Chapter 11
As the day stumbles along into evening and then night, the emptiness gets harder to ignore. There’s a chill that I can’t warm up from, but it’s the echoes that get to me. I hear the sounds of him moving about the cabin, but they’re not real. They’re a trick in my mind.
I change for bed, and as I’m undressing, I pause to trace the outline of Samite’s firemark over my rib cage. It feels strangely intimate to run my finger along the spiral pattern twisting with chaotic energy. It’s my skin, but his mark. I’m touching both of us. I would keep it if I could, this connection to him, but it’s already starting to fade, and I don’t think it’ll last.
I climb into bed and cuddle up to an embarrassment of sentimental nonsense. On Samite’s side are all the blankets and towels he folded neatly and put away. I pulled them out as soon as I got back to the cabin and filled his empty side of the bed. I drape myself over the pile now and close my eyes, but it barely takes the edge off the aching awareness that he’s gone.
Our burn ended. So, why does it feel like I’m laid out on a pyre?
I sleep poorly and wake up early. I can’t sit still, so I hike down to Last Hour Road just before dawn only to see that it’s still buried ten feet deep in snow. Damn it. I make the same hike the following morning, and the morning after, and many times in between. Anytime I hear a crack or crunch echoing up the mountain, I pull on my boots and rush out the door, but it’s always a branch splitting or a snow pocket collapsing, never what I hope it is, a road crew clearing the way for me to get to Samite to tell him I made a mistake.
When I get back to the cabin, my teeth are chattering. To warm myself, I set logs on the brick hearth and light a fire. A cheery little flame will pull me out of my funk. My timer is set, I take a seat at the island and let my gaze soften into an unfocused stare.
He offered to stay in town through the new year. If I’d agreed to go with him, we’d be together right now. We could be holed up in his hotel, continuing our own mostly naked, and very steamy holiday.
My eyes bounce along with the flickers, but my spirit doesn’t catch, and I get impatient waiting for it to happen. My attention lists, drawn to the window, and I find myself searching for signs of someone approaching. Do I expect him to scale the mountain to get back to me? No, of course not. Especially not after the heartless send-off I gave him, shoving him, and telling him to go.
What was I thinking? I should have ignored that damn cautionary voice in my head and let our burn continue through the new year. And after that? I don’t know, but I’m sure I was too hasty in cutting things off. Regret is eating holes in me, and fire is the wrong thing to try to patch myself up with. I tap impatiently to cancel the kitchen timer, and then I get up and douse the fire.
The next morning, I bolt awake at the sound of crashing followed by a steady rumble. They’re here! I stumble across the cabin, bumping into furniture in my hurry to grab a coat and shoes and get outside. Even before I make it to the road, I catch glimpses of the road crew far below, working their way up the switchbacks. The noise of the machines and voices of the crew ricochet across the craggy, snowy mountain, and it fills me with giddiness. I squeal and bounce on my toes before turning and hopping all the way back to the cabin like a snowshoe rabbit.
But when I get there, I freeze. What’s my game plan? Where will I go? His hotel? It’s already New Year’s Eve. Samite is probably long gone, home for the holidays, surrounded by his very rich family at their very luxurious home.
But what if he hasn’t left? I pull open my lingerie drawer and grimace. So much cotton. I could forgo undergarments, but what about my closet full of plaid? If I’m going to show up at his door unannounced and desperate to see him, I have to be wearing something sexy, or I might just die of embarrassment, especially if he’s not happy to see me, which is entirely possible.
Something sexy. I wrack my brain until a single option pops to mind, a beautiful outfit that is most definitely not plaid, but—joder. My stomach gives a queasy turn as I pull the garment bag from my closet. It’s this or nothing.
The sun is sitting right on the horizon by the time the road crew gives the all clear. Hopping in my sister’s car, I speed down the mountain, nearly colliding with a dark van headed in the other direction. It lays on its horn, and I brake too hard, fishtailing and skirting dangerously close to the cliff edge before I recover my steering. ?Mierda! That was close, but I can’t slow down.
I take the farm-to-market loop to avoid town and head up the winding road of Mount BZB. It’s about an hour’s drive. When I reach the hotel, I rush to the front desk and ask for Samite.
“Last name?” The demon in a white suit asks, and I’m dumbfounded to only now realize that Samite never told me his last name, and I never asked. I try cajoling the desk attendant into calling his room, but he refuses. He won’t confirm if he’s still a guest, checked out, or if he has ever stepped foot in the hotel before. I get nothing. Samite would be pleased.
I climb back into my car and stare out into the dark night. I have two aunts and six cousins who work at this hotel, but the security is so tight, there’s no way they could help me without losing their jobs.
Before I left the cabin, I assured myself he’d be here, that I wouldn’t have to go anywhere near town to find him, but now it’s the only place left to look.
My hands tremble as I start the car and put it into drive. I’m not speeding now. The car creeps along until I reach the fork, and my heart pounds as I steer right and drive past the sign welcoming me to Winter Bliss. “Have a lava-ly day!”
When I roll up to the first stoplight, my breath catches. The town is done up with banners, wrapped poles, and strings of lights. There are lanterns and torches, and seven-foot fire altars on every block, just waiting to be lit. It’s every bit as beautiful as I knew it would be when I first suggested it.
“Let’s open on New Year’s Eve. It’s thematically perfect. The town will be decked out with flame dancers and fire decorations. You have to see it, Ryan. It’s incredible. And the volcano erupts at the stroke of midnight.”
Just as I start to let my foot off the brake, a dark-haired man steps off the curb and smacks the hood of my car. I slam my foot back down, and my heart pounds in my chest. It’s him. It’s Ryan. I’d know that face, that hair, and that sneer anywhere.
“Watch it!”
I blink and it’s no longer him. The stranger turns to grab the hand of a small boy as they cross the street. He turns once more to glare at me. Not Ryan. Just a stranger, but my heart is still racing and a cold sweat trickles down the back of my neck.
I shouldn’t have come here. There’s nothing in town for me. Nothing. A horn blares behind me. I step on the gas and take the next two lefts, heading back out of town. Tears prick my eyes as I retreat up the mountain, and I swallow the bitter realization that wherever Samite is, here or back home, I can’t reach him.
The dark van I nearly collided with is parked outside my cabin when I arrive, only now I recognize it. I wonder what it’s doing here as I head inside.
“Carlos?” It’s my sister Lucia’s husband, my brother-in-law.
He grins at me. “Hey, Sof! Surprise!”
“What’s all this?” I ask. My first guess would have been that he was here to retrieve my sister’s car, but that doesn’t explain the massive screen he’s mounted to the wall.
“Your sister made a bargain with a demon and didn’t get burned, ha!” He takes the time to laugh at his own joke before he explains. “This demon came by wanting to buy the cabin. He made a good offer, but Lucia refused. She wouldn’t do you and the rest of the cousins like that, even though, you know, technically she could as the oldest and all.” I roll my eyes. My sister’s status as matriarch-in-waiting isn’t an argument we need to get into right now. Thankfully, he drops it and continues with his story.
Lucia and the demon struck a deal, and the short of it is, “We got all this high-tech shit. All we had to do was install it at the cabin as soon as the roads opened. Good deal, huh? I already set up the satellite dish outside. And this is a top-of-the-line video conferencing package: ninety-inch monitor, motion tracking camera, microphone, speakers.” He points out each component. “It’s meant for high-security, international calls, but you can also use it like a regular TV. Sweet, huh?”
“I don’t understand.” It has to be Samite, but—“How did Lucia meet this demon?”
“Through Noelle.”
“The librarian?” That makes even less sense.
“Yep. Anyway, gotta scoot. We got the gig to work the opening ceremonies, and Lucia will be pissed if we’re late. I still gotta get into my body paint and stilts.” Carlos hands me what I assume is a remote and is out the door before I can ask him anything else.
The moment the door closes, the remote starts to ring in my hand like an old-fashioned telephone. I look it over, but there are no buttons. It’s a smooth, featureless wand.
“Hello?” I say into one end of the wand.
It lights up a crimson red. “Hello. You are receiving an incoming call from a private number. Would you like to activate video conferencing?”
“Yes.” My heart skips. It’s him. It has to be.
“Would you like to apply filters to obscure your face and voice?”
“No,” I say with a snorted laugh.
“Would you like to blur your background and disable location tracking?”
“No.” It’s then that I notice the logo at the bottom of the obnoxiously oversized monitor, a pentagon and padlock with the name Mammon Technology under it. This is definitely from Samite.
“Our recommended mode for all calls is full privacy. Are you sure you would like to accept this call with no privacy features enabled?”
“Just answer the call before he hangs up.” I say with a huff, no longer amused.
“Your call will start in three, two, one.”
The screen lights up, and I’m staring at his face blown up to a giant scale. It’s like coming up for air, and I make a gasping noise I’m not proud of.
“Hello.” Is all I can think to say.
I’m viewing his face in profile. He’s looking off screen, probably driving, but the space around him is blurred out, so it’s hard to say for sure. In the corner of the screen, a red-light flashes next to a string of aggressively red text that reads: private caller, data transfer disabled, recording disabled, tracking blocked.
“Good you’re there,” he says, still not looking at the screen. “I’m ten minutes out.” He hangs up.
I have ten minutes to compose myself, and it’s barely enough. He’s here. He’s coming back to me. My blood starts to spark when I hear the sound of tires crunching up the icy driveway, and I can’t wait for him to knock on the door, so I rush out onto the porch.
He steps out of the car, and as he starts walking towards me, I eat up the sight of him dressed in an all-black suit. It’s so well fitted that I”m struck with the same wonder I hear in his voice.
“Sweet Mother Darkness,” he murmurs as he comes to a stop at the foot of the steps. “What are you wearing?” There’s a look of awe as his eyes trace me up and down, and his face lights up with a delighted smile, my favorite of his smiles. I flush warm under his gaze, and when our eyes meet, a spark lights in my chest as surely as if he’d snapped his fingers.
“Do you like it?” I ask, biting my lip as I smile at him. This is the dress I would have worn tonight. After dinner service, I would have slipped into my hostess dress for the last few hours of our New Year’s Eve party, the grand finale of our opening day celebration. It’s clingy and metallic, low cut with sheer sleeves. It doesn’t hide all my scars, but it shimmers like crystal in the moonlight, and the way Samite stares, I’m glad I didn’t leave it hanging in the closet.
“I do. I like it a lot,” he says, sounding a little breathless. Then he clears his throat and meets my eye. “I might like it too much. More than you want me to?” I catch the flash of uncertainty in his eyes and realize he’s no longer talking about the dress. He holds his breath and searches my face as he awaits my answer.
“No.” I shake my head. “I like it too much too.” Way, way too much. The lines of his face soften as understanding passes between us, and I catch that lovely little flicker of orange in his eyes.
“I’m very glad to hear it,” he says softly.
My eyes drop, and I notice he’s holding a lamp. “Did you steal that from the library?” I ask with a surprised little laugh. It’s a distinctive pattern of red and yellow Italian glass. Beautiful. I’d know that lamp anywhere.
“I bought it. I owed you a lamp, and Noelle seemed to think you’d like this one,” he says. I blink as I process that.
“How exactly do you know the librarian?”
“We’re friends,” he says simply and, climbing the couple of steps, he offers me the lamp. I take it. It’s not heavy, but the weight of our bargain adds its own heft, and it feels like it could anchor me in a storm. He followed through, just like I knew he would, but in a way I wouldn’t have guessed. This is no mere replacement. It’s so much more.
“Thank you,” I say, looking up at him with a bit of wonder. How did I ever mistake him for anything less than incredible? His face is the most welcome sight I’ve ever seen, and as I stare, fuel is added to the fire burning inside me.
“Oh, and this.” He pulls out a paperback book from inside his jacket but holds onto it with both hands, looking briefly uncertain before holding it out to me. “I read it. I think you’ll like it.”
“Like Water For Chocolate.” I accept the book and read the title aloud. I’ve heard of it, but I haven’t read it. I will now. “Thank you.”
“It’s due back to the library in three weeks but keep it however long you want. I’ll pay the late fees.”
“You’re too generous,” I say teasingly, but it’s true. He’s too generous. He’s here. I can’t believe he came back. “I’ll return it on time. I promise. I thought you said you didn’t own a jacket,” I say with a wry grin as my eyes drop to his shoulders and slide along the line of his lapel.
“I said I don’t own a winter coat. I don’t need one. But I obviously need a blazer. How would I complete a perfect evening ensemble without one?” He dips his head, giving the impression of a bow. It draws a short laugh from me.
Gods, I’ve missed him. His particular mix of smugness and charm. There’s a tightness in my chest, and it can only mean one thing. Este demonio me robó el corazón. This demon has stolen my heart.
“I was afraid you’d left,” I say softly. I told him to go home, and the fear that he’d listened to me has haunted me ever since.
He takes a small step closer. “I couldn’t leave. Not until I knew I had a way of getting ahold of you again.” The flame dances inside me at his answer.
“You didn’t owe me this. We didn’t strike a bargain,” I say, holding up the wand to the unreasonably large video conferencing screen.
“It’s not yours. I made a deal with one of the other property owners. I owed her and was obligated to pay up.” He gives me a crooked smile, and I laugh.
“That sounds like some crafty, underhanded devilry on your part.”
“Thank you.” He looks genuinely pleased, but then his expression changes, and he extends his hand in the small space between us. “Come with me into town.”
“Why?” I ask. We could just stay here, I think, as my mind drifts towards the bedroom.
“Because tonight is a very special night. It’s the most magical and sacred night of the year, and I want to spend it dancing and shouting in the streets with you. I want to kiss you, Sofia Maria Moreno, right as the volcano erupts.”
It’s a very good invitation, the best I’ve ever received, and I’d be an idiot many times over to turn this one down, but going into town? I already tried and failed at that tonight.
“Give me a minute,” I say and head inside. I deposit the lamp, book, and wand on the coffee table and take a moment to feel my racing heart. It’s nothing compared to the fire that burns beneath my skin. I am ablaze, alive with a flame that has me feeling opposite emotions at once: scared and brave, weak and powerful, uncertain and sure beyond any shadow of a doubt.
I don’t care what tonight was supposed to be. I only care what it is now that Samite is here. It’s New Year’s Eve. I’m in a beautiful dress, and I have an invitation from a devastatingly handsome demon to the best party in the whole world. I don’t care what reminders await me in town. I won’t turn him down. Not again. I want this night with Samite far more than anything I want to avoid, and I’m going to have it. I grab my coat and walk back out the door.
He extends his hand once more.
“Lista,” I say as I take it. “I’m ready.”
As midnight approaches, Samite pulls me to a stop. I’m covered in sweat, and my voice is raw from shouting. He has streamers tied to his horns, and he’s lost his coat, tie, and shirt along the way. His torso is done up in body paint, courtesy of roving artists, and I’ve picked up my own festive adornments, a crown of gold glitter, strands of shiny red beads, and a sash tie-dyed like blue flame.
“Ten, nine—” As the crowd starts chanting the countdown, one of his hands slides into place at my lower back, and both mine loop around his, landing just above his pants.
“Eight, seven—” His free hand cups the side of my face, and his lovely black eyes stare into mine.
“Six, five—” I tug him closer as his thumb brushes my cheek.
“Four, three—” An orange glow flickers at the back of his eyes. I spy a wisp of smoke just before they close, and he dips his head towards mine.
“Two, one!” Our mouths meet in a tender and passionate kiss.
The ground shakes under our feet, and the crowd goes wild as Mount Winter Bliss roars to life. I can’t see it, but I can hear it, and I can feel it, the perfectly timed eruption that announces the start of a different kind of burn. A fire that needs no tending, no fuel, no kitchen timer to keep it in check.
We come up for air. He pulls me in tight at his side as we turn to watch the lava flow like destiny pouring out of the earth. Hot and bright, and timeless.
He kisses my temple.
This isn’t a burn I could stop even if I wanted to. It’s a river, and I can’t swim. All I can do is let go and let it either consume me or carry me away.