Loud, throaty, fuzzy grunge blared off the tiny speakers on her laptop. Eliza sang and swayed her hips with the music as she dusted bookshelves from atop a step ladder. She could’ve been mistaken for some kind of book pixie in that outfit.
“You’re pretty happy,” I said once the song ended.
“Aren’t you?” she asked, “This weekend was awesome. This year has been awesome!”
“I’m happy, trust me. You’re just beaming.”
“Man… waking up to that field… didn’t that just blow your mind?”
“Was it any different to us praying for you to get pregnant, and you now actually being pregnant?”
“People can chalk that up to coincidence. What happened at the cabin was a miracle, and I want you to fucking acknowledge it.” Eliza’s Samuel L Jackson impression came out of nowhere. I burst into a fit of laughter and let go of the weekend’s worries in that single instant. Minutes later, I still couldn’t keep a straight face.
“We did a great thing this weekend,” said Eliza, “And those shelters were really grateful for all that extra fruit and vegetables we gave them.”
“They must think we’re farmers.”
Eliza came down from the ladder and went to her laptop, which was on the main counter. I followed. “I’m pretty sure if we were farmers we’d have the farmer police after us wondering how we grew that entire crop overnight—with no actual seeds.” she said.
“And then we’d be pretty screwed.”
“So, are you going to stop stalling and tell me how things went with Damien or am I going to have to wring it out of you?” asked Eliza from behind her laptop screen.
“What is there to say?” I asked. I was sitting on the counter trying to find entertainment inside my phone but coming up short.
“I know there’s something going on with you two, there has to be.”
“Sorry to break it to you, but he has a girlfriend. He was texting her over the weekend.” Damien hadn’t confirmed nor denied the fact, and I hadn’t seen him texting her, but then again I hadn’t asked. Not that I wanted to know or anything.
Aaron, I thought. I still hadn’t texted him back.
“But he was with you,” said Eliza, “And you guys spent a lot of time together.”
“Platonic. We have common interests.”
“Yeah, each other.”
“He doesn’t see me in that way, okay?”
“Have you asked him?”
“I don’t have to. I just know.”
“I call bullshit.” Eliza shut her laptop and moved around the counter, staring directly into my face. “I wager you and he will end up cocooned in each other by the end of the year.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, don’t be crazy.”
“I’m telling you, this will happen. And the Goddess knows you need it, sister. When was the last time you got laid? You need a man, and fast.”
The corner of my mouth curled into a sly grin. Sometimes I’d forget Aaron was my dirty little secret not even Eliza was wise to. I’d feel bad about lying to her, and then I’d feel good knowing she wasn’t the only one who could get a guy into bed.
“I’ll have you know, the only thing I need is standing in front of me, and you’d best not forget that.”
Eliza lit up the way people do when they come face to face with a cuddly animal or someone’s newborn. “I love you too,” she said, hugging me.
I walked Eliza to the end of the street after closing and hugged her again at the quiet intersection as people meandered past.
“Thank you,” I said.
“For what?” she asked.
“Nothing. Go home, we’ll talk later.”
Eliza made the turn past the intersection before continuing on toward the end of the street. Tiny, dim Rosella Avenue stretched on for about ten minutes before giving way to bright, commercial Houston Boulevard. The high end street saw the hustle and bustle of consumerism rampant even at seven and eight in the evening most nights, which, when you consider Raven’s Glen is a small town, is impressive.
If you were to see Houston Boulevard from above you’d see the resemblance to a river. The way it pours out of Rosella, a tiny street at the top of a slight hill, and flows down into the Raven Crest district which is basically a cul-de-sac. You know what I mean. Quirky café’s, fancy restaurants and high end shops line Houston Boulevard. Cars aren’t allowed through, so the entire street is a massive walkway cut along the middle by indie carts peddling their wares and all manner of benches and stone fountains.
This was Ravens Glen’s most costly beautification, and it was totally worth the money we paid. Personally, my biggest gain was being able to choose where I want to buy my latte from instead of being confined to go to the same place day-in-day-out. Every night I’d check in with Joe for more of his wife’s delicious cupcakes, and on the way home I’d pick up a vanilla latte, brimming with cream and chocolate sprinkles. Bliss.
I turned into an alley which would see me emerging on Sycamore Avenue with my latte in one hand and my phone on the other. Whilst trying to decide between Jack off Jill and Garbage as my last song artist of choice, my phone died on me.
“Oh, come on.” I groaned.
In the moment of silence I caught the sound of a glass bottle clinking across the floor. I spun around and spied a figure in the alley, partially obscured by darkness. I checked my surroundings. The mouth of the alley wasn’t far.
I picked up the pace with my phone in my hand, desperately waiting for it to turn on. I’d make a call as soon as I could. My pace quickened until I broke into a light run. The figure behind me followed. In my mind an image of a Raven came unbidden. The bird was cawing madly and scurrying through trees—a warning, I thought.
The phone lit up. I entered my pin and made a left turn into Sycamore. I could see my house from here. The man’s footsteps disappeared and a wave of relief washed over me, but I found myself wondering who I’d actually call if I had been in trouble. Eliza? Evan? Damien?
I barely took five steps down Sycamore when someone violently tackled me and threw me head first into a wall. I didn’t even have time to finish the thought.
CHAPTER 22
Crack!
A fist connected with my face. I staggered and dropped my phone and my latte. My bag also crashed some feet away from me, contents scattering all over the sidewalk. Stars danced before my eyes. I pulled my hands up to block the next attack but the man pulled me by my hair and tossed me to the ground a few feet away.
I struggled to get up. My face burned. A pair of thick, black boots shuffled around in front of me. One of those boots buried itself in my stomach and I fell to my back, winded and wheezing. Through teary eyes I spied the can of pepper spray not far from me. I reached out to get it but the attacker pinned my hand down with his boot. I shrieked as my dainty wrist crunched against the rough floor.
The man lifted me from the ground by the neck. He wore a ski mask. He pinned me to the wall again and pressed a blade against my neck. Cold, sharp metal caressed the skin. I didn’t feel the pain of the knife as nibbled at my neck and made it bleed.
“Please,” I begged.
I found no empathy in my attacker’s furious eyes, and as blood began to spill from my neck hope trickled away with it.
Someone raced toward us from across the road with blinding speed. A throaty growl behind a large set of arms ripped the attacker from off my body. I dropped to my knees and propped myself up with my hands, breathless and aching. A battle took place which I couldn’t see. Crying, I scrambled toward the can of pepper spray but by the time I pulled it up in front of my face the fight had ended. The masked figure sped across the street and meld into the darkness.
“Are you okay?” asked the person who’d saved me. His silhouette, darkened by the streetlamp above, cleared when he stepped out of the light. I was gazing up into Aaron’s flushed face.
“Oh my god,” I blubbered. I leapt into his arms and unloaded a hail of tea
rs and fear into his chest.
Aaron lifted me up. Every moment was pain. I wrapped myself around his neck and settled my head against his body, sobbing quietly as he picked up my things from off the floor even with me clinging on to him.
“I’m taking you to a hospital,” he said.
“No! No, no hospitals.”
“What? Why not?”
“Don’t argue,” I begged, “Please, my home is closer. Just take me there.”
Aaron wasn’t a fan of hospitals either. There’d be too many questions, too many papers to sign and not enough care being given to patients. I’d heard him rant about hospitals before. The whole scene made him sick, stifled him and frustrated him, so didn’t argue with me and took me home. Just my luck that I’d be the one to get mugged. At least he didn’t take anything.
Back at my place Aaron sat me down on the kitchen counter. He cleaned the wound on my neck and fixed it with gauze and then with a cotton swab for a sword my knight in shining armor masterfully applied disinfectant to the broken skin on my cheek and lip. I winced from the pain but my eyes were too dry to cry anymore thanks to the horrible ordeal.
“Jesus, freak, who’d you piss off?” he asked.
“Please don’t call me that tonight, Aaron,” I begged.
Aaron paused, met my eyes, and nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Do you know who could’ve done this to you?”
I shook my head. “It could’ve been anyone. Maybe a mugger or some kid? I don’t know.” I wasn’t a stranger to bullying—tonight was anything but.
“I had to pull him off you. He was easily just as big as I am. That wasn’t no kid.”
“Let’s just forget about it, okay?”
“How’s the hand?” asked Aaron.
“I can move it,” I said, flexing my fingers, “but it’s really sore.”
“At least it’s not broken.”
“If you think you’re getting a hand job for this you’re dead wrong.”
Aaron smiled. My attempt at lightening the mood wasn’t lost after all. “I didn’t think I’d be getting one. I may like it rough, but I don’t want you or anyone thinking I’m sick. The bruises I leave on you are bad enough.”
“Yes, but that’s different.”
“That doesn’t matter much to the people seeing them though, does it?”
I sensed something different in the air then. The way he tenderly took care of my wounds, the softness in his voice, and the simple fact I hadn’t yet shooed him from my home warned me of changing winds. It’s as if part of me—a large part of me—expected Aaron to tell me to walk it off and coerce me into sex, despite my injuries.
Instead he brought me a glass of water, which I downed in seconds. “Thanks,” I said. “I’m so happy you were there.”
“I was on my way to see you,” he said.
“You… were?”
“I hadn’t heard from you. Thought maybe something was up. You’re usually pretty quick on the replies.”
Aaron’s messages glared at me from the back of my memory. I wondered if he’d found someone else, as his threat suggested. “Guess it was fate,” I said.
“I’ll say. Good thing my car has been in the shop since Friday and I had to walk. I wouldn’t have caught you otherwise.”
“Friday? What happened?”
“Some asshole stole the radiator right out from my engine. The whole radiator! Who the fuck does that?”
He hadn’t gone out Friday after all? That was interesting to hear. “Someone who really needs a radiator?” I asked.
Aaron smiled. “You’re cracking wise. I think you’ll be okay soon.”
“I bounce back fast.”
“Don’t I know it,” said Aaron.
Our conversation entered a slight lull as Aaron finished disinfecting my wounds. I stared at him, unable to process how he could be so caring.
“Aaron, “I said, “thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“No, really.” I took his hand. “I don’t know what would’ve happened to me if you hadn’t been there. He had a knife and I—look, I don’t want to keep you here.”
“You aren’t keeping me here. There’s no way in hell I’m leaving you alone right now.”
Warm blood rushed to my cheeks. It hurt. “Aaron,” I said, weakly.
“I’ll crash on the sofa. If that asshole comes back he’ll have me to answer to. I’m just sorry I let him get away.”
I let go of his hand and hopped off the counter. Standing wasn’t quite so bad. “I could argue with you—”
“Or you could just go to bed and rest, and let me sleep on that couch.”
I shook my head.
“Amber, I’m not going—”
“And I’m not going to bed.”
I’d never appreciated Aaron’s face like I did tonight. He’s had his sculpted-by-the-Gods face for as long as I could remember, but until recently he had always been Kyle’s best friend to me. Even after we started hooking up our time together was too short for me to ever truly appreciate him the way I did in that moment.
Aaron did everything for me that night. He asked me to stay on the sofa while he went around the house ensuring all windows and doors were closed and retrieved the duvet and a couple of pillows from my bedroom. He even ordered take out for us, which he also paid for!
I could’ve sent Eliza a text message, or called her to let her know what had happened and what I was doing, but that would’ve just worried her and brought her down to my place in an instant and given my arrangement with Aaron away. No, I decided I’d be far more comfortable with Aaron—alone and fully clothed.
My tough exterior didn’t crack, but once Aaron fell asleep and the lights went out every little bump and croak, every darting shadow, was the man with the knife.
CHAPTER 23
Breaking the news to Eliza wasn’t an easy thing to do. She had a tendency to worry herself sick over nothing, so when something big happened she’d transform into a blubbering mess of grief and anxiety. But Eliza brought me food the next day, told me not to worry, and forbade me from going to work. The little being growing in her womb was capable of throwing her into fits of rage, but also brought out a motherly side in her I thoroughly enjoyed.
Tuesday night was a lonely one, although Aaron promised to patrol the neighborhood from time to time and asked me to call him whenever, day or night, if I needed something. This entire time I thought he didn’t care, but Aaron hadn’t been his usual self ever since the attack. This strange, protective side of him was as unusual as waking up one day to find that blue is red and red is blue, only more-so because you couldn’t keep fucking “red” if feelings were involved.
Despite being off work and away from class I devoted the majority of my free time to reading course material, writing my notes, and surfing the web for more references and other material. I didn’t want to just keep up with class; I wanted an edge in any upcoming exams. I was engrossed in an article on Mary Baker Eddy, a woman whose controversial perspectives challenged the religious beliefs of the 19th century, when the doorbell rang. I nearly jumped out of my seat.
With a renewed sense of caution I approached and checked the peephole. Damien stood on the other side of the door with a backpack over his shoulder. I smiled, but then remembered the state I was in. He’d want an explanation, and I didn’t think I was willing to provide him with one.
I unlocked and opened the door, bruises and markings bared out for the world to see. “Damien.” I said, throwing him a smile.
“Hey,” he said. “Can I come in?”
I nodded and stepped aside, allowing Damien entry into my home for the first time.
“Are you okay?” he asked, once inside.
I locked the door behind him. “Yeah, I’m fine, why?”
“I had no idea,” he said, “I went by the shop today to give you something and Eliza told me you were here, skimmed over what had happened.”
“Of course she did.” I said it in jest, b
ut I could’ve killed her. “She must like you if she told you.”
“I’m glad she told me. I’m sorry this happened to you, Amber.”
I shrugged. “It’s nothing, I’m fine now.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really. Do you want a drink, though?”
“No, I’m fine, thanks.”
I opened the fridge and grabbed a diet coke. “It was just some jerk with an attitude problem. No big.”
“Did he say anything?”
“No,” I said, taking a sip. Damien narrowed his eyes and strange, warm tingles descended on the crown of my head.
“You didn’t tell Eliza the whole story, did you?” he asked.
“Did you just do something to me?”
“Amber, you need to tell me the whole truth about what happened that night.”
“It was nothing,” I said. An angry heat rose to my cheeks. Had he just used magick on me?
Damien strode toward me and for a moment I wasn’t sure if he was going to pin me against the wall and kiss me or at least pull me into his arms. An arousing inner warmth radiated from my chest. My breath quickened. “Please, Amber,” said Damien, “Whatever you remember, I need you tell me everything.”
I sighed, almost disappointed.
“Damien—”
“I wouldn’t push if I didn’t think this was important.”
We sat down on my sofa and I told Damien what I could, despite the haze obscuring my memories. The attack came and went quick as lightning and I didn’t get as many details from it as I would’ve liked, but then someone did pull a knife on me. Surprisingly, the nip on my neck hurt the least. That boot to the stomach left the ugliest and most painful mark.
“How’d you get away?” asked Damien.
“Someone saw us and shouted out, I think. The guy dropped me and ran. I guess he didn’t want anyone to see him do the deed.”