24. When Lightning Strikes
24
When Lightning Strikes
Calliope
T hey leave for Lyon’s Cross the next morning. Kane is adamant that he should stay behind to keep an eye on things, but as they’re driving away, Rory tells her that it’s more to do with the fact that he gets carsick and doesn’t want to admit it.
The car rocks along the highway, creaks of protest from its chassis even as the asphalt becomes a smooth black snake in front of them. Calliope leans back, closing her eyes against the early morning sun, already simmering with August heat. Her grandma used to tell her that August heat is different from July or even June heat. It’s heavier for one, having been gathering for weeks by the time August rolls around. It seems to press down and sizzle with something wild and fierce. Soon, it will become too heavy, and the air will crack apart like glass, as summer bows down to autumn.
Even with her eyes closed, she can tell that Rory keeps glancing nervously at her, as the sun streams in through the passenger side window, leaving a triangle of shade on her left arm. His quick glances stop when they turn off the main highway and begin to cut southeast across the state, heading for the Louisiana border along the coast. Tall pine trees line either side of the road, keeping the full force of the sun at bay.
Rory fiddles with the radio when the station cuts out with static. He finds a classical music station with frantic violins and a soprano that Calliope assumes is singing about love. The car smells of the same spicy, heady scent of the cigarettes that Rory likes to smoke.
She keeps her eyes closed, oranges and purples swirling on the inside of her eyelids as they speed by trees and billboards and strings of electric wires. Her mind is burning with the worry that something will go wrong in Lyon’s Cross. What if her husband is there, searching for her? What if a client of his is there and recognizes her? The worries roil about in her stomach. She hopes she doesn’t throw up the blood she drank this morning.
What if someone cuts themselves? Or maybe, she’ll lose control all on her own, blackout and sink her teeth into someone’s neck because they stood too close to her. The memory of Officer Burton’s skin against her teeth is still buried deep—or at least, she hopes so. She has the sudden, urgent need to be sure .
The AC in the car blows cold, mildewy air in her face as she slips into her Mind’s Eye, the booming timpani drums scrunching their way out of the car speakers replaced by bird song. Her forest stretches beyond her. Golden light trickles down from the canopy overhead, sinking into the leaves and the soft, damp soil under her feet.
She works on being present in both: the car and her Mind’s Eye. A stabbing pain develops in her right temple, but after a few minutes of effort, she can still hear the creak of the car, the high whirring sound as it barrels through space, tires scraping against the roadway, and yet, her consciousness is perceiving the forest in her mind.
Zipping around her is a hummingbird: her worries. It flies in her face, tangles in her hair, making it impossible to step forward, to see beyond its iridescent wings. She stills, waiting patiently for it to slow down, to hover in front of her with curiosity. Then, she scoops it up in her hands, and walks, barefoot through the forest, past the sinkhole that is her memory of Officer Burton—still buried quite deep—beyond the clematis that covers the scars caused by her memory of Elijah’s blood.
Hun walks beside her, her many eyes holding the sunlight like tiny flames. Her large paws leave impressions in the soil that fill up with water, becoming tiny ponds with lazy koi fish and frogs hopping excitedly.
Calliope finds a tall, strong oak tree with a birdcage hanging from its lowest branch. She deposits the hummingbird inside and locks the cage. The hummingbird hovers in the air, eyes narrowed at her. It’ll find its own way out eventually, she’s sure of that, but, for now, she feels the ease spread through her. She opens her eyes as Rory turns into a gas station.
“Just need to fill up the tank,” he says, maneuvering into a space beside one of the gas pumps.
She blinks at the clock. She was in her Mind’s Eye for an hour and a half, though it felt like mere minutes. She gets out to stretch, the smell of gasoline and exhaust sticking to the back of her throat.
“Did you fall asleep?” he asks, looking at her over the top of the car.
She leans on the car, propping her head up with her hand. “No, I was working on my forest, actually. I’ve gotten pretty good at navigating.” She looks down, fiddling with a small chip in the paint. “I wanted to be prepared. To be around people, that is.”
“Are you worried about that?” he asks, as he returns the pump to its cradle and replaces the gas tank cover.
“Yes. Aren’t you?”
He rests his forearms on the top of the car. “Why?”
She frowns. “What do you mean?”
He tilts his head to the side. “Why are you worried?”
“Because…” She shrugs, hugging her arms around her torso. “Well, you know. ”
He looks around. The gas station he picked is right off the road, surrounded by nothing but empty land. There’s not a soul around, except for the bored gas station employee inside of the white concrete building. Off to the side, is a small rest stop. He motions for her to follow and sits on top of the table, feet propped up on the seat.
“I have my own ideas,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean they’re true. Tell me what you’re feeling. Explain it to me.”
“I’m worried that I’ll…lose myself. Again. Like with Officer Burton and even Elijah.”
His eyebrows knit together. “You didn’t lose yourself. Instincts are sometimes stronger than logic. For any living creature, but especially for a vampire.”
She shakes her head. “No, I get that. Both of those…incidents could have been worse. If it wasn’t for you and Kane…” She bites her lip as she looks out at the empty road. She looks back at him. “I know you can compel me, and I give you permission to do that if something goes wrong. I won’t fight against it. But I guess I’m also hoping that if I can strengthen my shields, then maybe that instinct won’t even have a chance to get out in the first place.”
“And how are they now? Feeling strong?”
She makes a noncommittal sound in the back of her throat. “Sort of,” she admits.
“Do you want to test them?”
She nods quickly .
He eases himself up from the table and comes to stand in front of her. “I’m just going to ask you to take a step backward.”
She nods, chin down as she readies herself for his mental intrusion. When she looks up into his eyes, ageless and bright, she can see his pupils dilate, dark pools pushing away the shimmering gray. He tilts his head to the side and smirks, his tapered canine teeth just visible.
She is painfully aware of the physicality of him: of how his height and weight are so different from her own, and yet, his bulk is not awkward. How could it be when she can feel the strength buzzing under his skin even from where she stands? He is dangerous and wild and so very alluring. The thought sends a shiver through her body and she is acutely reminded that whatever tender, delicate thing she has been cultivating for him is not the same as the infatuation she felt for her husband. That was a flash of white-hot heat, a flame spent quick. This is gossamer-thin, pearlescent emotion. This is heavenly warmth pooling in her center, this is—
“Step backward.”
His words melt over her mind like honey—like her first drink of blood—and the command hits her with a strike of lightning, so strong, her throat burns with the force of it. Electricity seems to crackle in her head. She reminds herself of what they’re doing, the purpose of this exercise. Her grandma’s voice seems to echo in her head: Stay focused, Cal. Hun agrees.
She feels the electricity sink down into the earth of her Mind’s Eye—but instead of bracing herself against the impact and pushing it away, she embraces the energy. She lets it travel down into the soil and it tangles with the tree roots. She feels it disperse with a thin crackle as she very purposefully takes a step forward.
Rory repeats his command, slightly louder this time, the familiar syllables sliding off his tongue, caressing her skin like a kiss. She tries a different approach, this time. She clenches her teeth, willing her feet to stay firm. In her Mind’s Eye, she imagines her legs turning into roots, burrowing deep in the ground.
He says it again, his tone soft yet still demanding. Back.
She is unrooted, upturned. Refusing to move at all hasn’t worked, so she goes back to her first approach. She does the opposite again.
She is now standing in front of him, so close her fingers brush against him. It’s accidental at first, slightly startling because even though her eyes are open, her consciousness is focused on her mental construct. She’s not sure why she does it, but she lingers, fingertips seeking the coolness of his body, trailing along the smooth muscles of his arms. She’s so warm compared to him that she wonders why he hasn’t melted from her touch, like an ice cube in the sun. A chocolate bar left in a pocket. A snowflake kissing her cheek. She blinks and his visage is overlaid on her thought-structure like a half-exposed photograph.
He reaches up and his palm connects with her cheek. Her body is summer. August. A flame burning under her skin. His fingers drift downward, against the side of her neck, and she feels him take a step forward, his body pressed against her. So cold. Unyielding. January’s frost. “Take a step backward.”
She can smell the spark of magic in his voice, and she is so distracted by the overwhelming scent of vetiver and clove—of the closeness of him and the shock of desire that comes with his proximity—that she finds herself giving into the strange pull in her muscles that doesn’t come from her, but his voice, like the curse in her blood, wiping her mental construct away as strongly as a fire in a real forest.
She calls up her mental construct as quickly as possible, but her foot is still midair when the forest flickers back into her consciousness, and she begins to fall backward. Rory grabs her quickly, but instead of simply breaking her out of the compulsion, she accidentally pulls him into her Mind’s Eye with her.
* * *
Rory looks up and blinks, turning around in a slow circle. A rudely disturbed Hun rises and bares her teeth at the intruder. Rory jumps, hands clenched into fists as he warily watches the large wolf-like animal.
Calliope stands in between them, hands raised. “ It’s okay,” she says hurriedly. “It’s just my hunger.” She turns and reaches out to Hun, smoothing down her ears and scratching at her neck. “It’s okay, Hun,” she tells the beast, glancing up at Rory. “Rory is a friend. He’s allowed here.”
Hun sniffs in Rory’s direction and then bumps Calliope’s cheek with her nose before settling back down into her nook between two large tree roots.
Even after Hun closes her eyes and seems to forget the intruder, Rory stays tense, fists clenched at his side. “Your…hunger…?” He seems to have forgotten how to speak. He looks around at the tall trees, the lush growth with an unreadable expression.
She suddenly feels entirely self-conscious. This is the metaphysical manifestation of who she is. What if he doesn’t like it? The thought causes a sudden eruption of mushrooms at their feet. Rory stumbles backward, eyes wide. She picks a deliberate path through the mushrooms, holding her skirt high so she can see where she’s stepping. She reaches toward him—
The horn from a truck jars them out of her Mind’s Eye, and they are back on the roadside, a belated hot puff of air blowing past them as cars zip down the interstate.
“That was…” Rory takes a step back. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face only to have it fall across his forehead again. Her fingers itch to brush it away, but she doesn’t dare move closer until she knows what he’s going to say. She can see the emotions morphing behind his eyes, and she isn’t sure which one will rise to surface.
“That was…,” he begins again. He takes a step closer. “Incredible. That wasn’t—wasn’t me slipping into your mind. You pulled me in, all of me. Or my consciousness or whatever.” He takes another excited step closer, lowering his voice. “How did you do that?”
“I don’t know,” she says, shakily. She feels queasy, dizzy. She leans forward until her forehead is against his chest, letting the coolness of him soothe the pain pulsing behind her eyes. His hands tangle in her hair, then he presses his fingers against the back of her neck. She lets out a small appreciative sound as he gently massages her shoulders.
“Touch makes compulsion stronger,” he says. She can feel the words rumbling through his rib cage “It might take a bit more practice before you can fight that off. It’s probably not the best defense though, pulling someone into your head with you.”
“Right.” Her voice is muffled against his shirt. She looks up. “I didn’t mean to. Pull you in with me, that is.”
“It’s my fault.” He glides his hands up and down her arms, as if trying to warm her up, but instead, he’s trying to cool her down. The act is so strangely intimate that it has the opposite effect. Her body seems to burn hotter.
“I pushed you too hard,” he continues, wetting his lips as he looks at her, his gaze tracking a path across her cheeks, down the length of her neck. “Thank you for letting me be there. For trusting me. For telling your…Hunger that I’m welcome.”
She still feels shaky, and she nods, eyelids flickering with fatigue. Her throat is on fire and her legs feel wobbly, boneless even.
“You need to sit,” he murmurs, leading her back to the car.
She stumbles slightly, but leans against the firm, solid length of him. She slides awkwardly into the car, letting her head fall back against the headrest, eyes half-lidded watching a blurry Rory walk around to the driver’s side. He slides into the seat, and she hears the clink of keys, the engine roaring into life.
She slides into her Mind’s Eye, to examine the patch of burned ground, still smoking from Rory’s mental attack. The acrid smell of smoke lingers in the air. Hun nudges her hand, and she absent scratches behind the creature’s ear as she kicks some dirt over the scorched patch of earth.