Oh.
Eddie with the gun and the lecherous gleam in his eye flashes to mind.
“You don’t know that’s him in my house.” The words come out barely above a whisper.
“Not for sure, no, but it’s likely someone trying to get to Eli,” Ted says in an equally low voice. “And it’s all my fault.”
I push away from him. “How is it your fault?”
JJ clears his throat awkwardly, breaking the charged moment between us. “Did you guys want to see what shadow man does when you’re not there, G?” G is preferable to babe since it doesn’t set Ted off.
As JJ restarts the video, the room folds in on itself, the atmosphere thick with apprehension. We watch the shadow maneuver, an entity that feels half-there and half-not. It roams with a strange familiarity around the house, touching things with an eerie gentleness, like a lover tracing a beloved's face.
Then, shockingly, it stops at a small nook, a corner where I keep my dreams and wishes scribbled in the fragile pages of numerous diaries. The shadow leafs through them, pausing at places, as if reading, absorbing the emotions inked across the pages like a sponge. I don’t write faithfully, but lately I'd been trying to work out what would make me happy. Many of those pages include plots against Ted, dreams of what I could be, the deep painful shame of being unable to commit to a single fucking avenue.
The intimacy of the act slaps me across the face, a violent tearing open of my deepest sanctums for a stranger to peer in, to judge, to possess.
Beside me, I can feel Ted's fury, a palpable entity, ready to pounce, to protect. But the shadow is gone. It disappeared hours ago, leaving paranoia and anxiety.
This is the moment. I could crumble, run back to Boston, hell, run back to the safety of my Midwest family. A perfect reason to abandon the course, the project, and my other. . . interests. My eyes flit toward Ted.
It’s what I do. It’s what I’ve always done.
When things aren’t going the way I want them to, I change course.
The shadow finally retreats, but not before leaving something on the kitchen table.
Ted is on his feet in an instant, his frame rigid with anger and resolve. "I’m going over there," he declares, his voice echoing a promise of war, of a looming battle. It takes no time at all to get to my place. Despite being flanked by three bear shifters, I feel fragile.
The token the shadow left is still there. I pick up the three by three frame that encases a preserved butterfly with brilliant yellow wings.
“It’s a message,” Eli announces.
“Yeah, but what’s the message, dingus?” JJ hits him upside the head with a sound thwack.
“Hey,” Eli whines, punching his brother. “I get I fucked up, but lay off.”
Ted’s head tilts up before he places his nose to the message in question. “I don’t detect any scent. None at all in fact.”
JJ goes on. “If the person who left this is one of the people after you, Eli, you would know what this means.”
“I thought you said this was likely fae or mage related?” I ask, my head spinning as I try to keep up. “Eli crossed human thugs.”
“With a dracanoid on their payroll,” Ted supplies. “Gangsters don’t discriminate when they only care about the color green. Eli has a knack for crossing types that have their hands in black market magic, fae smuggling, or underground fairy court passage.”
Eli holds his hands up. “Thisis not something Eddie or any of the others would pull. Ted may be right about the shit they have access to, but I’m telling you they are more abash heads in, ask questions latersort of bunch. Also, why would they go after Goldie like this over money they want from me?”
Tension practically vibrates off Ted from where his palms are set against my kitchen counter, staring at the preserved butterfly like it might bite him. “Because you led them here and they got a look at Goldie. Eddie fell for her siren power, I saw it. If they get that obsessed with collecting money off your broke ass, think of what those degenerates would do to Goldie because they desire her.”
Eli’s face crumples, making the shadows of his black eye look even worse. “I didn’t mean to.”
I can’t take it anymore. I cross to Eli and touch his arm. “You didn’t do this. I have a supernatural power I can’t control. So at the very least, we are both to blame here.”
A wave of relief sweeps over Eli’s face though he still looks pitiful. “You have to believe me, Goldie, I didn’t mean to. . . ”
He trails off and I’m not sure if he has the stomach to dig into his sins or how I’m affected by the fallout. Again, the fact he looks like a younger, skinnier, more hopeless version of Ted rakes at my heart more than it should.
“We’re going to be okay,” I tell Eli, my protective instincts awaken.
