touch (12 page)

Whether I chose him or someone else, that choice would set
into effect a chain reaction I couldn’t stop.  “I just wanted to know if there
was something I could help you with, something you value as much as I would ten
days freedom.”

He bowed Beatriz’s head for a moment deep in thought.  When
he looked at me, his intense gaze drew me forward.  Whatever he had in mind
meant a lot to him.  “Ten days.  I can release you from the chant, but not from
our bargain or the touch.”

I nodded.  I could live with that.  The idea of no curfew
really appealed to me.  “Your price?”

“See me… touch me, as I am without fear.”

Through our interactions, I’d gleaned bits of knowledge of
him as a person.  I still struggled to think of him as a person though.  But,
the memory of the shadowy green-eyed creature frightened me less after our time
together.

“Just one touch?”  I needed to be sure I understood the
scope of the bargain, the basic thing that Belinda had failed to do.

“Yes, but for each day, you must spend an hour with me as I
am.”

“Okay, but how are we going to do that without people
freaking out?”

He grinned slightly and assured me, “I will blend.”

I thought about it, trying to see it from every angle. 
“Help me out here.  Are you tricking me in some way?  Is there something that I
should be asking or thinking of?  If your price is really to touch you once and
spend an hour a day with you for ten days while I’m allowed to stay up as late
as I want… with no backlash, I’d agree.  But is someone going to die because of
this?  Am I going to fall into a coma for ten days after or something weird
like that? Or will this affect my children someday if I don’t choose you?

He watched me carefully as I spoke.  I thought the last
comment would bother him, but he took it without reaction.  “No.  The terms are
as simple as they sound.”

Taking a deep breath, I agreed to the deal and waited
expectantly for something to happen.  Maybe a swirling of pixie dust around my
head or something, but nothing did.

Instead, he flashed a triumphant smile and promised, “I will
see you tonight.  After the chant, you will feel sleepy, but will stay awake
until you see me.  Do not fear me.  Tonight will be the first night of ten.” He
faded as the last group of students rose from their table.

“Come on Beatriz,” I said when she blinked at the suddenly
empty cafeteria.  I didn’t let her dwell on it.  “Do you have plans for
Saturday?  I was thinking of trying to talk my mom into a little free time.”

She perked up and we started talking about potential plans. 
All I had to do was get through tonight without screaming and running away when
Morik showed up.  I hoped there were no hidden terms to the deal, like my
imminent death.

It took effort to hide my tension from Gran while we
prepared dinner.  Anticipation warred with trepidation.  She looked at me
questioningly a few times, but I smiled and diverted her with different
topics.  The best topic being that of our elderly neighbor.

She let slip that he invited her to a card party.  I grinned
and asked if she would go.  The happiness on her face dimmed just a little when
she said the party didn’t start until after dark.

We both quietly withdrew to our own thoughts.  I wanted
happiness for them all, but until I chose, they had no freedom.  Once they put
me to bed, everyone stayed in.  The house remained for all intents under lock
down until sunup.  I hoped I could pull off meeting Morik in the flesh.  If so,
I might not be the only one making plans for the weekend.

Sitting through dinner, baked white fish, mashed potatoes
and carrots, tested my patience.  I couldn’t ever remember looking forward to
the evening chant.  Forcing myself to eat slowly, I listened to my mom talk
about her boss’s invitation to a seminar that she turned down.  Something in
her tone caught my attention briefly.  I studied her when she talked about him
and wondered if there might be an attraction between them.

As usual, I excused myself from the clean-up process to
shower and get ready for bed.  Morik’s words repeated in my mind.  Was he going
to knock on the door after they put me to bed?  I started to panic.  They
didn’t answer the door for anyone and I would miss my chance to complete my end
of the deal.

I looked around my room trying to think of something.  He
said I would feel sleepy, but stay awake.  Maybe that was so I could sneak to
the door and slip out.  If I had to sneak out, I’d need more than pajamas, but
mom would wonder if I dressed in anything else.

Settling on wearing pajamas, I set clothes out on the chair
near my bed.  If I didn’t pass out, I’d change and then listen for my chance to
get to the front door.

“You’re very quiet tonight,” my mom commented when she came
to get me.

“A lot on my mind with school,” I explained quietly too
nervous to come up with anything better.

She stopped in the hallway and turned toward me, forcing me
to stop as well.  “Are you being bullied again?” concern laced her voice.

All the resentment over the yelling we’d done at each other
vanished when I saw the fear in her eyes.  I gave her a reassuring hug.  “No
mom.  It’s just regular school stuff.”

She nodded, and I felt guilty for keeping secrets as I
followed her to the living room.  There were still too many reasons not to tell
her everything.  I wasn’t sure of the truth.  Tonight would be a test.  If the
deal went as simply as he said it would, I’d have more trust in the legitimacy
of the story he’d told me.  And I didn’t want to alarm anyone with those
details until I felt more certain of them.

Their chanting surrounded me and I closed my eyes.  I bit my
lip to keep from smiling.  Anticipation finally won over trepidation.  Whatever
came would be the result of a deal of my own making, not someone else’s.  I
felt each light touch on my bare arms.  Mom’s, strong and sure; Aunt Grace’s
light and shy; Aunt Danielle quick and cool; Gran’s soft and gentle.  Then it
was over.

Mom led me with a steady arm wrapped around my shoulder to
my room.  Pulling back the quilts, she helped me into bed.  I didn’t feel any
different.  The strange compulsion to sleep gripped me as usual.  I struggled
to keep my eyes open as she turned off my light and closed my door.

Frustrated, I rubbed my eyes.  But that meant closing them. 
And once they closed, they refused to reopen.  I hovered on the verge of sleep.

Time slipped away from me until I heard a slight noise in my
room in the direction of the chair.

“Tessa,” a deep rumbling voice quietly drifted to me, “its
Morik.  Open your eyes.”

My heart gave a little flutter at the sudden sound of his
voice.  I took a calming breath and pushed any fear I had aside.  He told me to
open my eyes as if I’d purposely closed them, as if they listened to me.  I
tried opening them anyway and to my surprise, it worked.

It took a moment for them to adjust to the darkened room,
the only light coming from under the bedroom door.  I heard the TV on in the
living room.  I’d always thought they went to bed after I did.

“Can you turn on the reading light?” I whispered not wanting
to turn on the bedroom light.

A quiet click later, the dim yellow glow from the light
blinded me.  Usually kept in a kitchen draw for emergencies, I’d snagged it
when I’d gone for a glass of water before brushing out my hair.  I’d thought
I’d need it to stumble around outside in the dark.

I sat up in bed, mentally bracing myself.  No fear, I
reminded myself as I swung my legs over the edge of the mattress and turned toward
the light.  He wasn’t as I remembered him.

He stood near my desk, holding the light loosely in his
hand, watching me.  The light created small shadows on his very real skin.  I
held myself still focusing on slow even breathing while I studied his face.

Pitch back hair fell in soft short waves back from his
brow.  The tips of his ears, about the same size as my own, poked through the
thick waves extending his ears by another inch.  Two worry lines married his
smooth wide brow.  In the dim lit, the color of his skin hinted at Native
American, but with a greyish cast.  I wondered if it was due to the shadows. 
Then, his eyes captivated me.  Swirling prisms of color, his irises contrasted
the muddied backdrop of the whites of his eyes.  The difference between the two
as scary as it was beautiful.

He held himself still as I continued to study him, though
his wide full lips turned down in a slight frown.  I noticed his lower lip
protruded slightly as if he had an under bite.  Before I had time to study his
mouth further, I discerned a slight dent in his chin.  Not quite a butt chin, but
still a strong one.

My eyes drifted down.  He wasn’t wearing a shirt.  Why
wasn’t he wearing a shirt?  My eyes did a quick travel lower and I breathed in
relief at the site of kaki cargo pants.  Calmer, I went back to his chest.  No
hair sprinkled his skin there, everything lean muscle.  He was right.  He did
blend well.  Better than my first glimpse of him.  I forced my eyes back up to
his face not wanting to be rude.  His body looked very human, unlike his eyes
and ears.

Seeing the real him without fear?  Check.  Touching him… 
“So, where exactly am I supposed to touch you?”  I kept my voice low so no one
would hear.  The no shirt business made me wary.

At the sound of my voice, the worry lines disappeared and he
smiled.  When he did, I saw the reason behind the prominence of his lower lip. 
His lower two canines, longer than the rest, extended just enough to overlap
his top teeth.  The slight curve of them pushed against his lip.  So he didn’t
really have an under bite.  Definitely not human.

He stepped forward and extended a hand to help me stand. 
Still sitting on the bed, I had an up-close view.  Fine dark hair dusted the
back of his hand.  Normal enough.  Sharp black nails neatly topped each digit. 
Not normal.  I stared at them for a moment pushing back at my rising fear.  He
patiently waited with his hand outstretched.  Hesitantly, I lifted my hand. 
Please don’t shred me with those nails.

His warm fingers closed around my own and he gently tugged
me to my feet.  Taller than me by a foot, I found myself suddenly staring at
his chest.  He didn’t release my hand.  Instead, he pulled it up toward his
chest turning my hand in his so my palm would make first contact.  His skin
radiated heat before I even touched him.  Once he placed my hand, he let go again
standing still for my inspection.  The texture of his skin distracted me from
my embarrassment.

Instead of leaving my hand where he’d left it, I moved it
slightly to test what I felt.  A soft smooth skin covered hard muscle.  Under
it, I felt the steady beat of his heart.  Most women would kill for skin like
that.  The thought made me cringe.  The women in our family had killed enough
without envying the texture of skin.

I became aware that I just stood there lightly running my
fingers over him and stilled my movement.  The last thing I needed with Morik
was a mix-up in signals.  I know he wanted me to choose him, but what I’d been
doing definitely was not an indication of that.

Without removing my hand, I looked up into his strange
eyes.  “Did I meet my part of the deal?”  He met my gaze easily and I felt
relief.

“Almost,” he said quietly, flashing me another triumphant
smile as he quickly stepped away from me.  “Now I get an hour of your time.” 
He reached behind him, lifted a shirt off the chair, and quickly put it on.  I
hadn’t even noticed he had a shirt there.

When he tugged it over his head, it mussed his hair, and I
noticed his ears weren’t the only thing hiding in those waves.  What I thought
was just a thick head of hair also included dull black horns.  They adorned
each side of his head like a gentle wave running back from his hairline.  Starting
at the temple, they curved up and then back down toward his ear before curving
back up at the tip.  The tips of his ear reached the middle width of the horn. 
Channels ringed the horns lending them a carved look.

He caught me staring and the worry lines came back.  Forcing
my eyes away from his horns, I scrambled for something to say.  “What are we
going to do?”  Unfortunately, my voice quavered.

He stepped close to me, tilting his head to study me, his
face now carefully blank.  “Are you frightened?”

“No,” I answered quickly.  And I wasn’t.  Not really.  I
liked this version of Morik, at least a lot more than the shadowy one and the
body snatching one.  But the site of his horns had me wondering if there were
other versions of Morik I hadn’t yet seen.

He studied me closely.  “You touched me without fear, but,”
he reached up with his right hand and ran his fingers over his horn, “this
bothers you?”

His expression said he wasn’t going to let this go. 
Standing so close, as he talked, his long teeth kept peeking at me, distracting
me.  He was so different… there was so much to look at it was hard not to stare
at any one thing.  But apparently he didn’t like my staring, so I dropped my
eyes to his shirt.  Fabric was safe.  It was some vintage band t-shirt and I
wondered if he got it when the band was new.  He was old enough.

“Not really.  You’re just different from what I imagined. 
I’m sorry for staring.”

He nodded and stepped back again.  Cautiously, I met his
eyes.  We watched each other for a few minutes, the silence growing
uncomfortable.

Struggling for something to say, I asked, “What do you do
when you’re not busy with Belinda’s line?”

His eyes never left my face, but I still felt weird standing
in front of him wearing my pajamas when he was dressed.  Not that I wanted him
to take his shirt off again.  That had been worse.  My eyes fell on the
sweatshirt on the chair behind him.