The Beckoning of Broken Things (The Beckoning Series) (15 page)

I stall. “What do you mean we can do whatever we want here?”

“The crack between worlds is governed by
its own rules. It’s not ruled by light. It’s not ruled by dark. It’s governed by the in between.”

“I’m hearing the words but they make no sense to me.”

“That’s because you’re still asleep. You’re sort of dreaming.”

“How can I be sort of dreaming?”

“That’s the beauty of this place. I can’t explain it. Now, come.” He holds out a hand to me.

“This doesn’t seem like the best idea.” My eyes are once more focused on the nothingness below me.

“Come,” he states again.

I sigh. Put both feet over the edge. “There’s nothing there!” I protest.

“Try it. Trust yourself.”

“I’m going to fall, I know it.”

“Marissa, please. This place is fun once you know the rules.”

“What are the rules?”

“That there are no rules,” he says with a smile.

A little quiver rolls through my belly.
No rules?
He’s right, this could be fun. I tried bungee jumping once up at a place just outside of Whistler, up in Canada. I remember standing on a platform, 160’ above the
 
glacial fed Cheakamus River, looking down in the same way I’m looking now. Only then I was strapped into a sturdy harness affixed to a rope secured to the trestle, and I could actually see what’s below me. Here I see nothing. Taking another deep breath, I scoot to the edge of the bed and push myself off the bed and fall. I scream. I scream and fall because I think I’m supposed to scream when I fall, and I’m certain that falling is my only option. Then I think,
No rules. What if there’s another option? What about floating?

Immediately, I stop falling. I bounce, like I’m at the end of a bungee rope. I boing and bounce for a few seconds because that is what I remember
doing up in Whistler. My next thought is
try something you don’t know. Try something you haven’t done before.
But if I haven’t done it before I don’t know what it is. Rafe’s right. This
is
fun. Speaking of Rafe… “Rafe?”

He appears before me, full of delight. “I knew you’d do well here.”

“How did you know that?” I cross my arms over my chest and regard him.
Damn, he’s sexy.

“I just suspected as much.”

I continue to study him. Right now he doesn’t look dangerous. He doesn’t look like a killer. He doesn’t seem dangerous, or fucked in the head, or without boundaries like Jason, or any of the other kinds of guys I’ve dated before. As far as I can tell, he’s not attempting to bind me without my permission to any kind of non-agreement. He just seems like an ordinary, normal guy. My mind must be playing tricks on me because this is
not
an ordinary, normal encounter. And Rafe the killer and Stealth Numen is
not
an ordinary, normal guy. In any case, I’m aware that ordinary, normalcy scares the bejeezus out of me. Give me half-baked. Give me dysfunctional. Give me dark and dangerous. Give me out of the ordinary. But normal? I shudder.

“Ah, an insight has formed,” Rafe says to me.

“How can you tell?”

“It just streamed from your head.”

“Did it?” My eyes dart all around me.

“No, silly. I’m kidding. You just seem thoughtful. Come on. Let’s play. I’ve never played with anyone here.
Life on Earth gets tedious.”

“Aren’t we still on
planet Earth?”

“We are. We’re just in another dimension of it. Come. Let’s see what the jungle looks like in between the worlds. Let’s explore together.”

“Alright,” I say. “Play you want, play you’ll get. I could use a little ease myself.” We set off into this strange, warped world and frolic until the night’s end. Or, at least, that’s how it seems. Here there are no rules.

I awaken the next day, refreshed and renewed. Sober’s gone, no doubt having wandered downstairs to be spoiled and fed. I get up, pull on a lightweight robe that’s in the closet, and step downstairs, away from my bedroom in the treetops.

A soft thump sounds from down the hallway, followed by a clatter and rattle. I set out to see where it’s coming from. I saunter up to a door that’s a little bit ajar
. Peering through the opening, I see Rafe, moving with precision and efficiency in his room. He’s wearing green camo pants and a black sleeveless t-shirt, giving me a great view of his muscular torso. He’s got an army green backpack on the bed and tools and supplies arranged next to it. He’s methodically placing them into the pack in an orderly fashion with the exactness of a soldier.

I knock softly and his head jerks up. “Going somewhere?”

His face softens when he sees me. “Come in. I’m preparing to go out in the field.”

“Out in the field with the workers?”

His eyes make a slow sweep up and down my body before answering.

I tug my robe tighter around my body.

“No. It’s just a term. I’m going to do some re-con to see if I can find where Daniel might be hiding.” He grabs small vials, a lighter, a pair of strange looking goggles, and a flashlight and arranges them in the backpack.

“What’s the lighter for?”

“You never know.”

“Do you smoke?”

“Rarely. I’ll do it when I have to blend in somewhere. I always have to be able to blend in with the people and places I encounter, without judgment, without attachment to outcome. But a lighter is always a useful thing to have with you when you’re doing re-con.” He grabs it from the pack, pries the silver top open, and flicks the tiny wheel so that it flames. “You never know when you need to start a blaze.” He gives me a pointed look and then drops it back inside the pack.

“I’m going, too.”

“No,” he answers, not looking up at me, “you’re not. This isn’t child’s play.”

“Good thing you’re not a child.
Good thing I’m not either.”

His hands continue to select, arrange, scrutinize.

“Where’d you get all this stuff?”

“I have a storage place somewhere.”

“Really? Where?” I saunter in and sit at the edge of his bed. It’s been made with sharp, crisp corners, the sheets and covers smoothed to perfection. I pick up a lethal looking dagger and turn it back and forth in my hand, noting the razor sharp blade forged in the light-gray, buffed to mirror-bright metal.

“In between the worlds.”

“Oh!” I exclaim. “I just remembered a dream I had last night.”

Rafe stills. “Did you?” he says, staring at his backpack. “What did you dream?”

“I don’t remember it all. It’s kind of fuzzy. I woke up in a warped environment. You were there. You invited me to play in a place that had no rules.”

“And did you?”

“Yes. At least I think I did. I told you, I don’t remember too much.”

A small smile starts to form and then it
quickly disappears. He extends his hand for the knife. “Please. It’s sharp. I wouldn’t want you to injure yourself.” He takes it from me and tucks it into a leather holster in his pants.

“Don’t you think that was a funny dream?”

“Sure. I’m overcome with hilarity.” He picks up a strange looking vest and positions it in the pack. “There,” he says with finality.

“What’s that vest?”
It’s light army green and looks like it has ribbons sewn on it in a decorative fashion. I’m certain, however, they’re not ribbons. They’re probably the kind of bindings they use on parachutes. It has a small collar and a crotch strap. I’m sure it’s made for combat or gunfire.

“It’s a modified Improved Modular Tactical Vest or IMTV. It’s a Marine design. I made it better, improving it to my own specifications.
Like, I’ll bet theirs can’t do this.” He plucks it from the backpack, pulls it onto his frame, and disappears before my eyes.

I gasp. It’s a little disconcerting when he does that.
Strange hollow laughter, like its being funneled through a tube, greets my ears.

When he
reappears in the room, he winks at me. “The materials the military uses to build this thing don’t disappear with me. I know. I’ve tried. I had to do some sleuthing to find the right substance.” He shrugs out of the vest and lays it back on the bed. “I doubt they have many Stealth Numens in the Marines.”

“How many are there? Stealth Numens, I mean.”

“With skills as advanced as mine?” He taps his chest.

“One?”

“Bingo.”

“If you’re in Stealth Mode
, why do you need a vest like that?”

“Just because I’m invisible, I
can still be hit with a bullet when I’m on this dimension.” He tucks the vest back into place and zips up the backpack with finality. “There. I’m set.”

“I’m still going with you.”

“No, Marissa. What I’m doing is dangerous. I’m trained to do this kind of thing. In searching for your lover, we’ll probably flush out the old man. I can’t afford for anything to happen to you. I won’t put you in harm’s way.”

“You don’t have to.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m plenty capable of putting myself in harm’s way all by myself.” I cross my arms and glare at him.

“So I’ve heard.”

“I have weapons, too, you know.”

“Do you? Show me your weapons, babe.” He smirks.

He looks so smug I want to punch his lights out.
“Don’t watch.”

“Are you going to disrobe? I’m sure as hell going to watch.”

“No, I’m not going to disrobe,” I splutter. “I’m going to show you my weapon. I have to bring it out from the place where I store
my
weapons.”

“And where is that?
Is it there?” He points at my crotch and laughs.

“Fuck you, Rafe.”

He laughs again. “Just kidding, darlin’.”

I tap my head. “
It’s up here.”

“Do your thing. I’d love to watch. I’ve seen you in action before.”

“This is different.”

“What makes it different?”

“It just is. I don’t know, my weapon is precious to me. I only got it a few weeks ago. I got it when I killed El Demonio. It’s what I use to carve away chaos. That’s what came to me when I got it - that I’m supposed to carve away chaos with the blade.” I snap my mouth shut. I’m babbling which must mean I’m nervous. I take a deep breath. “I just don’t like to be watched when I bring it forth.”

“As you wish,” Rafe says, turning away from me. He stands with his back to me, his arms folded.

My eyes linger on his broad shoulders. I’d love to stroke his back with oiled hands. I’d love to feel his muscles, sinuous and supple from my touch. I imagine raking my fingertips along his back, my legs wrapped around his hips, gliding, sliding…

“I have an imagination, too, you know.”

“What?”

“I don’t get the sense that you’re manifesting your blade, babe. I’m starting to get hard. I’d be happy to show you
my
tool set.” He chuckles.

“No! Stay turned around.”
Cheeks flaming red, I let my light flow and set to visualizing my glistening sidearm, the blade I used on Josephina. Rafe says I have to learn how to manifest stuff quickly, and I know he’s right. Even before he said that, I’d already thought of that. But this tool needs to be done with detail and care.

“Are you done yet?”

“Almost. Just give me a sec.” When I’m done, I heft the weapon up and down. I have no idea what kind of metal it’s made of but it’s just the right weight for me. The metal is somewhat transparent. The blade is slightly curved. I experiment with shooting light from my palm into the small sword. It creates a beautiful, luminous weapon. I contemplate the handle for a moment and then scribe my initials into it with my mind - M.M.E - Marissa Micalita Engles. My middle name was derived from my mom’s name. “Okay, you can turn around.”

Rafe pivots. His eyes land on the luminous blade in my hands
. His jaw drops and his eyes widen. “That’s your blade?”

“Yup. Do you like it?”

“Do you know what you’re holding?”

I frown. “Yes, I’m holding the blade I use to carve away chaos
and restore truth.”

“No kidding. Marissa, you’re incredible. You claim a mega-power
bird beast that no man has been able to claim before, not even your revered Night Numen boyfriend, and now you stand here with this…this…this is incredible!”

“What do you mean?”

He strolls over to me. “May I?” He extends his hand.

I hand it over to him. “It’s mine, you know. Don’t even think of taking it from me,” I say possessively.

“Darlin’, I wouldn’t dream of it. Only one can claim this blade and apparently the one is you.”

“Are you telling me you know of this weapon?”

“Only in stories. There’s a long standing myth that tells of a small, deadly sword crafted eons ago. It was forged in the mountains between the worlds by a group of female sorcerers. They crafted it, cast invocations and spells upon it, imbued it with force and deadly accuracy, and buried it deep in the Beyond until such time as the right person came to be. When this mysterious person held it in her hands, well…I can tell you I’m witnessing a profound moment. You, Marissa, you hold the power to transform. Caedere ad sanitatem revocare. To slice, to heal, to restore. Those are the words those long ago sorcerers wove into this weapon. I’m impressed, darlin’. You are one impressive woman.”

My heart swells with pride. “Why
, thank you, Rafe.”

“You’re going to have to give this a proper name, you know. Name it and claim it. That’s how the myth goes.”

“I’d thought of Carve Away Chaos or something like that.”

“Nah. There’s no ring to that. You’ll know when you land on the right name.”

“So, you’re not over there wishing this sword could be yours or about to tell me that you’ve longed to possess this blade?”

“Hell, no. It’s something forged by powerful women sorcerers for a powerful woman. It’s an impressive blade to be sure. But it was meant for a female. It was meant for
you.
”

I eye the blade speculatively. “It doesn’t seem as long as I imagine a sword would be.”

“It’s not a long sword, true. But does it kill?”

“It seems to.”

“Then who cares what you call it - sword, dagger, blade. It doesn’t matter, as long as it’s deadly.” He sets the blade on the bed and steps a little closer to me. His voice comes out all deep and dreamy. “I knew I fell in love with the right woman when I met you.”

I take one small step backward and swallow hard. “Rafe, you can’t be in love with me.”

He steps forward. “No one gets to tell me what I do with my heart, Marissa. Not even you. I’m liking this experience. It’s new to me.” His mouth falls open slightly.

The Brazilian sun has already affected him. His skin is slightly sunburned, covered with a million freckles like constellations. A copper
y lock of ginger colored hair has fallen in his eyes. My hand instinctively reaches out to push it away from his face.

He seizes my hand and brings it to his mouth, gently kissing my skin. His warm lips linger on my fingertips. He takes a deep inhalation and pushes my fingers softly back and forth across his malleable,
succulent, parted lips.

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

“Inhaling you. Taking the scent of you inside my bloodstream, inside my cells. I want to remember you forever and ever.” He releases my hand, licks his lips, and captures my gaze with his. “You have the most beautiful hazel eyes. They remind me of sun-kissed polished agates. And your long, wavy brown hair,” he adds, picking up a strand and twirling it around his fingers. “I’d love to run my hands through your hair. Like this.”

He laces his fingers into my hair and
slides the tips along my scalp, gently massaging, slowly drawing my hair back.

“
Or to feel the silky strands on my belly and chest and hard cock…exquisite, I’d imagine.”

I inhale sharply. “What are you doing to me, Rafe?” I’m about to melt into the floor.

“I’m letting you know how beautiful you are to me.”

“Thank you,” I say, my eyes locked with his.
I draw my fingertips gently along each side of his neck, pausing to feel his blood pulse through his veins.

“At this stage in the game, I wouldn’t touch me unless you intend to follow through.”

My core throbs with desire. I’m filled with conflict.
Should I or shouldn’t I? I’m soul bound to another.
But then I realize, I don’t know what that means. Is being soul bound like a marriage vow? Does it govern my thoughts and actions? Since I didn’t agree to it in the first place, don’t I get to decide what’s right and what’s wrong? Daniel and I can still be soul bound.