Chapter Fourteen
Raccoon My Heart
Bellamy
There are exactly two types of mornings I hate.
The first is the one where I wake up to Nyx yowling as if he’s a starved creature because I didn’t fill his food bowl in a timely manner. The second is when my coffee is decaf, as if I would ever order that. Yes, it’s happened, and yes, I hexed Clarissa for the day.
And now it looks like I can officially add a third morning.
I enter my living room, the air still, and see my familiar, a black blur on the worn rug.
He lies there, a fox prince, his fur catching the light.
Beside him, Lady Bandit, sleek and black, is a tight, curled knot, nestled close, as if this bizarre pair were the most natural thing in the world.
She’s not only purring (wait, do raccoons purr?) but Nyx is grooming her foot in slow, deliberate licks causing me to wonder what’s about to happen in the middle of the living room and if I want to be part of it.
His message is loud and clear: she’s staying.
This. This is Miles’s fault, and he should be the one tending to the fluffy ball of trouble. Lady Bandit looks up at me as if she heard my thoughts, chitters, and like the criminal she is, steals one of my shiny hairpins from the coffee table. Damn it, I’m going to have to hide all my crystals now.
My phone vibrates in my hand. Speaking of the man who made this a normal part of my morning. I lift my phone to find a text message from Miles.
Dog Boy: Morning, Trouble. How’s Lady Bandit settling in? Has she stolen your heart yet or is she still working her way in? Also…please confirm that she hasn’t stolen any of your coffee? I read that it’s really bad for raccoons.
Shaking my head, I click the text box to respond, my fingers hovering over the keys. I want to respond; I want to show that I’m laughing at them. But a part of me still doesn’t believe that he will want me if he knows that eventually (sooner rather than later) I’ll die some tragic death.
Pocketing my phone, I stick with never replying. It’s better to save him the later heartbreak from my death. As much as I would like to have someone to love and be loved by, I won’t force someone to deal with that. Better to stay alone than to ensure someone’s suffering.
He’s sweet, almost too sweet with his gifts, constant flow of text messages, and showing up each day with a coffee and a pastry.
Elora’s words play in my mind, I know she thinks he’s my destiny, but how could I be his fate too?
Maybe her visions are wrong? There’s no way that The Weaver would give someone as sweet as him to someone like me?
That is a cruel twist of fate. He deserves far more than someone who will leave him, not by choice, but by the very fate that brought us together.
He’s better off finding a wolf that he can grow old with, not me.
I’m in the middle of sipping my coffee when I hear my front door bang open. I swear, for such a dainty woman, Elora really makes the most noise when coming in. You’d think she would be quiet as a mouse with her ethereal beauty.
Her white-blonde hair is glowing in the early morning light, only enhancing my theory that she is really a high priestess given a mortal form. She says I’m crazy. I say she’s in denial.
As she stands in the opening to my kitchen, confusion crumples her face. Her thumb is hooked over her shoulder as she opens and closes her mouth like a fish out of water.
“Good morning, sister,” I say as I take a sip of my coffee.
“Why is there a raccoon lying on the floor with Nyx as he runs his paws down her? I’m not even sure what I witnessed, but I rushed away out of fear.”
I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. She freezes, staring at me as if I’m suddenly growing a horn out of my forehead. She is blinking slowly, her mouth agape, and she’s as still as a statue.
“What is happening on your face right now? Is that a smile?” She rushes over and slides into the chair across from me.
A low chuckle leaves me. “You know I do smile from time to time.”
She points her finger at me. “I can literally count and name the last five times that you’ve smiled, and almost all of them have been recently with the arrival of a certain wolf.”
“He’s not the reason I’m smiling.”
“Who are you trying to convince right now? Me or you?”
Exasperated, I say, “You, obviously. I’ve clearly smiled more than that.”
Nyx decides at that exact moment to make his appearance. He smirks at me, knowing that I’m lying to myself more than anyone else.
“Elora, you should see her face when she’s reading one of the many texts from Dog Boy. It’s nauseating to watch.”
I flick his tail. “You know you’re supposed to be on my side here.”
If a fox could shrug his shoulders, I’m positive that he would have by now.
“Bells, it’s okay to like him back, even if you are scared.”
“It’s not just about being scared. I’m not going to subject him to what fate has in store for me as the dark twin. Unlike you, I don’t have a bright future. Why would I bother dragging him into my life, falling for him, only to shatter his heart with my death.”
Her eyes go white for a moment, her mouth open as she breathes through whatever she is seeing.
I remember the first time it happened when we were merely small children.
I was about to climb a tree to grab an apple when she screamed.
Her tiny hands covered her face as she shook her head frantically.
Her pleas for it to stop still ring in my ears as if I’m standing there right now.
It wasn’t until our mother, Ophelia, came running outside that I got my first taste of being the unwanted one.
She shook me by my shoulders, demanding I tell her what I did to her sweet Elora.
The vision passed, but the scars of that moment remain.
Elora cried into our mothers shoulder about how she saw me fall and break my arm trying to climb the tree. She said it felt so real.
Later, after I snuck out of the house, it was Mabel who told me what had happened.
Not my mother, who hadn’t left Elora’s side.
Nor my father, who would rather spend his time reading over tomes from some long-dead warlock than comfort his other daughter.
I used to think he would be on my side, but one look from him when I needed my tears dried, and I knew I would never find comfort in his arms.
Mabel had tapped her thigh before spreading her arms wide open for me.
Scrambling up into her lap, I had buried my face in her black lace top that smelled of mystical moonlight, comfort, and serenity.
A combination I will always associate with comfort.
When my tears had finally dried and my hiccups subsided, she explained Elora was a seer.
A powerful, yet terrifying ability. While some would covet the knowledge she had, the knowledge of what will happen to those she loves and cares for would always torment her.
She could never stop the vision from coming nor alter the information she saw.
From that day on, Elora was in classes with our elder seer to train her in the art,while I was left to play by myself.
By the time Elora came home in the evenings, she would be too tired to play.
We were only four, yet they treated her as if she were an adult.
I can’t even remember if she played dolls with me again.
The only person who even bothered to see what kind of magic I had was Mabel.
She was the person who gave me books to use to study with, watched my attempts at bone scrying, and would lecture me when I dabbled a little too far.
Unfortunately, I’m the only dark witch in our coven so everything I’ve learned is from texts from previous dark twins.
You would think this would have been what bonded my father and I together, but you would be wrong.
He would scrunch his nose and curse every time he read the title of the book I was reading.
Apparently his love for books doesn’t extend to what I’m reading, only what he’s reading.
One more reason for my perfect wizard father to look down on me.
Elora gasps when her vision ends, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She always has a disoriented look to her when she comes out of them. As if she is determining if she is back in the present or still in the future.
“Bells,” she says on a breath.
I never know if I actually want to know what she’s seen. But the urge is always there, whispering in the back of my mind. Just ask her. You know you want to know.
“I don’t want to know.”
A weary sigh escaped her lips. “But you need to know.”
“No. I don’t. You want me to know, but I don’t want to know.”
“It has to do with the curse.”
I shake my head, holding her gaze even if she’s pleading with her eyes. I will not fall for it. There’s nothing good that can come from that knowledge.
“El, you are the twin our parents want and adore. Just let me live out the tragedy of being the dark twin. I accepted my fate a long time ago.”
“Bells, please…”
“Enough, I don’t want to talk about fate or the golden retriever that is floating around this town. Either enjoy some coffee with me or leave me to do so.”
She picks up her cup of coffee, the motion slow and heavy, like the weight of her thoughts drags against her hand. I know she isn’t really going to let it die here, but I will live in the belief that she won’t push her vision into reality.
Later after several cups of coffee and two glasses of wine, Elora and I are in fits of giggles on the couch, laughing over the Regency ghost that recited poetry to me in front of Mabel. We are taking turns standing up to make sonnets for the other with words of love and affection.
Elora’s eyes are puffy from the amount of tears that have fallen as she laughed. Her lashes are clumped together as her eyes dance.
“Please tell me what you did as revenge for that one? I know you didn’t let him get away with that one?”
“Actually.” I put a finger to my chin. “I hadn’t, but now that you mentioned it…” I move my nose from side to side, our little joke about being witches. “That should give him a taste of his own medicine.”
“Oh, no…” She grips her side as she rolls over on the couch. “What have you done?”
“Nothing too serious…”
“Bellamy…”
“Fine, I just hexed him to see himself as a Regency-era poet, with a powder wig included. Every time he looks at his reflection, he will see it.”
“That’s a good one!” We both burst out laughing imagining him in that outfit. It’s pretty funny, and I wish I could see it myself.
We spent the rest of the afternoon drinking wine, laughing, and gossiping about all the men in our tiny town.
It’s the most I’ve laughed in a while, and it reminds me of when we first moved out of our parents’ house.
It was the first time we were able to spend time together without expectations or judgement.
She leaves when the sun starts to set, casting a warm glow through the house. Nyx and Lady are curled up together on his bed, peacefully sleeping as the last rays of sun warm them.
I can’t help but feel envious of them. I want someone to hold me through the darkest moments. What would it be like to have someone in my corner instead of being alone all the time?