CHAPTER TWELVE
COVIN
A day after I shared a blanket with the woman I had given my heart to for the first time in a decade, I broke her.
Or more aptly, I broke us.
But that didn’t happen until the day after Christmas, and so that memory of making love together for hours in her bedroom thankfully, would remain intact.
While everything else we garnered shattered like so much pristine powder on Christmas morning.
Lies, mistruths and utter bullshit. I dealt in that quagmire for so long that I forgot how to be real with someone, why I promised Sarah I would leave it all in the first place.
It wasn’t just for the safety of us and our growing family. The things that she foresaw would destroy us came from bitter seeds planted deep within me that I couldn’t escape even now.
The resounding boom on the castle door was the rude awakening that I fucked up on a massive scale come December twenty-six. We had graduated to my bed after migrating the blankets from hers and used up the meagre supply of firewood there. Al set us a fire in my room, and rattled something that made a decent enough noise to alert us to his service though his presence was gone before we entered. Lindy wrapped in blankets head to toe while I couldn’t care less about the specter whose sexuality I suspected swung in the other direction anyway.
His generosity as we invaded his ancestral home made my betrayal all the worse, in the end. Especially when, after all was said and done, he was the one who kept me company through the oncoming darkest of days.
But then perhaps he knew just how I felt.
“Who the hell is that?”
Lindy rubbed sleep from her eyes, raising her head from where she curled on my chest like a bed-mussed kitten. Her lips and cheeks were stained the same color, either from too many kisses, sex or heat as the room overflowed with warmth, or a combination of all of the above.
“Who cares.” I drew her up my body, sliding my tongue along her bottom lip, groaning when she opened for me. I’d never get used to the easy warmth of her, the sweet taste that lingers at the back of my tongue reminding me part of her would reside with me forever.
She wriggled as the booming continued. “Covin?—”
“Fuck. Them,” I enunciate clearly, rolling us over and spreading her legs with my knees as I pressed to her heat, always ready and welcoming. “Love, this is our holiday. Nothing matters, except?—”
“Covin, man. Where the hell are you?”
“That,” I muttered as gravity took ahold. “Fuck.” I swore a lot more while Lindy looked on.
“Who followed you here?” she asked quietly.
It took me a moment to piece together the reference. “It’s not work. Either sort,” I added when her eyes narrowed on me. “It’s—” Hell, how did I explain this? “I might have phoned a friend.”
She just looked at me as my joke fell flat.
For the first time around her, I felt out of place. Maybe because I knew I’d screwed up and I wasn't sure how to fix this one. Grabbing my discarded pants I’d thankfully brought with my from the other room, I threw them on and grabbed a shirt. “Stay here. I’ll fix this,” I promised, with no clear idea of how I would fix anything.
“Fix what, exactly?” she asked softly.
Like she expected to be hurt. Fucked over.
By someone she trusted. Someone she loved.
I didn’t have an answer ready as I pulled her in for a quick kiss, the apologetic sort. She still watched me and it was unnerving as I left the room on long strides and found Erasmus searching rooms and wandering randomly in the halls.
The science nerd—there was literally no better description for the paunch bellied man with frazzled hair that stuck out at more angles than any mathematical equation or gravity allowed for—stood before me wearing one pair of glasses on his nose and two more perched on top of his head. His stained tee beneath his flannel sheepskin lined jacket read:
WTF - the element of surprise. Fucks = 42.
I huffed. “The answer to everything, right?” I held out a hand and he clasped it clammily.
“Of course,” he muttered, his eyes enlarged by lenses that could have been replaced by tech of this century but Erasmus loved his antiques. Which was why we were here.
“I was wrong–” I started.
“You?” He snorted. “Fuck off. Loved the pictures. Great stack. Show me where. You bought it yet?”
“No.” He startled the answer from me with his run on list of questions.
“Shit.” He rubbed a finger under his nose. “Damn weather makes everything run.”
I produced a tissue. “It’s not a boomerang.”
“Ha. Good to know.” He pocketed the offering and followed me away from the bedrooms and toward the kitchen. “Still got the tins?”
“Gave them away to workmen,” I said shortly, waving to the trees and garlands overpopulating the halls.
“Dammit, Cov. You know how I work,” he whined. “We need evidence.”
“We?” I halted and raised both my eyebrows. “Listen, Ras. I made a mistake. There’s no ghost in Witnot Castle. Nothing you need to see here, and I’ve got a little situation that I'm working on right now, so why don’t you head back to London and I’ll just see myself through the rest of the holiday period and back to—” California was on the tip of my tongue, but my home state never made it past my lips as I turned the corner into the hallway leading into the kitchen.
A group of underfed scientists I knew Ras had pulled from the university’s grant program lined the hallway, stuffed between trees, each dressed in a white coat that didn’t fit him or her, each wearing an assortment of headgear and holding a gadget whose purpose I could only guess at.
And each face held a hungry expression I instantly hated. All because of the woman I’d already fallen for who stood between them, her hands on her hips glaring at me. Or rather, around the three identical stacks of root beer placed perfectly in the middle of the corridor.
Apparently Al had chosen today to develop a sense of humor.
Ras smirked when I glanced his way. “No human stacks bottles like that.”
I would have groaned aloud at the mangled movie quote if not for the seriousness of the situation.
Lindy’s glare and silence ate at me.
I have to fix this. Now.
“New puzzle habit. I told you I had a little relationship issue I was working on.” I forced a jovial note into my voice I didn’t feel, sending a warning glance over my shoulder at Lindy who hadn’t moved an inch.
She sent me one right back.
Ras slapped my shoulder in an effort I’m sure he thought stung.
This was such a mistake.
“No shit,” Lindy mouthed.
“I’m glad you’re over Sarah. At least this one is hot,” Ras snickered
My fist curled at my side but my chance was stolen by a frizzy haired bombshell and the only other person not wearing a white coat in the hallway.
Her slap across his face echoed off every inch of ancient stone that remained exposed between the Christmas trees, followed by her voice.
“Get out.”
Her glare followed her voice as it echoed around the hall.
I nodded. “That’s enough.” I placed a hand on her shoulder that she thankfully didn’t throw off. “But she’s right. Your time here is done. Whatever you think this is?” I flicked one of the bottles, letting the tower topple on into the other as I dragged Lindy backward to a safe distance, my arm linked around her waist. “It’s not what you expect. Leave. Now.”
Sixteen years of intelligence service left me with ample practice to project my voice along the hall. Wherever Al was, he heard me, though the words weren’t for him.
The students scattered as the glass bottles crashed to the stone floor. Shattering upon impact in a wave of stick effervescent spray, taking my peace with them.
Ras was the last to leave, sending me a baleful look over his shoulder. That wound wouldn’t close any time soon, but I didn’t care about the bridge I burned there, more about the one in my arms that singed me the moment I turned my attention back to her.
Or rather, froze me out.
Lindy systematically disengaged from my embrace, and I let her.
“The hell was that?” Lindy glared up at me.
A shattered bottle tinkled weakly on the floor.
“I agree with Al,” she added.
I rolled my lips inward. “I made a mistake.”
Lindy huffed at me.
“And that was me trying to fix that fuck up,” I snapped.
A single remaining bottle cracked and sprayed the room with root beer.
“Al calls bullshit.”
I winced. “Al would be wrong,” I hedged. “I did the wrong thing. A friend?—”
“What a good friend.” Her sarcasm could have cut metal.
“—from Oxford asked me to send him information on any paranormal activity I came across up here. I’d heard the rumors,” I took a breath, and that was my second mistake.
“Oh, so you knew about the pestering that Al went through years ago.” Her glare pinpointed me on a skewer of my own making.
Damnit . Of course Lindy heard the stories. People told her things. That’s the sort of trust she engendered. I was a casualty of that battle myself.
“I knew.” I straightened, sensing Al’s hovering presence too. “And I’m sorry. I knew better and I was as fascinated by the prospect of learning more about the ghostly history of Witnot too. Until I learned about you.” I turned in the direction I sensed Al.
He didn’t rattle anything.
“Then you became a person. Someone I know. Someone I like and empathize with and even understand to a small degree. You are not alone in what you have suffered and I am sorry, my friend,” I said in a low voice.
“You don’t get to call him that, dammit,” Lindy snapped, all fierce and beautiful, and oh so distant.
Al rattled his glass gently.
I bowed my head. “I’ll get a bag and brush. This is my mess to clean up.”
“Damn right. All of it. Al and I will be in the bedroom. Find somewhere else to sleep. The castle has plenty of rooms. Lock yourself in the tower. Dragons are suited to those, I hear.” Lindy spun about and stomped off, her footfalls echoing along the corridor as I stared after her with a hollow chest.
Al shifted a few pieces of glass into a small pile for me and moved away after her, leaving me alone in a pile of shattered hope and heartbreak.