I sit on my knees as Niko pulls out a few pastries, savory croissant sandwiches, yogurt parfait and, my favorite, Starbucks. Obviously, not having coffee in Seattle is like a cardinal sin or something.
“Thanks. This looks great,” I say, going for a huge cheese danish, thankful that my supernatural mojo somehow makes calories not count. Niko hands me my cinnamon latte before grabbing one of the sandwiches.
“No problem. I raided a nearby bakery and grabbed the coffee while you were still getting ready. Figured you’d be hungry. Hope it’s still warm.”
I take a sip and let out an X-rated moan. Oh, sweet manna from heaven! “It’s perfect.”
I hear Niko clear his throat before he turns his head to busy himself with his own meal. Is that a… Is that a blush?
I laugh inwardly and try to cut the awkwardness with easy conversation to pass the time. When we’re both full, Niko takes me back out to the edge of the water.
“Walk on it.”
“Excuse me?”
“Step out onto the water.”
Did this dude say what I think he just said? “You do realize that I can’t turn water into wine, right? And that I’m not sporting a robe and sandals?”
“Seriously, Gabs. Step out onto the water.”
“Was Bruce Almighty on TV last night? Because I love that movie too.”
“Gabs.”
“Niko.”
Niko sighs, already exasperated. “Be serious, Gabs. If it weren’t possible, I wouldn’t waste time trying to teach you. Now get your ass out there on that lake or I will push you out there.”
I scoff at his attitude and roll my eyes. “Rude.” Yet, I find myself scooting to the water line where soft waves touch the tip of my boots.
“Now close your eyes and visualize that the lake is not water at all, but a glass floor. You know it’s solid—it will support you—but you must be gentle with it. It’s delicately beautiful, and you don’t want to break it. And you won’t. You’re light as a feather. Weightless. Effervescent.”
I do as he says, visualizing every word that passes his lips. I’m floating, completely unburdened by gravity. I’m merely a whisper in the wind. An apparition.
“Now open your eyes, Gabs.”
I do, and when I take in the scene around me, I gasp so loud that it echoes through the trees. I’m on the lake. On the lake! I’m standing right smack dab in the middle, yet I’m completely dry.
“How did I...How can this…?” I’m tripping over my words, too exhilarated to complete a single sentence.
“Magic,” Niko smiles, appearing right beside me. “It’s in you. You were just too afraid to let it out.” A reaches a hand towards me and threads his fingers through mine. “Come on, let’s walk back together.”
I practice walking on water a dozen more times—once more with Niko and the others solo—before I have it mastered. Impressed, Niko has me work on manipulation. I’m able to raise the water a few feet above my head and hold it for nearly 30 seconds before my connection slips.
“You’re over-thinking it,” he says. “That water is a part of you. An appendage. Raise it like you would raise your arm. Do you look at your shoulder and ask it to work? No! You just do it. So come on, let’s try again.”
After an hour and a few more tough love pep talks, I’m finally able to get the water to bend to my will. Wanting to keep that intense feeling of momentum, we move on to solid objects, first starting with leaves, then twigs and branches. Even the heavier objects seem completely weightless. Yet, the moment I let myself think about how huge and hefty they should be, I lose the connection and they come crashing down.
“Fuck!” I roar, as a large branch smashes to the ground. I wipe the sweat from my brow and grit my teeth in frustration. I was able to hold that one for over a minute. “I had it. I fucking had it. What am I doing wrong? You told me not to think, so I stopped thinking. Why the hell can’t I make it do what I want?”
Niko shakes his head before coming to stand beside me. His gaze still trained on me, he gracefully lifts a hand, manipulating the giant branch to rise with the movement. It’s so easy for him, so seamless. Hell, he doesn’t even need to look at it. He sets it down just as gingerly and takes my face in his hands. “You’re forcing it. You’re doing this out of frustration and anger. What did I tell you that day when we watched Dorian extend the ward? Magic is delicate. It’s sensual. You must seduce it to make it come to you. Would you force a lover to please you? No, of course not. You would caress it. Worship it. Make love to it. Take it inside you and gently exhale as if you were blowing out a candle. I know you can do it, Gabs. Your heart is just broken right now, so you can’t imagine how you would channel those feelings. But there has to be something else you feel passion for.”
Passion.
Something I didn’t think I’d ever inherit again. So much so that the very word sounds foreign. Passion. Of course, I know I’m still capable of feeling it. But for what? And for who?
I step out of his hold and busy my mind with projecting all the confusion and restlessness I’ve felt these past day I’ve spent with Niko. How his body entices me. How his words challenge me. How that look he gives me…scares me. Not because I find him vicious or menacing. But because I’m afraid of what I’m beginning to feel for him. Or maybe it’s what I’ve felt all along. I just had Dorian to eclipse it.
As I raise my hand in a fluid motion, the branch moves with me, dangling in midair as if it is a feather carried by the wind. I don’t feel its burden. I am not strained with the task. It’s a vital part of me. Just as Niko has somehow made himself a vital part as well.
We’re lying in the grass several minutes later, sipping bottled water, when I turn to him and say, “Do you really think Dorian will fight us? Even you, his brother?”
He shrugs, gazing out at the water. “I wouldn’t be surprised. We were taught that surrender is weakness, and weakness is disease. Skotos’s fight until we’re dead, for all things we hold dear and precious.”
I nod, taking a moment to listen to the song of the wind whistling through the trees. I once had someone to fight for me like that. Someone who vowed to protect and love me until we both perished into earth. And now…now I don’t know if I’ll ever get him back.
“You don’t think that I’ll do it, huh?” I ask, my voice just barely a whisper. “You don’t think I’ll be able to fight him.”
“I don’t think you’ll want to fight him. There’s a big difference between ability and desire. It’s understandable that you would want to avoid hurting him.”
“And you?” I ask, turning my head to face him. I know he can feel my eyes on him, yet he keeps his gaze trained forward. “Will you try to avoid hurting him? Will you be able to fight your brother?”
I watch the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows, contemplating my question. “If it comes to that, yes. If it came down to my life or his, I would do what it takes.” His eyes are on me in the next instant, full of blue fire. “And you’d be wise to do the same. Because he will hurt you, Gabriella, if given the chance. He won’t hesitate. Your life means nothing to him. And if killing you is all that stands between him and his agenda, then you’re already dead. Remember that when you see him. And don’t let your petty emotions let you forget it.”
I can only hold his gaze for a few seconds before I’m forced to look away in an attempt to hide the tears collecting in my eyes. I know he’s saying this to help me—to protect me—but why must he be so cruel? I get it—Dorian is gone. He doesn’t love me. But does my weakness for him disgust Niko so much that he can’t just show a little compassion? A little sensitivity?
I jump to my feet, with a renewed sense of determination birthed from anguish. “I’m ready to go again,” I mumble, brushing debris from my jeans.
“Gabs…”
“Again. I don’t want to sit around talking about this shit anymore. So either help me, or don’t. I really don’t care.”
I hear him exhale heavily behi
nd me, his breath stirring the sweat-dampened hair on the back of my neck. “I don’t want you to hate me,” he whispers. “I could never want that. But I’d rather have you alive and pissed off at me, than dead because I told you what you wanted to hear. My words are out of necessity. Because you are necessary to me.”
I turn around to face him, eyes narrowed, because I could not have possibly heard him right. But his resolve doesn’t falter. He doesn’t backtrack or stammer to explain himself. He doesn’t take it back.
And I don’t want him to.
“Come on,” he finally says, taking my hand. “Let’s go again.”
We practice until I’m able to lift giant logs with the simple twitch of a finger. And when I’ve exhausted moving everything that isn’t rooted to the ground, Niko tries to teach me the art of phaneróō, or manifestation. We start slow, working on meditation to center myself. Although I’ve been able to do short distances in the past, it was totally sporadic and unintentional. Niko explains that trying it without proper focus could have me stuck in limbo, lost in a completely different dimension. And if I don’t know where I’m at, it’s almost impossible to come back.
“Ok, try from here to that tree over there,” he instructs, pointing at an Elm a few yards away. “You can see where you’re going; you know what’s there. Now, visualize the location in your mind and transport your thoughts there.”
I take a deep breath, following his directions to a T. Letting my eyes flutter closed for just a second, I envision standing under the great Elm, leaning against it, laughing as Niko stands beside me…
“Amazing, isn’t it?”
I open my eyes to see Niko’s smiling face. He looks up, urging me to follow his gaze. We’re under the Elm tree. And I’m not just standing under it—I’m leaning against it. And Niko is right beside me, pride and wonder shining in his eyes. And I laugh, a real, genuine, soul-cleansing laugh, just like in my vision.
It is amazing. Life—right now, in this moment—is amazing.
I go from only being able to manifest from a short distance, to teleporting myself across the lake. It’s exhilarating, and the more I do it, the better I get. To know that in one breath, I can be in one place, then miles away in the next…it’s incredible. Hell, I may not ever walk again.
“We better head back,” Niko says, as we watch the sun begin to settle behind the mountains. I turn to him, my expression apprehensive, but he quickly gives me a reassuring smile. “You got this, Gabs. You can do it. But the best part is, you don’t have to do it alone.”
His fingers slide against the inside of my palm before threading through mine, grasping onto me. Refusing to let go. “I’ve got you. And if I feel your hold slipping, I’ll catch you and lead us to safety, ok? You can do this.”
“But what if I…” My voice is small, my lips almost trembling.
“No buts. I don’t want to hear that. You can do this. I believe in you.”
I nod, trying to draw strength from his encouraging expression. Closing my eyes, I imagine we’re both in my hotel room at the Pacifica. The sun has set and the curtains are drawn; yet there’s soft light filtering in form a bedside lamp. I’m standing at the foot of the bed. Niko is beside me. He looks at me, and smiles crookedly. I can’t help but do the same…
Thick arms are banded around me, crushing me to a hard chest. It smells of an ocean breeze and rainwater. I inhale, letting euphoria stir inside me.
Niko gasps, feeling the pull from his body. I step back, terrified of what I’ve just done. I breathed him. Unintentionally, of course, but I did. I pilfered his magic without asking.
“Oh my God,” I shriek, my hands over my mouth. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I was just so caught up in the moment, and happy, and I completely—,”
Niko smiles and shakes his head, his palms raised. “Not a big deal. Honestly, I hardly felt it.”
“But I took from you. Without your permission. Oh my God, I swear—,”
He’s right in front of me, cradling my face in his hands. Tilting my chin so my eyes align with his. “Gabs, it’s fine. Honestly. You’ve had a long day. It’s easy to get caught in the moment.”
My gaze sweeps over the movement of his full lips, and I imagine what they’d feel like against mine. How they’d taste after being wet by his tongue. Oh God, now I’m thinking about his tongue.
“You must be exhausted,” he says stepping away. He turns for the door that connects our rooms, and I suddenly feel panicky. “I can have some food sent up for you, if you like.”
I shrug. “Sure. I guess so.” I’m not even that hungry. Not when my stomach keeps stirring like it’s doing a Zumba routine.
“Ok,” he nods. “You did good today, Gabs. And you’ll keep getting better…stronger. I’m proud of you.”
“Had a good teacher,” I smile.
Niko dips his head in a goodnight, and exits the room, leaving me alone with my insane thoughts. I decide to take a nice, hot bath, hoping it will drown my rising confusion and shame. Yet, as I soak in the bathtub, I can’t honestly see what I have to be ashamed about. Dorian is gone. There’s no guarantee we’ll get him back. And he’s probably fucked Aurora fifty-eleven different ways by now.
Still, that’s not even the worst part. He’s evil. E-V-I-L. And as psychotic as his dad. Can I really excuse all that? Can I honestly forget everything he said to me, even though he wasn’t himself?
Or was he?
I sit in the bath until the water turns cold with my iPod on blast. I’ve traded Bruno Mars for Linkin Park today, needing a reprieve from the sad and sulky lyrics that had rocked me to sleep most nights. And honestly, I don’t really think I need them anymore.
Yeah, shit sucks. My mom is dead. Chris doesn’t know me. Jared is gone. I can’t go back home. And Bad Dorian has run off with Aurora. Shit really, really sucks.
But I have Alex, the father I thought had died before my birth. I can confide in Morgan, something I had never been able to do before. I found out about a secret, underground community of supernatural beings through Denny Nox. I met Lars, a Light Enchanter and Solara’s twin brother, and he wants to help us. And I’ve got these amazing, badass abilities that I’ve just barely tapped into.
And then there’s Niko. The man that’s been by my side the entire time. The guy that never pushed me away or gave up on me, no matter how annoying I was. He became my rock when I needed someone to lean on. He became my sunshine when everything seemed bleak.
So, yeah, shit sucks. But it doesn’t. Not entirely.
When I step out into the living/bedroom area wearing nothing but a big, fluffy, terrycloth robe (which I fully intend to steal when we blow this joint), there’s a room service cart sitting in the middle of the room. Now, usually, the sight of these things would invoke instant fear, but I can already see familiar scrawl on a little notecard, propped against a single pink rose in a slim vase.
Baby girl,
You did great today. Hope you enjoy.
Call me if you need me. I’m just a door away.
-N
I smile, and hold the small, white cardstock to my chest. Then I lift one of the silver domes to reveal a beautiful filet mignon aside baby carrots and whipped potatoes dressed with parsley. Another covered dish houses a mammoth-sized lobster tail, while another holds a huge slice of chocolate cake. I squeal with glee, picking up the plates and shuffling them to a small round table. Everything is delicious, of course. But as I take another bite of buttery lobster, I can’t help but feel like something is missing. Something is just…off.
I finish my meal—less enthusiastically as I started—and decide that I just must be tired. It’s been an exhausting day, and using so much probably has taken a toll on my headspace. After raiding the mini fridge for a tiny bottle of wine (goodbye two buck Chuck!), I curl into bed, still wearing the comfy bathrobe. There’s a movie on VH1—Purple Rain, Morgan’s favorite. Sorrow pulls at my heart as I realize how much I miss my girl. Damn, I wish I still had my ce
ll phone. It’d be so good to hear her voice. But since we’re technically on the run, maybe it’s best that we don’t have any contact. I wouldn’t want to lead anyone to her and Alex.
I’m watching Prince try to convince Apollonia to purify herself in the waters of Lake Minnetonka, when a sudden ache of loneliness twists in my gut. Why am I sitting over here, sipping $10 mini bottles of wine and feeling sorry for myself, when I have someone right next door? Someone that I actually like and that, hopefully, still likes me too? And it’s not like things are weird between us—anything but. Niko has always been the less intense of the Skotos brothers. We’ve always had an easy friendship, even when things around us were anything but. So there’s no reason why I should feel weird about hanging out with him. Isn’t that what we’ve always done? Even when I was obsessing over his brother?
I rip the covers off and glide to the door, feeling bold off two overpriced bottles of wine. Yet, when I reach it, doubt and confusion keep me from rapping on the door. I’m in a bathrobe, my hair is in a messy knot on the top of my head, and I’m probably sporting an epic, red wine-stache. But even more than that, there’s a good possibility that Niko wants to be alone. He’s been babysitting me for days. Maybe he was grateful to put some space between us tonight.
I release a heavy, resigning breath, deciding to just call it a night, but before I can turn around to return to Prince, the door opens.
And there stands Nikolai Skotos. Shirtless.
And I realize exactly what was missing.
“EVERYTHING OK?”
The look on his face boasts curiosity and concern, while I must undoubtedly look like a deer in headlights.
“Oh…um…I…”
“Was something wrong with your food? Are you feeling ok?”
He swiftly moves past me into my room to check it out, and I get a whiff of soap and male, mixed with his natural ocean scent. His black hair is still damp from a recent shower, and he’s wearing nothing but silk pajama bottoms. I can’t even be sure there’s anything under them either.
“Gabs?”