Tears fell, rivulets sluicing from her ducts. Had she ever cried like this, therapeutic sobs in the arms of someone she trusted? No. No, she had not. “I should apologize a thousand times, because all of this is my fault.”
With the pads of his thumbs, Brian massaged the straps of muscle running up her neck, kneading her like malleable clay.
“I don’t accept that. You’re just like any of us, doing your best. And don’t forget, don’t you ever forget, that the reason this is happening is because you saw something wrong and intervened to help me. You didn’t have to. You could have left me to my own devices, and I’d be dead already. Yes, it is spiraling out of control now, but all that means is that whatever we’re up against is mighty and intent on not giving up. But what’s important is that you took action. And you continue to take action to solve a huge, complex problem. I admire you, and I respect you. I’m grateful to you, grateful for your presence in my life. You’re a good person, Helen.”
Amidst the detritus of her disrupted magical circle, her sapphire stone gleamed in the halogen glare of Brian’s deck lamps. Except its hue had changed to a radiant amethyst that dazzled the night in blinks of iridescence.
Interesting, how the color of voice had morphed to the color of insight and intuitive awakening. She’d moved up the chakra line to the third eye wheel. Without a spell, no less. Upward progression in the absence of Left Hand magic renewed her faith in herself.
As she watched the luminescent twinkles of the stone symbolizing the third-eye chakra and its powers of intuition, Helen let go. Let go of her defensiveness, her anger. Let go of her sorrow, grief, and loss. Let go of a lifetime of fury and the suffering behind it.
And as she let go, the scabs that had grown over that third eye broke off and dissolved.
With that cruddy material gone, she was able to see Brian in his entirety. He was a person, as flawed and messy as any other, with a multitude of traits sometimes in harmony and sometimes at odds. He was meticulous and exacting, but wielding a wry sense of humor and a love of life that kept him from being stiff, boring, or unapproachable.
Artistically gifted and devoted to his craft, he didn’t mess around when it came to excelling in his musical talent.
Fantastically lucky, yet at the same time testimony to the power of a stalwart work ethic and unflappable determination to never surrender dreams, Brian served as inspiration to strive for goals no matter how lofty.
She saw how he loved his friends and daughter with fierce loyalty and gave others the benefit of the doubt until they squandered his goodwill. Then, watch out. He knew what he wanted and went after it. The man was honest to his core, a sound person who conducted his life from a place of integrity.
Brian complemented Helen, and he challenged her. He was a man she could look up to, and someone who motivated her to be better. Though she didn’t envy or crave his money or fame, they nonetheless symbolized commendable parts of him. Drive, determination. Dedication. Passion and conviction.
The crystal glimmering in the corner of her eye, she pulled back to match his stare.
Granted, there were many small to medium things she didn’t know about Brian. Factoids such as his favorite foods, pet peeves, general array of likes and dislikes.
Huge stuff was also missing from her repertoire of Brian knowledge, like how he felt about his early years. And stupid little bits of first date trivia like the one movie he’d watch a hundred times if trapped on a deserted island with that file and nothing else.
Yes, she had quite a bit further to go when it came to getting to know Brian. But in the depths of her heart, a place that could, if she let it, expand beyond its shrunken state, she knew something big.
I love you, Brian.
Yet she could not push the words out of her mouth. Because if she did, if she allowed herself to not only feel but to express that feeling from the most authentic space inside of her, would cruel forces snatch him away? Would the threat escalate?
Instead of confessing her truth, Helen fumbled out, “I’m glad you’re safe, right here in this moment. We’re together. That counts.”
His facial expression softened as he parted his lips then shut his mouth. Brian clearly picked up something in her voice, her holding back. But being the respectful man he was, he didn’t storm the gate of her one remaining fortress.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want him to, but at the same time she loved him even more for refraining.
“It counts for everything,” he said.
In the unspoken moment that followed, a look communicated what words still were not permitted clearance to articulate.
Their lips crashed in a collision of damaged hearts yearning for unbridled release. More license, more permission, more possibility. More chances to heal festering sores from buried years. In the freak rainstorm, two cursed souls trying to save each other, they kissed like their fates depended on it.
Nineteen
Brian walked out of the master bathroom shrouded in a white terrycloth robe matching the one subsuming Helen. But, at her behest, their meaningful breakthrough moments ago gave way to the demands of the mission. Curled up on his bed with the grimoire, she ran her finger down a page.
Everything about the ominous reading material vibrated with malice, from paper warped to the stiffness of preserved hide to the stains and drawings crowding out white space with the magnitude of their strangeness.
Her stomach seized every time she turned a page as she crawled to the finality of the entire massive tome, enduring the chunk of writing devoted to dark
