Chapter Six
We touched down in Key West, smooth as glass, taxied a bit, and came to a stop. I wrestled my backpack into my lap, only to have London take it from me. The bag wasn’t heavy or anything. I could handle it. And even just a few months before, I would have made sure any guy trying to carry my stuff knew that I was woman enough to deal with things on my own. Now, I knew that if London felt the need to play the gentleman, it wouldn’t cost me anything to let him. I held up traffic so he could get out into the aisle and then followed him up to the door.
I’d never been to a small airport before, so the big portable metal staircase took me by surprise. Since we were safely on the ground, I could afford to find it charming and amusing. We all filed down the stairs to the tarmac and headed toward the terminal. Brian had gone ahead, and I half-jogged to catch up with him. He glanced at me as I drew up even with him, and I gave him a little smile. I slid my arm around his waist, and he drew me close against his side.
“It’s hard. Being here again,” he said.
“Yeah, it is.”
He hugged me a little tighter before letting go so he could open the terminal door. We stepped inside, London right behind us, not knowing where to go.
“This guy we’re meeting,” I said. “Any idea what he looks like?”
London shook his head. “Shelley said he’d find me.”
We decided the best place to look—or be seen—was in the waiting area, so we followed the signs there. No one milling around looked anything like a mage to me, but then neither did London. I dropped down onto one of the seats and took out my cell phone. I switched it on, hoping for a message from Dylan. Instead I found another voicemail from my brother.
I checked the time. Alex would be at work and with any luck I could just leave a message. Mentally crossing my fingers, I dialed Alex’s phone and waited. Sure enough, it went to voicemail.
“Alex, it’s me,” I said. “First of all, my name is not ‘Lizard.’ Second, I told you not to blow up my phone. And last but not least, I will call you back when I can actually talk. And I swear I’ll tell you everything.”
I shoved the phone back into my pocket and looked up to see both Brian and London watching me. Brian had one eyebrow quirked up, like I’d done something weird. London looked like he was trying not to laugh.
“What?”
“Lizard?” Brian asked.
“Eavesdropping bastards,” I muttered. London did laugh then. I was beginning to really like that sound. Dammit. I sighed. “My brother calls me that when he’s pissed at me. He’s been doing it since he was, like, two.”
“Lizard,” London repeated.
“Call me that, and I’m not responsible for your medical bills.”
London turned away, laughing, to look around the terminal. He froze, and I followed his line of sight, wondering what was wrong. All I found was a man leaning against an otherwise vacant patch of wall. He looked right at home in the Keys, with his blond-streaked grey ponytail, boater’s tan, and khaki cargo shorts, and nothing about him set off any warning bells. I couldn’t figure out London’s reaction, until the man let his gaze drift to London. There was something in the man’s eyes that said he not only knew he was being watched but had been waiting for London to notice him. He pushed away from the wall and came toward us, hands in his pockets.
“You Shelley’s stray?” he asked as soon as he was in earshot.
“Mr. Ashe?” London asked in reply.
“No ‘Mister,’” the man said. “Just Ashe.”
“London Dahlbeck.” He held his hand out. I half-expected Ashe to ignore the gesture, but he surprised me by giving London’s hand a firm shake.
“Wasn’t expecting a tagalong.”
London shifted my backpack a little on his shoulder as he turned toward Brian. “Brian Kelly,” he said. “Dylan’s boyfriend.”
“Dylan’s your missing friend?”
“Yes, sir.”
Ashe shook hands with Brian, too.
London stepped around Brian to hold his hand out to me. He helped me to my feet, and then introduced me as Dylan’s best friend.
While Ashe hadn’t seemed to mind Brian’s presence, I could tell he wasn’t happy to have me there. I wasn’t sure why, and I couldn’t be bothered to care as long as he helped us.
Ashe glanced around at the three of us and shook his head. “Okay, Stretch,” he said. “Bring your entourage and come with me.” With that he turned and walked away, not seeming to care much if we actually followed.
It didn’t take long to make our way from the waiting area to the nearby lot where Ashe had parked. He drove an aging El Camino; getting more than two people in the passenger compartment would be impossible. London tried to give me the passenger seat, but Ashe wasn’t having it.
“Your girlfriend can ride in the back, Stretch. We got things to discuss.”
London looked like he wanted to argue. I figured we didn’t need that.
“It’s fine,” I told him. “I’m from Texas, remember? Grew up riding in the back of trucks. Go on.”
I didn’t give him another chance to argue but climbed over the tailgate and settled into a corner. Brian sat next to me and put his arm around me. One of the first things I’d learned about Brian back when we’d met was that he’s a very hands-on kind of guy, though not in a sexual way. As a general rule, I don’t like strangers hugging me, but it had never been an issue with Brian. In fact, his hugs were pretty awesome. A lot of guys I know do that one-arm-macho-man-hug or else stand three feet away and barely touch you. Brian hugs like he means it, probably because he does.
I braced my feet against the wheel-well and pressed up against Brian so I wouldn’t bounce around the bed of the truck. Being this close to him for more than a few seconds, I realized that he’d been working out since the cruise. He hadn’t gone all Schwarzenegger or anything. You couldn’t even notice the muscle through the loose-fitting t-shirts he’d been wearing, but I was willing to bet he would look amazing without them.
Yes, I thought my best friend’s boyfriend was hot. Looking isn’t a crime. Besides, Dylan had always liked that we could giggle like high school girls about how sexy her man was. I hoped we’d get the chance to do that again soon.
Brian and I didn’t try to talk as we bumped around Key West in the back of the El Camino. We weren’t at highway speed, but there was still enough wind and noise to make talking not quite worth the effort. The ride didn’t take long, anyway. I’m pretty sure you can circle the entire island in half an hour, and we were taking a direct route from the airport to a small house on—of all things—Elizabeth Street.
Ashe parked on the street in front of a cute little house wedged in between two larger, multi-story houses. Brian climbed out of the truck bed first and helped me down. The second my feet touched the ground, Ashe stepped up and pointed at the nearby cross-street.
“Down that street to your right you’ll find restaurants,” he said to Brian. “Stretch said you’d want to know. Bring back more than you think he’ll eat. Magic takes a lot out of you. And grab me a Cuban and a Coke.”
With that he turned and headed toward the house, motioning for London to follow him. Maybe I was seeing things, but to me it seemed like London wanted nothing more than to turn and run. Instead he rubbed a hand over his face and slung my backpack onto his shoulder.
“You okay alone with him?” Brian asked, nodding toward Ashe’s retreating back.
“Sure,” London said, though he didn’t sound sure at all. He looked up at the sky, and I wondered if he were asking for help. “He wants to show me how to find her. Says it’s my job, not his.”
“He wants you to use your powers?” I asked.
“Yup.”
“London,” Brian said, his voice hardly more than a whisper, “you don’t have to do this.”
London turned his face from the sky and looked at his friend. “Yeah, I do. He won’t help us any other way, and it’s our best shot at finding
Dylan.” Brian started to say something else, but London cut him off. “It’s okay, Brian. Really.”
Brian stopped trying to argue. He just grabbed London in a fierce hug and then dragged me off in search of breakfast.
We had rounded the corner and were halfway down the next block when I got desperate and dug my heels in, literally. I braced myself and pulled, but Brian had a death grip on my hand. I don’t think he had even realized it until that moment, when I threw my full weight backward and jerked his arm hard enough it had to have hurt like a son of a bitch. He didn’t let go—I would have ended up busting my ass on the sidewalk if he had—but he relaxed his grip so he wasn’t hurting me. When I was steady, he did let go, dragging both of his hands through his hair and flopping back against a weathered picket fence.
I didn’t know what to do to help, so I just stood there feeling and looking like an idiot.
“He’s run from this for so damn long,” Brian said. “And here I drag him back into it.”
For a moment, I just stood there, watching him and gathering my thoughts. It wasn’t that I didn’t care about London’s emotional crisis, but Dylan could, for all we knew, be in very real, physical danger. Emotional fallout we could deal with, but if Dylan got hurt, we might not be able to fix that.
“Is there something I’m missing here, or is London really tweaked out about this magic stuff because of some stupid girl?”
That surprised a laugh out of Brian. “Not only that. He told you about finding out about his powers, about being treated like a freak in high school.”
“That had to be, what? Ten years ago?”
“More like fifteen. But he learned then to hide what and who he is, and it took him a long time to trust anyone with all of himself. He opened up to Adrian, Kent, and me, and we accepted him. So he opened up to Kelley, and that was a minor disaster. Then Julia came along and really screwed him over.”
“So he really is tweaking out about some stupid girl.”
Brian smiled, but it didn’t touch his eyes. “Have you ever been in love, Elizabeth? Really in love? Thought you’d found someone to spend the rest of your life with?”
“I don’t believe in happily ever after.”
“I’d forgotten that about you,” he replied. “But if I remember right, you gave up on that happily ever after because some asshole broke your heart.”
I shrugged. “It happens to everybody. I just don’t feel the need to go through it again. Like, ever again.”
“Yeah. But some of us don’t give up easily.”
I shrugged again. “Are you going to give me romantic advice or tell me what’s going on with London?”
“If you’ve never really been in love, I’m not sure I can explain it to you. What it’s like to find the one who you’re sure you want to wake up beside every morning for the rest of your life. Or what it’s like to find out that that she isn’t who you thought she was. What it’s like to watch all your dreams and plans crumble into dust.”
I remembered that Brian had once been left at the altar, so to speak. I guess he knew better than anyone what London had dealt with in the aftermath of his relationship with Julia. But as I thought about my own failed relationships, I began to understand. I’d had a fair few boyfriends and even been engaged a couple of times. Had I ever really been in love? I didn’t know for sure. But I knew how much it had hurt every single time things went wrong.
“I think I get it.”
Something in my voice or face must have given away my thoughts and feelings, because Brian pulled me in for a hug.
“Then I think you know that it’s not really just about a stupid girl,” he said. “And it’s gotten worse in the last year.”
“Why now?” I asked, drawing away from Brian to lean beside him on the fence.
“My guess is that when he hit 30, he kind of got slapped in the face with his own mortality. Seeing his high school friends and his brothers getting married and realizing it’s not in the cards for him on top of that whole not-getting-any-younger thing.”
“It’s not like there’s some law that says you can’t fall in love after 30.”
Brian smiled. “Lucky for me.” The smile faded, and I knew he was back to worrying about Dylan.
“So he’s running from his magic because it’s screwed up his life?”
For a moment, he didn’t answer. “That’s the story the way he tells it. There might me more to it, though. I think there’s something he’s keeping from us, but I could be wrong.”
That there might be other considerations with this whole magic thing was something I hadn’t taken into account.
“What London’s doing, is it dangerous?” I asked
Brian brought his arms down to cross them tightly across his chest. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
That wasn’t the answer I’d expected, and it wasn’t one I wanted to hear. We didn’t need anything—or anyone—else to worry about.
“He’s made his decision, Brian,” I said. It was the only argument I had. “You didn’t ask him to do any of this. He said he was on his way to Orlando before you ever told him about Dylan.”
“He was,” Brian admitted. “But if he hadn’t been, I’d have asked him to come. I’d have asked him to tell me if she was okay.”
I laid my hand on his arm. “You wouldn’t have had to ask. He wouldn’t have let you ask, because he wouldn’t want you to feel like you do right now.”
I didn’t know London well enough to say this for sure, but it was how things worked with me and Dylan, and I was willing to bet the same was true for London and Brian. It must have been, because Brian sighed and gave me a nod.
“You’re right. Doesn’t make me feel any better, but you’re right.”
“I think the only thing that’ll make any of us feel better is finding Dylan.” My stomach growled, and I added, “And maybe some food.”
Brian managed a smile as he pushed away from the fence.
“And you really need to learn your right from your left,” I added. “We’re supposed to be going the other way.”
We backtracked, me in the lead and Brian trailing after, each wrapped in our own thoughts. We crossed Elizabeth, now headed in the right direction, and then a second street. We neared another intersection, and this one looked familiar. I glanced at the street sign, and then took Brian’s hand. We had reached Duval Street, the main drag of the tourist area and the street where we had spent that one amazing day with Dylan.
I knew if we turned either direction on Duval that we’d find plenty of places to eat, but I kept walking. I wanted to avoid stirring up any more memories than necessary, and I was sure Brian felt the same way. I guess I was right, because he kept his head down as we crossed Duval, trying not to notice, not to remember.
A little farther down the street, we came across a few restaurants. I found one advertising conch fritters and decided it would do. I got my fritters and Ashe’s Cuban sandwich, and Brian ordered for himself and London. With the amazing smells coming from the carry-out bag, the walk back to Ashe’s seemed ten times as long as the walk down had been.
The rumbly in my tumbly had gone from embarrassing to annoying to damned near deafening by the time we got back to Ashe’s house. Brian had insisted on carrying everything—enormous food bag in one hand and drink carrier in the other—so that left me to knock on the door. London answered it. That perfect peaches-and-cream complexion was now more the color of the milk at the bottom of a bowl of Boo Berry cereal.
I barely had time to ask, “Are you okay,” before he had me wrapped in his arms. He cradled my head against his chest, and I could hear his heart racing. I figured it was a good thing I was first through the door. I was pretty sure London would have reacted the same way regardless, and his clinging to Brian like this would have been a little awkward even for them.
“Yup. Peachy,” he said, but I wasn’t buying it.
“You don’t lie worth a shit,” Brian told him. “Never have.”
“Don’t want to talk about it,” London said, and that I believed.
I stepped back so I could see London’s face, and he let go of me. He looked embarrassed. Rubbing the back of his neck, he took a couple of deep breaths.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that.”
“It’s okay,” I assured him. “I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me, or scare me, or piss me off. You are kind of worrying me though.”
London nodded and rubbed his temple like he had a headache. I saw his hand shake as he reached out to brace himself against the doorframe. Brian looked as worried as I was.
Ashe sauntered into the living room, hands in his pockets. He looked at the tableau in the doorway and sighed. “In or out,” he said. “Pick one. You’re letting out all the bought air.”
Brian and I looked at each other, not at all sure what to do. Ashe walked up to us and clapped a hand on London’s shoulder. He was tall enough that it wasn’t an awkward gesture.
“Shake it off, Stretch,” he said. His voice held a hint of something I hadn’t expected to hear: compassion. He stepped back and gestured for us to walk past. “Kitchen is straight through there,” he said, pointing toward an open doorway. “We’ll be along in a minute.”
Not knowing what else to do, Brian and I went through to the kitchen. A breakfast table stood on one side of the small, neat room. Brian set down the food and drinks and then turned to me.
“Any idea what the hell that was all about?” he asked me.
I just shook my head.
“Shrinks call it cognitive dissonance,” Ashe said as he stepped into the kitchen. “Big fancy way of saying his intuition is at war with what society says is acceptable. He’ll be okay.”
I watched as Ashe moved around the small space, fetching plates and forks and coasters for our meal. We could have eaten straight from the carry-out containers, but it was Ashe’s house, and his dishes. If he wanted everything plated up, who was I to argue? I helped him set the table, and by the time we were done London had joined us. He looked a little more stable.
The four of us sat down, and Ashe surprised me again by saying grace before we all dug in. London concentrated on his food, his face grim. His hands were steady now, though, and he’d gotten some of his color back.
I turned my attention to my own food. I savored every bite of my fritters so I could brag to Dylan later, when we had her back safe and sound. I imagined myself telling her that she didn’t have to scare us all half to death just to get me back to Key West. She’d call me a bitch, and I’ll call her a hooker, and we’d both be really damned grateful to be there, in that moment.
Ashe’s voice drew me out of my imaginings. He talked a little about Key West, a little about the callous destruction of the Everglades, a little about his restored El Camino. Drifting from topic to topic like a rubber raft at high tide, he filled up the awkward silence. And he never once mentioned magic.