Page 16 of A Shade of Myself
I forced myself to watch the hiker and not Laurent, though I strained to hear what was happening. Had a dybbuk appeared? Was that why he’d drawn upon his Banim Shovavim magic?
A desolate howl echoed through the woods and the hiker jumped, wide-eyed.
“What was that?” he said.
“Coyote?” I dropped my arms because I’d hugged myself at the sound. I’d never get used to how much it hurt Laurent to use his acquired magic. It consumed him, turning his eyes black as pitch and his fur into a blinding expanse of white.
“You think?” The hiker craned his neck, walking closer to try to see for himself.
I darted a look up the trail. The wolf had bolted, nor was there any sign of a dybbuk. “All clear,” I said. “But be on guard for wildlife.” Or dybbuks.
I kept an eye on him in case he was attacked, but he bypassed the spot where I’d seen the shimmering circle without incident, and when I went to investigate, it too was gone.
While I killed dybbuks, Laurent’s powers only allowed him to dispatch them back to Gehenna. Since he ripped open a portal to send them back, could one happen naturally, allowing dybbuks to slip through? And if so, had he sealed it?
“Laurent?” I peered into the trees, rubbing the back of my neck and assuring myself that the wolf could take care of himself, even as his tortured cry still rang in my ears.
My phone rang.
“All gone?” Tatiana said without preamble.
Whether she meant the wolf or the circle, the answer was the same. “Yes. Why didn’t you tell me Laurent was back?”
“He wasn’t.” There was a crash of glass on her end. “Emmett, you klutz!”
“That was definitely him. Hello? Hello?” I smacked my hand against a tree trunk because she’d hung up.
My churning thoughts, extreme irritation, and several rounds of “I Will Survive” carried me up the large steps of the final steep quarter. Panting, I crested the top and slowed to a stop with a sigh. Vancouver stretched out before me, the breathtaking view going all the way past the city across the sparkling blue water to Mt. Baker in Washington State. But my sigh was because that horrible climb was finally done.
A fellow hiker snapped a photo with their phone. “All the toil and pain are worth it for this one moment.”
“Totally,” I said. Yeah, right. I could have taken the damn gondola up and seen the same thing. The only way you’d ever get me up this trail again was if they installed an escalator to the top.
“Stretch or you’ll cramp up,” Laurent grumbled from my other side.
I’d become a damn Pavlovian dog, lighting up when I heard him. Frowning so I didn’t grin stupidly at the sound of his crochety French-accented English, I turned to look at him with a suitable neutral expression.
Screw the city view, this was way better. Sunlight kissed the olive skin on his lithe body, his shaggy curls falling over dazzling green eyes that I vividly remembered fogged with lust. His T-shirt was tucked into the waist of his baggy shorts, showcasing the tapering line from his shoulders to his waist and his tight six-pack. I imagined licking my way over those ridges and my nipples tightened.
“Is that for me?” I’m almost certain I meant the bottle of Gatorade and paper tray of fries that he held, but if he chose to interpret it in a different way, I wouldn’t argue.
“I haven’t decided.” I’m almost certain he meant the food and drink, but if not, I might very well argue. “Do you generally greet returning travelers with such charm?” He sat down on a bench and popped a fry in his mouth. Setting the drink down next to him, he lazily draped an arm along the back of the bench.
My mouth watered, but I had my pride, so I stretched out my leg muscles as if I didn’t care one way or the other. Then my stupid calf cramped up and I gave a strangled scream that was followed by a loud stomach rumble.
Laurent dragged a fry through the puddle of ketchup in the corner of the container with a teasing slowness before eating it.
“Do I smell vinegar?” I said nonchalantly, crossing one leg behind the other and bending to the side for a quick IT band stretch.
“Yup.” He crammed four more fries in his mouth.
I stretched out the other leg. Whatever. I had my own money. I didn’t need his charity potatoes. “How’s your mother?”
“Better.” He paused, looking down at his fries as though they were surprisingly good. “Thanks for asking.”
I’d asked several times already via text, but he hadn’t seen fit to answer. Balancing on my left leg, I grabbed my right foot and pulled it behind me to get at my hip flexors. A quick debrief and then I’d collapse somewhere privately and stuff my face. “How did you deal with the problem back there?”
“Reopening and closing the rip sealed it up again.”
