The salty crunchiness exploded the saliva in his mouth and he quickly consumed the cracker, ignoring the question. Once all four crackers were gone and Detective Donaldson had been kind enough to procure him more orange juice, he felt physically better though the hunger cried out for something more substantial. He hated the feeling and attempted to push it down in an effort to ignore the truth of his new state of being.
The desperate need of his body for mortal food shook him more than the lack of sustenance had done.
“Better?” inquired the detective.
He looked across the table at her pleasant dark features, slight concern pinching her large brown eyes, and he slowly nodded.
“Then I’d like to ask you some questions about your involvement with the robbery at the ROM.”
Detective Donaldson opened the manila folder and laid it on the desk before her, pressed record on the digital recorder and lifted her pen.
Over the next hour and a half he was riddled with questions. Why was he in the exhibit? How did he come to own the stolen sword and did he have proof that it was his?
Describe what happened. Describe the two thieves as best as possible. Question after question, each seeking out minutiae for any possible evidence until finally the last question – Why did he jump? Through it all he tried to concoct believable lies in an effort to conceal an unbelievable truth, all the while wishing Notus were here to weave the web of deceit with a Push here or there. Several times Detective Donaldson stumbled him over his half truths; her dark eyes penetrating him, making him feel that she knew he lied. He knew he was a horrible liar. It was when he started to hear only half her words, making her questions disjointed and her statements obtuse that he realized that the juice and crackers had lost their efficacy.
Detective Donaldson was in the process of asking yet another question when Dr. Bowen cut her off. “Excuse me, but are you implying that he’s a suspect?”
Detective Donaldson sat straight, her dark face hardening into a stony mask. “At this time we cannot rule anyone out.”
“Then I think it is time we leave,” Dr. Bowen stood up and place a hand on his shoulder. The firmness surprised him but he did not look up, instead he held the detective’s gaze until she lowered her eyes.
Rising on unsteady legs, he turned to leave but halted.
“If there is anything else I can help
with, Detective, please let me know,” he offered, turning to face the officer. “I want my sword back.” Compliance tended to alleviate suspicion and he hoped that would be the case here. He just wished he knew why he was a suspect.
“Thank you,” replied the detective with a nod. “If we need to contact you, where can we do so?”
The question caught him off guard and he floundered.
“He’ll be staying with my family and I,” announced Dr. Bowen. “I believe you have my address on record.”
Detective Donaldson made a note in the file and then stood. “Yes, thank you.” She walked around the table to the door, blocking the exit. “I appreciate you coming in today. I’m sure speaking with the police was the last on your priorities, but the information you provided was very helpful.”
She stepped back, revealing the exit and he walked through with Dr. Bowen behind him. Again the hum in the precinct diminished as he and Dr. Bowen walked to the front doors. The only benefit he found to being mortal was for the first time he could not hear the whispered comments that his presence always generated. He opened the door and stepped into the brightening day and he winced, thus eradicating any positive thoughts about being mortal.
Head pounding and eyes burning, he gratefully collapsed into the front passenger seat once Dr. Bowen opened the doors using her key fob. Despite the cramped space of her Honda he closed his eyes and rested his throbbing head in his hand. He felt a hand on his upper arm.
“Do you want me to take you back to the hospital?” Dr. Bowen’s concerned tones filled the cabin.
The implication snapped his head up, surprise seeping into his pained eyes. “No.” His voice came out in a rasp. “I just need to get out of the daylight.”
Dr. Bowen’s frown turned into a studious gaze that blossomed into realization. “Oh, I’m sorry. That’s why you always wore your sunglasses and why Paul worked at night.”
He did not know what she understood but did not rise to the bait. No longer Chosen he still had to be a creature of the night.
“We’ll stop at Timmy’s drive through on the way home.” She started the car, worry still creasing her brow.
Closing his eyes, listening to the nauseating throbbing that echoed in his skull, he knew one thing as Dr. Bowen slipped the car into traffic – he desperately needed Notus. He could not live like this.
E
lizabeth sat at the large oak desk that had been her grandfather’s and where she had fallen in love with the ancient world as she sat astride his knees. The half foot stone
Sheila-na-gig
still sat on the left corner of the desk. Grandfather Davies had given it to her the day she toddled in and stared slack jawed at the figurine. Over the years of living with the old man after the deaths of her parents, Elizabeth had learned not only the love of archaeology but the myths and legends of the Europeans which eventually led her to find spiritual fulfilment as one of the Hidden Children of the Goddess.
Elizabeth did not know whether her grandfather would have approved of her growth away from his atheist views, but her gut suspected he was pleased with the choices she had made, especially in following in his professional footsteps.
The only thing she was sure of was that he would have scowled at all the redecoration she had done after inheriting the house in the second year of her Bachelor’s degree. The only room she left untouched by modern interior design was her grandfather’s sanctuary – the same room in which she now sat, having claimed the memory infused room as her own.
Laying down the iron spearhead into its foam case, Elizabeth pushed the magnifying lamp to the side and rubbed her strained eyes. She really ought to get her eyes checked, but she did not want to admit that she was getting older. Having a pair of reading glasses displayed prominently on her nose would be too much. It was bad enough that she had to break the oath to herself never to colour her hair. Who knew that divorcing her husband and best friend to another man and then losing him to AIDS while trying to raise a teenage daughter could take such a toll? Now she had taken in a strange young man as a favour to a colleague and friend, unable to comprehend why Paul abandoned him.
She pinched the bridge of her nose and rolled the leather armchair back from the desk, sighing at the memory of Paul’s distraught visage as he all but begged her to “take the boy.” Ever the softy for a hard luck case, Elizabeth acquiesced. It was when she saw him standing at the rain slicked hospital window that she second guessed her decision.
It was not often that she truly had to look up into anyone’s face. Rudy, her deceased ex-husband, had stood an inch shorter, and that was without heels. Now she was forced to tilt her head back to see the hurt and confusion in his exotic crimson gaze.
The flicker of fear that had sparked when she first saw him without the sunglasses still burned. Elizabeth chalked it up to her imagination at the notion his eyes glowed like embers, the anger of her holding his sword pointed at his chest being enough justification. Now the sword she had promised that would be safe was stolen, making her an unwitting oathbreaker. It was one of the main reasons she had agreed to Paul’s pleas.
Her gaze lifted to the stucco ceiling, its swirling pattern around the central hub of the small unlit crystal chandelier ran riot with shadows. It was not so much the decorative elegance that drew Elizabeth, but rather who was above in the guest bedroom. A frown pulled at her face. She could not believe the radical change in him. No longer had the strong self assured young man who exuded a cold air of aloofness,
Elizabeth now saw him shaken and uncertain – vulnerable. He had attempted the imperious glamour during the police questioning but it became obvious how much of that mask was a ruse.
His reaction to the sunlight was odd but answered the real reason why the night was preferred by Paul. It took all of her strength to assist her new tenant from the car to the guest bed. A slight tinge of green had seeped into his ivory skin and his face was pinched in pain. An offer of painkillers was ignored yet he gratefully grasped the damp cloth she placed on his forehead before leaving him to rest in the blackened room.
Closing her eyes, Elizabeth stretched her senses to encompass the goings on in her home.
Much Music
entertained her daughter in the family room below the study, the heavy bass beats
travelling through the air ducts. Elizabeth knew she should go downstairs to tell Vee to turn down the volume but the sound of water rushing upstairs drew her attention to her guest as he ran the shower.
An unbidden image popped into her mind, filling her with heat as she wondered at the paleness of his flesh and how it would feel.
“He’s half my age!” she admonished, eyes snapping wide at the attraction she felt. The rides on his motorcycle, clinging to his body, and now his vulnerability had only enhanced her desire.
“Stop it!” She slapped her forehead several times in an attempt to banish the feelings.
Goddess, it’s been too long and too close to Beltain,
she thought as she stood.
A quick glance at her wristwatch told her that it was time to make dinner, halting her approach to the door with the ritual musings of what to make. A new thought came to mind – except for seeing him grudgingly eat the crackers at the police station, she had never seen him eat. The tuna sandwich she had bought for him on the way home sat untouched in her refrigerator.
Placing her hand on the crystal doorknob Elizabeth turned it and opened the door inward only to nearly jump out of her skin. There, before her, stood her house guest, his hand poised to knock on the door. Slowly, he lowered his hand and she noticed the familiar sight of the braces on his wrists. Not for the first time she wondered why he wore them.
Dressed in a black shirt with abalone buttons and black slacks he appeared stunning despite the pinched expression playing hide-and-seek beneath long wet white locks. Elizabeth noticed he appeared even paler and decided to apply a light hand.
“It’s good to see you up,” she said. She almost let her smile slip as he frowned and averted his glittering ruby eyes. “I hope you’re feeling better.” She was rewarded with a slight nod.
“I have to go out,” he said softly. His eyes refused to meet hers and he stepped back, allowing her to exit the study.
Closing the door behind her, Elizabeth was surprised at his announcement. “Are you sure?”
She watched his partially hidden face as he frowned. He appeared so dissimilar to the young man she thought she knew. The strength and surety was now replaced by a fragile veneer where uncertainty and, dare she say it, fear showed through. It was incongruous to her daughter’s description of the man that saved Vee. It was inconceivable that here stood the one who had miraculously
eluded a hail of machine gun fire in the close confines of the elevator to manage a damaging blow on the escaping thief.
Walking towards the kitchen Elizabeth was aware of him following without answering. Elizabeth was still unsettled by his silences, but it was unusual for him not to answer a direct question.
Her mahogany and steel modern kitchen was thrown into brilliance from the antique styled ceiling fan as she flipped the switch on her way to the refrigerator. Navigating around the island counter that served as a preparation area, she opened the steel door of the freezer.
“I was just about to make dinner.” She fumbled through the bags and boxes in an effort to spark an idea of what to make. Grabbing a bag of frozen vegetables Elizabeth turned to see him standing by the island counter, his long graceful fingers pale against the caramel granite. He absently caressed the cold stone, his eyes watching the speckled pattern. She wondered at his involvement and, biting her lower lip, she recognized a shyness she had only seen in young inexperienced men.