“I don’t know who it is,” I blurt. “It started months ago. Probably closer to a year, really. First they were weirdly flirty. Occasionally he’d send a picture of his dick.” I gesture, vaguely, with a hand. “Obviously it’s gotten more threatening. I can’t stop it. Every time I block a number, he gets a new one. There’s no way to trace it. I’ve changed my number more than once, but it didn’t help. I thought if I ignored him, if I didn’t answer, maybe it would stop.”
I drop onto the couch and cover my face with my hands, suddenly exhausted.
Flint continues to scroll through the messages. I can feel something dangerous in his silence.
“Is this why you wanted me to move in?”
Oh shit.
Ash is getting ready for the day I’ve planned for us and I feel like an impatient child. I’m so excited to give her this day, I wish she’d move her ass. She’s beautiful first thing in the morning, last thing at night, but she insisted on needing time to make herself “presentable.”
I’m willing to entertain her. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this content, even hopeful. Since I’ve started spending the nights in her bed, feeling her breathe, holding her close, being with her… part of the weight has eased off my soul.
I’m pulled from my thoughts by Ash’s phone going crazy on the coffee table where she’d tossed it last night before jumping me. I can’t focus on the memory of her throwing herself on me as the phone continues to buzz.
Becoming concerned that something might be wrong, I hesitate but reach for it. It lights up, again, in my hand. Another incoming message.
Waking the screen and locating the thread, I skim to see what is so fucking important.
And then I re-read. Very. Fucking. Carefully.
My vision goes black around the edges with absolute rage. The blood roars in my ears.
How long has she been getting these? How long has she been carrying this alone?
She comes out of the bathroom and freezes when she sees me. I carefully open myself to taste her emotions and feel a fresh wave of rage when I taste the shame.
“What are you doing?” she asks, like she doesn’t already know.
I struggle for calm, but fall short. “I’m reading a fucking mess of threatening bullshit. Your phone wouldn’t stop going off. I thought someone was in trouble. What the fuck is this, Casie?”
She stands just close enough to read the most recent messages and I see her go pale.
“I don’t know who it is,” she blurts out, speaking fast. “It started months ago. Probably closer to a year, really. First they were weirdly flirty. Occasionally he’d send a picture of his dick.” she gestures, vaguely, with a hand. “Obviously it’s gotten more threatening. I can’t stop it. Every time I block a number, he gets a new one. There’s no way to trace it. I’ve changed my number more than once, but it didn’t help. I thought if I ignored him, if I didn’t answer, maybe it would stop."
She moves away, flopping herself on the couch and hiding her face in her hands.
“Is this why you wanted me to move in?” If it is, I can hardly blame her. Whoever this is is crossing boundaries left and right. I’ve seen the news headlines. Being a mortal woman, living alone, has to be a terrifying experience.
“What? No! No, never. Honestly, I didn’t even connect the two. I just wanted you here, Flint. I mean, okay, at first I wanted to make sure you and Calidaweren’t living on the street. But now, I just… this is our home. Or well, yours, as long as you want it to be.”
When I say “Ours.” it comes out in a growl that is heavy with relief.
She continues to hide from me, her voice muffled. “I understand if this is more than you signed on for…”
I toss the phone down, cross to her and pull her onto my lap. “Look at me.” I wait for her eyes to meet mine. “This isn’t your fault. We’ll figure it out.”
“But he said — hewatchedus. He saw us.He knows.” Her voice is rising with hysteria. “I feel so dirty.”
I can feel my magick flaring, looking for a safe outlet but right now, there isn’t one.
“This isn’t your fault. You, I, we — we haven’t done anything wrong. The fault, the blame, the dirtiness — it all belongs to whoever this is. We’ll find them and we’ll stop it. Don’t let him tarnish what we are.”
She blinks tears away and finally focuses on my face. I know she’s studying me. I try to keep my anger as banked as possible, hoping she won’t see the murderous rage entirely too close to snapping the leash.
“I won’t.” she whispers, fiercely.
There she is.
