Heat crawled up her face. Right now, she was certain her complexion matched the color of the darn g-string. Oh. My. God. She hadn’t worn a g-string since… since… well, ever. If she wore this and dared to sit down, the darned thing would have to be surgically removed from her butt crack. Thank God Lani had given her the gift in advance because she wanted Ruby to open it the morning of her birthday. If Ruby had opened this one at her party tonight, she’d have died of embarrassment.
She checked the tag. Maybe—?
Damn. It was even the right size. So she had no excuse to exchange it for granny knickers without hurting Lani’s feelings. She heaved a deep breath and, with shaking hands, opened the card. A little something to give that special man in your life a big thrill! Love, Lani.
Ruby full-body cringed. A big thrill? A big nightmare for a week, more like. She’d much rather Lani had given her one of those phallic sculptures of hers.
So she could present a reasonable facsimile of a delighted face when Lani arrived tonight, Ruby rehearsed aloud what she was going to say. “Thank you so much, Lani! I’ll save them for a… a… special occasion.” Yeah. Like, if she ever had sex with something other than her vibrator again.
She eyed the last parcel—a large one.
It was a gift from her mother. Last year her mum had given Ruby a gym membership. The year before, a Swiss ball and a manual of recommended exercises entitled Core Strength. Sadly, Ruby’s “core” hadn’t proven strong enough to inflate the darn thing to anything even resembling the correct dimensions with the bike pump her mum had thoughtfully provided. But at least the ball still made an excellent spare seat whenever she had a bunch of friends over.
She almost didn’t want to open it. Almost. But curiosity was a powerful thing.
She ripped off the gift wrapping….
And it was just as bad as she’d imagined. This year, her mum’s gift was—wait for it—a set of Pilates DVDs that would allow Ruby to exercise to her heart’s content without all the complicated equipment usually associated with Pilates.
Ruby fist-punched the air. Oh happy joy. “Yes, my friends, this entire workout uses only an exercise mat—included as part of the gift, of course. Because when it comes to blatant hints, my mother leaves nothing to chance. Thanks, Mum. Woohoo. And various other expressions of badly faked joy.”
At least she knew what to expect from her mother. Her gifts had lost the power to hurt Ruby years ago. Unlike Mike’s totally unexpected slap-in-the-face.
To take her mind off her brother’s gift, Ruby opened the boxed set of Pilates DVDs and selected a couple. Bun and thigh sculpting. Accelerated body sculpting. Ouch. Sounded painful.
The accompanying brochure described the basic exercises and showed photos of some lithe young thing demonstrating each one. Ruby’s mother was a born-again fitness freak—the worst kind. Doubtless she was fondly imagining Ruby huffing and puffing over hellish-sounding exercises named “The Hundred” and ‘The Criss-Cross” at this very moment. What better way for her daughter to spend her birthday morning than contorting herself into a pretzel and rocking back and forth on her tailbone?
Ruby’s friend Caroline was another of those poor, demented souls who actually went to the gym and worked out on their birthdays. Ruby sooo would not be joining them. Instead, she succumbed to a wave of self-pity and flopped onto the couch, assuming her favorite lounge-lizard position. To insult to injury, she had to extricate Mike’s gift out from under her bum.
Bugger. No way could she ignore it any longer.
Mike had always supported her. He’d never once put her down, or hassled her about her overly generous proportions. Until now. Mum must have gotten to him because he’d finally surrendered to The Dark Side. Guess it was bound to happen sooner or later.
His birthday gift?
The one that made her want to cry?
A cookbook. Specifically a cookbook bursting with low-fat, healthy recipes, cooked by a professional chef who used ingredients Ruby would never buy in a million years. That wasn’t what upset her, though. No. It was the fact the cookbook was sponsored by a pharmaceutical firm to promote their latest wonder-pill for, get this: the long-term treatment of significantly obese patients.
Ruby scrabbled about in the chip packet for another handful but there were none left—not that she recalled eating the entire packet but the empty bag sorta stated the obvious. Damn.
She wasn’t obese.
Overweight, maybe— Oh, all right. Definitely.
Unfit? Well, yeah.
But. Not. Obese.
She heaved the cookbook at the wall. Enough was enough. Either she was going to crawl under her duvet and refuse to come out for the rest of her life, or she had to do something about this constant nagging.
So what’s a thirty-year old gal to do when her beloved brother slaps her upside the head with the fact she needs to lose weight?
Why, something utterly stupid, of course.
~~~
Ruby critically surveyed her reflection in the mirror. The cleverly draped dress disguised most of the wobbly bits she wanted to cover. The color suited her. She like the way the material swished, caressing her legs when she walked. It made her feel sexy… at least for a moment or two, until reality smacked her upside the head and she remembered she was anything but.
The broken doorbell squawked. She quickly touched up her lipstick before swishing off to greet her first guest… who was a half hour early. Not that she minded. She’d been ready for the past hour, and at least having company meant she could quit rearranging canapés on their platters and obsessively checking her appearance.
Barring herself, everything was as perfect as she knew how to make it. And, bravado being her specialty, she was determined to present a confident, smiling façade to her guests. She pasted on a toothy, confident smile and yanked open the door.
“Hey, Jules!” Ruby’s forced smile morphed into a genuine one. She opened her arms to hug her best friend in the entire world, but Jules planted a hand on Ruby’s chest and backed her toward the lounge. She kicked the door shut behind her with her heel as she advanced.
Ruby absorbed Jules’ tight features and clenched jaw. Her stomach twisted into a huge knot. “How come you’re here so early? Where’s Alex? Is something wrong?”
“Nah, he’ll be here soon.” Jules tossed her handbag on the couch. She grabbed Ruby by the wrists and peered anxiously into her face. “Are. You. Insane?”
“I—”
“That scrawny bitch put you up to this, didn’t she? It’s not enough for her to be a gym-junkie, she’s got to suck you into her treadmill of pain and suffering too? Just wait ’til I get my hands on her. I’ll smack her into the next dimension. I’ll—”
“Calm down, Jules.”
“It’s just like when she talked you into buying that bloody dress. She’s pure evil!”
Ruby knew exactly who Jules was talking about. And “that bloody dress”—a testament to Caroline’s scary-ass persuasive powers—still hung in Ruby’s wardrobe. It’d been two sizes too small, but she’d let Caroline talk her into buying the dress because it was pretty and feminine, and she’d secretly coveted it. Not to mention she’d been embarrassed as hell when the salesgirl informed her the dress didn’t come in a bigger size… and then ignored her to bond with Caroline over personal trainer recommendations.
“You’ll fit it if you do a little exercise,” Caroline had said—insisted really—dismissing Ruby’s protests with all the supreme confidence of the terminally skinny. And despite Ruby’s mammoth efforts, and eventual success in dropping a few kilos, when she’d finally been confident enough to try the dress on, it’d still been far too tight. So tight, she’d broken the zipper and burst a couple of rather crucial seams trying to extricate herself from the damn thing. At one stage, exhausted and red-faced from contorting herself into a knot, she’d seriously considered sleeping in the bloody thing and wearing it to work the next day. Nightmare.
Her face flushed wi
th heat at the humiliating memory—yet another one she’d rather forget. She made a beeline for the drinks table and one of the many lethally alcoholic cocktails she’d premixed for the occasion. She braved an experimental sip of Mai Tai mix before adding ice to the shaker. Mmm. Not bad.
“Well?” Jules demanded.
Ruby shook the mix vigorously before pouring it into a glass. “Well, what?”
“Is Caroline showing her face tonight? I’ll bloody strangle her. What was she thinking? She’s supposed to be your friend, for fuck’s sake!”
While Jules paced the floor and ranted, Ruby’s mind ran an entertaining little scenario featuring Jules and Caroline wrestling. Tall, model-skinny, blonde Caroline, versus pocket-Venus, voluptuous, raven-haired Jules. Imagine how thrilled all the guys would be. They’d thank her forever. And if it came down to it, Ruby would put her money on Jules, because Jules didn’t take crap from anyone. Mind you, Caroline worked out regularly. She even sported some of those lumps in funny places that Ruby was reliably informed were called muscles.
She shook her head to clear the images and downed a large swig of courage-boosting Mai Tai. “Much as I’d like to blame Caroline for forcing me to register myself in this triathlon, I can’t. It was all my own idea.” She hoped her expression didn’t reveal even the slightest hint of the other reason. The other reason being that her brother was so ashamed of her, he’d sent her a message she couldn’t ignore rather than telling her face-to-face. The bloody coward.
“It’s time I got fit, and this triathlon seems like the perfect motivation,” she said, as much to convince herself as Jules.
Jules stared at her, eyes wide with what could only be described as utter horror. “This was your idea? You came up with it all by yourself? Why the fuck do you want to go and do something so incurably stupid?”
“Here.” Ruby slopped the dregs of Mai Tai mix into a glass and handed it to her friend. “You look like you need it.”
Jules obediently downed a hefty swallow and choked. “Jeeesus, that’s strong!” She sank into a chair, wiped her watering eyes, and took another more cautious sip of the potent mix. “Okay, Rubes, cut the crap. What really happened?”
Damn. Jules knew her too well.
Ruby flopped into a battered easy chair and contemplated her toenails. Huh. All that effort to paint them and she’d already managed to chip the polish. “It’s because of what Mike gave me for my birthday. I was just so angry, I—”
“You’re kidding. Mike? Your can-do-no-wrong brother? The man you reckon comes up smelling of roses even when he farts? I don’t believe it.”
Ruby carefully placed her cocktail on the floor beside her chair. She levered herself from the grasp of the squishy cushions, and stalked to the cupboard where she kept her recipe books. She snatched Mike’s gift from the pile and held it up for Jules to see.
Jules craned her neck, squinting at it. “A cookbook. So what?”
Ruby brought the offending item over and plonked it in Jules’ lap. Then she grabbed her drink and downed the contents. She stood by the chair, watched Jules’ face and waited.
Silence from Jules as she flicked through it. Then open-mouthed dismay. And worst of all, pity. “Oh. Shit. I’m sooo sorry, Rubes. What was he thinking?”
“Duh. It’s pretty obvious what he was thinking.”
Jules muttered something nasty under her breath. “What are you going to say when he calls you for your birthday?”
Ruby didn’t answer. She had no clue what she’d say to her brother. Chances were, she’d do what she always: pretend everything was just fine and quickly change the subject.
“You can’t take this lying down, Rubes. You have to say something. Tell him how much he hurt you. Scream at him. Tell him he’s an arsehole. And for God’s sake toss this piece of crap. Or by God, I will.” Jules held out the recipe book.
Ruby snatched the book and replaced it in the kitchen cupboard. She’d toss it in the recycling bin later, when she could look at it without wanting to cry. Or hit something. Preferably Mike.
She held it together ’til she resumed her seat. It was the sympathetic expression on Jules’ face that was her undoing.
Tears stung her eyes. She blinked them back. Wouldn’t do to ruin her mascara. Sheesh. Wanting to bawl your eyes out sure was a shitful feeling to be having when you had guests arriving any moment.
“So,” Jules ventured. “Now you’ve had time to think about it, you could always just pull out and forfeit the registration fee.”
Ruby straightened from her slump. “No way. There’s a real possibility I might come last, but I’m gonna do this triathlon. I’ll be buggered if I’ll pull out so everyone will be able to say ‘I told you so’ behind my back. Don’t suppose you’d register, too, Jules? Just ’cause I’m determined to do this, doesn’t mean I’m not scared witless. Having you with me would be great. It’s a women’s triathlon for beginners, so it’s not like we’ll be mowed down by testosterone-driven males stampeding for the finish line. We can take our time. No one’ll care how we do.”
Jules screwed up her nose. “Shit. Sorry, Rubes, but I can’t wear a swimsuit in public for at least six weeks. And the chafing from sitting on a bike would probably be the end of me.”
Ruby choked on her cocktail. “Come again?”
“God, it’s awful,” Jules mourned. “My regular girl was crook last week so I let a trainee wax my legs and bikini line. Big mistake. It was the kid’s first time with a real customer and she didn’t have her technique sussed. Now I have ingrown hairs everywhere. And I mean, everywhere.” She shifted, wriggling like she had ants in her pants . “Sorry ’bout this.” She straightened her legs, lifted her butt of the couch cushion, and proceeded to itch her crotch through her silky trousers. Then she yanked up her trouser legs and raked the skin of both shins with her fingernails. “God, that feels sooo much better.”
Her legs were covered with inflamed red bumps. Ruby winced in sympathy. “You poor thing.”
“You should see my bikini line. It’s heaps worse,” Jules said cheerfully. “Only way to fix the problem is to regularly exfoliate the hell out of everything and wait for the hairs to grow long enough to wax again. Upside is, because of the chafing you-know-where, Alex and me’re doing it—” she paused to stick out her tongue and pant “—doggy style. The orgasms are faaabulous.”
Ruby snorted a laugh. Jules always let you know where you stood. And she’d certainly stood by Ruby over the years. Like the time she decked a guy who made a crude joke about fat chicks. Ahhh. Such fond memories. God knows what she’d do without Jules. She wouldn’t have a social life, that’s for damn sure.
“Ooops! Almost forgot. Happy birthday!” Jules grabbed her bag to rummage through its copious depths. “Got a little something for you in here somewhere. Somewhere…. Here.” She tossed an oddly-shaped package into Ruby’s lap.
Ruby tore off the tissue paper to reveal a bluish-white hunk of stone shaped like a knife blade. “Thanks, sweetie. It’s, ah, very nice. Um, what exactly is it?”
“It’s a crystal. Aligns your chakras or some spiritual bullshit like that. An old dude in this weird little shop recommended it as the best one for you. And after copping an eyeful of your triathlon email, I figured you need all the spiritual help you can get right now.”
Ruby stroked the striated surface of the crystal. Vaguely, she heard Jules talking about exchanging the crystal if she didn’t like it. She must have shaken her head, or made some satisfactory verbal response, because Jules kissed her cheek and rose to fix herself another drink.
Hesitantly, Ruby lifted the crystal from the nest of tissue paper and weighed it in her palm. And that’s when she saw him.
The sorcerer’s void had sucked him into an absolute blackness that enshrouded his body and paralyzed his soul. He was severed from the world he knew, powerless, imprisoned in an eternal absence of everything. Deprived of all sensation. Sightless, deaf and mute. All that he was, all that he could be—his very es
sence—was held in stasis.
With only his own thoughts for solace, he had retreated into an inescapable cycle of hatred and self-loathing. He knew this place-that-was-no-place was his punishment. He had feared this place as a child, then laughingly discounted it as a grown man. It was merely a tale to frighten children. It did not exist.
Now he realized how wrong he’d been. He knew exactly where he was: Halja. Hell.
He invaded Ruby’s mind. She experienced everything he felt, his suffering, his anguish. He truly believed he was in Hell. And his horror and despair consumed her.
~~~
Chapter Two
Some unnamed force pried open Ruby’s fingers. The visions abruptly cut off the instant the crystal left her grip and dropped to the carpet. Her finger joints ached and she shook the tension from her hand. Even her jaw throbbed from clamping her teeth together.
What the hell just happened?
She was standing, yet she didn’t remember getting up from her seat.
A flash of color and movement caught her eye and drew her to the window. She pressed her nose to the glass and spotted an elderly man strolling down the footpath. He seemed rather trendy for an old guy, dressed in jeans and boots, with a bright golden splash of silky material wrapped around his throat and tucked into the open neck of his white shirt. Auckland weather was pretty mild this time of year, so the scarf struck Ruby as odd. She watched him until he shuffled around the corner out of sight.
“Bugger! It’s broken in half.”
Jules’ dismayed voice reclaimed Ruby’s attention. She turned to see Jules kneeling on the floor. “Sorry, what’s broken?”
“The crystal I bought you. You would have thought landing on the bloody carpet might have saved it from breaking. What a piece of crap. Sorry, Rubes. I’ll buy you another one.”
The Crystal Warriors Series Bundle Page 31
