Chapter Thirty-Nine
THIRTY-NINE
Eleonore was unsure what was occurring at the village green. She’d expected Gigi’s rally, but that didn’t explain why Cynthia Cunnington was standing on a separate stage opposite, or why Gigi was approaching her in a threatening manner. It also didn’t explain why a small dragon was wailing and smacking an electronic keyboard with its claws.
She pulled over and parked haphazardly, then jumped out of the car. If Gigi was here, Ben probably was, too.
Her eyes found him in the midst of the chaos, as if drawn by a magnet. He stood tall, serious, and sturdy, and her heart stuttered at the sight of him in his sweater vest and khakis.
He truly had tried to save her. She’d thought about it and thought about it on the drive back, pondering Ben’s behavior over the past months. Words could lie, but actions spoke silent truths, and everything he’d done—after the initial hiccup of ordering her to put on a stage show—had been to ensure her comfort and happiness. He cared, and he saw the details she didn’t.
In the woods he’d seen a danger she hadn’t. He’d only broken his word to save her life.
In return, she had stolen his car and abandoned him far from home.
Stars, would he forgive her for that?
Mariel pointed in Eleonore’s direction, and Ben turned. The moment he spotted her, Eleonore knew the answer to her question.
Of course he would forgive her. He was the best man she had ever known.
Ben’s expression flickered through hope, fear, and guilt. Then he started striding toward her with swoon-worthy determination.
Unfortunately, Eleonore couldn’t have the conversation she wanted with Ben while Gigi was bearing down on Cynthia. As much as she would have liked seeing a fistfight, the witch was toying with her pearls like she was about to cast a spell. An intervention was needed, and only one person here was fast enough to stop the confrontation before it started.
Eleonore held up her finger to indicate Ben should wait, then whipped her belt out of its loops and ran at top vampire speed toward Cynthia Cunnington.
“ Melerobbil o —Oof!” The spell was only half out of Cynthia’s mouth when Eleonore tackled her. She hastily bound Cynthia’s hands behind her back with the belt, then tore a piece off her own shirt and shoved it in the mayor’s mouth as a gag. For good measure, she ripped off the necklace, sending pearls flying and rolling across the stage.
Then, captive subdued, she hoisted the witch over her shoulder and ran away.
Cynthia’s kicks were laughably slow compared to how quickly Eleonore was moving. She sprinted down block after block, lamenting the dip in her physical fitness as her thighs burned and the air caught hot and sharp in her lungs. Finally, she chose a random dumpster in an alleyway and tossed Cynthia in.
Not bothering to listen to the muffled shrieks emanating from the bin, Eleonore sped back to the village green.
When she got there, the concert had stopped and everyone was staring at Cynthia’s empty stage with open mouths. “Where did she go?” someone asked. Gigi had stopped midstride, blinking in consternation at the place where her opponent had been.
Eleonore hopped onto Cynthia’s stage. “Carry on with the rally,” she shouted, waving a hand. “The mayor is in the dumpster.”
“Wait, literally?” Gigi asked.
“Hi, Eleonore!” Themmie called out from where she was hovering overhead. She was grinning hugely. “My money is on yes, literally.”
At that, more cheers erupted, and the dragon started attacking the keyboard again.
Eleonore had waited long enough to talk to Ben. The hours on the road had been interminable and unbearable. Left with nothing but her thoughts, regrets, and a festering resentment for speed limits—which she had continued to violate with enthusiasm—Eleonore had been crawling out of her skin by the time she’d arrived in Glimmer Falls.
She hopped off the stage and sped toward Ben. He was on his way to her as well, and they met in the middle of the crowd. Eleonore was tempted to fling her arms around him, but she wasn’t sure if he would welcome her affections yet.
Ben shuffled from foot to foot, eyes wide and jaw working like he was chewing on unspoken words.
“I’m sorry,” they blurted in unison, shouting over the noise.
Ben frowned. “Wait, why are you—”
“You don’t need to be—” she said.
“I ordered you around and—”
“I left you in the woods and—”
“I should have communicated better—”
“I should have listened—”
The conflicting apologies overlapped, and they both stopped speaking. After a moment, Eleonore ventured to start her speech over again.
“I—”
“So—”
At that, she cracked up. Dear gods, she was tired. She hadn’t slept well, tossing and turning as she castigated herself for acting without thinking. Driving was exhausting, too—all that time sitting in a vehicle that operated on a human concept of speed rather than the speed of romantic urgency.
Ben’s eyes crinkled with a smile. “Want to go somewhere a bit quieter?”
Eleonore nodded emphatically. “Yes, please.”
They walked together away from the green. An awkward but not bad silence had fallen between them, and whenever Eleonore peeked at him she caught him sneaking sideways looks at her, as well.
“How did you get here so fast?” he asked. “I would have been waiting for you at home if I’d known.”
It hadn’t felt fast, and Eleonore was still unhappy Lilith had forced her to drive all the way back, but she had to admit the time to think had been valuable. Unlike Ben, Eleonore rarely slowed down enough for deep contemplation.
“I drove aggressively,” she told him. On that note, she probably ought to confess…“I did encounter a police officer, though.”
Ben’s steps stuttered, and he looked at her with alarm. “Wait, you got pulled over? Did you get a ticket?”
“A ticket? For a show or something?” The officer had been rather dramatic.
“No, a speeding ticket. Something that costs money and possibly requires a court date.”
“Oh, nothing like that.” Eleonore smiled at him reassuringly. “Don’t worry. Lilith knocked him unconscious and I left him at the side of the road. He won’t bother us.”
Ben did not seem comforted by that news. He gaped at her. “She did what ? And you did—” He paused, then shook his head sharply. “You know what? That’s not important right now. What’s important is that you’re safe. And even if the cop took my license plate down, that’s not the end of the world, right? I’ll say I have no idea what happened or who was in the car. Or maybe Calladia can do a memory spell if they do try to arrest either of us for assaulting a police officer.” He swallowed hard. “Yes. This will be fine.”
Eleonore patted his arm, feeling a rush of affection for her worrier of a werewolf. “It will be. I’m just glad I’m here and we can talk.”
“I am, too.” He cleared his throat, gesturing toward where a red truck was parked half a block ahead. “I have a gift for you.”
Was this customary when lovers made up after a conflict? “But I didn’t bring a gift for you. And I haven’t even apologized properly yet for—” She broke off midsentence at the sight of Astaroth standing next to the truck with his sword unsheathed and gleaming in the sunlight. “What is he doing here?”
“How do you like being the one ambushed?” the demon asked the truck, poking the window with his sword. “Not so fun on that end, is it?”
Eleonore was wondering if he had gone the way of Lilith and cheerfully lost his mind when movement in the vehicle caught her attention. She gasped at the sight of black hair and a familiar thrashing head.
Eleonore was at the truck in an instant. “What is this?” she asked in amazement.
Astaroth jumped. “Bloody hell, you move quickly.”
Isobel was tied up, her mouth stopped with a gag. At the sight of Eleonore, her eyes widened and her movements stilled.
Ben caught up a few moments later. “This is my grand gesture,” he said, looking bashful. “An apology for ordering you around and for doubting your methods.”
“Oh, Ben. You don’t need to apologize. I should have stopped to think about why you would have ordered me around.” Eleonore pressed a palm to the window, imagining clawing Isobel’s eyes out. Isobel blinked in response, long and slow like a cat. “I can’t believe the witch is here,” she marveled. “How did this happen?”
“Well, Lilith facilitated it—”
“Don’t sell yourself so short,” Astaroth interrupted. His grin was wickedly delighted as he turned his attention to Eleonore. “Lilith might have teleported him there, but Ben here tricked the witch into trusting him and abducted her all on his own.”
Eleonore gasped. “You committed a crime?” she asked Ben. “For me?”
“For you,” he confirmed. His blush crept past the edge of his beard. “Because I love you, Eleonore.”
“Oh,” she said softly. She pressed her palm to her chest as tears welled. What perfect words those were. Three quick syllables, simple to speak but holding a universe of meaning. “Je t’aime,” she said in response. “Je t’adore. I love you, too.”
Ben’s grin spread across his face like a sunrise. He swept Eleonore into a fierce hug, lifting her off her feet. Then he put her back down, cupped her cheeks, and gave her the best kiss of her entire life.
Eleonore kissed him back, putting all her emotions into the movement of her lips. “I love you,” she whispered against his mouth. “I’ll tell you in every language I know, and then I’ll learn how to say it in a dozen more.”
“That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” Ben said before kissing her so deeply he bent her backward over his arm.
Astaroth cleared his throat. “That feels like it ought to be my cue,” he said. “Unfortunately, I’m a hopeless voyeur.”
Ben brought her upright again, breaking away from her lips to glare at Astaroth. “Clear out, demon.”
Astaroth chuckled. “All right, I’ll give you some peace. But we still have a witch to dispose of and a curse to break, so you have ten minutes before I bring the group here to finish this off.” He sheathed his cane sword, then sauntered off, whistling.
A muffled shriek came from the truck. Eleonore extended her middle finger in that direction, not bothering to look at Isobel. How could she when Ben’s eyes were so warm and kind, when he’d told her he loved her? “Let’s sit,” she said, plopping down on the curb.
Ben followed, long legs sprawling before him. “I guess I should explain what happened.”
Eleonore shook her head. “Lilith told me Isobel was casting a spell.”
“Damn demoness stealing my thunder,” he grumbled.
“Tell me anyway,” Eleonore encouraged. She was impatient to get to the part where she apologized, but as she’d learned, there was merit in waiting and listening sometimes. She laced her fingers with his.
“Okay.” Ben took a deep breath. “While you were talking to Isobel, I noticed her fingers moving at her side. And you know werewolf hearing is very good, better than most species. I heard her whispering under her breath. She was casting a spell.” He shook his head. “I was terrified, Eleonore. I didn’t know what she would do to you.”
She could see the echo of that fear in his expression. He was always so open-faced and openhearted, his emotions written all over him.
“So I issued a command to get you to safety,” he continued. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” Eleonore said. “I understand, and I believe you.” How could she have doubted him in the first place? He’d never been a great liar, but she’d somehow convinced herself otherwise during those moments of instinctive fear and rage. “I wonder what spell she was casting.”
Ben winced. “Right after you left, a lightning bolt hit the spot where you were standing. You would have died.”
At that, Eleonore whipped her head around to glare at the truck. Isobel’s face was pressed to the glass, and Eleonore issued a hiss in that direction. “After all that talk of me being the only person she could watch Star Trek with,” she said loudly enough for the witch to hear through the glass.
Isobel cringed.
“Weirdly,” Ben said, “I think she actually believes all those things she said about you.” He went on to quietly explain the details of his confrontation with Isobel, including the fact that she’d had a necromancer on speed dial and how she’d described Eleonore as her only friend.
Disgusted, Eleonore eyed the witch, who was now bumping her forehead against the window in a steady rhythm. It had long been obvious Isobel was time-maddened in the way of many ancient immortals, but while Eleonore had considered her terrifying and unpredictable, she now realized there was a sadder, more predictable truth.
“She’s lonely,” Eleonore said. “And pathetic.”
So lonely she’d imprisoned a person to be her “friend.” So pathetic she’d convinced herself she could kill that “friend,” resurrect them, and carry on as if nothing had happened.
“It was all I could do not to flip the table when she kept talking about how much she cared about you.” Ben shook his head. “That’s not love. Nothing she’s said or done is how love works.”
Eleonore knew that. But for the first time, she felt not just burning, murderous hate toward the witch. She felt disdain…and a bitter sort of pity. The enormous, terrifying monster who had shaped her life had ended up being so very small, after all.
“What a miserable life she’s led,” Eleonore said. “She’s commanded and killed and done horrible things to preserve her own eternal life, but what is there to preserve? She has no friends, no family, no love. And she can’t face that truth, so she lies to herself.” Hundreds, maybe thousands, of years of clinging to something not worth having.
“I have no sympathy for her,” Ben said flatly.
“Me neither.”
It didn’t matter how much an abuser said they loved someone—or even if they truly believed they loved that person. An abuser would always consider themselves the hero or heroine of their own story. But their love was a broken facsimile of the real thing, not worth having, and it wasn’t worth wasting time feeling sympathy for someone like that.
But recognizing how broken Isobel was, how small and lonely and grasping…Well, it was a new view that brought an odd sense of peace with it. Eleonore had been forced to obey this woman’s commands for centuries. She’d lived in fear and fury, dreaming of an escape she’d been unable to seize.
Now Eleonore had escaped, and she finally saw Isobel as she was. Not a monster to be feared for eternity, but a miserable thing to be left behind as soon as they could convince her to break the spell. How they would manage that was still to be determined, but now that Eleonore saw Isobel plainly, she knew there would be a way.
Eleonore turned her back on the Witch in the Woods and focused on Ben. Away with her past; ahead with her future. “I’m sorry I left you in the forest without asking any questions,” she said. “I was acting on instinct and anger.”
Ben rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, I did promise never to order you around again…”
Eleonore shook her head. “It’s my turn to explain, please.”
He nodded, earnest brown eyes fixed on her.
Eleonore took a deep breath. “When I was young, I trusted my clan. Loved them. We fought beside each other and fed each other and slept side by side, and I never once questioned that people could care for each other without conditions or ulterior motives.” She swallowed, growing misty-eyed again. “I forgot what that felt like,” she said, voice thickening. “My anger and distrust consumed me for so long, and then there you were: in the same position as Isobel when it came to my life, but wielding that power so differently. Not wielding it at all, actually, once you realized the terms. And deep down, I suppose I couldn’t quite believe that was genuine.”
It was Ben’s turn to squeeze her hand, offering silent support. How wonderful this was. How much she had missed this.
“Even when I started trusting you, I didn’t let myself trust all the way. I thought I had when we made love, but then at the cabin…” She shook her head. “I instantly assumed the worst. The first test of my trust, and I failed.”
“You didn’t fail,” Ben said. He drew her in gently, then kissed her forehead. “Six hundred years is a long time to build habits.”
“Well, I was unconscious for a lot of that—”
“However you define it, it was a long fucking time, Eleonore. If progress was a straight, easy line, we’d all be much less interesting people. This isn’t simple, and it won’t be simple going forward, and that’s okay.” He kissed her forehead again. “I’m here no matter what.”
She liked him being there. She also liked having his mouth at her forehead and his arm around her, so she nestled in, cuddling close. “The light is most beautiful to those who know the dark,” she said, remembering something her father had told her long ago. He’d always pushed himself to the limit of what his vampire body could take, standing at the keep window as the night turned purple and the pink line of dawn stretched across the sky. She’d stood at his side, watching the clouds grow orange and yellow, anticipating that first slice of pure sunlight when the world would be made anew. It had been beautiful, but never as beautiful to her as it had been to him.
Eleonore took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the crisp air of an autumn afternoon in a small town in the United States. She had forgotten the quiet wonder of sunrises and sunsets and the simplicity of closing her eyes and not entertaining a moment of doubt that the people at her side would protect her.
She’d forgotten what it was like to breathe easily.
“I want to start anew with you,” she told Ben. “Even if the curse can’t be broken right away. I want to love you and trust you and mix our lives however we can.”
“I want that, too,” Ben murmured against her hair. “But I fully intend on breaking that curse today—especially after I committed a felony for you.”
That made Eleonore laugh. She tipped her head up and kissed him, pouring her love and fledgling trust into it. Maybe she would struggle to keep that trust steady over the years to come. She would definitely hiss at him sometimes. But she would put her heart and her effort into loving him as best she could, and even if progress wasn’t a straight line, and even if she was never a soft or easy woman to live with, she’d strive to be better each day than she had been the last.
The sound of voices and footsteps approaching made Eleonore reluctantly draw away. Their ten minutes were up, and the Scooby gang had arrived to help with Isobel.
Eleonore stood, then extended a hand to help Ben up. Big and strong as he was, he didn’t need it, but he took it anyway, grinning at her. They faced their friend group together—Mariel and Oz, Calladia and Astaroth, Themmie, Rani, Kai, Avram, and the odd combination of Lilith and Mariel’s ancestor Alzapraz bringing up the rear.
“Yay!” Mariel said, clapping her hands. “They reconciled!”
“It was the grand gesture that did it,” Lilith said confidently. “I expect offerings of gratitude.”
Eleonore smiled up at Ben. “It wasn’t the grand gesture that did it,” she said. “It’s Ben. Just as he is and however I can have him.”
Astaroth opened his mouth, but Calladia elbowed him in the ribs before he could say something no doubt obnoxious.
“So how do we break the curse?” Mariel asked.
“The person who cast the spell must reverse it,” Eleonore said. “Isobel has to cut her palm, and I will cut mine. Then we clasp hands while she speaks whatever the opposite of the binding spell is.”
And there was the rub. Isobel wasn’t the current owner of the stone, but she still had to agree to free Eleonore from Ben’s power. Would she agree under torture? Or as a true immortal, would she wait out the decades until Ben was gone and the crystal—and Eleonore—fell back into her possession?
Eleonore looked over at Isobel again…and saw the witch staring back, an unreadable expression in her eyes.