“Hey, Brian. It’s good to hear your voice. How is everything?”
Subdued waves rippled in an undulating pattern, the color-change lamps at the bottom of the tank infusing the liquid with an emerald glow, like an otherworldly aquarium. He sought centeredness in the water’s lapping rhythm, how its hue changed from green to blue to purple in a slow, dreamlike cycle. How much trust he could invest in Helen was still up for debate, he hated to admit, and because of the uncertainty he ought not go to mush.
“Stabilized. Tilly’s fine. The LA finale is in three days. Friday can’t get here soon enough. How are you?”
“I’m also fine. The studio’s doing well. Is there something else you want to say? You sound distressed.”
She saw right through him. Aggravating and endearing at the same time, to find himself unable to hide from the workings of the woman’s inquisitive mind.
“This is going to sound strange, but you aren’t in town, are you?”
A puzzled laugh from Helen. “No, I would have told you.”
In the extended silence that followed her denial, he plucked piece of errant debris off the steel bar capping the railing. “What?”
“Nothing, just thinking.”
“About what?”
“This whole mess. How to clean it up.”
“Well, perhaps we can clean it up together. We were making progress in Denver.” His cheeks warmed. Anyone’s guess whether they were, in fact, on their way to fixing the alleged supernatural debacle. But, despite lingering reservations, he felt better having Helen around.
And from the moment he’d walked away from that hotel room with Thom and Joe, a familiar ache returned to the middle of his chest. When he was with Helen, the hurt disappeared, replaced by the pleasures of holding her, kissing her, talking with her. Losing himself to the feel of her soft skin, her touch, the sensual pleasures they brought to each other.
He could not take for granted the straightforward yet brilliant joys of being around a person, a woman, he liked.
“Yeah. We were. Though I confess I’ve hit a bit of a standstill,” she said.
“How so?”
“My mentor put hard brakes on the kind of magic spells I’m allowed to cast. Which sucks, because I don’t know what else to do.”
“Los Angeles is a hotbed for New Age practice. There’s shops all along the boardwalk, psychics and palm readers, and all types of practitioners. Perhaps if you came out here you’d be inspired. Find someone or something who could lead you—us—in the right direction.”
“That’s a good idea. Maybe I could get away for a few more days, spend a little time out there. It might help to have me around during the finale. Keep my eyes open for suspicious activity.”
He flicked a sliver of leaf off the guard rail. The slice of dead foliage swayed in a mellow back and forth dance down to the pool and made a silent landing, impact perceptible only by ripples.
There was that old saying about a butterfly flapping its wings somewhere and making an impact on an entirely different course of events elsewhere in the world. Perhaps Helen’s presence would influence him in a positive way, soothe his agitated mind through the ripple effect made by her charm, her humor.
Her proximity improved his state of mind, a simple yet assuring truth. She could relate to what he was going through. She acted as a harbor in the storm of his life, despite the fact that she played no small role in stirring up that storm. Making their bond a shade dysfunctional, but still he missed her. Brian almost never followed his heart anywhere anymore, so the sheer concept of emotional abandon in and of itself made for an allure.
“What are you thinking about?” Her voice was low, smooth, and husky.
He laughed, the sound boyish and silly in his ears. “You. I miss you. Some random person came to my door today, and I let myself imagine she was you. How preposterous am I?”
In lieu of Helen’s immediate response, a faint electronic whine of interference travelled through the line. Off in the distance of the rocky hills, a coyote let off chilling howl.
“Did she look like she could have been my twin?” When she spoke at last, not a trace of the former casual lilt remained. Helen’s tone was as pressed and no-nonsense as a detective interrogating a murder suspect.
Nothing could be simple with Helen, never easy or light. Not for more than a few shoplifted moments. “I didn’t see her, Tilly did. Why, do you have a twin?”
“I’m a fraternal triplet, so yes I have a sister who looks almost exactly like me. But we haven’t spoken in years. There’s someone impersonating me. A doppelganger from another dimension.”
Wind sliced through in a cutting gust, making the hairs on Brian’s arms stand. A cluster of brown leaves skated over the deck, some landing in the pool where they floated like dead birds. He squirmed. “The things you ask me to believe.”
“I’m aware how outlandish it all sounds. Am I un-invited?”
He should say yes. Take Tilly and disappear. Get as far away from Helen and Joe and witchcraft and the occult and Los Angeles as he could. Go back to London. Start over.
But as bolloxed up as it was, his gut told him not to flee. Not to run from the first person in years who’d made him feel something other than ambition. The first person in forever to pull tenderness out of the forgotten chamber inside of him was complicated and challenging, a fact he didn’t resent as much as he wanted to.
Perhaps fate wanted him to have some sloppiness in his life, some chaos. Some darkness to throw the order of his well-planned existence into disarray.
Perhaps to live his most complete self, to write and create and love again, he needed to court disorder, the temptations of the universe’s secrets. Helen symbolized so much, yet at the end of
