by P. M. Briede
“Then let’s stop wasting time,” Paige said. We all went round and round asking the others questions from our pasts and exposing intimate details to the others. While none of it was overwhelmingly comfortable, Paige and Wesley’s verification process was downright painful. It turned out that Tristan was not only not aware that Wesley and Paige had had a sexual relationship years ago while she was married; Tristan also didn’t know they’d dated in college. Wesley and Paige pushed through the handful of questions but it was trying for all of us.
Now that we were all emotionally drained we needed to figure out the logistics of our future, starting with how to avoid this experience going forward. “Okay, so from now on anytime we come across each other we need an identifier,” I announced. “Something that wouldn’t be commonly asked and commonly answered so both parties know it’s us.”
“I think you or Olivier needs to suggest some Latin phrase,” Paige suggested. “That’ll be an uncommon enough answer.”
Wesley came up with our phrase “Politics makes strange bedfellows.” For him it must be especially true given he was sitting in a room, technically with two of his ex-lovers and their current ones. Tristan recommended what we settled on as our opener: “When was the last time you were at the Cat’s Meow?” It wasn’t something unreasonable for us to ask each other since we’ve all been but it was uncommon enough that no one else should accidently ask us. Once that was settled, Olivier wiped the minds of Wesley and Tristan of the code phrase but set a trigger that if they were asked the question, they’d give the correct response. Hopefully he buried the information deep enough that Celinda wouldn’t find it.
When we started discussing future communication, Paige issued us burner phones with spare sim cards and showed us how to change them out. We were instructed to do so once a month. She also set up a fake Facebook page as a cover so we could talk with each other. She handed out our screen names and passwords and we all agreed to check in making comments a couple times a day. If we didn’t it would signal the rest of us that something was wrong. It all felt as if we’d joined the CIA. Wesley and Tristan filled us in on what they’d picked up from Celinda. Something was going to start happening within the next few weeks, but they had no idea what. Olivier said it wouldn’t be subtle and we’d all know when the first shot was fired. Unless we could get a bead on it, there was nothing else to plan logistically.
The conversation then turned to Abigail. Wesley stated that so far it seemed as if the mind manipulation had worked since when he’d asked her what happened last night she recalled that they’d slept together. But truthfully, only time would tell. That’s when Olivier informed a very astonished Paige and Tristan that Abigail wasn’t the Wyatt’s daughter.
“How is that even possible?” Paige asked. “You’d have to create a lifetime of memories for them to draw on.” Being the only parent among us I’m sure this news bothered her the most.
“Given that last night was the first time I’ve ever attempted what we did to her, I’m no expert,” Olivier explained. “But I do have some theories. Either Celinda did exactly what you suggested Paige but I honestly think it would be too difficult. My fear is that the Wyatt’s have a daughter they haven’t truly seen for a while because Celinda could have done to them what she did to Wesley, exchange the face and set a trigger.”
That was truly a horrifying thought. The idea that some girl we’ve never met was out there, imprisoned so a band of exiled angels could bring forth Armageddon by playing puppeteers of the Wyatt’s, well I wasn’t the only one who shuddered. “Olivier, we need to find that out too. Along with figuring out where Abigail actually belongs. While I categorically revile her, she is a victim as well.”
The last thing I wanted settled before Wesley, Paige, and Tristan left was Wesley’s safety. “Wesley, please tell me the truth,” I began. “How safe are you? I know we altered Abigail’s mind but she’s not the snake in the tall grass, so to speak. Celinda’s the viper. One look in your eyes and she’ll know, both Olivier and you have confirmed that.” My stomach was tied up in knots. The thought of losing Wesley constricted my chest and I had a hard time breathing.
Wesley pinned Olivier with a look that insisted he not interfere and got up to kneel beside my chair. “We discussed that and it is a danger,” he answered. “If Cheval hides the truth from Banks, he hides it from me too without a trigger. And that’s not practical. In the past though, as long as I’m in line, she leaves me alone. With our thumb on Abigail, that’s one less person to report to Banks when I deviate from her plans.” His hand was on my knee as his thumb traced soothing circles.
I took his hands as I stood and led him to the back of the house. No one followed us, not even Olivier. When I found a remote corner in the flowerless garden I took Wesley in my arms and kissed him. Caught unawares, he didn’t readily kiss me back. But when the truth sunk in, he took a deep breath before matching my desires with his own. Somewhere my thoughts warned that we shouldn’t be doing this; that it was especially wrong to do in Olivier’s backyard. But I had no idea when I’d see Wesley again and I was deathly frightened I might not.
When our lips had finally had their fill his panting voice spoke against my skin. “Now that was the greeting I’d hoped to get from you, love. I’d worried that being back with Cheval, in his home, would change your mind about me.” His eyes sparkled, making me afraid Wesley thought I’d chosen him. “I know the battle for your heart is long from over. I know you haven’t fully committed yourself to me, but since I don’t know when I’ll be able to see, much less touch, you again, I needed this. You’ll tell me immediately, won’t you? If you choose Cheval or me, don’t beat around the bush.” I swore I would and Wesley kissed me again before leaving to slip back into enemy territory.
Chapter 4
“Alright so I sent a picture of the sketch to the guys,” Paige announced. “So now we all know who to keep our eyes averted from as much as possible.” Paige and I were at the Canal Street Bistro having lunch. The sketch was actually a really good rendition of how Celinda Banks looked. Think the wicked witch of the west with big owl eyes. Finally having her face made it seem like we were actually making some headway. Olivier was meeting with his angel contacts to give them the picture but no one thought it would be enough for them to pick her up, so to speak.
Conversation had been benign all morning. Paige and I had been categorically avoiding talking about our exile and respective boyfriend problems. As we pulled into her driveway something on the porch caught her attention. She stepped on the brake harder than necessary. Her jaw was slack, her eyes were wide, and her skin had paled, which was saying something because Paige is sheet white to begin with. As I followed her sight line I saw the reason for her reaction, sitting on the front steps of her home.
Since Tristan had left very angry yesterday I was happy it seemed he didn’t want to leave town that way. To give them some privacy I took the keys from her. “I’ll let myself in the back and go up the back stairs,” I said before getting out of the car. I walked around her garage, trying and failing to keep my eyes averted. I covertly watched Tristan pull Paige into his arms and kiss her. They were going to be alright.
I reveled in her happiness while also being slightly jealous of her as I opened the gate to her backyard. With my eyes turned more internally I walked right past the man sitting on the patio. “Am I invisible to you now, love?”
Stopping dead in my tracks, I turned and saw Wesley relaxing in one of her chairs. “Wesley? How? What?” There were so many questions; they fought to be asked all at once, thus the reason none of them really were. Yesterday was supposed to have been the last time I saw him before the campaign left.
He sauntered over to me and once there put his fingers under my chin to close my incredulous, gaping mouth. “Again, not quite the welcome I was going for.” His eyes were full of desire and his tone was richly sensual. Holding my gaze, Wesley brought his lips to mine for a kiss that told me how much he’d missed me.
“Better, try to keep that more in mind for next time.”
I licked my lips to capture every last taste of him. So I didn’t immediately catch his inference. “Next time?” I gasped. “I thought it was too dangerous for us to be seen together.” Then it hit me that I was breaking my own rule. “When was the last time you were at the Cat’s Meow?”
It’s interesting to watch a trigger work. His eyes became introspective with his pupils contracting to tiny dots and Wesley spoke the required response in a monotone. Then he took a breath, blinked, and was back, like the exchange hadn’t happened. That, in and of itself, would be enough to confirm his identity because even if someone figured out that Tristan and Wesley were working with us and thus clued into our code phrase, they’d never be able to fake that trigger response.
“It is,” Wesley admitted, “but I couldn’t leave you without getting some time alone. Well, as alone as possible given our predicament. I’m out on the pretense of treating Abigail to an afternoon at the spa. And I am, so it’s not a lie. I’m just not there with her as everyone thinks.” His arms fit around my waist, pressing his body to mine. With my hair pulled back, he took full advantage of the available access of my neck. “I love you,” he uttered breathlessly in between kisses. “I need you, Charlotte.”
I fought the urge to cave and give into my desires. When I didn’t immediately fold him into my arms Wesley pulled back until his eyes were in line with mine and concern was starting to build behind the passion. “You’re distracted, what’s on your mind?” At my hesitation, he made an assumption. “This isn’t what you wanted. I’m sorry.” He stepped away.
Tired of his incessant apologies, my hands fisted as I flung his arms away from me and mine down to my sides. “God damn it Wesley, stop apologizing to me! You know, it’s starting to become a little more obvious that you don’t know me half as well as you think you do. I’ll let you know when you’ve done something to apologize for. I’m fully capable of voicing my own displeasure in you. So until I do, keep your apologies to yourself!” The urge to strike him was strong. I stomped my foot to keep it in check.
He obviously found great amusement in my little temper tantrum and tried to hide it from me by rubbing his hand across his jaw line. “Point taken, I’ll stop,” he said with a mild chuckle. “But your mind was somewhere else. Won’t you tell me where?”
“Do you have time to sit and talk with me?” I asked.
Wesley smiled and took my hand, leading me to the swing hanging from Paige’s Magnolia tree. I enjoyed curling into his side and the feel of his arm draped around me as we both sought to intertwine our fingers. He started swinging us back and forth. “I’ve really missed you,” he whispered.
“I’ve missed you too, darling.” At the endearment, his grip tightened on my fingers. “You know, sitting here like this with you, I could almost believe the last five months hadn’t happened.” Without thought to what I was doing, my fingers began fiddling with his, especially toying with his ring finger. “So what have you wished you could have discussed with me about the campaign?” I offered. “How can I be a help to you now?”
Wesley regaled me with the lobby groups they’d pandered to since my banishment. While they met with pretty much everyone, they hadn’t thrown the weight behind the issues he thought important. Before this mess with Celinda and Abigail, I’d known he would have considered this campaign a success, even if they failed to win the nomination much less the presidency, if they’d been able to drive real discussions about what he defined as “important” issues.
“I was going to help Alexander shape a better nation,” Wesley lamented. “We were going to be the layman’s choice, the voice of the little guy. Instead, we became the voice of whoever could grab the biggest headline or had the deepest pockets. People aren’t interested in doing what’s right anymore, just what’s right for them. And if your beliefs don’t line up with theirs, well there’s no more debate or agreement to disagree. You’re branded as unpatriotic, no matter what side of the aisle you’re on.” His voice was so thick with disillusionment. I didn’t need to see his face to know the truth of his campaign reality was a devastating blow.
I brought his hand to my lips and kissed it, immediately feeling like an idiot. His hurt wasn’t from some mild scrape that could be made better with a kiss. No it derived from the fact that it was self-inflicted and countered every moral fiber of his being. I had so much to apologize for. “Wesley, I don’t know what to say. I am so sorry.”
He scrambled out from behind me and before I knew it was kneeling in front of me. As his eyes searched my guilt-ridden face, his hands cupped it. “Charlotte, what on earth do you have to be sorry for?”
“The loss of your political reputation, your dream of impacting long-standing positive change, those would be enough for me to apologize for. When Paige first told me about Abigail and you, I didn’t believe her. I was adamant it was impossible, that you’d never do that to me, and resolved to come face you. But I chickened out and because of that your career has not only suffered but you were despicably violated. Had I come to you then…”
“We both would probably be dead,” he cut in. “This is not your fault. In my heart I knew it wasn’t you but I believed my eyes. I wanted you there with me so badly that I discounted my own misgivings. I don’t know if I could have believed it then. This only worked because I’d known for months something about her wasn’t right but I had no idea what it was. Had my faith in you, in myself, been stronger, I never would have succumbed to them.” Why did Wesley always try to internalize and own all the blame? This time it was my cross to bear.
I took his hands from my face to clasp between my own. Remembering I wasn’t angry with him, I modulated my tone and tempered my voice. “This isn’t a weakness of yours, Wesley! You were raped! I know how the attempt of it affected me. How are you even able to get out of bed every morning? How are you going to be able to lie there, night after night, next to your assailant? At least mine have been arrested and should spend the rest of their lives in prison. We’ll never be able to do anything against Abigail because technically you were a willing participant!” I know I’d promised myself I wouldn’t cry anymore but my emotions didn’t stem from a personal pity party. This time my emotions were raging with hatred for Abigail and heartache for all Wesley had suffered by her hand. I also hated myself for the part I’d played in not stopping it sooner.
The summary of the personal hell he’d been in for five months, forced his eyes closed. Every muscle in his body flexed and Wesley became statuesque. Being so close to him, I was able to see the thin line of moisture building in the line of his eyelids. I waited patiently, knowing whatever demon he was fighting in his mind, he could only do alone. But I caressed his hands to remind him I was sitting there, waiting for him to come back to me. Thank God for Olivier. I would have suffered a mental breakdown after my attack if it hadn’t been for his constant, attentive care. Wesley didn’t have that luxury, but using my own healing as a guide, I was going to give him as much as I could.
When I noticed his pulse slowing and heard his seething mutterings, I knew he was far away from me and patience was no longer the right course. “Wesley, darling? Come back to me.” I spoke to him tenderly and released his hands to run my fingers along his face.
It was the wrong move. The moment his hands were free, they were at my waist and gripped with such strength that I was sure his fingers were touching through my flesh. His eyes sprang open and they were drowning in a myriad of powerful emotions, none of them love. “Lorem adolbit in inferno.” He thought I was Abigail! It was then I realized the many mistakes I had made. I’d forced him to recall the horrors he’d suffered. When I knew he was battling the ghosts, I’d touched him and used words Abigail would have, thus making them real. When I’d been in the throes of a daymare, Olivier had never touched me in the beginning. He’d always used a soothing voice and would only comfort me physically when he was sure I knew the difference between the past a
nd the present.
“Do you know you’ve cost me everything?!” Wesley roared. He shook me violently. I cried out in pain hoping Paige would hear me. “How dare you wear Charlotte’s face with me! I’d rather die than ever again be your sex slave.”
I hollered for Paige again before calling Wesley back to me. Any speech was hard to accomplish with my teeth rattling due to how he was manhandling me. “Wesley,” I stuttered. “Wesley, come back to me. It’s Charlotte, your Charlotte.”
“I don’t have a Charlotte anymore thanks to you!” Wesley screamed so venomously that spittle landed on my face, making it abundantly clear that he did not believe a word I said. I was trapped in the ferocity of his response. The pain at my waist abruptly subsided only to be replaced with one at my throat. His hands were not only stealing my words but also my breath. His form grew hazy and stars erupted on his face. “Jail would be too good for you anyway. Death is the punishment you deserve for what you’ve put us all through. For what you put Charlotte through!”
Just as the sun was fading in my horizon and my eyes fluttered shut, his hands were ripped from my body as another body eclipsed everything. “BREAUX, WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?!” Olivier’s voice exploded. Arms were around me but they weren’t the strong ones of my rescuer. Paige’s voice drifted above the background noise of three men arguing. “Charlotte, oh my God! I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was here.”
The world was a colorless display of firewords when I forced my eyes to open again. But I could comprehend the scene playing out before me. Tristan was between Olivier and Wesley, struggling to keep the two men from killing each other while also keeping Wesley from getting to me. Wesley was deep under the influence of whatever phantom had taken residence in his mind. No one understood what was really going on with him and it had been entirely my fault. After three attempts to escape Paige I got away from her and ducked under Olivier’s arms to get to Wesley.
