Garden of Thorns

  I fix him with a deadly stare as we walk swiftly, side by side. “I was almost seventeen when you moved into the House.”

  Lexington laughs, shrugging his shoulders. “My bad. Guess I wasn’t paying that close attention.”

  I shake my head and continue walking as fast as I can.

  Lexington and I never talked and all the memories I have of him are sarcastic and stirring the pot. Nial and Danny were constantly annoyed with him. He has a very loud mouth but didn’t have much of a filter. Apparently that hasn’t changed much in the past four years.

  “But seriously, you still like working with plants I guess?” he says as we cross the street, darting through the busy Boston morning traffic, to shortcut through the Boston Public Garden.

  “I have a degree in botany, so yeah, I guess you could say I still like working with plants.” I dart around a crowd of people standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Lexington drops behind me, weaving in and out of people.

  “I’m guessing Ian already told you, but just to reiterate: don’t ever call me by my real name when we’re out in public,” I say as we head to the shop. “To everyone in Boston, I’m Penny Jones.”

  “Got it,” he says simply.

  The morning dawns over the horizon, shooting between the buildings, making its way to the early risers on their way to work. I look to the side, marveling at how Lexington, a Born vampire with permanently dilated eyes is able to walk through the morning without being in agonizing pain.

  Henry’s ingenuity is something I’m greatly jealous of.

  “What?” Lexington suddenly asks, catching me staring.

  I shake my head and look back in the direction I’m walking.

  Oleander Apothecary waits for me just down the road like a loving friend. Just the sight of my shop brings an intense amount of comfort to me. I unlock the door, inhaling deep as I step inside.

  “Whoa,” Lexington says, taking everything in with awe as he follows me inside. “I kind of feel like I’m back in 1868. I once visited a shop that looked just like this for a bad case of what is now known as the chicken pox.”

  “When were you born?” I ask, because suddenly that’s the kind of thing I should know about my new housemate.

  “1851,” he says, looking around while I hang my things up. He stares at a line of roll-ons for headaches. “Just north of here, actually. In Maine, right on the border.”

  “And you Resurrected at what? Twenty-three?” I guess as I look through my schedule. I have six customers coming in to pick up custom orders today.

  “Close, twenty-four,” he says with a smile as he moves to another shelf. I roll my eyes as he studies the Adore Me perfume, knowing what’s coming. “Do people really think that all this stuff works?”

  I kind of want to punch him right now. “All of this stuff does work,” I say as I pull two of the orders out from the cabinet below the counter. “Except that stuff, sort of. Unfortunately it’s what sells best.”

  He grabs a bottle of it from off the shelf and sprays five squirts into the air.

  “No!” I yell, but it’s too late. He’s stuck his face right in the middle of the plume and takes a deep inhale. I sigh, leaning back.

  Lexington scrunches up his nose, a very dramatic look on his face, and a moment later, sneezes, three times. Very loudly.

  “Uh,” he says, squeezing the bridge of his nose as he blinks fast, looking away from the light. “That’s one potent perfume you made there.”

  He blinks several more times, temporarily blinded from the sneezing fit. With watery eyes, he looks back up at me.

  And keeps staring at me for a moment that lasts too long. “You really have grown up a lot in the last four and a half years.”

  “Oh, please no,” I say as my shoulders sag. I shake my head.

  “What?” he asks as a dopy smile forms on his lips and he takes slow, deliberate swagger steps toward me. “You know you really have blossomed into something—”

  “You realize what’s happening right now, right?” I say, crossing my arms over my chest and giving him a look.

  “What?” he asks with a laugh. I just continue to fix him with a hard stare. He blinks twice, but I see the gears start turning in his head and suddenly understanding dawns in his eyes. He looks over at the bottle of perfume in his hand. “Oh. Oh no.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “You just went and inhaled the love perfume that does have a little scientific backing to it.”

  “Oh no,” he says, keeping his lips puckered. “I just… And you’re there. And we…”

  “Don’t worry,” I say with a sigh as I turn to head into the lab. “It’s extremely short lived. You’ll be fine by supper time.”

  “And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?” he calls. His footsteps suddenly shuffle and he hurries to follow after me.

  I bend over, grabbing the third custom order from the fridge under the counter. I find it and straighten, setting it on the counter.

  I turn to see Lexington, staring exactly where he shouldn’t be looking.

  “Just try to keep your eyes off of my ass until then,” I say in annoyance.

  “Right,” he says, his eyes snapping up to mine.

  “Don’t forget, one dose after breakfast, another just before you go to bed.” I put Aneska Cortan’s custom made inhalant into a bag, along with the relaxation cream she buys now and then.

  “Thank you, Penny,” she says, her Croatian accent thick. “You get a replacement? I’ll admit, the last one was nice to look at, but this one…” She trails off suggestively as she eyes Lexington up and down.

  He gives a little laugh, clearly flattered at the woman’s words. “Well, thank you, I think.”

  She winks at him, taking her bag and heading to the door.

  “You do get some weirdos in here,” Lexington says from his perch on my stool in the corner. “But I think the clientele is growing on me.”

  “Don’t flirt with my customers,” I say, resisting an eye roll as I head back into the lab. Lexington, of course, follows me.

  “Never,” he says suggestively. I look over my shoulder to see his eyes rolling up and down me again.

  “Stop it,” I snap at him. Even if a little smile pulls on my lips when I turn back to the worktable. I don’t often get to see my products work right in front of my eyes. The clients take them and go, to use them at home. I’ve always been most self-conscious about my love perfume. It’s nice to see it does kind of work in some form.

  I should have called it lust spray.

  “I swear I’m trying,” he says, but I can still feel his eyes on me.

  I sigh. Just a few more hours and it will wear off.

  I turn to the burner and light it. Setting a pot on top, I pour some water into it.

  A row of spices and ingredients line the shelf above me and my eyes run down the line until I come to the chili peppers. I grab the jar, and next the pepper.

  “What are you making?” Lexington asks, coming up to stand beside me.

  “Attacker spray,” I say. I find my stone and pestle. “Here, you might as well be useful.” I set them in front of him and put seven dried peppers into the well. “Grind these up.”

  “Is this pepper spray?” he asks as he awkwardly begins crushing the peppers.

  “Pepper spray would be it’s more mild, timid cousin,” I say, smiling as I set to gathering the other ingredients.

  “You thought there was a need for something more aggressive than pepper spray?” he asks, and to my surprise, something softens in his voice.

  I swallow hard, recalling the night, my first year at Northwestern. My scream. His roar of anger. The gripping hands that left so many bruises.

  “Elle.” A soft voice pulls me back into the room. I feel Lexington walk up behind me, the heat of his body warming my own. “What happened?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I say, putting more effort into the task at hand. “It was a long time ago.”

  “Elle,” he says, his t
one firm but caring. “I’m not here to judge you. I just…I’m here to listen if you want.”

  I look over my shoulder at him, and am shocked at the sincerity in his voice. I study him for a moment, trying to decide if he’s being serious.

  But the intensity in his eyes pulls open the tight lid I keep on my emotions.

  Something in my chest aches.

  Wants to get out.

  I bite my lower lip, putting more force into the way I cut the barbed part off of the stinging nettle. “I was a freshman,” I say, even though I don’t know why I’m letting the words fall from my lips. “It was late. I was walking back to my dorm from the library. I’d heard there was a sicko out there, doing things to girls he shouldn’t be doing. So I bought some pepper spray.”

  The scissors slip in my hand and suddenly a flash of pain sears into my index finger. I hiss in pain.

  “Whoa,” Lexington calls, pulling my hands away from the very painful plant I’m working with. The one that’s now worked it’s way into a bleeding wound. “Is this what I think it is?”

  “Yeah,” I hiss through the pain as tears well into my eyes. Stinging nettle direct into an open wound blurs my vision with pain. “Go grab one of the bottles labeled Sooth Me.”

  He disappears for all of two seconds before he suddenly reappears in front of me, the container in hand. He sets to wiping the blood and applying the cream.

  “This creep found you, didn’t he?” Lexington asks as he takes care of my injured finger.

  I nod as I watch him. “I was prepared. I had the pepper spray in hand, so when he grabbed me from behind, all I had to do was turn, point, and spray.”

  “What happened?” he asks, finished applying the ointment. I point for the first aid kit affixed to the wall. He grabs it and digs through for some gauze.

  “It just pissed him off,” I say as my voice grows quieter. “I’ve never heard a human make a sound like that. Like…like an animal. He grabbed me around the throat and shoved me down on the ground.”

  Lexington swears as he wraps my finger. His grip tightens marginally in anger.

  “I fought back, so he hit me,” I say. “I sprayed him again. His face sure turned red, his eyes were watering like crazy. But it wasn’t enough to disable him.”

  “Elle,” Lexington breathes. He takes my hand into his, holding it gently. The look he gives me is one you’d use with a broken and wounded bird.

  “He didn’t rape me.” I stop everything. I swallow past the hard rock in my throat. “A group of guys came along just then and heard me scream. They pulled him off of me, beat the crap out of him, and called the cops.”

  “So he got put away?” Lexington asks. My eyes finally meet his, and I see the anger and the pity and sadness in his.

  “Yeah,” I say, my voice coming out strained. “He’ll spend the next forty years in prison.”

  “Elle,” Lexington says in a whisper. “That’s awful.”

  “I was the lucky one,” I say with the nod of my head. “The other six girls weren’t.”

  I pull my hand away from his and turn back to the peppers that are only half crushed. I dump them into the boiling water anyway. “I’d never made anything intended to use on humans before then,” I continue as I stir them in. “Everything had been to use against vampires up until that point. But I went to the chemistry lab that next day and started the recipe for this. No one will keep walking after being sprayed with this.”

  Lexington swears once more.

  The bell above the door in the shop dings, and I look up in panic.

  I’m not ready to just turn past trauma off like that and go help someone.

  “I got this,” Lexington says, holding a hand up, as if to push my panic back. “I’ll let you know if they need you.”

  “Thank you,” I say, truly meaning it.

  I listen to the conversation as this newcomer shops for a gift for his girlfriend.

  And I wonder if just maybe I inhaled a little bit of that love perfume, too.

  I’ve never told anyone the story of the assault. Not Ian. Not Alivia. Certainly not Kai.

  I don’t tell anyone anything.

  Yes, I’ve known who Lexington is for the past six years, but before yesterday we’ve probably only said two-dozen words to one another.

  I didn’t expect to actually have a meaningful conversation with him.

  I’m just wrapping the spray up, setting it aside to cool, when he walks back into the lab.

  “Everything go okay?” I ask.

  He nods. “You weren’t kidding about that love perfume being your bestseller. The guy bought three bottles.” He gives a little smile. “Your register is pretty basic. Wasn’t too hard to figure out how to ring him up.”

  I nod, holding his gaze. “Thank you. I didn’t mean…I didn’t mean to go into something so deep.”

  “It’s okay,” he says, shaking his head. And I see it in his eyes. He really means it. “I’m glad you did.”

  I offer him a little smile, hoping it looks genuine.

  “Need any more help?” he asks.

  “So, you just let them sleep it off here in the basement?”

  Lexington looks down at the woman sleeping on the cot. I stand in the corner of the room, arms folded over my chest.

  “Yeah,” I say, talking quiet, even though I know I won’t wake her. She has about nine more hours until she will wake up.

  “Incredible,” he says with a little smile on his lips. His hands are pushed into his pockets, his shoulders relaxed. There’s something easy and casual about his stance.

  I wonder what that’s like.

  “I’m ready to go,” I say, nodding my head toward the door.

  Lexington takes one last look around the clinic, a look of awed disbelief in his eyes. But he follows me out, and I lock up.

  “Not gonna’ lie, these tunnels are a little creepy,” he says as we walk down the hall and to the stairs.

  “There’s a lot of history in Boston,” I say. “Not all of it is visible from the surface.”

  “You know, I lived my entire life within a few hours of Boston, but until yesterday, I’d never actually visited the city.” He follows me as I grab my things and we walk out the door of the shop, locking it behind us. “You’re closed on Saturdays, right?”

  I made an affirmative noise.

  “So how about you show me around the city,” he says, hands still in his pockets, walking slow and easy. “Be my tour guide?”

  I look over at him, really looking. “I think the love spray hasn’t worn off just yet.”

  “I swear, I feel much better now,” he says with a laugh. “But come on. I mean, we’re stuck with each other for the indefinite future. Might as well make the best of it, right?”

  I look over at him. The expression on his face is so hopeful. Excited. So…happy.

  “You know, you’re different than I remember you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, giving me another one of his looks that I can’t really describe. He has a lot of them. Lexington has a very expressive face.

  I shrug. “I guess you just sort of came off as this sarcastic jerk when I first met you. You were always making these snide comments and trying to piss everyone off.”

  He chuckles and looks forward. “Well, you know, I had just been given up by the family I’d been a part of for over thirty years. I think just about anyone would have been a little bitter.”

  “I’ll give you that,” I say with a nod. My stomach suddenly growls, the evening stretching on late.

  “Someone really needs to start taking a lunch break,” he says, raising an eyebrow at me. “Look there. There’s a pizzeria right down the block. Let the tour of Boston begin!”

  And like it’s no big deal whatsoever, Lexington grabs my hand, and takes off at a jog the rest of the way down the block. “Holy ice fingers, woman!” he laughs at my ever frozen hands.

  I chuckle, struggling to keep up with him as we slow in front of th
e pizzeria.

  “I will survive until we make it home,” I say, my face flushing in embarrassment as we run through the front doors. The hostess gives us a surprised look, which quickly changes over to annoyance.

  “Why wait?” he winks at me, telling the woman that it’s just the two of us.

  She grabs two menus and leads us through a maze of tables. Seating us, she walks away.

  “What’s good here?” Lexington asks, his eyes grazing down the menu.

  “I’ve actually never been here before,” I confess as I look through their many, many options.

  “You’re kidding, right?” he asks with a laugh. “It’s a block from your shop. I’ve heard rumors about Boston’s pizza. And you’ve never stepped foot inside?”

  A little smile pulls in the corners of my mouth. “I don’t really go out,” I explain. “Like ever. I go home and order delivery. I mean, it’s usually just me. I’ve always been a little lame, but not lame enough to go out to eat at a restaurant by myself.”

  “No one would ever call someone as badass as you, lame,” Lexington says, shaking his head as he continues to read down the menu.

  His words draw a little smile on my face, which I hide behind my own menu.

  Saturday brings a dip in temperature. The mid-November air has a bite to it, alluding to the bitter winter that is coming. It’s the only time of year that I’m tempted to return to the South. I have yet to acclimate to actual winters. Besides the curse storm year, Silent Bend has always had such mild winters.

  “I didn’t realize how much I liked the South until last winter when the House spent Thanksgiving dinner out on the lawn by the river,” Lexington says as we make our way through the Public Garden and into Boston Common. “It was seventy-one degrees. I was wearing shorts.”

  I chuckle, comparing the stark differences. I’m wearing boots and a wool coat, a scarf around my neck, gloves, and a knitted band around my head to cover my ears. Lexington is dressed similarly.

  “I’ll admit, it’s still something I’m getting used to. The cold,” I clarify.