Chapter Nineteen
NINETEEN
Ben’s wardrobe could use more practical pieces—in no way was he prepared for an attack by frenzied jackalopes or a sword-wielding shape-shifter—but seeing him walking toward her with a cup of hot chocolate in each hand, Eleonore found she didn’t mind. His khakis clung to muscled thighs, his dress shirt was rolled up at the cuffs to reveal delectable forearms, and the sweater vest clinging to his torso for dear life only accentuated his size. The poor thing seemed like it might rip at the seams with a sudden movement.
It wouldn’t, though. Ben had knitted it himself, as he’d bashfully explained when Eleonore had held it up to his chest earlier that day, wondering at the usefulness of such an item. All of his knitwear was made by hand, as he had trouble fitting into standard store sizes. In addition to being formed on a larger scale, as most werewolves were, he’d built muscles through activity at the Emporium. Squatting to plant and tend flowers, carrying heavy potted palms, moving and rearranging furniture and shelving…Gardening was a surprisingly effective fitness activity.
The argyle sweater vest wasn’t useful in a military sense, but she rather liked it. He looked so deliciously restrained and proper, she felt the urge to rip it off him with her teeth.
Succubus instincts…or something else?
“Thank you,” she said when Ben handed her the hot chocolate. Warmth sank into her palms, and she raised the cup to her nose, inhaling the scent that rose from a narrow opening in the plastic top. She hadn’t even mentioned wanting one; when they’d arrived at City Hall to find a few pop-up food stands, she’d merely looked at a stall with interest and Ben had announced he was in the mood for hot chocolate.
Had that been true, or was he being nice to her again? He was nice to her an awful lot, which was novel and strange and alarming in how much she liked it. Her defenses were crumbling, and though she knew she ought to shore them up, she couldn’t seem to manage.
Ben smiled and raised his cup. “I like when the evenings get cool enough for hot chocolate. One good thing about the shortening days.”
It was the end of September, a month that seemed confused between summery days and brisk nights, with spurts of rain coming at random. Weather in the Pacific Northwest United States was apparently hard to predict due to proximity to the ocean and an assortment of meteorological and technological factors she had begun to research before deciding that was best left to experts. Every weather station had a prognosticator who could cast bones to support a meteorologist’s predictions, yet still the weather managed to surprise.
It struck Eleonore that if she actually broke the curse, she might end up staying in one place long enough to begin to predict its unpredictability.
She looked around with this thought top of mind. They were among a small but raucous crowd in a park facing City Hall. The sun was setting, casting its orange rays over the odd building. City Hall’s marble pillars harkened back to Greco-Roman times, but the colorful peaked roof reminded her of the Zsolnay-tiled buildings she’d seen during a mission in Budapest, and the construction was topped by a copper cupola that had its roots in Islamic architecture.
This mishmash of architectural styles seemed particularly common in Glimmer Falls, a town that took “originality” very seriously. Even when the buildings were similar in construction, they were unique in paint and decoration.
Odd things thrived here. Eleonore liked that.
One of those odd things was standing next to her, blowing softly into his cup of hot chocolate. The body of a berserker, the glasses and general demeanor of a librarian. Eleonore couldn’t help but smile looking at him.
“What are you smiling at?” he asked.
Eleonore shook her head. “Hard to explain.”
He raised his brows. “Now I’m just more curious.”
How to explain a feeling like this? Her chest was warm and she liked looking at him and she sometimes wondered how heavy his testicles would be on her tongue, but as poorly socialized as Eleonore was, even she knew that wasn’t something to admit in public. “I haven’t met anyone like you before, that’s all. And I like your sweater vest.”
His face lit up with delight, as if she’d given him a flower. “Really? Gigi makes fun of the sweater vests. She says they’re frumpy and nerdy, and I’m pretty sure the entire internet would agree with her.”
Eleonore made a dismissive noise. “The internet is a worldwide system of interconnected computer networks and therefore incapable of holding opinions.” Witchipedia had taught her that, though she still wasn’t sure she understood it.
Ben barked out a laugh. “Okay, Spock, point taken.”
Eleonore warmed at that compliment. She liked Spock, who was both rational and honest. Eleonore could acknowledge she wasn’t particularly rational, so Spock had been more of an aspirational figure.
The reference to Star Trek made her wonder about the internet and the emotional state of computers again. “The Voyager probes haven’t gained sentience, have they?” she asked, thinking of Star Trek: The Motion Picture and Captain Kirk’s discovery that the massive artificial life-form V’Ger had originated as a Voyager 6 space probe. Star Trek wasn’t a documentary, so she’d been surprised to learn America had indeed launched two Voyager space probes in the 1970s.
“Not that I’m aware of…?”
“Good,” Eleonore said vehemently. Though Kirk had seemed excited about the birth of a new life-form after V’Ger had merged with Captain Willard Decker, melding machine with man, Eleonore stoutly believed that incident had been the origin of the Borg, and no one wanted that.
Ben looked at her oddly. “I can’t say I follow all your thought processes, but they’re always interesting.” Then he smiled softly. “Thank you for saying you like my sweater vest.” He raised a hand, hesitated, then rested it gently on her shoulder. “That means a lot.”
Though the touch was blunted by the cardigan covering the green dress Themmie had termed Battle Formalwear, Eleonore shivered. A spark of awareness traveled from his hand through her body, lighting up her nerves and starting a pulse between her thighs. Big hands, gentle man.
He’d be precise and giving as a lover, constantly attuned to his partner’s reactions. A treat to be savored before returning that attention with equal detail and care. But sex had many aspects, and Eleonore couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if Ben were to let go of his tight control. Release a bit of the wolf he had such a tight leash on.
His thumb rubbed lightly over the spot where her shoulder met her collarbone, and Eleonore instinctively grabbed his hand, holding it against her. Their eyes locked, and it was as if the rest of the world faded away. She licked her lips, then slowly guided his hand to the back of her neck.
Ben inhaled sharply, and then his fingers were sinking into the woven strands of her braid, tipping her head back gently but firmly.
Gods, she hadn’t had sex in so long. And though Ben had been feeding her succubus half with regular shower masturbation sessions neither of them acknowledged out loud, she was still…needy. Hungry for more than just sustenance.
His pupils dilated, making the brown of his irises seem to darken. The pulse at his throat beat faster, begging for her teeth, and she could sense his heightening arousal, as she’d sensed it when he’d first viewed her wearing the dress. His scent grew darker, muskier, spicier.
Eleonore’s fangs throbbed in time with the hot need between her legs.
Was he going to kiss her?
She didn’t like waiting for her pleasures. They were to be seized, because the good things in life could be fleeting. So she hooked her finger in the V-neck of Ben’s sweater vest, pulled him closer, and—
“Good evening, Glimmer Falls!”
Gigi Rosewood’s voice boomed through the speakers, startling Eleonore so badly she jolted backward and would have fallen if it weren’t for Ben steadying her. Outraged at having the moment stolen, she instinctively whipped her head around to hiss in the direction of City Hall’s front steps, where Gigi stood highlighted by portable lights.
“Easy,” Ben murmured. His hands fell away, much to her displeasure, and he retreated a few steps. Whatever confidence he’d found had vanished, too, because now he couldn’t even meet her eyes.
Maybe Eleonore should hiss at him, too.
“What an amazing turnout!” Gigi said into the microphone as the audience clapped. “Thank you all for being here.” She wore a glittery gold pantsuit with her usual pink sneakers and her hair had been pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck. A pink sign propped next to her featured her name, her campaign logo, and a website URL where supporters could donate. “Our town is made up of people from so many different backgrounds and economic situations, but for the past few years, our city’s leadership has prioritized the wants of the ultra-wealthy and those with personal connections to power. Anyone else remember the resort and spa debacle two years ago?”
That elicited scattered exclamations and boos. Eleonore looked to Ben for an explanation.
“There was a piece of contested land in the forest outside town,” Ben explained to the air next to Eleonore’s right ear. “Cynthia claimed the deed had been found and the land belonged to the city, and then she sold it to a developer to put in a resort and spa that would have destroyed the local ecosystem and the ley lines that make this place so magical. Without asking anyone, of course. And she and her cronies were shareholders in the business.”
If Ben had been looking Eleonore in the eye, he would have seen her look of disdain. “Few monarchs deserve their crowns,” she said.
“Power corrupts,” he mused.
“Or the corrupt are those who seek power in the first place.”
At that, he did finally meet her gaze. His brows rose, and he jerked his head toward the stage. “Gigi isn’t corrupt.”
“I said few monarchs,” Eleonore said, glad he was at least facing her again. “Not all.”
Truthfully, she didn’t know what sort of leader Gigi would be. She barely knew the woman. But she respected passion, and Gigi seemed earnest about wanting to change the city for the better. The trick would be maintaining that idealism once the keys to the city were in her hand.
“Was the resort built?” Eleonore pressed.
“Mariel stopped the construction. It was when she first got together with Oz.”
Eleonore had only seen Mariel and Oz in passing, as the newlyweds had recently returned from their honeymoon and were more wrapped up in each other than the outside world. Mariel had offered to help with Gigi’s campaign, but the “Scooby gang,” as Ben had called his friendship group—a strange reference that required research—was giving her space to enjoy her new marriage. And from what Eleonore had seen, Oz was a taciturn sort who was devoted to Mariel but had even less interest in canvassing than Ben did.
Ben was now dedicating his entire attention to Gigi’s speech, eyes trained on City Hall’s steps with laser focus. That was the expected behavior of a brother at his sister’s political event, but Eleonore still felt stung and oddly off-balance. She’d thought they were about to explore the erotic tension between them, but now he was acting like it had never happened, even as the residual echo of his arousal lingered in the air.
Eleonore rubbed a hand over her heart. There was an ache there she didn’t like. It was injured pride, she decided. She wasn’t used to being rejected sexually, as mild as this rejection had been.
Was this just sexual, though? The question was quiet, spoken by a part of herself she hadn’t allowed space for in a long time.
She sniffed dismissively. Of course it was. She was a sexual, violent being. It was her inheritance and her destiny to fuck and kill, simple as that.
But she remembered her father gently caressing her mother’s cheek and how her mother had taken up a sword to defend his memory, and her heart hurt worse. That love had been rare. How much rarer would her own be? Was it even possible?
People were clapping—Gigi must have said something inspirational. Eleonore clapped along with them.
“And that’s why,” Gigi said, “I plan to—”
The sign next to her burst into flames.
Gigi jumped away from the blackening cardboard, and just in time—the microphone was next, exploding in a burst of rainbow sparks. Loud bangs sounded overhead as fireworks burst over the crowd, sending embers raining over the gathering.
Ben grabbed Eleonore, tucking her against his chest. She struggled free, heart hammering. “Get to safety,” she ordered him, batting at the sparks that had settled on his sweater vest.
“Eleonore—”
He reached for her hand, but she shook her head. “I’m security, remember?”
A centaur galloped past, tail flaming. Eleonore dodged panicked, screaming people as the explosions continued. She had her knives out, ready to throw, but there was no assailant in sight. This was clearly a magical attack, which meant the caster could be anywhere. Cursing, she shoved the knives back into their holsters. There would be no fighting today, only getting Gigi to safety.
Eleonore reached Gigi’s side in an instant. The werewolf was slightly larger than Eleonore, but vampires were strong and Eleonore had centuries of combat experience, so she hoisted Gigi over her shoulder and ran at top speed away from the rally.
Gigi shrieked and thrashed, hammering Eleonore’s back with her fists in what amounted to slow motion compared to Eleonore’s pace. “Put me down!”
Not a chance. Eleonore had been given one duty—keep Gigi Rosewood safe. She grimaced as Gigi punched a kidney. Vampire strength didn’t mean she was invulnerable, and it was hard to run carrying something that didn’t want to be held.
Once they were five blocks away from the scene, Eleonore stopped under the awning of a deli and deposited Gigi on her feet.
Gigi staggered, catching herself on the wall. “What the—” She broke off, and a look of relief washed over her face. “Oh, it’s you. You moved so fast I didn’t know who it was.”
“Are you injured?” Eleonore demanded.
Gigi patted herself as if checking to make sure she was intact. She frowned at a singe mark on her sleeve, then grabbed a hank of hair that had come loose from her bun. The ends were crinkled and blackened, and the acrid scent of burnt hair spiced the air. “Not injured,” Gigi said, scowling at the hair, “just lightly barbecued. Is everyone else okay?”
“I don’t know.”
Gigi started to jog back in the direction they’d come from. “We have to go back. I need to make sure no one was hurt.”
Eleonore blocked her progress. “Absolutely not. I’m not going to let you walk into danger.”
Gigi tried to dodge around her. Maybe if she’d been in wolf form she could have done it, but as a human she stood no chance of outmaneuvering a vampire. “Please,” Gigi said. “Those are my friends and supporters. My community. I can’t run away.”
“If you go back now, there’s every chance you’ll be blown up, and then what happens to your friends and supporters?” When Gigi started to argue again, Eleonore held out her hand. “Give me your phone. We will call Ben.”
Gigi didn’t hand it over, instead dialing her brother herself, but she at least put it on speaker mode.
“Gigi? Are you okay? Where are you?” Ben’s voice burst from the speaker, full of panic. “Is Eleonore with you?”
“I’m fine,” Gigi said, narrowing her eyes at Eleonore in a look of reproof. “And yes, Eleonore is here. She’s not letting me go back to check on everyone.” She said that like it was a moral failing, and Eleonore bared a fang in response.
“Good,” Ben said vehemently. “Almost everyone’s cleared out and the fire department is here, but that doesn’t mean it’s safe. Where are you? I’ll pick you up.”
Gigi looked around, seeming to notice their surroundings for the first time. “Outside cousin Maya’s deli, actually.” She frowned. “Ben, I need to check on everyone.”
“We need to regroup first. I don’t think anyone was seriously injured—just a few minor burns the paramedics are treating. You can check in on people once we’re sure you’re out of danger.”
“Ugh.” Gigi hung up and shoved her phone back in her pocket. “You and my brother, I swear.”
Eleonore raised her brows. “Is it wrong to want to keep you safe?”
“You don’t understand.” Gigi jabbed a finger in the direction of City Hall. “Those people were there because of me. I asked them to be there. Which means if anyone’s hurt, it’s because of me .”
“No, it’s because of whoever attacked you.” Eleonore didn’t know many people in Glimmer Falls, but there was one obvious suspect. “Cynthia Cunnington, undoubtedly.”
“It wasn’t an attack ,” Gigi said, looking startled by the suggestion. “Some jackass set off illegal fireworks.”
Eleonore shook her head. “It was designed to look like fireworks, but it was clearly magic. Your sign was targeted first, then the microphone. That’s not random.”
Gigi’s lips parted, but she didn’t argue. For the first time, she seemed to understand the severity of the situation. “You really think someone tried to kill me?” she whispered.
“Not kill you,” Eleonore said. “If that was the goal, she wouldn’t have started with your sign or sent explosions into the crowd. Even if you’d still been at the microphone when it blew up, your burns would have been superficial. That was a message.”
Drop out of the race or else.
Fury washed over Gigi’s features. “The conniving bitch ,” she spat. “Does she care so much about keeping power that she’s willing to hurt her own constituents?”
“Yes,” Eleonore replied bluntly. Sacrificing peasants in the name of kings was a time-honored human tradition.
“I can’t imagine being such a horrible person.” Gigi shook her head. “Maybe I should drop out of the race to keep everyone safe.”
“Absolutely not.” Eleonore grabbed Gigi’s shoulders, looking her in the eye. “If you drop out now, she wins. And if she’s willing to light her own people on fire, what else is she willing to do to this town?” Ben had told her about the resort, how it would have destroyed the ley lines. When magic was woven into a place as deeply as it was in Glimmer Falls, unraveling that mystical network would have catastrophic effects. “She can’t win another term.”
Gigi leaned against the front window of the deli, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. She looked shaken but angry, which was good. Anger could keep a body going in the face of many odds. Long after Eleonore’s hope had died, her fury had kept her going.
“I don’t want people to be hurt,” Gigi said. “But you’re right. I can’t roll over and let her win. She’s gone too far.”
Headlights turned onto the street, and some of the tightness in Eleonore’s chest loosened at the sight of Ben’s familiar green car. Ben would help make this better. Eleonore knew how to fight and how to run, but Ben had a skill set she didn’t. He would make hot chocolate with marshmallows and tell Gigi it would be all right, and Gigi would believe him.
Maybe he would tell Eleonore that, too. And despite years of seeing the worst of people, years of forgetting how to trust, Eleonore might believe him, too.