Chapter 11
11
Samantha
The computer technician came and added several things to our system that I had no understanding of. He tried to explain what he’d done and how it worked. I was pretty sure my eyes glazed over. It didn’t matter how it worked I just wanted it to do so, and quickly. The overeager young man looked uncomfortable when I told him as much. He left his business card on the table and exited my shop.
“Oh, thank God,” Toni muttered, getting comfortable in front of the computer. She glanced up at me quickly. “We really should know how to fix stuff like this on our own.”
“Maybe,” I conceded. “I’d much rather people didn’t do illegal things to begin with.”
“Good luck with that.”
Rolling my eyes, I said, “I’m meeting my mother for lunch. I’ll be back.”
Leaving my shop, I took a left around the corner. The walk wasn’t far, and it was less of a hassle to take the short stroll rather than search for parking. The commuter lots and public parking were generally full, and I didn’t feel like dealing with that either. As a cold breeze swirled in my face, I debated my decision. Boston was brutal and its weather unforgiving. There was no snow or ice lately, but it felt like winter weather was about to descend, the darkening skies ominous.
The ma?tre d at Henry’s looked at me curiously when I approached. “I’m meeting Grace Fern.”
The man perked up, giving me a friendly smile. “This way.”
The restaurant glowed with soft yellow tones and crisp linens starched to perfection adorned tables, framing the windows. An outdoor seating area lined one side of the establishment, with a latticed ceiling that had barely visible bird netting protecting diners from the hungry sparrows that sheltered in the eaves. My mother was seated at a table on the patio, the picture of perfection with her sharp pantsuit and elegantly coiffed hair.
She stood and kissed the air beside my cheek when I greeted her. “Mom, hi,”
“Sweetheart,” she replied, sitting back down. “Sparkling water for both of us, please,” she said to the employee who’d guided me. My mother had ordered for me as per usual, knowing my drink of choice.
Mom unfolded her napkin and rested it on her lap. “Did you get the computer situation sorted?”
Green glass bottles were brought to the table, uncapped, and poured into long-stemmed glasses. I murmured my gratitude. “Yes, just before I came here. What a pain. Hopefully it fixes the problem.”
She nodded. “Your father is strongly considering running for office, and we can’t be having issues such as this.”
I had no idea what my business had to do with my dad’s political aspirations but nodded my agreement anyway. “The tech seemed to know what he was doing.”
“I should hope so.” Changing the subject she said, “You’ll be attending the opera with Matthew.”
I returned my shaking glass to the table. “How did you know that?”
Her hand waved gently. “This is exciting, he’s very eligible.”
“Mom—”
“He’s from the west coast; owns a large company. Your father looked into it.”
Irritation wormed its way through my head. “It's none of your business. Yes, I agreed to accompany him but that doesn’t mean anything. What if I can’t stand him?”
The conversation paused while we placed our orders. “You should have ordered the salad,” my mom chided. I bristled at her insinuation. I did not have a weight problem; my figure was slim, and I spent thirty minutes a day on my treadmill. My body would do whatever it did as long as I took care of it.
“Stop meddling in my love life. I know you and Dad want me paired off but it's not up to either of you.” A crawling sensation climbed up my spine and I turned to look behind me.
“You’re thirty-years-old, sweetheart. The pickings will get slimmer and slimmer.”
Everyone was engrossed in conversation, chatting, eating, and drinking. “This isn’t Victorian England; there is no rush.”
“I just want better for you, and we have an image to uphold. After Zoey...” My mother trailed off.
Tears prickled my eyes, the pain still fresh after so much time. “That wasn’t anyone’s fault.”
“Your sister would’ve been twenty-five,” she said swallowing. “We were so blind.”
My little sister, Zoey, had been out drinking one night and had called both myself and my parents for a ride home. None of us had heard our phones ringing. Zoey was only seventeen and in a horrific car crash that night, killing herself and an innocent child asleep in the back seat of their mother’s car as they headed home from a family movie night. My little sister blew right through a stop sign at fifty miles an hour, T-boning the other vehicle.
The public fallout was immense, with my family being painted as villains. The story was that we ignored our phones on purpose out of shame, after a tabloid leaked personal details. Cocaine was found in Zoey’s system as well as an incredibly high blood alcohol ratio. The internet had a field day with those details.
Ever since then, my mom and dad held themselves and I to impossibly high standards, attempting to be re-accepted into society. It’d worked, but only after they’d moved up to Boston, and they didn’t want to lose the ground they’d gained. Hence, the pressure was on me, the remaining daughter, to carry on the family name and remain spotless while doing so. The load was so much sometimes, I wished it were my parents who’d been in the accident. Of course, that intrusive and immature train of thought did nothing to help the weight I bore.
I told anyone who asked—including myself—that my parents were loving and affectionate and I had a good childhood but honestly, that’d changed after Zoey. Sure, in public the image they presented was enviable, but I could still feel the difference, the separation. My little sister and I were very close. I should’ve known.
Life had become plagued with guilt—my parents’ and my own, the “what if” and “why” questions tormenting us with alternate possibilities. If only one of us had heard our phone. If only one of us had seen her issues.
I reached across the table and grabbed my mother’s hand. We’d had no idea Zoey had a drinking or drug problem, and the fact she had was almost as shocking as her sudden death. Why didn’t we know? We were, we’d thought, a close-knit family. We should’ve known.
There were no words with which to comfort my mother.
“I’m Chad, I’ll be serving you ladies this afternoon.” A young man had arrived with our meals, deftly plating our choices and placing them in front of us. His eyes lingered on me before he sent me a little wink. I swallowed a chuckle. My mother waved him away, dismissing him.
“He’s handsome,” I observed, carefully eyeing the woman across the table.
She blanched, as expected. “You must be joking.”
As I snagged a piece of bread, my mom scowled at me. “It's my business not yours,” I stated.
Here it comes, I thought.
“If your match does not meet certain standards, your father and I will have to keep our distance.” In other words, they would shun me and retract any finances I may or may not need. My trust fund would only go so far. Thankfully, with my little occult shop, I didn’t need it. I would be fine. Besides, I knew her threat was idle, and they’d never follow through. She only spoke the words to convey how much she wanted me to cooperate. Still, it was a bit cruel.
“Please don’t talk like that, you sound so snobby. Don’t say things you don’t mean.” I softened my tone. “I know it's only because you care. I apologize. Please don’t worry so much, everything will be fine.” I reached across the table again and squeezed her hand lightly.
My mother straightened her shoulders, the worry vanishing from her eyes and being replaced with regret. “We love you and only want the best for you.”
“I know.” I smiled. And I did know. Despite their snobbish ways and hollow words, they had always been loving and affectionate parents.
“But you have to let me live my life.” I glanced around the restaurant, watching the other diners and wondering if anyone felt as jailed as I did. Lifting my gaze, I looked for the sparrows I’d seen earlier. Oddly, they all sat perfectly still and silent now.
“I know you want to be free, want your independence, but you’re all we have left.” I picked at my food while I listened to her. She had no idea just how badly I wanted to be free. I wanted to be as unchained as the slight breeze that drifted around our table caressing my legs. My skin prickled as the draft skittered across my shoulders creating the sensation it was sentient, touching me on purpose.
She took a quick sip of her water. “Now, I know the best little shop for your dress. The pieces are stunning.”
My mother rambled on about tailors and jewelers she wanted me to visit before my date. The feeling of being watched, having a pair of eyes on me, began to haunt me, causing me to cast furtive glances throughout our surroundings yet again. My heart thudded in my chest with an unanswered anticipation of someone revealing themselves.
Chad returned to our table, right beside me. “May I get anything else for you two gorgeous women?” My mother blushed. So, help me, she blushed.
“No thank you.” I smiled up at him as I felt something brush my thigh.
He stood beside our table for a moment and then cleared his throat. My mother placed a credit card on a small porcelain plate and Chad took his leave. “What a cutie,” she said.
“Mom, please. What’s come over you? You felt differently ten minutes ago.” Our server was young enough to be her grandson. Possibly. Maybe? It occurred to me that perhaps she was behaving this way in an attempt to influence me to date, as long as it wasn’t a server.
“He was sweet,” she stated. “There’s other fine men out there, you’ll find one if you look.”
I sighed and shook my head. Gathering my cloth napkin, I felt a piece of paper. Keeping it on my lap, I unfolded it. Chad had written his phone number in messy script and included a brief note to contact him. He’d added a small heart with a flourish. The note-passing was very middle-school of him but my mother was intimidating if you didn’t know her.
Sometimes, even if you did.
“Chad slipped me his number.” I let out a short giggle. “Adorable.”
Another light breeze floated through the room, competing with the warm air from the hidden space heaters. The birds above the netting beat their wings, all appearing to come to life at once rather than the slow meandering they’d been engaged in before they’d been frozen like statues just a mere few minutes ago.
My mom gave me a warning look, as if I would call the guy and take him up on his offer. Maybe a one-night stand? The thought wasn’t a bad one. It had been a while since I’d engaged in any pleasurable physical contact. Chad was quite good looking and had a nice body, what I could see of it through his clothes. I tucked the paper square in my purse, just in case. I’d planned on disposing of his contact information, but it could come in handy.
“Your father and I will be there too.” I drew my attention back to my mom when she spoke. “At the opera. Pay attention.”
“Sorry,” I muttered. The pressure increased, the weight of pleasing my mother and father and living up to their expectations resuming center stage again. I forced myself to sit up straight.
She pulled her phone from her pocketbook. “I’ll make us an appointment; we shouldn’t need too many alterations, you’re still slim.” My mother took over, arranging for our outfits as well as a private booking for jewelry.
“I have a necklace,” I exclaimed softly, remembering. The opera was the perfect opportunity to wear the mysteriously gifted piece.
“You need new jewelry. You have to make a good impression.”
I laughed. “Trust me on this one—I have just the thing.” She raised her brow and stood up, signaling our leave. I grasped her forearm. “Please, trust me.”
“Hm. If you say so.”
Keeping my arm looped with hers, we worked our way toward the entrance. A piercing scream broke the background noise of soft chatter and lighthearted voices just as we stepped outdoors. Someone went running past us, making enough contact with my shoulder to cause me to stumble slightly. My mother’s hand raised to her mouth, and I followed her gaze when we drifted forward.
My legs moved of their own accord, my mom gasping beside me. Our server, Chad, laid prone on the sidewalk. A deep, wide ribbon of red graced his throat, blood gurgling and forming a pool around his shoulders and head. I choked, my hand quickly covering my lips.
His hands were covered with body fluids, both at his neck, as if he’d tried to stem the flow. His panic-stricken eyes met mine before they closed, and my vision faded.
My mother caught me before I could fall. An emergency worker asked me a few questions, and then a policewoman, because the deceased had been our server. It kept running through my mind, the small note in my purse.
I can never call that number; I can never call that number. Like a mantra, the phrase repeated on a loop in my mind.
They told me it was shock and gave me the phone number for a therapist. I crumbled that number and kept Chad’s in my purse like a classified secret. I’d had more than enough therapy; I knew what to do.
I was sitting in the back of a police car, away from the crowds and reporters when I glanced up, away from Chad’s sheet-covered body. Wiping the tears from my eyes, my gaze met a pair of green ones. Two bright, glittering emeralds. He stood there, several feet away and somehow on the wrong side of the yellow police tape. A warmth caressed me under the soft weight of his stare, as if his hand had smoothed across my skin, reaching over the distance separating us. It was the man from my shop; the reason I’d had Toni order new books and manuals. Busy figures crossed in front of me, breaking our contact. He was gone before I could ask him who he was. After I rose from the plastic seat, I exited the car, and swiveled my head. I searched for the tall man, but he’d vanished like an apparition in the morning mist.
“Ma’am. Ma’am? You can’t be here.” A uniformed officer guided his hand to the small of my back, corralling me and halting my wandering.
Confused, I turned. “I was being questioned.”
“Uh huh,” the man mumbled, shooing me away before striding across the sidewalk, yelling at the reporters breaking the line.
Dumping the blanket an emergency worker had wrapped around my shoulders, I searched for my mother. I found her in the back of an ambulance, bawling her eyes out, my father patting her on the back.
Obnoxiously, my father raised his voice slightly, announcing how crime in the city was out of control and how he’d deal with it. “Dad,” I interrupted his tirade. “Can we go?”
Voice still elevated, he said, “I can’t believe they questioned you. My daughter a suspect...” He shook his head, curling an arm around my mom.
If this was what I had to look forward to, I hoped my father’s campaign would fail. “Let’s just go, Dad. Let’s get Mom away from these cameras.” Seeing the wisdom in my words, my dad gathered my mom, and we left.
My shop became popular over the next few days. Word had spread that I’d witnessed a murder and nothing I could say would change anyone’s mind. Coming across a dead body after being the last person to have contact with them now equated having watched the actual crime take place according to the public.
No matter. Other than the constant ringing of the phone, the extra busyness was welcome. We even had to call in the other two employees we used occasionally to keep up with the rush. The new reading material on demons was selling well under the influx, much to my and Toni’s surprise and delight. I tucked one tome in my bag, curious to see what the fuss was about. I’d read it at home when I got the chance.
Intent on doing just that, I prepared for bed the minute I entered my home, showering and changing into a pajama short set. The book sat on my nightstand alongside the necklace box. Propped up against my pillows, I reached for the jewelry case before flicking it open. The gems and metal glowed under the low light of my bedside lamp, sparkling and compelling me to put it on.
Wear this and nothing else.
After I removed the piece from the box, fastened it around my neck, and walked over to my mirror. The gold chain and lavender gemstones glittered against my skin. I pulled my satin tank top up over my head for a better look, eyeing my reflection before lowering it again. The piece shone against the black satin of my shirt, and I decided a gown of the same color would do for the opera.
I sighed, thinking of my family’s matchmaking attempts. Matthew was extremely good looking, and it was a bonus he was well-off but I just wanted to be in charge of my own destiny. The outside interference grated at me. My choice had been taken away. Would I choose him on my own? Perhaps. Would he be a man who tried to cage me and control me? Likely, if he ran in the same circles as my parents. There was probably no escape.
My hands reached for my neck, fumbling for the clasp. My nails couldn’t quite grip the mechanism, so I left it, climbing back into bed. I settled against the pillows with my book on demons and began reading. The volume covered ways of summoning evil spirits, and their character traits. It seemed runes and other symbols were involved in the rituals, elaborate paragraphs to be read aloud in the pursuit of controlling non-human entities. Each demon had a unique personality dedicated to a different purpose, be it riches, fortune telling, protection, and other advantages over one’s fellow humans and circumstances.
It was interesting, but I nodded off, visions of Chad’s mutilated neck assaulting my thoughts before I fell asleep.
“I said only this,” a deep voice whispered in my ear. I startled, a heavy weight pressing down on me. My hand flung out, contacting a wide shoulder.
“Don’t fight me,” the voice said, soft lips brushing the shell of my ear. My skin prickled as a smooth hand held my arm over my head. I couldn’t see; the room plunged into darkness. At some point I must’ve turned off the lamp or another bulb had broken.
Shoving at the shoulder by my face, I said, “What do you want? Get off of me.” It was the same as the night I’d begun finding myself imprisoned in the little cottage. Only this time, I couldn’t see my assailant at all. There was no shadowy figure in a mask, and the air of aggression that accompanied my previous attack was absent.
“You, Samantha. I want you,” a pained voice said, as if wanting me was the worst thing that could happen to them. The sound wrapped around my heart, leaving tiny cuts to fester. I almost felt sorry for the man.
His thighs enclosed my own, the heat of his body warming my legs. The soft skin of my wrist grew hot where he gripped me. I tried to move my head and stopped when the soft brush of lips sent heat streaking down to my core.
A low, dark laugh brought me back. “You want me too.” He rubbed against me, letting me feel just how much he wanted me. I pushed against him again, attempting to dislodge the massive form when he sank onto me further, pinning me to the bed. His free hand gripped my neck and my own curled around my blankets.
“What do you want from me?” I was choking, the words sputtering from my lips. He lifted his hand enough for me to breathe.
He pushed his cock against my center, and I gasped. The man was going to rape me. He leaned back a few inches, and more air flew into my lungs. A sharp prick pierced my breast, and I held my breath. Silky hair fell across my chest, sliding across my nipples before I felt the pads of his fingers tracing the mounds of my breasts. His lips made contact against my skin and with a flick of the tongue, he lapped at my flesh. The wet sound filled the stillness of my room while I lay imprisoned.
Moonlight crossed my vision, finally highlighting the dark form of the man covering my body but still hiding his features. Goosebumps skittered along my skin. He was familiar, I knew it in my soul. My hand reached out toward him, and he captured it, multiple rings grazing my knuckles.
He clasped me gently and lifted me to a sitting position, moving his mouth from my chest to travel up to my collarbone, and then my neck. His breath was hot against my skin, and I shuddered, the sensation not at all unpleasant. A feeling drifted through my body; I was floating in the softest air, tendrils of satin and silk winding their way through my body, inside my cells. The sweetest fragrance filled my nostrils, and I heard the man groan, repeating my name and whispering words I couldn’t understand.
The sensation traveled through me, down to my core, filling me with desire. My clit throbbed with building pressure. I pulled the man’s hand toward my waist, and I felt him hesitate before his fingers darted below the band of my shorts. I was panting, lost in the magic of his lips and the breath along my neck, and I was now cradled on his lap. My arm snaked along his back, seeking his flesh, the feel of his skin. He hissed and plunged his fingers inside my lower lips, breaking my weak resistance. My cry echoed through my room, and I heard him growl, “Fuck.” He released me, dropping me onto my mattress as I came down from my orgasm.
He shoved me onto my back, caging me. “Wait for me,” he ordered. “Unless you want every man that meets your eyes to encounter Chad’s fate.”
“What?” I whispered. This was crazy, there was no way he killed a server for me, he didn’t even know me. “Who are you?”
Something sharp pressed into the center of my chest. “Their blood will be on your hands.” A curtain of hair dangled in my face, tickling my nose before teeth bit my neck and a kiss was pressed against my cheekbone. “You belong to me. Any man who looks at you will die, but I do so enjoy arts and crafts.” I could feel his smirk even though I couldn’t see it.
Stunned, I sat there. The frame of my bed squeaked, and the man walked out, leaving me both bewildered at my reaction to the intrusion and bereft over his absence. I just let a stranger have their way with me and I liked it. I heard shoes pounding down the staircase.
No. This was all just a dream. A very vivid dream.