looking down at his wedding ring, then smiled sadly and said, “I lost my wife. But, no. She wouldn’t mind.”

  Squirming, Charlotte looked away and mumbled, “Sorry, I… I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” he said, kindly as he watched her face redden. “It was a long time ago. I wear the ring out of habit, I carry her jewellery with me out of habit. I should probably stop.”

  With a puzzled look, she asked, “Why would you stop? I think that’s lovely.”

  He reached into his pocket and took out a bracelet. Handing it to her, he said, “I keep this with me. No idea why.”

  Reaching out, she took the silver chain carefully and allowed it to hang from a finger. A tiny, filigree ball swung and settled against her palm. Studying it, she noticed something glittering inside. Captivated, she murmured, “It’s beautiful.”

  When she looked back to him, she realised he was watching her intently. “What’s that?” she asked, handing it back.

  “Inside?” he asked, admiring it with a fond smile. “A moonstone. I have a matching one,” he explained, tapping his chest with a finger. She could see the small bump in his t-shirt where the matching ball sat.

  As he closed his hand around the bracelet, she felt the odd sensation in her chest again. Instinctively, she pressed her palm to her breastbone with a sharp intake of breath.

  “Charlotte? Are you alright?” Callan asked leaning forward slightly, his brow creasing in concern.

  Taking a few deep breaths, she waited for the feeling to subside before nodding. “I think so. Probably heart burn. I’ll be fine when I’ve eaten.”

  His frown deepened as he tucked the bracelet back into his pocket, and nodded. When she seemed to be feeling better, he said, “So, you know about my… relationship status. What about yours?”

  She snorted into her mug. “I don’t have one,” she said carelessly. “That, last night, was my ex. He’s… well we’re finished.”

  Nodding slowly, he looked at the woman approaching their table. She left their toast and nodded as Callan asked for more coffee. “Hopefully, he won’t bother you again,” he said, turning his attention to his breakfast.

  Taking a slice of toast, she ate in silence, unsure of what to say next.

  The waitress had brought fresh drinks and cleared their table before either spoke again. “What are you plans today, Charlotte?”

  Cradling her mug in both hands, she leaned back and said, “Self-pity and chick flicks I expect. I’m in no state for anything else. You?”

  “No idea.” He looked out of the window, lost in thought for a few moments before asking, “Can I walk you home?”

  “I only live around the corner,” she laughed, looking towards the door. “But, yeah, I suppose so.”

  Beaming, he left their table, heading to the counter to pay their bill as she placed the mug back on its saucer. She passed him on his way back, gesturing to the back of the room.

  As the restroom door closed behind her, she felt an odd pang of anxiety, alone in the bathroom. Leaning against the door, she took a few deep breaths and closed her eyes.

  “What’s wrong with me, today?” she whispered t
o herself, pressing her balled fists into her eyes.

  Callan held the door for her as they left, and walked beside her as she made her way back, towards her flat.

  “Have you always lived here?” he asked, as they strolled.

  Looking up at him, she said, “Yeah. I grew up with a foster family a few streets away. I started at uni, they moved to the city.”

  He was quiet for a moment, before asking,

  “Where do you work?”

  “At the hospital. Between placements I do bank shifts as a nursing assistant,” she explained, wondering at all the questions. “It pays the bills. I was out with my team last night. It’s not brilliant pay but it bolsters my loans. What do you do?”

  “I help run my father’s business in Scotland,” he explained. “But I have a few of my own.”

  She glanced sidelong at him and raised her brows. “At your age? You’re, what, twenty-five? Twenty-six?”

  “Something like that. Is this you?” he asked, quickly leading the conversation away from his age as she stopped and turned to him.

  She smiled up at him as she answered, “Yep, this is me. Thank you for breakfast, Callan. And last night. It was nice to see you again.”

  He brought a toned arm up and rubbed his neck. “And you. Tell you what,” he said, digging into his pocket, “take this.” He took her hand, turning it palm up, and lowered the bracelet before closing her fingers around it.

  Heat spread up her hand at his touch, and she felt herself physically relax. Focusing on his actions, she spluttered, “I can’t… I. No. Why?” thrusting her hand out towards him.

  “Because I need to stop carrying it around with me, and the way you looked at it tells me you’re the right person for it,” he said softly, guiding her hand towards her body. “I insist. Take care of yourself, Charlotte.”

  He bent and brushed a gentle kiss on her cheek, smiled, and walked on. Her stomach lurched at the brief contact, skin tingling where his lips brushed her skin, and she stared blankly after him for a moment before turning her attention to the jewellery in her hand.

  Gazing into her open palm, Charlotte gasped as the encased gem of the bracelet began to glow. “Callan?” she murmured, staring intently at the soft light that glittered in her hand. Realising he was too far away to hear, she called louder, unable to tear her gaze from his gift.