Enlightened (Love and Light Series) (31 page)

When she inhaled the light brightened. Her breath held while the energy oozed then she exhaled, and his colors brightened. Her belly expanded with full diaphragmatic breaths until she sensed his energy was back to normal. When she took her hands from his head, the light faded, but his prana flowed naturally. Wolf loosened his grip and backed away. She stayed put, steadying herself against the shocking jolt of loneliness. She thought she’d be relieved when he let go, but instead she felt deserted.

“I think that should do it,” she said, her tone moderately flustered.

“Help him sit up,” Guided told Peacepipe, but lifted questioning eyebrows at Loti.

“Prof, help him from this side.” Hammer stood out of the way so Prof could get a grip on the boy’s arm.

Loti gave Guided a brief nod.

“I’m okay.” Buddy smacked at his dad’s hand.

“Hey, give us a sec here,” Prof chided.

Before Buddy was all the way up in a seated position, Peacepipe gripped him in a fierce hug. “What did I tell you about climbing on those wet rocks?” She wept into his hair.

“MooooOOOm,” he whined.

“Hey, don’t give your mother a hard time,” Prof said. The little family huddled together. When Mitch knelt down next to them, Peacepipe pulled her into the hug. Sniffling, they stood up as one.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Peacepipe clung to Buddy’s hand despite his incessant pleas to let go. They walked away—mother, father, and son holding hands—Mitch and several other tribesmen flanking them.

“Loti and Wolf?” Peacepipe stopped and turned back, never letting go of her son’s hand, her chin trembling. “Thank you.”

“You are so welcome,” Wolf said.

Disoriented, Loti fumbled to her feet with the vaguest sense she was dangling over a precipice. “You’re welcome.”

Peacepipe smiled through streaming tears. “I make a mean country fry for breakfast—even throw in some bacon and green onions with the potatoes? If you’ll be around, Loti.”

“Thanks.” Loti smiled back.

Peacepipe turned back to her family, tugging Buddy close. Loti watched them walk away until a strong pull in her chest whipped her around—Wolf was gone. It didn’t cut deep like before, but it ached and burned.
Where are you?
No response. She took an uneasy step toward the waterfall.
Wolf?
The pulling turned into a rending, and she held her hand to her heart.
Wolf.
She stumbled into a boulder, catching herself with one hand

Put up your shields. Now,
his voice
commanded in her head.

“Loti? What’s wrong?” Fiamette asked from behind her.

“Wolf’s moving away.” Loti leaned against the boulder, her breath ragged.

“Asshole,” Fiamette muttered.

Loti looked up at her with wild eyes. “He needs some space.”
Me, too.
She grimaced. “It hurts, Fiamette. How do I shield?”

She knelt down and grasped Loti’s hand with both of hers. “Here, like this.”

Loti wasn’t in the woods anymore, but in an ornately decorated bedroom. Fiamette wore that same skirt and bodice as she perched on the edge of a four poster bed clutching her heart. The air buzzed with a white noise.

“It’s like a Faraday cage—do you know what that is?” The Fiamette on the bed looked right at Loti.

Surprisingly, she did. David had worked for the government in intelligence, and since he couldn’t talk about how he saved the world from evil, he talked about the science behind what he did. “They shield what’s inside from external radiation. Or block signals from coming in or going out.”

“Good. Think of yourself and Wolf as emitters. Got it? Use that understanding to create a mesh of energy around yourself to block his signal. Focus on the heart center; that should be good enough and won’t take as much effort. It won’t block his thoughts, but most of the pull you’re feeling.”

Loti imagined a mesh cage around her heart and imbued it with light and energy. The fresh pain faded to a dull ache.

“Better?” Fiamette rested a hand on Loti’s knee. The waterfall splashed behind them as a fine mist settled on their hair.

“Much.” She let out a noisy exhale and wiped the sweat from her forehead.

Fiamette gritted her teeth as she put an awkward arm around her. “Believe it or not, I empathize.”

Loti cocked her head, waiting for an explanation. None came.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Wolf landed beside his Fat Boy without a sound. Jumping on his bike, he started it, rocking the stand out of the way. Revving the engine to an angry growl, he careened down the gravel driveway, spraying rocks and dirt. When he hit the pavement, he opened up the throttle and sped along the back roads, dipping around corners. His unbound hair whipped behind him. He shot off the on-ramp onto the four lane highway, his head empty and the throttle wide open. The ache in his chest dulled, and he reached out for her. He met the familiar white buzz of a shield and blinked rapidly. She’d figured it out.

Good.
He slammed a shield down the minute he let go of her, after he was sure Buddy was okay. It surprised the hell out of him that he could do it; he’d tried to shield since they woke up that evening with no success. The instant it happened, however, he knew they needed a break from each other. He didn’t try to know her thoughts, kept his shield tightly drawn over his aching heart. Flexing his jaw, he glanced at his speedometer and let off a little—100 mph would get him pulled over. Looking over his shoulder, he almost expected flashing blue lights, but all he saw was the Piedmont, jaws wide, swallowing the empty highway. He rode for long stretches without a thought, his feelings locked away—the way he liked it. The frigid bite of the spring night shocked him, but he’d felt worse. He needed to start dressing for the weather again. That was interesting. What else would be different?

The hand-painted sign for Blazewood General grew from a speck into a white rectangle with big red letters declaring the best cheese-steaks this side of the Mason-Dixon line. It towered over the smaller billboard for his shop, Blazewood Cycle. Letting off the throttle, he downshifted onto the country road and glided into his parking lot. He lurched off his bike.

“Wolf. Hey, where ya been, man?”

From the General store porch a man in a brown Carhartt jacket waved his arm high above his head. The empty sleeve was pinned to his side. Several other prune-faced old timers waved at Wolf.

“Jimmy. Hey. Had some business to take care of.” He strolled over and shook hearty hands with him and the others. “Any music tonight?”

“Nah, we’re just hanging. Michael’s in there.” Wolf peered through the old three panel glass door. The screen door made hazy work of the VISA/MASTERCARD placard and the OPEN sign.

“I’ll be back. I’ve gotta check in with Al.”

“He’s been sick. It’s just Merle and Randy right now.” Jimmy took a slug from his soda can and smacked his lips.

Wolf raised an eyebrow. “How long?”

“I don’t know. Couple days?” He crinkled the can.

“Thanks, Jimmy. How’s Tom?” Wolf tucked his gloves in his jacket pockets.

“Good. He called home the other day.” Jimmy frowned. “Homesick, though. He’s got eighty-seven more days, and then he’ll be home for good.”

Wolf patted his shoulder. “Still planning that welcome home party?”

Jimmy’s frown turned upside down. “Yeah, we are, man. Gonna celebrate right, aren’t we guys?” He lifted his CheerWine in a toast then chugged it down. The other’s cackled along with him, smiling and nodding.

“Be back in a sec.” Wolf trotted off to the shop.

The sleigh bells hanging from the doorknob jangled as he opened the front door to the old Texaco station he remodeled and turned into a repair shop. The Blazewood Cycle mascots stood guard out front. Randy had painted the old gas pumps to look like a biker couple, complete with tattoos.

“Merle?” he called. Bright fluorescent lights lit the main entry. He picked up the clipboard resting on the counter by the register. Flipping through the orders for maintenance and repairs, he stopped at a request for a custom build.
Damn it.
He slammed the clipboard on the counter.

“Merle,” he shouted as he strode to the door marked “Employees Only”.

“Hey,” he called as he opened the door.

The back of Merle’s head bopped as he warbled, “I’m a lumber jack now baaabaay”—off-key, of course. From his perch on a red bar stool, he hunkered over a work table with his booted feet propped on the low rail. His sleeveless Jackyl t-shirt revealed colorful, Japanese tattoos that covered his arms and shoulders. Elbows akimbo, he fiddled happily with something in front of him. Wolf didn’t make a sound as he walked up behind him and boxed his ears with a quick whop.

Screeching like a woman, he jumped up and managed to tangle his legs around the stool and fall sideways. Wolf caught the red plastic seat before it whacked him in the face. Setting it up right as he fingered the zebra-striped duct tape, the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Jesus—effin—Christ, Wolf. What the fuck,” Merle barked, but he smiled like the Cheshire cat.

“What are you working on?” Wolf turned a brass float over in his hand.

“Carburetor re-build.” Merle popped the headphones out and adjusted the metal plugs in his earlobes as he righted himself. Wolf offered him a hand, but he slapped it away.

 Grinning to himself, Wolf shook the float to his ear.

“Already checked,” Merle groused.

Wolf looked sideways at him. “Al take a look at this?”

“I can rebuild a carburetor.” He snorted. “What did you hire me for if you didn’t think I could do the job?”

“I think you can do the job, but with Al’s tutelage.” Wolf slapped his back. “Don’t be so touchy, Marilyn.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Merlyn.” Wolf set the float on the gray tray of parts and walked over to a yellow and black bike. He whistled in appreciation, running his hands over the gas tank and leather saddle like it was a prized stallion.

“That’s Michael’s new bike?” Wolf knelt down on one knee, peering into the engine. “He finally got it.”

“1946 Indian Chief. Chain direct-drive and you can learn to ride it in five minutes.” Merle laughed, fingering quotation marks in the air.

Wolf stood up. “Randy gone for the night?” He sauntered back to the work counter, hands in his pockets, brow furrowed.

“No, just went to pick up Sarah. Her mom had a date and couldn’t watch her. I told her to bring her here and not to worry about it.” Merle straddled the stool, leaning his elbows on the counter. “I hope that’s okay. And hey, Al’s been sick. Got the stomach thing. He called earlier to say he’d be back tomorrow.”

“It’s fine.” Wolf waved a dismissive hand. “Tell Randy not to take any more custom orders. I can’t do any for a while.” Wolf tilted the light fixture over Merle so the light shined on his tray.

“She didn’t. The guy wouldn’t take no for an answer, so she told him she’d take his information, but you’d have to talk to him.”

Wolf nodded and tapped the metal light shade. “Don’t work in the dark.” He headed for the side door. “I’m going over to Michael’s.”

“Got it.” Merle tucked his headphones back in.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wolf. Hey, buddy.” Michael wiped his hands on his greasy white apron and stepped out from behind the order counter. They grabbed each other’s elbows so their forearms touched, smacking backs in a half-hug. As Wolf stepped back, Michael flicked a brown dread over his shoulder, running fingers and thumb from his mustache, out and around his sparse goatee. “How long are you back for?”

“Don’t know.” Wolf dug a boot heel into the old wood floor, lifting the toe as he rocked back on the other foot. “Probably until tomorrow night.” The ache in his chest flared.

“I know better than to ask where you’ve been.” Michael trotted behind the counter to the grill and flipped a sizzling patty.

“You the only one working tonight?” Wolf leaned over the defunct deli case that Michael’s girlfriend had painted. The glass front was now a black chalkboard with their menu written in colorful chalk. Little drawings of pigs by the “Pulled Pork Bar-B-Que” and flowers by the “Veggie Burger”.

“Yeah, I sent the others home. Slow night. Just Jimmy and the guys drinking too much Coke and CheerWine.”