Elixxir (The Brethren Series) (2 page)

A desk piled high with maps and brochures for Serena’s Jeep Tour company separated the two, and luckily so, Callie mused, because she wanted to throttle her best friend. The last thing she needed to hear was another lecture on safe sex and her lack of commitment to any lasting relationship. “It’s not like I sleep with every guy I date, you know.”

“I know, I know. But why? Why are you doing this to yourself? Ever since Kemuel left, you’ve been acting like this. He’s been gone for what, nearly a year now? What on earth happened between you two to make you change into this cold-hearted woman?”

“You’re really going to bring him up to me right now? Before my date? You know how I feel about even hearing his name! Thanks. Now you’ve put me in a mood.” She gathered her purse and stood, annoyed. “We’re done here. This lovely discussion is over. I’ve clocked out, so I think I’ll go wait for Richie out front. Don’t say another word. Just…good night.”

Callie didn’t wait for a response as she stomped out of the office in her fuck-me pumps, shutting the door with all the restraint she could muster. She strode to the front of the shop and outside to stand under the
Sikes and Sounds of Sedona Jeep Tours
sign. Fussing with her watch, she noted Richie hadn’t arrived yet. She worried the pleats of her skirt. Yeah, this one was a little on the trampy side. So what? It went with her trampy shoes. And she had the curvaceous body to flaunt it, so…. She flicked her long, pin-straight hair behind one spaghetti-strapped shoulder, then the other, as she tapped her foot impatiently. Her latest color came from a box of Sexy Hair. Flaming Red, to be exact. But tonight she didn’t quite measure up to the sexiness the brand promised on the box. And her trampy clothes weren’t cutting it, either. Since she’d dressed, her disposition had soured, and now she regretted the suggestive outfit. That last conversation shifted her all out of sorts, too, and she actually contemplated going home to change.

Where is the bastard, damn it
?

Richie screamed into the parking lot in a red Mustang convertible, right as she decided to call her date a bust. He parked in one of the handicapped spots by the front of the shop.

“Hey lady, looks like someone could use a ride.”

He flashed his pearly whites as he dragged his hand through his overgrown, curly brown locks. Those curls made him irresistible to women. It was fact. Just the other day, in the grocery store where he worked, she’d overheard three women tell each other so.

“It’s about time you showed up, mister.” She sauntered over to the curb. “I was about ready to head on home. What’s the deal with keeping a lady waiting?”

“Sorry, closing my register gave me grief, so until I figured out the problem, I had to stay. But it’s all good. Got us a reservation at Oak Creek Tavern and Grill. Hop in before we’re late.” Richie shot her a
GQ
smile, leaned over to open her door, and checked his bad self out in the rearview mirror on the way back.

“Sounds great, Richie, thanks.”

“You can thank me later, hot lips.” He pulled away from the curb.

She said nothing, but raised an eyebrow.
Maybe two dates is enough with this one
.

***

Dinner turned out to be better than Callie predicted. Richie and she found a lot to talk about, and two hours flew by in the blink of an eye. He drove them back to the store since her car was still there.

“Why don’t I follow you back to your place? We’ve had such a good time, I think. We could continue over some wine.”

“I’ll follow you back to yours. My place is a mess right now. Redecorating.” Rule Number Two: never bring a guy back to the apartment. He’ll want to stay over, which leads to Rule Number Three: never let a man sleep over. Go to his place so you can leave when you want.

Richie didn’t have a problem with her offer, so within ten minutes they were at his apartment, over a convenience store. The décor surprised her. She expected early bachelor pad, but instead was greeted with a very clean, minimalist, modern design.

“I’m impressed, Richie. Your place isn’t at all what I expected. Mind if I take off my shoes? These heels are killing me!”

“Sure, leave them by the front door. Yeah, I like clean lines and no clutter. Here, try this. I think you’ll like it. It complements your hair. The color, I mean.” He winked at her, putting a glass of merlot in her hand.

She thanked him, and he casually lumbered over to his stereo to put on some mood music. He dimmed the lights and settled in on the couch. She eased herself down next to him.

“So, have you personally given any Jeep tours?”

“Yeah, I’ve given a couple, but only when we’re overbooked, which doesn’t happen often since I’m the one in charge of scheduling. What about you? Are you interested in management at the supermarket?”

“Yeah, I’m going for my MBA while I work there.” He paused and took her glass. “You know, I think we’ve done enough talking for now. I know enough about you and you know enough about me. I’ve wanted to do this since the first time I laid eyes on you.”

Richie leaned in, grabbed her face with both hands and locked his lips on hers like a slimy, wet suckerfish. His tentacles—for that’s the image his arms produced in her mind—wrapped feverishly around her, his hands groped her ass and back around at her breasts, and she knew there would be marks left behind as souvenirs. After the initial shock, she regained her senses and shoved at his chest to disengage from the jerk.

“Whoa, Richie! You’re, uh, running a bit too fast for me here.” She scooted off the couch. “I think I’ll call it a night.” She made it halfway to the door before he tackled her from behind. They fell together to the floor and he quickly flipped her over so they were facing each other. She struggled to get out from under him, but he secured her legs within his and held her wrists tightly in his grip.

“What the hell do you mean, leaving me here with a hard-on? I bought you an expensive dinner, two in fact, counting last night. I talked nice to you. I even let you come to my place. What did you think I would say? ‘Toodle-loo! See you soon!’ You owe me, Callie,” he whispered. “You owe me good. So stop fighting and reciprocate a little here.” He pressed down and viciously nuzzled her neck, nipping and licking, while she screamed.

“Stop! Richie, stop! Let me go! I’m not ready for this! Get off of me! No!” She shrieked, and then whispered vehemently, “Don’t make me hurt you. I can hurt you.”

“Ooh, she likes it rough. Okay then, bruiser, let’s make it rough.”

He moved ever so slightly to adjust himself. That was all she needed to knee him in the balls, break the hold on her arms, and whack him hard on his ears. As he thrashed about in pain on the floor, she scrambled to the front door. Grabbing at her purse and shoes, she ran to the car as if hell were nipping at her heels. Thankfully, she had left the door unlocked and was able to make a speedy exit. It would take her twenty minutes to get home from his house. Twenty excruciating minutes of hellish memories forced their way to the front of her mind, blending with the evening’s debacle.

“No, I won’t let you in again! I won’t!” Callie shouted to her nightmares. But when Richie said she owed him, it tore a hole in her well-woven fabric of protection and let the horrors of her past slither through to taunt and terrorize her.

She drove on and minded the road, but didn’t see it at the same time. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks as she also saw her pretend brother’s face through the windshield taunting her that she owed him for coming and upsetting his perfect family structure. She heard him say, clear as the day he’d spoken it, she’d better do whatever he wanted and not tell anyone or he’d make her life a living hell. And then she felt the familiar pressure of this sixteen-year-old fake brother on top of her, forcing himself on her and in her, while her thirteen-year-old body cried and died over and over again.

“You fucking son-of-a-bitch asshole!” She banged her hand against the steering wheel. Had she screamed at Richie the shmuck, or Dennis the rapist-pseudo-brother she’d inherited with the supposedly “good” family courtesy of Mr. Watkins? Both, and every God-damned son-of-a-bitch male on this earth!

Making it home by the grace of God, she locked her front door and wedged a chair under the doorknob. She threw her purse on the floor and ran to the bathroom where she proceeded to throw up the contents of her dinner, and then some. After scrubbing herself raw under the scorching curtain of water, she dressed for bed, made a full pot of tea, and snuggled deep down into her couch.

“Something’s gotta change, Callie-girl. You’re headed down a dangerous path and there’s no denying it. You can’t keep this up anymore. No more men. That’s it. They’re nothin’ but trouble anyway. They can’t be trusted, they’re violent, and they leave you without a second thought.”

Well, there had been one man who treated her like gold in her life: her father. Her father who’d been brutally murdered twenty years ago over a stupid trinket that supposedly held some stupid liquid.
What is it
?
Oh yeah, the Elixxir of Life
.
That damned flask
! God, how she wished he and her mother were still alive. Her life would have turned out so different from what it currently was—a mess.

Suddenly, a dangerous idea came to her. Dare she even acknowledge it? Should she even try it? How would it feel rolling around her mouth, over her tongue, across her lips? It’d been so long since she’d heard her real name aloud.

“Ariana,” she whispered, and quickly covered her mouth with her hands.

***

I am not opening my eyes yet. If I don’t open them, then I don’t have to face the anniversary of the worst day in my life
. Callie turned over in her bed and groaned. “Oh my God! What the hell?” she yelled. Every muscle in her body ached and her neck and wrists were sore. And then she remembered last night. Richie.
If he ever shows his face near the shop
…. What? What would she do? She’d pound his ass into the pavement. But for now, she’d settle for posting a flyer on his supermarket bulletin board extolling his virtues as a caveman. She’d work on that later.

She rolled over again. How would she get through today? She hated September 21. Her parents had been murdered that day, and she couldn’t share that information with anyone she considered even an acquaintance. Not a soul could know the real her, or rather, who she had been twenty years ago. Was there any trace of Ariana left inside her? She had no fucking clue.
Damn
! A day off afforded her no distraction.

Begrudgingly, she got out of bed and put on some sweatpants and a T-shirt. In the bathroom, she stared at herself long and hard while brushing her teeth. Puffy eyes spoke volumes in the mirror. Misery had come to claim her company, but she needed to connect with someone much more positive. Serena had gone to work already. Callie officially had no one right now, and that sucked.

When she sat down in front of her computer, she noticed it’d been left on, and simply clicked on Internet Explorer. Twitter and Facebook were off limits, as were any other sites that would allow her to connect with other people. Despite how much time had passed, she thought she could still be in danger. As long as the murderers were still at large, she couldn’t risk being identified.
But there’s no harm in surfing the ’net
. Her thoughts had been getting her in a heap of trouble lately, so she gave herself a moment to rethink and reflect.

Nope, no reason not to surf. It’s been twenty years. I wonder what Uncle Eddie has done with the shop. I wonder if he’s got a website for it
. Now these were truly dangerous thoughts.
Don’t go there. But who would know if I was simply surfing and came across a website that just happened to be Daddy’s old curiosity shop? Nobody would know that I had been there
.

As she talked herself into doing a search, a prickly sensation undulated all over her arms. She was scared and anxious, but mostly curious. Would she find anything? She typed “Kupi and Murati Curiosity Shop” in the search box and closed her eyes, afraid she might find no results. As she peeked through fingers that had involuntarily covered her eyes, she found what she’d been looking for. First on the search list was “Murati Curiosity Shop.”

“So Uncle Eddie took off our last name,” she murmured, a bit miffed. He could have left Kupi as part of the store name to honor his dead partner. That would have been nice.
Well, do I enter the site or not
?
What to do
?
What to do
?
Oh, all right
!
I’ll do it
!

She clicked on the link and soon looked into the glowing eyes of a glass skull. Written underneath the skull was Murati’s Curiosity Shop. When she clicked on the skull, it opened to the rest of the website. She meandered through the pages, finding all sorts of oddities and legitimate artifacts from all over the world. She found the owner bio page and saw how well Uncle Eddie looked. Time had been kind. And then she saw the “Contact Us” button.

“Oh no, you don’t!” she said aloud, just to be sure she heard herself. “Don’t you dare click on that button. Do you hear me?” Well, most parts heard her, but not the part that held the mouse. Her finger rebelled and clicked. A live-chat window opened on the screen. “Holy Jesus!” Callie closed out of Internet Explorer and shut down the computer. “What have I done? Man, I’m such a pain in my ass today!” She decided it was not a good day for her to be up and about, so she went back to bed and pulled the covers over her head. She’d stay there until tomorrow eventually came.

***

Tahiti

“Sir, we have news.”

“Yes, what is it, Jorge?”

“We got a curious hit on your website, sir. We’ve traced the signal back to its origin. Double-checked, and with a little research, believe it’s the woman you’ve been looking for. Here are the results, sir.” Jorge approached the bamboo desk and held out a folded piece of paper.