Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Electra
As my eyes flutter with alertness, I become anxious when my unknown surroundings become visible. I don’t know where I am or how I’m even still alive. Because of my affinity, I finally had to tell the women I was in captivity with that I was a witch, especially when I grew weaker and weaker the longer I was away from a heavy flowing water source.
If I hadn’t been physically injured, I probably could've pulled some from the cave itself and healed myself, but unfortunately, it didn’t pan out quite like that at all. I take inventory of how I’m feeling and realize that surprisingly, aside from some residual soreness, I don’t feel terrible. My lips aren’t chapped like they were and there’s a thrumming inside as my body continues to mend.
I don’t heal like a shifter does, but if whoever rescued us bathed me, it would’ve started the process. I still need to get grounded by going to the lake for a day or so, but since I have no clue where I’m at or even who I’m with, I’ll have to put that on the back burner for the time being.
“Hello?” I manage to croak out, my throat parched.
“Oh! You’re awake!” A little girl peers over the side of the bed, her smile radiant. “I’m Jazzy. Uncle Jabba went to get some food and I told him I’d watch you.”
“Thirsty,” I say, sounding nothing like myself.
“I can help!” She emphatically bobs her head. “Momma showed me how in case you woke up when nobody was here but me,” Jazzy says.
Her confidence is infectious and despite the strange set of circumstances I find myself in, I can’t help but smile at her as she holds a cup with a straw up to my lips.
“Now, Momma says to only take a few small sips at a time,” she cautions, “otherwise, you’ll make yourself sick.”
Even though I want to guzzle the water, I do as she says then tell her, “Thank you, Jazzy.”
What I really want to know is who her uncle is and whether or not he had anything to do with rescuing me. Because I might have been out of it, but I distinctly remember being held as though I was precious. Tears come unbidden to my eyes as I recall that the last time I was treated that way was when my mother was alive. Being alone in the world sucks sometimes.
“You’re welcome. I helped Momma give you a bath, too. You’re very pretty and I like the tattoos on your skin.” Her compliment has me preening. I can feel a fellow lover of art whenever my runes are appreciated.
My water elements that came out when I gained my powers flit across my mind. I briefly wonder if she or her mother understand what the symbols embedded into my flesh are for, then brush it off in favor of finding out where I’m at. Right now, having that knowledge feels more prudent than explaining why my flesh is covered in gothic symbols.
“Where am I?” I ask.
“Oh! We’re at the clubhouse. Uncle Corbin and everybody are here. I don’t know a lot, but me and Sage try to listen when we can. I guess there are enemies of the club or something, but Papa and Big Daddy and all our uncles will keep us safe. You too,” she replies. I’m amused that this little girl and her friend are eavesdropping, and she feels no guilt at mentioning that fact to a complete stranger.
The door flashes open and a behemoth of a man steps through, a tray balanced in his hand. “Uncle Jabba! The pretty lady is awake,” Jazzy exclaims, moving her hands excitedly. “I gave her some water already.”
“Good job, Jazzy,” he praises, moving closer, his gaze never leaving mine. He sets the tray on the table next to the bed then sits down in the chair, his hand reaching out to touch my forehead. “You seem to be healing nicely. No signs of infection or fever.” He shifts in his chair, moving further away from me which has me fumbling.
There are times when I’m speechless, and now seems to be one of them. My mouth opens but no words come out. The spark that traversed through me when he touched me has me stumped. Why do I feel as if my world won’t spin on its axis if he were to leave me? Anxiety grips me, choking me in its clutches, and I reach out to grab him, keep him in the same room as I’m in.
“Don’t go,” I whisper, the words coming out choppy.
“Not planning to go anywhere, Sprite,” he replies, a handsome smile splitting his face. “Just need to get you comfortable so you can eat.”
Elation flows through me and I find myself smiling back at him. “Thank you,” I murmur.
“Jazzy, your mom is looking for you,” he says to the eager little girl still bouncing on the other side of me.
“Oh! I think we’re making potions today!” she screeches out in excitement. “I gotta go, pretty lady, but I’ll come back, okay?”
I nod at the little whirling dervish, a giggle escaping me as she runs over to Jabba, throws her arms around him as best as she can due to his muscular frame before she kisses his cheek and then practically skips to the door.
“She’s something,” I whisper. I haven’t been around many children, but find that if they’re like Jazzy, I may have been cheating myself out of a lot of enjoyment.
“That she is,” he replies, setting the tray over my lap. “Harmony put together some broth for you since you were so dehydrated. She said it was better for your stomach to start ingesting food slowly. The jello was my idea, and the saltines were Zavier’s. Jazzy wanted to give you some mashed potatoes, but Harmony told her you couldn’t have those yet, maybe tomorrow or the next day.”
I giggle again thinking about the team of people who put together something for me to eat. They’re complete strangers to me, yet they were all focused on my comfort and healing. “I like red jello,” I admit, watching it jiggle in the small bowl it was put in. Memories flit across my mind of being a child and my mom making me ‘special desserts’ with the sweet gelatin.
“First the broth, then you can have your dessert,” he advises, smirking at me. “At least, that’s what we tell the girls all the time. But you’re an adult so if you want to eat your jello first, I’m not gonna stop you.”
I erupt in full blown laughter at his spunky words while shaking my head. “I think starting with the broth, which smells delicious by the way, is the way to go.”
Picking up the spoon, I carefully ladle some into my mouth then moan when the distinct flavors burst across my tastebuds. None of the herbs and spices used are overwhelming, but I can feel the power behind them and recognize that Harmony, whoever she is, has powers like I do. I don’t think she’s a water witch, but I sense no malice in anything I touch, so she must have either earth or air abilities. Guess I’ll find out at some point. Right now, I welcome the fact that a sister of sorts is using her skills to help me heal.
I’ll thank her for her kindness as soon as I meet her, I think to myself. Although from the sounds of it, she’s already been caring for me. Still, that was while I was unconscious. Instinctively, I know my mom would’ve liked these people.
While I continue to eat, Jabba clears his throat. “How did you manage to find yourself a guest of the Red Caps?” he asks.
Sputtering, I put down the spoon and grab the glass of water then take a deep sip. Once I’m sure I won’t choke any longer, I look at him and reply, “Trust me, it wasn’t in my plans at all. I was out gathering some items I needed and completely missed detecting them.”
I’m trying not to tell him I’m a witch because there are those who fear us, regardless of our lineage. If I was a blood witch, I could see it because they’re evil, malevolent bitches who practice in bloodletting magic. But still, I should’ve sensed that there were Red Caps in the area, and I didn’t, which is definitely not normal.
“They likely disguised themselves, Harmony says they can do that,” he says. “She’s an earth witch and says you’re one as well. Not an earth one, of course,” he stammers out, his cheeks going slightly ruddy.
“I’m a water witch,” I manage to reply, shocked to the core that I’m having this kind of conversation with a man who looks like he does. “I had forgotten they can conjure up exterior shells to disguise their natural appearance and mask their scent. Normally, I’m more cautious than that, but a customer needed a healing potion, so I wasn’t thinking clearly. She’s been sick for so long and I wanted to help. It was a stupid mistake, that’s for sure.”
He reaches over and gently touches my forearm, causing another zing of awareness to course through me and replies, “Don’t go beating yourself up over something you weren’t aware of, Sprite. Those bastards, they are wily and conniving, and for whatever reason, they had their sights set on you.”
“Electra,” I murmur. “My name’s Electra,” I clarify, wanting to hear my name on his lips.
“Well, you’re tiny like a sprite to me, so that’s what I’m calling you,” he casually says, smirking at me.
Shrugging, since I kinda like that nickname, I go back to eating. It’s not like I can help being petite in stature. Most of my family was, including my mother and father. I’m kind of surprised they found anything small enough for me to wear, to be honest, since I can shop in the junior section of most stores. Meanwhile, he’s big enough that I bet he has to shop at the big and tall stores, he can honestly do whatever he wants, plus there’s a slight thrill at the fact he gave me a nickname that’s somewhat sweet. Because I don’t think he does ‘sweet’ per se means I’m somewhat special. Once I’ve finished the broth, slurping the last little bit into my mouth without any shame, I grab the second spoon off the tray and start in on my jello.
There’s a knock on the door then it quickly opens, and Jazzy comes in along with another little girl about the same age. I’m guessing, of course, since they’re roughly the same size, but one could easily be older than the other for all I know. If I’ve learned anything through life, it’s that you can’t judge a book by its cover.
“Hey, pretty lady! This is my cousin, Sage, and our mommas,” Jazzy exclaims, rushing to the side of my bed with a giddy grin on her face, Sage now in tow.
I gaze into two little faces, seeing the beauty that resides deep within both of them. Not only that, but they have an essence, one I can’t quite put my fingers on, that causes the very air surrounding them to thrum with an electric current.
“Hi again, Jazzy. It’s nice to meet you, Sage,” I reply.
They’re both so close I can see the light smattering of freckles across Jazzy’s nose and upper cheeks, and the tiny scar on the outside of Sage’s eyebrow. Somehow, I just know these two keep their mothers on their toes and I experience a sense of longing so deep from my uterus it nearly has me gasping.
I don’t often regret my life of solitude, but right now, I am, because I can tell there’s a closeness with these people that’s lacking in me. With my mother now gone and no other living relatives, it’s only me and my faithful cat, Sprinkles.
“Sprinkles,” I whisper, forgetting for a few seconds that I’m not alone. “I… I have to go, she’s been alone all this time.”
“Who’s Sprinkles?” Jazzy asks. “And why did you name her that?”
“My cat. I named her that because her fur is solid gray with a sprinkling of white on her tail. I mean, she has a gravity feeder and a water fountain, but I’ve never been gone this long,” I reply as I try to get out of bed, only to feel a masculine hand gently push me back.
“I’ll go get her,” Jabba gruffly states. His offer has me slouching back into the bed. It’s a relief he’s willing to grab her for me since I’m not as steady on my feet as I’d like to be. My strength is returning, but exhaustion has set in. Recovering takes a lot out of me apparently. “Give me your address, I’ll take the girls and a truck and pick her up. Anything else you want?”
“Why don’t you give her a few minutes to make a list, Jabba?” one of the women asks. Turning to me, she says, “I’m Harmony, Cyrus’s mate, and this is Karsyn, my sister-in-law and Corbin’s mate.”
Mate? Wait, does that mean they’re mated to shifters? I didn’t know that was possible, but now I’m intrigued and would love to pick her brain about it. I don’t want to outright ask because that would be considered rude, so I just nod and reply, “I’m Electra. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. How are the other women I was found with doing?”
My thoughts are all over the place right now. Part of it is likely due to the fact I was so dehydrated from lack of water and being able to replenish myself, the other is because I’m worried about my baby. While there are some people who look down their noses at animals being thought of like that, she came into my life as a kitten right after my mom died. I was able to pour all my sorrow into her and she follows me around as though she’s a small child. She was my saving grace during a depressive time in my life. She saved me and gave me joy where I thought doom would reside for the rest of my living years.
“I’ll go get some paper,” Jazzy proposes. She proceeds to fly out of the room like she sprouted wings out of her back, Sage on her heels as the two women look on fondly.
“They’re very exuberant, aren't they?” I ask, searching for something to say. I don’t mind silence as long as it’s not the awkward type.
“You have no idea,” Harmony replies, snickering. “They keep all of us on our toes, that’s for sure.”
Both women start laughing and I presume it’s over memories of things the girls have gotten into. But when Jabba adds his deep, rumbly chuckle to the mix, I find my stomach clenching with need, something I don’t know how to handle at all.
What is it about him that has me longing for things I’d tucked into the back of my mind a long time ago?
I don’t know who he is to me or why fate decided we needed to meet by happenstance, but my instincts scream that I need to be open-minded to our paths interconnecting the way they have.
“Thank you for rescuing me,” I say, turning to look at Jabba. “I’m sure I was a surprise.”
“Wouldn’t have left anyone there, even if it was a surprise,” he advises. “Those bastards are pure evil.”
Harmony and Karsyn are nodding in agreement. I haven’t had a lot of exposure to the Red Caps; my mother warned me about them when I was very young, but their reputation precedes them. Before any of us can say anything else, Jazzy and Sage come back in, braids flying, and Jazzy places a pad of paper and a pen next to me on the bed.
“Thank you, girls,” I say, picking the pad and pen up so I can start a list. “Um, how long before I can go home?”
I must be hearing things because I hear Jabba mumble something that sounds like ‘never’, but that’s not possible, is it? Shrugging, I don’t wait for an answer but instead, start writing.