Authors: Maureen Willett
She went straight to the tool shed and pulled out a pickaxe and shovel. The ground was wet, which would make it a little easier than if it hadn’t rained. It didn’t matter that she was wearing a cotton dress and didn’t have shoes on her feet; her focus was on what was buried in the backyard, next to the night blooming jasmine. She knew the spot well, because grass had never grown there, and she had always wondered why.
Malia didn’t see Hunter come up behind her as the rain started to pour again, but she could feel him next to her. He picked up an empty plastic flower pot and used it to help dig the hole.
A flash of lightning lit the sky for an instant and thunder reverberated off the mountains a moment later, bringing another torrential downpour. The ground turned to mud within minutes, but Malia wasn’t giving in to her exhaustion or the weather. She knew if she stopped digging, Hunter would, too. Just as she began to think there wasn’t anything there, the shovel struck something solid.
Her hair clung to her neck and back as she got down on her knees and searched in the hole with bare hands. Hunter tried to help her, but she pushed him away. “Let me do it,” she screamed over the roar of the warm rain. Hunter sat back on his heels and watched as she frantically rummaged in the expanding mud for a handle or a way to pull the metal box up and out of the hole before everything flooded with water. Max barked at her side.
Finally, she found it and got the box to the surface. She didn’t take time to catch her breath but instead stood up with the box in her hands and walked around the house to the stairs, climbing them two at time as adrenaline pushed her forward. Hunter and Max followed her into the house, but she didn’t acknowledge their presence as she set the box on the kitchen counter. It was a locker of some sort, but it had long since started to rust. Malia took a deep breath and opened the lid, which creaked with the movement. She looked down at the contents, unsure of where to begin. Water dripped in puddles around her feet, and Hunter leaned against the counter on the opposite wall, not making a move to get closer. His hair hung in wet ringlets around his shoulders as he watched her, and he was half covered in mud.
She wiped the mud off her hands with her dress and proceeded to peruse the contents of the box. A smile fleeted across Malia’s face as she looked at the old photographs of her and Mommy in happier days. There was a wedding photo of her parents she had never seen before. She examined it for a moment, seeing how much in love they were then. Her father looked so young, hopeful, and handsome with his bride by his side, and her mother was more than beautiful. Malia carefully laid the photos on the counter before her emotions got the best of her.
Next she pulled out a purple velvet bag with a drawstring tie and out plopped a deck of tarot cards on the counter. She couldn’t remember her mother being interested in anything like that. Another purple velvet bag caught her attention next, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to open it. The shape and size were too familiar. Finally, she picked it up and pulled out the long, ivory-handled dagger. She turned it around so it fit in the palm of her hand. A pang of nausea stabbed at her stomach and breathing seemed to be difficult. It was exactly like Hunter’s except the jewel a purple and somehow star shaped. She turned toward Hunter with raised eyebrows.
“A five-sided star is the Trenton’s family crest,” Hunter explained, studying her face. “I need to show you how to use that. It’s not a normal blade.”
Malia nodded in numb response and set the dagger on the counter next to the photographs as if it were a fragile artifact. Then she spied an envelope with her name on it in her mother’s handwriting at the bottom of the box. The edges were worn and the paper had turned yellow, but the ink was still clear. She picked it up and stared at the familiar curve of her mother’s neat penmanship. She carefully opened the envelope, and unfolded the letter.
Dear Malia,
If you’re reading this, it must mean I am no longer able to be with you. I hope you’re living a happy normal life and have many children and much love. Do not deviate from that, no matter how great the temptation.
And if you’re single and lonely, please beware of a mysterious stranger who will try to sweep you off your feet. He’s handsome and has incredible eyes—most of his kind do. He will be irresistible and tell you he loves you, and even if he really does, he will betray you in ways you can’t imagine. Run from him! He is a Blackthorne, and therefore my enemy, and yours. If you have anything to do with him, he will lead you to sorrow and destruction.
I’m sorry I’m no longer there to protect you from him. I’ve only ever wanted your happiness and freedom. Please listen to me and leave Hawaii before he finds you. Go far away and live a long, happy life.
I’ve left you something in this capsule you will need if he does come. Keep my dagger close, and don’t be afraid to use it. A power lies within it that no Blackthorne can defeat.
This probably doesn’t make much sense to you – I hope it doesn’t. I love you and your father, and always will. I don’t regret my decision to stay with your father. I knowingly sealed my fate the day I married him, and I know what will happen to me when they find me. It’s what I want—to live my life in freedom with you and Kawika.
Love,
Mom
Malia held the letter to her heart and put her hand on the counter for support but didn’t let the paper slip from her grasp. Hunter came toward her with open arms, but she pushed him away and ran to the bathroom. Her soaked cotton dress stuck to her in uncomfortable folds of heavy fabric, and her feet were still muddy. Slamming the door, she slid down the wall to the floor, still clutching the letter to her heart, unable to focus on anything in the room as tears filled her eyes and pain shook through her with a powerful force.
After some time on the floor, Malia realized she was shivering. Maybe it was because of being soaked with rainwater, or maybe it was from shock. She wasn’t sure. She got up and set her mother’s letter down.
You’re too late, Mommy,
Malia thought as she looked at the handwriting again. She stripped off her dress, leaving it in a wet pile on the floor. In the shower, she let steam fill the room before she stepped in and pulled the curtain across. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, feeling each drop of hot water pound on her skin as tears came again in waves. She had to reach out and steady herself against the wall.
Then, Hunter cautiously stepped into the shower. To finally see him fully naked in the light made her marvel at his beauty. How could she not, even in this frame of mind? He was perfect in every way, every detail, and especially in the way he looked at her. She took a step toward him, and he put his arms out to her. Instead of melting into them, she felt sudden rage coursing through her. She pummeled his chest with her fists and slapped him across the face. Hunter stood there, making no move to stop her. Malia wasn’t sure how long her fury lasted, but it soon gave way to shaking sobs until Hunter engulfed her in his arms and held her tightly, letting the hot water pour over them. She heard the loud, choking cries over the sound of running water as if they were coming from someone other than herself.
“I love you. I love you,” Hunter murmured in her ear, rocking her in his arms until the shaking stopped.
And slowly, the fear and anger melted away, and passion captured her like fire. Hunter was right. The second time they made love there was only a pleasure so intense her cries could be heard above the sound of the shower again, the sound of ecstasy. And her trembling came in powerful waves that throbbed through her body. His touch, the feel of his skin was everything she wanted; the heat of his body next to hers, inside her in a rhythmic embrace. He was everything, and to be without Hunter would be a desolate existence. She craved him like a drug to which she was intensely, passionately addicted.
And when he eventually stopped and let her step out of the shower, she fell to the tile floor, weak from the electricity of their two perfectly matched bodies.
The sound of the shower curtain being pushed to the side made Malia open her eyes in time to see Hunter step out of the old-fashioned tub and flop on to the floor, too. Their eyes met, and he rolled on top of her.
“You’re ready again?” She could feel his hardness against her thigh.
“Making up for lost time, I guess,” Hunter said with an intimate smile. “I promise I’ll be more gentle this time.”
“Oh, you don’t have to be.”
“Good, because there’s something I’ve been wanting to do since the day you asked me to go hiking with you,” Hunter said, and then he left a trail of kisses down her stomach as he made his way to her legs and put them around his neck.
“U
gghhh! Do you have to do that in front of me!” Archer’s raspy voice blared through the peaceful morning.
Hunter reluctantly opened his eyes and focused on his brother, not ready to leave his meditative state. “You’re the one intruding on me. If you don’t like what you see, then leave.”
“I thought you wanted to talk, but that’s disgusting,” Archer said with dramatic inflections in his voice, as if he hadn’t seen Hunter do this hundreds of times before. He stood just inside the screen door.
“You know this is necessary purification for me.” Hunter sat naked and cross-legged, hovering in the air just over the chair at the kitchen table with his hands resting on his knees. His body vibrated as toxins released through every pore in a slimy glaze that covered his skin. The sun reflected off the sparkling slime in yellow and gold radiant light, and his bronze hair looked like fire. Hunter lowered himself slowly onto the chair and picked up the mug on the table, enticed by the smell coming from the steam.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Hunter pointed to the coffeemaker on the counter. The pot moved out of the stand and slid over to the cupboard that housed the coffee mugs. There was no reason to pretend in front of Archer. Besides Hunter enjoyed reminding his brother of the power he possessed at his fingertips.
“I’ll get it myself, the old fashioned way,” Archer said with a roll of his eyes. He took a mug out of the cabinet and poured coffee into it. “Nothing like getting all the poisons out, just so you can pour more into your body,”
Hunter shrugged and kept his eyes on his brother as he took another sip of coffee. The sun shining through the window felt warm on his skin; the slime would soon harden under its rays.
“Has your girlfriend seen you this way?”
“No. Nor will she.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think you would be completely honest with her. You’re great at half-truths, just like Father. Your life is pretty much made up of halves, isn’t it Hunter? Half a soul, half human, half brothers, half truths. The list goes on.” Archer pulled out a chair and sat down on the other side of the table. He looked around the kitchen and focused on Max sitting in the corner. The dog stared back at him, not wagging his normally active tail. “So, where is she?” Archer asked with raised eyebrows. “You don’t seem to be nervous that she might walk in here?”
“I sprinkled Malia with sleeping dust. She won’t be awake for hours.”
“Wouldn’t it be more efficient just to slip her a sleeping pill?”
“You go your way; I’ll go mine,” Hunter said, feeling old resentments return. He hated giving Archer any hold on his emotions.
“Ahh, yes. The same philosophical difference always comes between us: technology versus magic. Your magic is so archaic, and almost extinct. Isn’t it?”
“And you think things are real only if you can see or touch them, but go ahead, get your ignorant insults out of the way so we can get down to business,” Hunter said, not letting the anger become evident in his voice. He felt the slime start to harden and knew it would soon be a thin shell of iridescent white all over his skin that would turn to glistening dust. The slime was crystallizing on his hair, too, in reddish-brown sparkles. He looked forward to shaking off the dust and feeling like a renewed being in fresh skin. His bodily functions would be more heightened; that is, until he started to absorb toxins again. It was a cyclical process that lasted a few weeks, but as Hunter got older, he noticed the process was slowing down. One day, in the distant future, he would no longer be able to shed the poisons that came with human food and comforts, and then he would die. But that would be lifetimes from now, and anything could happen between now and then.
“So, you’ve stolen her heart, or whatever. A poor girl, enchanted by a magical being. How classic! Taken right from. . . what are they called here? Grimms’ Fairy Tales?” Archer chuckled. “I think the fairies are always bad in those. Or, tiny, little things you can crush under your thumb. Something like that.”
“Good one,” Hunter said with a nod. “Are you finished?”
Archer laughed again and shrugged.
“Do you have news from home?” Hunter asked, keeping any emotion from his face. As the glaze hardened on his skin, he was no longer able to change his expression without making cracks that would turn to glittery dust all over Malia’s kitchen table.
“To say Father is getting impatient for you to end this would be a gross understatement, as we both know. Falling in love with her isn’t exactly the plan. He wants you back there to control the masses. He seems to think you’re necessary.”
“What else?”
“It seems as though war is coming sooner than we thought,” Archer said, leveling his piercing eyes at Hunter.
“Something else?”
“I’m here to take you back home,” Archer said with a cold smile. “With force if I have to. But then, you already know that.”
Hunter sighed heavily. “Yes, I do. Your thoughts are so rudimentary they’re transparent.” He went to the sink and set the coffee mug in it, wanting a moment to think, not acknowledging the scowl on Archer’s face because of his last remark. Hunter hoped his plan would work. It had to. He turned back toward Archer. “Why don’t you help me escape instead?”
“And why would I do that?”
“Because, with me out of the way, you would be the only son,” Hunter said with an uncontrollable smile, which spilled glittery dust all over the counter. There was a trail of dust marking where he had stepped across the floor, too. “Then no one could get in the way of your rightful inheritance and place by Father’s side.”
“True,” Archer agreed with a nod. “But if I wanted that, wouldn’t it be easier for me just to kill you? I know it would be much more fun than helping you run off with your girly.”
“Ahh, brother,” Hunter said in mock sadness. “Don’t flatter yourself into thinking you could get the jump on me. I have powers you can’t even dream of.” Hunter ran his hands through his hair and saw red sparkles fall before his face onto the countertop. “Besides, I could put a spell on you, enchant you into doing what I want. That would be easier, but far less satisfying than getting you to willfully defy Father’s orders.”
Archer rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. He looked out the window and shook his head in disgust.
“You think about it while I go clean up,” Hunter said. “And by the way, should you decide to go near Malia without my permission, I’ve upped the spell on her necklace. It won’t just ring in your ears but probably burst most of your brain, so I suggest you stay put in the kitchen.”
Archer nodded at Hunter with a fake smile and then rolled his eyes again as he looked out the window. “Your cheap magic show doesn’t scare me.”
“It should,” Hunter replied as he walked away.
Hunter smiled with satisfaction; Archer was irritated. He walked carefully into the bathroom, trying not to sprinkle the entire house with glittery dust, but knowing he would have to sweep or vacuum before waking Malia. He covered the bathroom floor with a sheet and then ran his fingers through his hair making as much dust come off as possible. The dense layer of glitter fell to the ground in a thick fog. He wanted to save as much as possible, because it held potent magic, and Hunter would need all the assistance he could get in the coming months. He was surprised he didn’t feel any more powerful than he had before bonding with Malia’s soul. Hunter needed to figure out why, but he didn’t have time for that now.
He brushed more of the hardened slime off his body, which fell like glittery dust onto the sheet, watching to make sure none of it escaped to the tile floor. This dust held powerful magic, even if it came from a half-breed. It was so coveted in his world that it was often sold on the black market to those who ingested it for its hallucinogenic affects. There were similar such drugs in this world, but they didn’t come from living, breathing creatures, and they weren’t as addictive. Most of Hunter’s family on his mother’s side had been hunted down and sold into slavery for their dust, including his own mother. Even his mighty father hadn’t been able to save her from eventual slaughter for the pound of dust her incinerated body created.
Hunter had never seen much emotion come from his father, but her death had stricken Rand Blackthorne to the core. That’s when he’d locked his young son away, letting Hunter have some freedom only after he proved to be a loyal and obedient child. Many in the Blackthorne clan had accused Rand of enslaving his son, but Hunter had always known it was only a matter of time before he manipulated his father into giving him freedom.
“I don’t care if I ever go home,” Hunter said out loud as he stepped into the shower with only a fine layer of glitter still on his body. He had saved as much as he could and would have to watch the rest of it go down the drain.
Once bathed and feeling renewed, he knelt down and took the velvet pouch out of his leather satchel and pulled out the gold scoop. He had long ago cast a spell on it to attract faery dust like a magnet, so all he had to do was put the scoop near the pile and the glittery dust went into it. He did this three times before all of it was put away. Hunter dressed in fresh clothes and took the sheet to the laundry room next to the bathroom and started a load in the washer, not wanting Malia to see any evidence of his true self. It wasn’t something she was ready to deal with, and he wasn’t entirely sure she could ever accept that he was only half human.
When Hunter returned to the kitchen, Archer still sat at the table.
“Wow, you look human again. You’re almost bearable to be around.”
“Yes, and I feel even better,” Hunter replied with a superior smile. He poured himself another cup of coffee and then poured some more in Archer’s cup. “So, will you help me?”
Archer took a deep breath and then nodded with a disgusted look at Hunter.
The light was growing dim in the house, so Hunter turned on a lamp as he made his way through the living room to Malia’s bedroom. After hours of discussing their plans, he had finally gotten rid of Archer for the night. Hunter stopped in the doorway to admire Malia’s sleeping form. Her hair flowed over the pillow like a thick blanket of golden silk and one arm stretched across the bed as if she were reaching for him, expecting him to be next to her. Hunter smiled. He wanted to capture this moment of pure happiness, knowing the simplicity of their private world would be gone within days. Soon they would be fugitives on the run—if all went as planned, and they were very, very lucky.
Hunter went to his leather satchel and took out the tin container. He pinched the course herb between his forefinger and thumb and blew on it, and then rubbed his fingers together until the herb became a fine powder, which he then sprinkled on Malia’s head. He knelt by the bed and closed his eyes to concentrate on the waking incantation. Once he was satisfied with the spell, he stood and brushed the powder off her head so there wouldn’t be any evidence she had been drugged. A tinge of guilt stabbed at his heart, but his deceptions had all been for valid reasons and weren’t entirely selfish, even the more elaborate ones. He sat down on the bed and waited for her eyes to open.
She moaned a little and swallowed hard before sitting up. “It’s night time already? How’d I sleep all day?”
“I think you might have a bit of a cold or something,” he said with feigned concern as he put his hand to her forehead. “But you’re not hot.”
“What a thing to say to your better half,” Malia said with a yawn.
“At least not in the feverish way,” he added with a smile.
Malia nodded as she moved closer and touched her lips to his neck, which sent fire pulsing through his body. He had to force his hands to go to her shoulders so he could push her away. “Wait,” he said, trying to catch his breath. “I need you to do something for me first.”
He pulled his dagger out of the leather satchel and put it in Malia’s hand.