by K. C. Cross
I grab the drink menu and fan myself. “I’m fine, I swear. It’s some kind of hot flash. I’ll be OK.”
Russ snaps his fingers at a passing waitress, but not in a nasty way. She stops, a look of concern on her face. “Everything OK here, Sheriff?”
“Stacy, Miss Vita here is feeling flush.” He says these words discreetly and politely. “Could you bring us a bucket of ice so I can make her up a little cold pack?”
Stacy smiles at him, then me, then him again. “Sure thing, Sheriff.” And she’s off.
“It’s really fine,” I say. “I’m sure it will pass and that ice won’t be necessary.”
“Maybe so,” Russ says. “But it can’t hurt to be prepared.” Then he shoots me another look of concern. “Are you not hungry anymore? I would completely understand if you’d just rather go home. And of course, you can’t drive yourself. I’d be happy to take you.”
Well, that won’t do. I might be in some kind of swoon-induced fever at the moment, but I still remember my goal here. So my answer is, “No, I’m starving. Really. I’m dying for a steak.”
Not exactly a lie. I do love my meat. But I can’t let him take me home again. That defeats the whole purpose of the date. Which, despite the traitorous reactions in my body, was to make him less interested, not more.
But everything about this night is wrong. I’m the one who is infatuated with him, not the other way around. He’s not looking at me like I’m a sexy piece of meat. In fact, he’s looking at me like… “You think I’m weird, don’t you?”
His smile never falters. “I like your brand of weird, Pie. I find it intriguing. I’m curious, though—”
But I don’t hear the rest, because I’m so focused on his mouth—hyper-focused, like tunnel-vision focused on his perfect lips, on the way they might feel against mine—that the next thing I know I’m kissing him.
No. That’s not what happens. That’s not even close to accurate.
I have climbed into his lap, my fingertips mussing up his thick head of hair. My eyes trained on his. Searching for the passion I know is in there. Then I’m pressing my mouth to his and squirming my lady bits against his thickening dick underneath those tight pants. I’m panting, breathing so heavy, I might pass out. And then I pull the neckline of my dress down, exposing my bra, and I place his hand there, making him squeeze me. All the while I’m writhing in his lap, sticking my tongue down his throat, then pulling back to dirty talk. “I want to suck you. I want your fingers inside me.” Squirming, and wiggling, and twisting, and quivering. Trying my very best to make myself come, right here in the—
“Pie?”
The delusion fades and I’m still sitting in the booth next to, not on top of, Mr. Sheriff here.
I blink.
He’s just about to ask me if I’m insane when Stacy the waitress appears with one of those legit cold-pack thingies you only see in cartoons. The round kind, made of plastic, and they come with a cap. “Here you go, hon. Put this up to your head.” Then she looks at the sheriff. “She can take that home, Sheriff.”
Russ takes the cold pack and places it up against my forehead. “Thank you, Stacy.”
It does help. But only the feverish part of my new… disorder.
What? No! I can’t afford to have another disorder. I’m already afflicted with hallucinations, curses, and love spells. What more can this world throw at me?
There is a bell ringing somewhere.
I look around, but we’re so secluded in the back, between these massive potted trees, that I can’t get a clear view of anything.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you home?”
I’m just about to answer him when that bell starts ringing again. And I don’t know why I think this, but it feels like a summoning bell. The kind of bell you ring when you need service.
“Pie?”
“Do you hear a bell ringing?” I ask him.
He pauses to listen like a reasonable person, then presses his lips together and shakes his head. “Nope. Do… you hear a bell ringing?”
I sure can. But I’m not gonna tell him that now that I know that I’m imagining it. “Can you excuse me for a moment? I have to use the restroom.”
“Sure.” Even though I can scoot out of my side of the booth, Russ gets up with me like a trained gentleman.
I smile at him. He’s really nice. And handsome. And his pants are so tight, I can see the entire outline of his dick.
I look away quickly and head towards a hallway that has a sign for the restrooms over it. I’m probably imagining his big dick. It’s probably leftover delusions from Pell.
Oh, my God, Pie. Just stop. For all you know, this whole thing is a delusion. I mean… monsters? Horned gods with hooves? These things don’t exist.
I’m just about to walk into the restroom when I spy a back door and head that way instead.
This date is over. I’m not sure what’s real and what’s not anymore and I can’t sit in there and pretend to be sane. I end up in an alley behind the restaurant and when I look to my left, there are two police cruisers. I almost panic until I remember the station is next to the restaurant.
I turn in a circle, trying to get my bearings so I can figure out where I parked. Then I head in that direction. And with every step I feel just a little bit better.
Maybe Russ really is an eros? Maybe it was him, and not me? Because by the time I make it to the front of the candle shop, I’m almost feeling normal.
It was him.
It’s not me.
I sigh out a long breath of relief and all I want to do is go home.
Home? I don’t want to think about the sanctuary, but how can I not? It’s not my home. I’m either insane and made the whole thing up, or I’m stuck in a curse.
Which one is worse?
I think I should just get in my Jeep and drive on out of here, never looking back. And if Pia is real, then she’s with me. Always. Maybe I can’t see her. But if I leave, Pia leaves. And if she doesn’t come with me, she was never real to begin with.
Yes. This is what I need to do.
I’m convinced that I need to just get in my Jeep and drive to Toledo so I can beg Jacqueline to let me stay on her couch for a few nights.
This, at the very least, is some semblance of a plan. And plans always make me feel better. So I’m breathing normally and nearly calm when I round the corner of the candle shop.
And then I stop dead.
Because leaning against my Jeep is… “Grant?”
He smiles at me. “Hi, Pie.” And he’s young again.
I shake my head. “No. This isn’t possible. I saw you leave. I saw you turn into an old man.”
He pushes off my Jeep and shoves his hands into his pockets. He’s so young. Much younger than me, I realize. His hair is blond and his body is lean and supple. No trace of the old man who got in that El Camino and drove away.
“You tricked me. And how are you young again? Pell and Tomas said you never paid your debts.”
He shrugs. “I didn’t trick you. I just didn’t fill you in. And don’t even try to tell me that you wouldn’t do the same thing if another slave walked into the sanctuary. You’d take your chance, wouldn’t you? And you know that with one hundred percent certainty even though you’ve only been there a few days.”
I can’t say he’s wrong, so I don’t.
“And here’s a tip—that debt book is bullshit. You can wash his stupid fucking feet twenty-four seven and it won’t erase your debts. It doesn’t matter. And he knows it doesn’t matter. I bet he lied to you, didn’t he? I bet he told you you had to work it off by pleasing him, didn’t he?”
I don’t say anything, but that was the answer Grant was looking for. So instead of remaining silent, I change the subject back to my question. “How are you young again?”
“Do you think I’m stupid? I spent fifty years locked up in that place. Do you really think I didn’t have an escape plan?”
“So what was it? You took the
magic with you?”
“It’s not just the magic. It’s my magic. I made it. So yeah, I took it with me.”
“So the books you left behind? They’re bullshit, right?” I pull the amulet out from my dress. “This is a total waste, isn’t it?”
He laughs, then walks towards me until he’s close enough to take the amulet out of my hand. He slips the cord over my neck and opens the pouch up. Then he crinkles his nose and laughs again. “Oh, Pie. I’m sorry.”
“And how do you know my name? I never told you my name.”
He hands my useless amulet back and shrugs again. “I’m magic.” Then he taps his temple. “I know things. And I can help you. If you want out. I can get you out. I know how to break the curse, but those monsters, Pie?” He shakes his head. “They can’t get out. They were put there for a reason. And you’ve only met Pell. I’ve met them all. And I’ll tell you what, you do not want to know them. Pell is bad, but there’s worse out there in that cemetery. If they ever invite you inside, don’t go.”
“No shit, Sherlock. Do I look stupid? I’m not going inside no creepy tomb.”
“And don’t fall for Pell’s sweet talk. He’s a liar. Everything he says is a lie.”
“That might be true, but why should I trust you?”
“I wanna help you. I just said. I want to put an end to this curse. And I can’t do that as long as you’re there. I need your help to break your curse—our curse,” he amends quickly—“but not theirs. Those monsters need to stay at Saint Mark’s. Invite me in, Pie. Get me back in and I’ll make it all go away. I’ll get you out. You can be on your way. Get your life back on track.”
I don’t trust him. I don’t trust anything he just said. And it’s not even the part about inviting him in that triggers this. It’s all of it. That last bit, that’s just the dead giveaway.
I put the amulet back on “No. I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing, but I will not be a part of this.”
I reach for the door handle of the Jeep, but Grant blocks my way. “You don’t really have a choice, Pie. You’re not in charge here.”
“I don’t have a choice?” I kinda laugh at that. Because in my experience there are always choices. Sometimes you only have bad choices to choose from, so it’s easy to assume you have none. But that’s not true. You always have a choice. So I say, “What are you gonna do? Kill me, Grant? Kidnap me? Will the curse let you do that?”
But Grant isn’t really listening to me. He’s distracted by the ring on my finger. I absently play with it and realize… it’s loose. I could take it off, if I wanted to. I could hand it over. I could let Grant take this problem of mine and make it his again. But everything about that feels wrong.
He’s watching me play with the band of silver around my finger like he’s mesmerized. I take it off, hold it between my fingers, then place it in my palm and offer it to him. “Take it. You want back in so bad, take it. We can trade places again.”
He does not reach for the ring.
“What’s wrong, Grant?” I’m baiting him, I realize. My tone is condescending, my invitation not even genuine. Even if he reached for the ring, I would pull back. I would not give it over. And I don’t really understand these things right now, but I know one thing for sure. I need to go.
I slip the ring back on and reach for the door, but Grant says, “Hold on. Just wait.”
“Why? So you can lie to me some more? I don’t know what you’re up to, but I do know I don’t want anything to do with it. Or you.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “So you like it there? You want to be stuck in a curse with those evil monsters forever?”
I shrug. “I’ll figure it out.”
“You will?” He guffaws. “You? Really? After thousands of years and dozens of caretakers, you will be the one to figure it out? That’s… ambitious.”
“So? What do you care? You’re free. Go. Be free.”
“I’m offering you the same. I’m trying to break the caretaker curse, Pie. That’s my motive here. To get you out and keep them in.”
“I don’t believe you.” But that’s not entirely true. Some of what he’s saying rings true. I can tell by the tone of his voice. The part about the caretaker curse. He does want to get rid of it. And maybe he even wants to keep the monsters inside. But there’s more to it than that. I can feel this like it’s a real thing in my hand.
Grant is still smiling. It comes off very fake. “What’s not to believe?”
“You want back in, Grant. That’s weird. Especially since I offered you the ring so you could do that, and you refused.”
“I’m trying to break the curse, Pie. If I take the ring, I take the curse. And that defeats the purpose of getting out of the curse to begin with.”
“You’re talking in circles. Nothing you’re saying makes sense.”
“I’m offering you an out. What part of that doesn’t make sense?”
“You want to hurt them.”
“Oh.” He guffaws again. “Oh. I get it. You’ve already become infatuated. Let me guess… Pell has given you a breath?”
“What?”
“The breath, Pie?” He must read something in my expression because he smiles wide. “I bet he told you he didn’t do magic, either? But then he did magic, didn’t he?”
I don’t want to admit that, so I say nothing.
“Yeah. He did. Well.” Grant shrugs and puts his hands in his pockets. “It’ll wear off. And then you’ll come to your senses and want what I’m offering you.”
“What are you offering me?” I ask. “Exactly?”
He hesitates. But quickly recovers and begins speaking in a breathless rush. “I’m living a dream life, Pie. I started renting storage units on the outskirts of Pittsburgh four decades ago. I used the fake money to buy very expensive things. Watches, jewelry, art, cars. Collectibles. And then I sold it. I have made millions of dollars during my time at Saint Mark’s. And not only did I get to keep it all when you answered my ad, I got my youth back too. The Book of Debt is bullshit. I have a spell that erased my debt and every moment I spent under the influence of the curse. If you invite me back in, I will give you that spell. You can stay, use the fake money to build your own fresh start, then leave when you’re ready. I will catch you another caretaker.”
Wow. I scoff at him. Because greed, right? It’s sadly… predictable. Everything he just said goes back to greed. His amateur offer is a joke. “I’m not even remotely interested in using magic to find success. It kind of defeats the whole point of success, in my opinion. And I don’t need you to catch me another caretaker, Grant. I already know where one is.”
“What?” His word comes out sharp and fast.
“I’m not letting you in. You’re… I don’t know. Wrong, somehow. I don’t want anything to do with you or your fake plan.” I pull out my phone, press nine and one. “Now get out of my way or I will press that last digit and Eileen will answer, and I will tell her to send Sheriff Roth over to the candle shop parking lot. And then I will tell him you tried to attack me. And he will believe me, Grant. Because you’re a sketchy-looking dude. I’m sure this town already knows there’s something wrong with you. I bet you Sheriff Russ Roth would be more than happy to lock you up if I tell him what you did.”
“You’re a sneaky little liar, you know that? I’m just trying to help you.”
I shake my head. “No. I’m not lying. I’m just jumping the gun a little. Because if I hang around you for much longer, I’m one hundred percent certain you will attack me. Now get out of my way.”
“You’re making a big mistake. I’m telling the truth. And you’re gonna figure that out quick. But hey.” He throws up his hands, palms out, like he’s surrendering. He steps aside. “You’re not even real. You’re just a crazy girl with an imaginary bird for a best friend, so you’re probably doing the whole world a favor by locking yourself in the loony bin with the monsters.” Then he tips his imaginary hat to me and walks off.
I get in my Je
ep and drive out of town towards the sanctuary.
I spend most of the drive trying not to think about what just happened, but it’s inevitable.
He’s stupid. I’m not real? That’s insanity. I’m the only thing that is real. He’s not real. None of this curse stuff is real. In fact, nothing after I woke up from the Halloween party is real. It’s all a bad dream or… or…
Shit. I missed the turnoff into the forest where the road to the back entrance is. But instead of turning around, I stop outside the front gate of Saint Mark’s and just look at it.
The moon is sizable enough. Don’t know if it’s growing or shrinking, but it’s bright enough that I can see the building pretty clearly. From out here, it doesn’t look like a cathedral. Not the way it does in the back.
It’s all an illusion. And if I could just find a way to peel back the pretty paper over those imaginary walls, I’d see what’s hiding underneath.
But I won’t do that, will I?
I like the delusion, don’t I?
That’s why I keep Pia around, isn’t it?
I flip a bitch, find the road into the forest, and then slowly make my way back to the lake and the gate, and the unreal life I’m living here at Saint Mark’s.
I don’t know what just happened back in town. I don’t think I want to know what just happened back in town. I don’t even want to know what’s happening out here.
Something is wrong with Grant. That’s why he wants back in.
Something is wrong with Tomas. That’s why he’s missing.
And something is wrong with Pell too. Fucking pleasure book or whatever.
It’s all nuts.
I’m nuts.
This is the thought that lingers in my head.
Me. This isn’t about them. They’re the ones who aren’t real.
This is about me and I’m insane.
Just like they all said when I was little.
Only now, I can’t control it. My delusions have taken over my reality. That little hallucination with the sheriff tonight? That’s proof.
He’s not some weird love monster! I’m. In. Sane.
I turn the Jeep off and notice there’s a light on in my cottage. I get out and just stand there in the parking lot for a moment, looking up at the bedroom window. Picturing myself up there with Pia that first day. Looking down here, where I’m standing now, and watching Old Man Grant get in his car, practically giddy with excitement.
