Swallow the Moon (8 page)

"No shit?" Eric made a disapproving noise as he looked around. He put on his dark glasses and a poker face.

June rolled her eyes – he had no idea what it was like to live here. She hadn't told him half of it – the toxic waste dumps, the radioactive waste. Well, why should she give him more reason to get uppity about it?

When they walked into the obviously new, chain-owned drug store, it was crowded with seniors and women with kids. Eric snagged two sodas and an Ohio map on their way to the pharmacy department.

"Why are you still here?" Eric's gesture took in the whole town.

"Where else would I go? My family has been here for a hundred years. My parents still live in the house I grew up in. My sister and her kids are in Geneva. All my cousins are scattered around the county. "

"Girl, I've got family scattered from D.C. to L.A. Wherever I get my next job is where I'm going to live. Just because I grew up in Cincinnati doesn't mean I'm going to stay there. Lexington is right across the river. Nashville is a short drive south of there. Atlanta is just south of Nashville. It's a big country."

"He just called your name," June said, pointing to the counter. They didn't speak while he paid for his purchases. They walked out to her car before they started talking again.

"How do you move just like that?" June cocked her head at him.

"It's not that hard. You pack your stuff, load it into a truck and leave."

"Yeah, right," June snorted. Her house was full of three generations of stuff. What would she do with it all? He was a drifter – rootless and footloose. He didn't have a clue.

As soon as they were out of the store, he cracked open the soda and took two pills. "You should come south." He raised his eyebrows at her. "Cincinnati is just down the road."

"No thanks." She thought of the garden, her chickens and the spring hidden in the woods. Where else could she have all that?

"You can buy a house anywhere."

"A house is just a building; a home is where the heart is." Her voice sounded prim even to her ears.

It was Eric's turn to roll his eyes.

"Give me a break." But he grinned at her and tweaked her hair. "Lighten up."

They changed the subject to music and had a pleasant drive back to her house. Once there, Eric went quiet; he went right to the garage. He didn't say a word of thanks.

June stomped in the house, feeling huffy and disgruntled.

By the time he came in to ask if she had an air compressor, June was ready for him to leave. The sooner he was gone, the better. There was a small one in her car. She watched as he aired up the front tire of the bike.

"That second pill was a freaking mistake," he mumbled. He rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head.

No, he was in no shape to drive. Her pique vanished and her compassion took over.

"Then go upstairs and sleep it off."

He grumbled under his breath.

"Anything is better than risking a second crash. You could kill yourself next time."

"I'm fine."

"Right. I'm going back in the house." She left him in the garage to go back to her chores. A little later she heard him come back into the house. She left the office to see what he needed.

"Is that offer still good?" His words were slurred.

"Yes, go sleep it off."

"Thanks." He shambled up the stairs; the dogs followed him.

Later, when June checked on them, Eric was crashed out, the dogs snoozing with him. Laughing to herself, she gently covered all three with an old quilt.

Back in the kitchen she started a crock pot supper, then went to the garage to work on her soap. The bike watched her from the center of the mat with gleaming yellow eyes. June twitched the folded sheet off the work bench to cover the beast so it couldn't look at her. She flipped the sheet open, like a matador would flap his cape at a bull, flinging the sheet over the motorcycle.

If Eric asked why she'd covered it, she would say so it wouldn't get dirty. Dusting her hands off with a flourish, she turned back to her soap.

A cold breeze tickled the back of her neck, like the touch of a snake's tongue. June wheeled, clasping the back of her neck as she broke out in goose pimples.

Was that laughter?

The sheet was on the floor, cold energy radiating from Eric's motorcycle like an open freezer. The baleful yellow eyes dared her to do something about it.

June fled back to the house.

The awful, creepy cold clung to her like nasty, sticky cobwebs. Like mud, it got tracked around the house as she moved from room to room. Gritting her teeth, June sprinkled salt on the kitchen floor, then swept it up with a new broom. She carried the dust pan outside, flinging the dirt in the trash can.

"Stay out of my house."

June drank a cup of tea and fretted. The house needed to be smudged with cedar to get the last of that – stuff – out. For now she would content herself with burning incense. She lit a half-dozen sticks, putting one in every room – two in the kitchen. Even that didn't keep the hair from rising on the back of her neck.

The motorcycle had to go.

Vexed, June went up to the guestroom, but stopped dead at the door. Eric was flat on his back with one arm under his head, his bare chest exposed. She wondered what he looked like under the beard. He had a straight nose and high cheekbones, a generous mouth. He didn't smile often. But he could turn on the charm when he tried.

There were bruises on his upper arms and a tracery of scars across his forearms. June dragged her eyes from all that bare skin. Her fingers itched to touch him, to trace the thick muscles of his arm to his chest and down – she flushed at the thought. His skin would be warm and smooth like satin. He would have that clean, warm, musky scent that sleeping men gave off, soap mixed with pheromones.

Kiss him,
something in her mind whispered.
Touch him. Taste him.

She was hypnotized by the set of his full mouth; the light sandy hair of his mustache barely covered his lips. His lips would be soft, until he was fully awake. He'd be surprised but he'd go with it. He would kiss her back, hard, the way she wanted to be kissed. The way she needed to be kissed.

She was starving to be kissed.

She was ravenously hungry, wanting Eric, wanting sex, wanting to appease this raging hunger that burned her body.

All she had to do was walk in the room – and touch him.

June licked her lips, took a step forward, imagining herself slithering over him, wrapping around him like a snake would wrap itself around some hapless prey, then squeeze the life from him. She crossed the threshold, intent on her prey.

She would drink his kisses and steal his soul…

What?

Steal his soul?

Disoriented, June bumped into the table by the door. The crystals on the tray rattled.

"What?" Eric reached for something with an open hand. He scrubbed the other hand over his face, blinking his eyes to clear his vision.

The pills, June thought, he was still out of it.
More reason to act now,
the hunger in her raged.
Take him. Take him while he was unable to fight.

Why? There was a war going on inside her, pressure threatening to tear her in two, both sides wanting Eric for equally selfish reasons.

No way!

Dizzy, June reached for something to steady herself. The table beside her moved, scraping loudly against the floor. Her hand closed around one of the crystals.

Immediately the roaring in her ears stopped.

"What the fuck?" Eric sat up.

"I'm sorry." There was a moment of blessed relief as June squeezed the crystal in her hand. A deep breath cleared her head. "I didn't mean to disturb you." She turned to flee.

"Wait." Eric swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Don't go."

For the life of her, she couldn't take another step. June turned to look at him, then was unable to look away. He looked delicious, sleepy and vulnerable. His chest was bare and the sweats had slipped down his hips. He yawned and stretched, flexing the thick muscles of chest, arm and shoulder, slowly, like a male stripper, teasing her. He smiled like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

June's mouth watered even as she took two steps closer.

The sleepy look in his eyes sharpened.

Go to him.
A seductive whisper, he would slake her hunger, willingly.
Touch him.

"I want to thank you for helping me." He held out his hand.

His eyes said he would be very generous and – thorough – with his gratitude. June took his hand. He pulled her closer until she was right up against his knees. He ran his free hand up her arm to the back of her neck. He didn't need much pressure to draw her face to his, to bring their mouths within inches of touching.

June put her hand on his shoulder. She traced his broad shoulders with her fingers, feeling the masculine bone structure, the satin of his skin. Their lips touched. It felt perfectly right and natural to kiss him, slowly, deeply and exquisitely.

June's head said it was just a kiss, her pounding heart said she was in trouble, her body screamed for more. The stone in her hand blazed with sudden heat where it was pressed between their bodies. June recoiled from the pain, dropping the stone.

"Fuck!" Eric flinched.

The red and silver stone smoked on the throw rug, threatening to set her house on fire. June lunged for the stone, wadding it into the rug. She raced to the bathroom where she dumped the bundle in the sink and turned on the water.

"What the hell was that?" Eric was beside her.

"The stone," June swallowed. "Hematite is protection –" She poked through the sodden fabric until she found the stone. Shuddering, she rubbed her fingers over the heart-shaped stone, now icy cold.

Hematite was protection from evil.

"Are you okay?" Eric had his hands on her shoulders.

June took a deep breath. The impulse that had driven her a moment before was gone. She was scared, cold and shivering, while he was warm and way too close. She shrugged off his hands. What to say? She gathered her courage, the wet rug and the stone.

"I'm going to get to the bottom of this." She ducked around him, then started down the stairs. "I would never, ever act like that with a stranger."

"Wait!" Eric came after her. "Where are you going?" He followed her to the garage.

"There is something – wrong – with that motorcycle of yours." June's anger protected her from the cold. "That thing is dangerous, I can feel it. It's waiting to – to eat you." June flipped the wet rug over a clothesline, then strode to just a few feet from the bike. Again, she felt like she was being covered in cobwebs.

"Whatever it was, it is no longer
just
a motorcycle."

"Don't be silly. There is nothing wrong with Cora." Eric stepped between June and the bike. "A motorcycle is a machine. That's all." He briefly looked down at his hands, then brushed them against his thighs.

 Did he feel that sticky energy, too?

"Why do you call it Cora?" June challenged him. "Who is Cora? Have you ever wondered?"

"It's the name under the woman's picture." Agitated, Eric ran his fingers through his hair. He looked from her to the motorcycle. "Why does it matter?"

"Something else is there." June pointed to the motorcycle. "I think there is a spirit attached to your bike." She centered herself, wanting to see the enemy. A cool wash of energy rose from just under her heart, buoyant, brilliant, like a fountain of white light. She visualized the pentagram hidden under the plastic matting, called a circle of white light, protection from the awful thing trying to take over her mind and her body.

The cage sprang to being with an audible snap.

Eric was on the wrong side of it.

"Hey!" Hands pressed against the invisible shield, Eric tried to cross the barrier.

A tall woman in a corset, leather shorts and boots became visible behind him. The woman tossed her head, distain in every line of her body.

"You must be Cora." June tilted her head. Was there a second spirit behind her?

"What the hell did you do?"

June cut her eyes to Eric – what to tell him? Best to keep quiet, this was bad enough – why make it any worse? Eric was already freaking out.

"I'm not sure what happened." True enough. Could she let him out while keeping Cora inside?

"Let me out!"

"Okay!" June closed her eyes, concentrating on the circle. She needed a door – right there. She moved her hands, shaping the doorway.

"See if you can cross the circle now."

With a grunt of pain, Eric lurched out of the cage of light. He went to his knees on the padded floor catching his weight on his hands. He stayed down, one arm clutching his stomach; his face was bloodless. "Oh god, that hurt."

"I'm sorry," June got down on her knees beside him. "You got trapped inside the circle, with – with Cora's spirit."