Spell of Shattering

by Anna Abner

  He panicked, his eyes widening at the leather shoes and their narrow brown laces. If he accepted the shoes, he’d have to admit he couldn’t tie them. If he refused them, she would want to know why.

  “I have shoes.” He started for the Velcro sneakers on the floor.

  “You can’t wear shoes covered in dirt and blood. Besides,” she said, shaking the dress shoes at him, “these go with your pants.”

  “I can’t.” He fled the room to stand awkwardly in the center of the living room. If he had a spell to cast, any spell, he’d cast it just to get out of this conversation.

  Jessa followed him, the fancy shoes hanging from her right hand. “Something’s up,” she said, frowning.

  He sensed her eyes on him. “I don’t,” he began, not sure how to explain. “I can’t—”

  “You can’t what?” she pressed. “You can’t handle shoes anymore?” She said it like a joke, but she was dangerously close to the truth.

  He shook his head.

  Her silence was unsettling.

  Finally, at the moment he decided to hide in the kitchen for a while, he heard the shoes hit the floor.

  “Why am I getting the feeling you’re terrified of shoes?” she asked without a hint of humor.

  “I’m not afraid of them.” Just confused.

  “Then what is it?” she asked. “Are the sneakers lucky, or something? Are they charmed?”

  He ducked his head. “They’re Velcro.” He didn’t dare look up to see her reaction. He assumed she was telegraphing disgust.

  “Sit down, you big dummy.”

  He glanced up, startled. “What?”

  “Not remembering how to tie your shoes isn’t something to be ashamed of.” She nudged him toward the couch, and he fell onto the cushions. “You suffered a brain injury.” She carried the leather shoes to him and then knelt at his feet. “You’re damn lucky shoelaces are the worst of your symptoms.” With quick, sure movements she slipped the shoes onto his feet and snapped the laces into tiny bows before he could form a coherent response.

  “There.” She stood and headed for the kitchen. “Now let’s get you some new clothes. You can’t wear that suit forever.”

  She opened her laptop and clicked onto a men’s wear site. “But it’s going to cost quite a bit. Do you have your wallet?”

  Something protective surged inside him. He wanted to assure her he could cover of the cost. That she didn’t need to fret over money when she was with him.

  “I have money,” he said awkwardly. “My parents were wealthy.”

  “You’re rich,” Jessa said with certainty. “I know. You used to brag a lot.”

  “I did?” He was sounding more and more like an immature fool.

  “Yeah. Like an, ‘I only work because I want to,’ kind of thing.”

  “Oh.” He frowned at the pants she chose for him. “Sorry.”

  “You were,” she smiled without tearing her gaze from the screen, “sort of full of yourself.”

  He grunted, not sure that was any better.

  “The clothes will be here tomorrow.” She typed in his credit card info, and then set the laptop aside. “I’ve got to check in at work. Give me a minute.”

  She plugged her cell phone into a wall charger and listened to her messages.

  The first one was from Ryan Rohmer. Derek had met him several times at different real estate and city functions. He was kind of an ass. But he was a very successful ass.

  She hit the speaker button. “Jessa—Ryan here. You didn’t show up to work. You haven’t answered my emails or phone calls. Unless I hear from you today by close of business, you’re fired.”

  “Aw, crap,” Jessa said. “I’ve got to go into work,” she said, refusing to look up from her phone. “Though,” she laughed without humor, “I have no idea how I’m supposed to explain any of this.”

  “Tell him there’s been a death in the family,” Derek suggested. It would buy her time.

  “No.” She collected her things into a purse. “He’s the kind of person who’d insist on sending flowers. He’ll know I’m lying.” She groaned, as if a thought had just occurred to her. “I’m going to have to call a taxi. Maybe I should rent a car instead. Ugh. I wonder if the police towed mine. We left in such a hurry I didn’t even call a tow truck. I’d been too worried about—”

  “I’ll take care of the car,” Derek said in a rush. “Don’t worry.”

  “You don’t have to do that.” She reached for her phone, but he waved her off.

  “It’s my fault your car is wrecked,” he reminded her. “I’ll get a new one here,” he glanced at the clock on the stove, “in half an hour.”

  “Okay.” She smiled warmly. “I appreciate it.”

  Derek grabbed his phone and slipped into her bedroom, closing the door before dialing a number from his old contacts list.

  “Larry Land, how can I help you?” answered the man on the other end.

  “It’s Derek Walker,” he said. “You used to find vehicles for my father.” Vehicles as in restored muscle cars and hard to find classics.

  “Of course,” Larry said. “Are you thinking of selling the Porsche 911 Carrera yet?”

  “No.” His father’s vehicles were still in storage in Raleigh, along with his mother’s jewelry and their antiques. They were a task for another day. “I need a car. A nice one.”

  After working out the details, Derek hung up and returned to the living room where Jessa was checking email on her laptop. From her hunched shoulders to the way her feet dangled off the stool’s lowest rung, he sensed her exhaustion.

  “You shouldn’t go into work,” he said. “You’ve been through a lot.”

  “If I don’t go, I’ll lose my job.” She shrugged without looking up. “Being a Realtor is all I’ve ever wanted to be. I can’t lose everything now.”

  Memories of his real estate career floated in and out of his thoughts, some of it unimportant garbage like the color of the last accent wall he’d painted, and some of it painful like Rebecca ribbing him for supposedly failing the real estate exam for the second time. Some of it, though, was more positive.

  Jessa smiling. Jessa laughing at one of his stupid jokes. Jessa touching his bicep and making him feel ten feet tall.

  “You know what’s funny,” he observed. “I don’t miss selling houses. At all.”

  “But you loved decorating,” Jessa said.

  “I still do,” he agreed, “but I hate manipulating people. I hate lying.”

  “Is that why you never took the test?” And by the way she said it and averted her eyes he suspected she said took but meant passed.

  “Rebecca wanted me to be her junior agent,” he inhaled, giving the words time to form, “but I never did.”

  Jessa scrunched her nose. “What do you mean?”

  “I never took the test,” he said, fighting a smile. “I told her I was, then I,” he swallowed, “spent the day at a retreat in Myrtle Beach.”

  She playfully slapped his arm. “Why?”

  Derek tried to wipe the smile off his face, but failed. “I never wanted to be an agent. Rebecca wouldn’t let it drop.”

  “Well,” Jessa said, “if we survive this Chaos Gate issue, I’ll help you start your own design firm.”

  His eyebrows shot skyward, and he was shocked and humbled by her offer.

  “I don’t have any money,” she said, smiling, “but I’ll close the deal on the building you buy.”

  “And that’s why you’ll always be my agent,” he said, only half teasing.

  Outside, a car engine roared, and then went quiet. Derek checked through the window. “Your car’s here.”

  “That was fast.” She opened the front door and grinned. “Ready to meet Ryan so I can get yelled at?”

  As he followed her downstairs, he realized how much he missed this—their banter, their conversations, Jessa’s infectious smile. There had been no substitute in Alaska, and he feared he’d never be as happy with anyone else as he was
just being around Jessa.

  In the parking lot, Larry waited with a clipboard, a pen, and a set of keys.

  “Good to see you again,” the car dealer greeted, handing Derek the clipboard. “Sign at the blue X please.” Then he passed the paperwork to Jessa. “Sign on the red X please.”

  She did, but she was too distracted by the gorgeous BMW parked in her spot to read the page. “This looks brand new,” she marveled, opening the driver’s door. “This is a new car. Holy crap. It has twenty-six miles on it!” She pinned Derek with a confused stare. “Where did you rent this?”

  “Sir?” Larry handed Derek the keys and then discreetly disappeared in a second vehicle.

  “I didn’t rent it.” Derek passed the keys to Jessa. “I bought it.”

  Her mouth formed a perfect O. “Wow. It must be nice to be so rich.” She turned the key and shot him an impressed smile at the purr of the engine.

  “I bought it for you,” he added, folding the paperwork into a rectangle and sliding it into the glove box.

  “You did what?”

  “I bought it for you.”

  She snorted. “Derek, I can’t accept a car from you.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s a fifty thousand dollar car,” she exclaimed. “And you may or may not be crazy!”

  “I guess you’ve got a point,” he said, playing along. “You don’t want to look like you’re taking advantage of a mental patient.”

  “Exactly.” She lovingly caressed the dashboard, and then played with the touchscreen controls. “But since we are short a car, I’ll drive this around, but when you leave, it goes with you. That’s fair, don’t you think?”

  He didn’t reply because the truth was, the pink slip was in her name and he had no plans on taking it anywhere. But he let her believe that because she was happy with his gift and knowing he’d brought her pleasure, even in this small way, was the best feeling he’d had in a long time.

  After touching every button, testing the satellite radio, and adjusting the seat warmers, Jessa finally reversed the car out of the parking lot and headed into town.

  At Ryan’s office, Derek parked and got out. At the edge of the sidewalk, he saw something flicker in his periphery and nearly tripped. At the end of the building, his longtime spirit tormentor stood watching him with a cruel smile. Without breaking eye contact, the beefy man mimed shooting Derek in the head.

  “Everything okay?”

  He jumped at Jessa’s voice.

  “Yeah.” When he looked back, the bearded spirit was gone. “Fine.

  Together, they bypassed the office’s reception desk and crossed a busy cubicle space where agents and other employees were making phone calls or typing on computers.

  Jessa knocked on Ryan’s closed door. “Wait out here,” she whispered.

  “Enter,” came an imperious command.

  Jessa marched inside, but didn’t close the door completely. Derek was not ashamed to eavesdrop.

  “Where have you been?” Ryan demanded. “I needed your help with two different open houses, and a loan fell through last night. I hired you to be here when I need you. What happened?”

  “I was ill,” Jessa said softly. “I’m sorry if I put you out.”

  Ryan interrupted her. “We all get sick. I’ve been sick, but I take medicine, and I show up to do my job. Especially in a week like this.”

  “I don’t know what else to say, Ryan.”

  “Not good enough.” Ryan’s voice got louder, loud enough for agents in the outer offices to hear.

  Derek’s protective instincts reared up. Ryan had no right yelling at Jessa. Being targeted by the dark cabal wasn’t her fault.

  “Don’t talk to her like that,” he growled, banging open the office door. The knob hit the wall and a framed portrait of the North Carolina coast wobbled.

  “Who the hell are you?” Ryan shouted back, standing abruptly from his desk.

  “You have no idea what she’s going through.” Derek put himself between Jessa and her boss.

  Recognition dawned across Ryan’s face. “I know you.” He shook his head as if astonished. “You’re Rebecca Powell’s little lap dog. I’ve seen you carry her coat and purse to every soiree in town. How did you get off her leash?”

  Derek couldn’t think of anything to say. His mind swelled with the image of himself as a coat-carrying poodle.

  Jessa leaned around Derek and said, “Ryan, you’re an asshole. I quit.”

  The man actually laughed. “Fine. But I hope you don’t plan on working in real estate in this town because no one will hire you when I spread the news about your unprofessional behavior.”

  “Go to hell, Ryan,” Jessa said. She took Derek’s hand and led him through a maze of cubicles. “You can go to hell, too, Karen.”

  The woman looked startled. “What did I do?”

  “Oh, my God,” Jessa exclaimed, releasing him in the parking lot to do a jumpy little dance. “That felt so good!” She grabbed Derek into a quick, tight hug. “Thank you. If you hadn’t been there I don’t think I would’ve had the courage to quit, but I’m so glad I did.”

  Derek still didn’t say anything, just withdrew from her embrace.

  Lap dog? Is that how the professionals in Auburn saw him? He was a personal assistant. Carrying coats and following his boss to meetings was in the job description. So, why did he feel ashamed all of a sudden?

  Loser, freak, waste of space.

  “Derek?” Jessa stepped directly into his eye line. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you happy for me?”

  “What? Yes,” he said, finding his voice. He jiggled the keys in his hand.

  “Is it what Ryan said? Don’t take it personally. He was trying to push your buttons.”

  He’d succeeded. “Right.” He shook off the glum thoughts, though they clung to the periphery. “Yeah, let’s go.”

  Jessa was quiet on the drive home, keeping the radio just loud enough to prevent conversation, but safely in her apartment and behind his shield spells, he broached the question foremost in his mind.

  “What will you do now?” he asked. “For a job, I mean.”

  She exhaled loudly, setting her purse aside and leaning against the living room wall. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “In a couple days, I guess I’ll make some calls to my contacts list and see if anyone’s in the market. Then I’ll find another office to work for.”

  He wanted so badly to say something helpful, to be helpful.

  Jessa straightened, and her brave smile was back. “Everything’s going to work out. It always does.” Just as quickly as her smile appeared, it vanished and her face drained of color. “Ow,” she moaned, grabbing the wall for support.

  “Jessa?” He reached for her as if he could gauge her pain through touch alone, but he couldn’t, and he stopped short. By the way her demon’s eyes glowed red, Derek guessed at the source of her discomfort without ever laying a finger on her.

  “Going to bed,” she murmured, but she couldn’t stand up by herself and her eyes remained tightly closed.

  Cursing under his breath, Derek cupped her arm under the elbow and helped her walk. “Don’t worry,” he cooed. “I’ll put you to bed.”

  She didn’t respond, and he got the feeling movement of any kind was causing her additional agony.

  She lay gingerly upon her comforter, but then didn’t move another muscle, not even to climb under the covers. Derek folded the blankets over her before ransacking her medicine cabinet. But it didn’t matter because when he returned to her bedside to offer her aspirin, she was already asleep.

  Seeing her curled up in bed like a kitten, all soft and fragile, brought out the beast in him. He would do anything to protect her. It didn’t matter that he possessed only a handful of memories of her, something about her affected every part of him. He vowed to do whatever it took to keep her safe and happy.

  * * *

  Jessa hadn’t slept well. Her mid-morning nap had been long but not very restful. After
eleven, she finally stirred and followed the sounds and smells of cooking into the kitchen.

  “Morning,” she grumbled.

  Derek glanced up from the stove. “Feel better?”

  She waved her hands to indicate her wrinkled pajamas. “I feel even worse than I look.”

  Turning back to a skillet of scrambled eggs, he said gently, “You look beautiful.”

  She snorted in disbelief, about to list all the reasons he was a big fat liar—bed hair, morning breath—but something about the way he said it made her think he was sincere.

  Instead, she replied, “It smells great in here.”

  “I want you to eat,” he said without looking up. “So you’ll feel stronger.”

  “Thanks. Just give me a minute to wash up.”

  At his nod, she scurried into the bathroom and shut the door. She washed her face, flipping water droplets onto the mirror, and froze at the sight of her reflection.

  Derek wasn’t the only person who’d changed recently. The tender skin around both eyes was smudged dark gray and her hair had lost a great deal of its natural shine. Not to mention the sallow color of her skin.

  And if she believed Derek and Rebecca, a demon encircled her head.

  Turning away from the mirror, she toweled her face and reached for the deodorant. She couldn’t dwell on the negative or she would never emerge from the bathroom.

  Clean and feeling better, she joined Derek in the kitchen where he was plating a hearty brunch.

  “I didn’t know what all the orange stickers were for,” he said, passing her a plate and fork. “Sorry.”

  Jessa experienced a moment of guilt at her guest eating Esmeralda’s special, hands-off groceries, but it passed quickly. Her roommate had left it behind. And Derek didn’t know any better.

  So, Jessa attacked the tofu sausage links, free-range eggs, and toast with farm fresh raspberry jam. Suddenly, she was starving. She finished half her plate before catching Derek watching her with interest.

  Flushing, she took a long drink of cool milk and then wiped her mouth with a napkin.

  He continued to stare. And not in a friendly or brotherly way. No, not even close.

  The heat in her cheeks spread to her chest as she shifted in her seat. “Derek?”