20. MIND-WEAVING

MIND-WEAVING

I n the back corner of Blotto, I sat at a small table illuminated by two tea candles arranged near a small vase of fresh wildflowers. I stared into the flame, feeling the heat radiate off of it while it danced and balanced atop the wick. I was painfully aware of a number of things: it was very early in the evening, and I was one of only five patrons, which made my reckless plan more likely to fail (this might have been subconsciously intentional); Annette Hanshaw's song, "I've Got A Feeling I'm Falling," rang from the speakers, and that music, mixed with the dim lights and smell of "locally made" gin, was incredibly romantic, maybe too romantic. I'd showered, done my hair and makeup quickly, and chosen an outfit that made me feel powerful and sexy. I knew that I looked good in the drop V-neck and high-waisted jeans, my back straight and tall, eyes sweeping the room. I hoped, almost painfully, that I'd run into Andras. After all, this was one of the places he came to meet dates.

It had been a few weeks since I'd run into Andras in the cafe and chatted with him about Bethany. A few weeks since he'd somehow–I didn't even want to know how–snapped a photo of Bethany shimmying out of Kim's window in a lacy thong and snow boots. And one week since my divorce was final. Ever since, I'd been successfully fighting the urge to go to Andras's house for some kind of distraction, some kind of release. Steven was in China again. Victoria and Olivia were home with Jess, watching a Santa movie, and I had fuckall to do. So here I was.

I'd have two drinks alone, and if Andras didn't turn up, I'd call Sebastian or Sam, go get dinner, and spend the night dancing, laughing, and filling the hole in my chest with friendship and mirth. I needed it. Not just because of my new single status but because I needed to carve out a place in the world that was just for me. Since having the girls and my marriage tanking, I'd been stuck in survival mode, in routines, in unhealthy habits, just going through the motions to get through each day. I loved being a mother but was unhappy with how I'd abandoned myself in the process. Not that long ago, Jess, Sebastian, and Sam had all not-so-subtly pointed out that my eyes seemed empty, shadowed, at times, that I'd stopped laughing and resembled a storm cloud in a jogger set. At the time, I'd ignored them and smugly wrote them off as "clueless childless folks." What did they know about being a mom and stumbling around in a crumbling marriage? Everything, apparently. I didn't realize just how right they'd been until now. Until I'd stopped focusing all of my energy on holding onto Steven and started thinking about myself and what I needed to be happy, without him.

I could be happy. I could make this life anything I wanted if I were bold and brave. Leaving Steven was the first step in casting fear aside and reaching for joy. Ripping my life away from Steven's felt daunting, yet there was peace in it, and a hunger for love, for touch, for passion, excitement, and life—a drive to make up for lost time.

I tapped the candle's liquid-hot surface with the tip of my finger, then peeled the dried wax off and let the pieces drop back into the candle, where they melted back into themselves. A figure appeared in my periphery, and my gaze slowly drifted up. A waiter in an old-timey uniform, a vest, and nineteen-twenties arm garters flipped open his notebook, asking, "What can I get ya?" I felt a slight pang of disappointment and then smiled, ordering, "A very dirty martini?" He nodded and sped off towards the bar. I turned back to the flame. It's probably better if he doesn't show up. What am I going to do with him, anyway? Plus, he's going to live for a billion years, and I'll probably die around eighty from some kind of cancer caused by turpentine exposure. I'd pulled out my phone to text Sebastian, "what are you up to?" when a figure appeared again next to me. I turned eagerly to accept my martini and froze with my arm partially extended, then awkwardly dropped it to my side.

"Well, hello again," Andras purred. His blue eyes raked over me and then flared with delight. He lowered his head and whispered, "What brings you here all alone?"

I crossed my arms and leaned back in my seat.

"You have to know that you sound so creepy right now."

He tipped back his head and laughed with wicked amusement, then took a step toward the empty seat across from me before pausing.

"Can I sit? Or will we cause another scandal?"

I gestured to the chair, "go ahead."

Andras prowled to the chair and slid in. He adjusted his jacket sleeves before resting his forearms on the table's edge. He leaned in conspiratorially, whispering, "You know, the strangest thing just happened. I went outside to take my usual evening stroll, and when I got to the end of my street, I caught a whiff of a very distinct floral perfume lingering in the air, which led me here. You wouldn't know anything about how that scent got there, would you?"

I shrugged sweetly, "I may or may not have gone a block out of my way to rub my wrists on a tree near your house. Like a sloth. I wasn't actually sure that would work, but I was curious about your sense of smell. And apparently, it is amazing . How long can you smell someone after they've walked by?"

Andras thought about it, working his bottom lip with his teeth. I tried not to stare.

"Hmm, about twenty minutes, but since you nearly dry-humped that big oak tree on the corner–nicely done, by the way, it lingered for longer." He angled his head like a cat playing with a mouse, his tongue resting between his teeth. "Is there a reason you wanted me to follow you here?"

"First of all, I did not ‘dry hump' anything. Ew. And yes. I wanted to buy you a drink for snapping that photo of Bethany hanging out of Kim's window." A partial truth. "I have no idea how you caught that, and seriously don't want to know, but thank you. Thank you so much," I spoke sincerely and meant it. It worked. "Bethany barely even makes eye contact with me at drop off and hasn't bombarded me via text or email, either."

He smiled and inclined his head. "Anytime, love."

The words, thank you, were insufficient. This man, this immortal man, had literally saved my life once and now my sanity, and I had no idea how to ever pay him back. I guessed I could offer to be his snack if he was ever hungry and short on dates at some point. Though that seemed unlikely. My cheeks heated as I imagined his teeth on my neck and hand down my pants, making small circles at the apex of my sex. Pressing my knees together, I shoved the thought away. Still, my body betrayed me, and my underwear dampened.

Andras stilled, and his eyes flashed gold, a startling display of what he truly was beneath the human guise. He dipped his chin down to look up at me through his lashes like an animal about to pounce.

"What is it you're thinking about?" He asked in a low gravely voice.

I died inside.

He grinned, and it was positively feral.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Gods. Calm down.

I cleared my throat.

"I was wondering if you're going to order a drink…"

"Oh, were you?" He purred.

"Yes."

"Liar. And yes, I will be ordering a drink."

Andras waved at a passing waiter, who paused mid-stride to take his order: a Manhattan for himself and "a panty dropper shot for the lady." Arrogant, obnoxious, son of a bitch. And yet, I longed to sit on that perfect face.

"So what's it like being, ya know, what you are?" I asked, taking a sip of my martini. The vinegary bite of the olive juice and the burning sensation of the gin washed over my tongue and slipped down my throat.

Andras glanced around to make sure no one was lingering within earshot before continuing, "Exactly like the movies. Love triangles, glitter skin, feeding frenzies." He waved his fingers in front of himself, a gesture that was part spooky and part jazz hands.

I rolled my eyes.

"Seriously," I pressed.

"Okay, but prepare for a very dramatic yet boring story. Being…immortal…can be really lonely. Some decades more than others." A shrug. "Life can feel redundant, and the monotony and loneliness can start to drive you a little insane. Unlike the movies, vampires don't really run around making carbon copies of themselves, unless there's a war. It's rare to meet another. The possibility of having to spend hundreds of years with someone is a really effective deterrent. Plus, even if you do meet someone, or turn someone, well…you know the saying: ‘power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely.' And I certainly never wanted to be responsible for adding another psycho to the world."

"But how did you become one?"

He went rigid, his eyes darkening as if a haunting memory was dragging him back to a place and time he didn't want to visit.

"I'd rather not talk about it, or him . Some things are best left buried and forgotten," he said, his voice an octave deeper and a little hollow.

"I'm sorry. About all of that," I said, reaching slowly for his hand. He looked down at the contact, his eyes now a gilded blue. I couldn't help but chuckle, at which he smiled back sheepishly.

"There are perks, though, of being... this ," he said, dipping his chin to gesture at himself.

"Like speed and strength and living forever?" I took another sip from my martini. "As a woman, I spend a lot of my time afraid. I can't walk anywhere at night without looking over my shoulder every thirty seconds, especially after…especially after my father died. And again, now, ever since that man broke into my house. I can't imagine feeling that...safe," I admitted.

Andras slowly shook his head, then focused on his drink. "Yes," he said, "there's a certain comfort in it, in that way. There is the fear of being found out and ending up in a laboratory or being hunted by human mobs, but that's not your typical day-to-day fear. I feel exceptionally safe most of the time and can keep those I care about safe, too." He paused as if to consider something before continuing, "So your father died?"

I nodded.

"Murdered."

"And you saw him after?"

"Yes. And I've been anxious and fearful of death, of not being able to keep people I love safe, ever since."

"I'm so sorry, Danny."

My glass seemed to glow as the ice floated there, reflecting the light. And then I saw the blood, so much blood.

"He'd been," I breathed in and out slowly, "Torn apart in his office. They were looking through his things. Files and papers were everywhere, and blood splattered…" I swallowed hard. "My sister and I found him."

Andras's soft fingers found mine across the table. He stroked the back of my hand delicately.

"I'm sorry."

I forced a tight smile.

"It was a long time ago," I said softly, "but it affects me every day. Honestly, he's probably the reason I got married to my ex in the first place. I wanted a safe and boring life."

"And now?"

"And now I want it all," I said, meeting Andras' eyes, "Fear be damned."

He pinned me to the spot, his hand still gently caressing mine. His lips kicked up slightly at the corners as he glanced up from his drink to me. "You know, there are advantages to being like this, too. Can I show you something?" he asked.

I nodded, excitement and fear washing over me.

The room around us began to darken. I inhaled sharply, and my spine locked up as shadows expanded like the room was being rubbed out with ebony paint. Then, slowly, the shadows receded to reveal teak bedroom furniture and a large king-size bed with a floral installation around a crystal chandelier hanging above it. A fireplace crackled along one wall, and an end table stacked with old books hugged each side of the bed. Andras and I sat at a writing table in the far corner of the bedroom. My eyes widened, and I darted about the room. My chest rose and fell faster, faster, and faster.

"What's happening," I whispered.

"Our bodies are still in the bar, but I've pulled you into my head. This is my bedroom," he motioned around the space. I wanted to show you this," he said, waving a hand towards the bed.

I raised my eyebrows. "A bed? Seriously?"

"Oh. No. I mean…unless that's what you want?" he smirked. "But, no. Look above the bed."

My eyes climbed the wall and narrowed in on a painting where a headboard would be.

I hopped to my feet and froze. My hand flew to my mouth as I gasped, "Oh shit." I looked down at my body. "Did I just stand up and yell in the bar?"

"No. Whatever we do here stays here. All anyone else can see is just us sitting, hanging out, and time goes by faster here, almost like a dream. So while it might feel like we're here for a long time, it will seem like a few heartbeats out there."

I nodded slowly. "This is crazy," I whispered. Then my feet were moving as I ambled toward the bed and it felt real, impossible to decipher from the real world. Flexing and relaxing my hands, I marvelled at the sensations, while taking in my surroundings in awe.

"Mattise?" I asked incredulously as I came upon the masterpiece that hung behind protective glass on the wall just above his bed.

The nude figure of a woman lying down popped against a colorful background of blues and greens. I inhaled and imagined what it would have smelled like when the paint was still wet.

"Mmmhmmm," he hummed, "I thought you might like it."

"I do. It's beautiful."

My hand ran down the buttery-soft linen comforter, and a warm wave washed over me as a sudden need to be desired caressed, and filled hit me. I spun on my heel to face Andras, still sitting motionless at the table, though something like amusement marked his face.

"Take me back to the bar," I demanded in a sudden panic that I didn't understand.

"Of course," he said.

The room exploded with shadows and darkness, and when they cleared, we were back in the bar; a silk dancer had begun their ascent up the crimson drapes, and the place was suddenly packed with patrons. I pressed my eyes closed to stop the world from spinning. When I opened them, I felt like I might puke. Reading about fantastical shit could not be more different than actually experiencing it . For a moment, my reality seemed to hang on a frayed thread swaying precariously in the wind. My delicate human brain couldn't comprehend up from down, left from right, or real from fake.

Andras's expression was sober as he reached across the table to caress my cheek.

"Just breathe," he said. "It's really intense the first time, but it will pass."

"Intense?" I suppressed the urge to glare at him, "I feel like I'm bopping around in Wonderland."

Andras frowned. "That bad, huh?"

"Yeah, probably because I already feel like my sanity is one panic attack away from shattering these days. And you can just… pull someone into a different world like that?" I asked, leaning forward against the table to keep my voice low, then muttering, part in awe, part in horror, "I can't tell if I think it's amazing or utterly fucking terrifying. Also, never do that to me again without warning or permission."

"Of course not."

"Okay," I whispered. I needed to clear my head. "Excuse me, I'm just gonna run to the bathroom."

I wandered down the hall towards the restroom and fought every cell in my body, screaming at me to run, run, run. While sitting down to pee, I texted Jess.

"Sis, is it too soon to move on from my marriage?"

Jess replied more quickly than usual, and I was glad for it. "No. You deserve to feel loved. You deserve to be happy. And I wouldn't feel guilty one bit. You guys are officially done, and frankly, Steven checked out of your marriage years ago, so as far as I'm concerned, you've been single for years. Do it. Break the seal."

I read the words over and over again in the bathroom, Steven checked out years ago. Truer words had never been spoken, yet I still agonized over him. Meanwhile, out there sat Andras, a gorgeous immortal, waiting for me. A man who had saved my life and my children and helped me put an end to the painfully ridiculous Bethany feud. Sure, I'd only known him for a couple of months, but he made me smile and laugh, which was more than I could say about Steven, who had stomped around the world like a raging curmudgeon for the past few years.

I pulled up my pants, flushed the toilet with the toe of my shoe, and smiled knowingly at myself in the mirror while I washed my hands. I spun around and strutted back to the table, ass in full swing, Persian hips like a honing beacon, turning heads all the way back to Andras.

I hopped into the seat across from Andras, who seemed very focused on a stain on the table. He inhaled as his eyes flicked up to me to say something, but stopped, eyes dragging over me. He seemed to notice the change in my body where I'd gone from reeling confusion to something else, something primal. He grinned.

"Are you feeling better, then?" He asked. "I'm sorry I didn't warn you about the side effects. To be honest, I forgot, but I take full responsibility for making you feel upset in any way."

"Thank you. I'm fine," I said. "Better than fine." I lifted my chin towards his drink. "Bottoms up," I said, throwing back the rest of my martini and wincing as the full strength of the liquor hit the back of my throat. Then I placed both hands on the table and closed the distance between him and me, staring into his eyes like a fox giving chase to a rabbit (if the rabbit were unable to die and itself a perfectly designed creature of death). My chest rose and fell as I panted–yes, panted. Andras's lip kicked up on one side but his eyes were the color of honey once again, and laser focused on…?. His long fingers curled into fists, his nails carving into the table while he waited, and waited, and waited until finally, I realized that he wasn't going to make a move until I said so. I smiled.

"Take us back to your room," I ordered, our eyes still locked, as I leaned over the table until I was inches from his face.

Andras's pupils expanded, the gilded blue turned a blazing gold, and the world went black.