2.28 The Abyss of WonderLand
“Yes, I’d already figured on that, even before this man reared his intrusive head,” Timothy said. “They’re seated right behind us.” As if that was some kind of signal, I immediately glanced behind us, but there was no one there. I felt silly, realizing that Timothy must mean on the plane, but wouldn’t anyone have turned to look? “If he follows you, we’ll know who it is he suspects. If he stays here, it’s me he’s investigating,” Andrew said, his attention suddenly on me, as if to determine why I’d gotten so fidgety. “I thought we were safe here,” I said, worrying that the media had traced me here and that I might be the cause of Timothy and Andrew’s fresh trouble. “We have protectors, Penelope. Stop distressing. I won’t risk something happening to you. Not after that incident at the club.” The nightclub? I’d already forgotten about that. “That was just a drug addict wanting money. We shouldn’t have been walking that way, I guess. Although we handled ourselves well.” “Yes. Andrew, that reminds me. Set up a karate instructor for Penelope a week from today. She has some skills, but I want her black belted.” “Whoa, that’s . . .” A kiss sealed my lips. I breathed in deeply when that ended, once again fighting speedy heart-thumps, but this time, not from fear. My first thought was to object to Timothy’s dictatorship over the lesson, then my mind rebelled at the fact that he’d thought I’d still be here in a week. Two lovely arguments, but instead I demanded, “Who is Lillea?” I hadn’t meant to blurt that out, discretion should be something that came with age, but this time it was actually Timothy’s fault for robbing me of my inhibitions with his latest kiss. “That’s Andrew’s latest girlfriend,” Timothy said with a big grin. “Is she Fae?” I probed, eyeing Andrew like that would provide clues. “Not my secret,” Andrew supplied with a curious half-smile that was sexy as heck — if I’d been interested, that is.
2.27 The Abyss of WonderLand
“The guy we talked about, the golfing one who kept straying too close to your property, has journalist credentials. He isn’t employed by any of the big sites, but he’s a freelance agent who is currently writing a book called The Supernaturals Walking Among Us.” I gasped. “How do you know that? I mean how do you know about the name of his book?” Andrew smiled at me. “Penelope, you will soon learn that there is little that money cannot ferret out of the cosmos.” “What?” I laughed, then realized he was absolutely serious. “Buy, how could this man have found out about you, about both of you? It’s not like you go around announcing it to the public, right?” “Calm down, my darling. We have dealt with such problems before. There are always people who hunt for oddities. Mistakes happen. Even the most convoluted machinations can be unraveled with the skills of an expert.” Timothy looked over at Andrew. “Is this man an expert or just a lucky amateur?” Andrew sighed loudly. “I think he’s the real deal. He has exposed certain dealings of the drug world. It’s amazing he’s still alive after that, but it proves that he’s not only wily, but that his investigation skills are really good. I think he’s a problem.” I hadn’t liked being told to calm down, but Timothy was correct in that my voice had raised an octave, and I was feeling a bit faint. I concentrated on breathing in deeply and letting go of some of the tension. But my heart was doing the tom-tom beat of a drum player on speed again. What would happen if Timothy and Andrew were revealed? Would NASA come for them, or scientists in white coats, or . . . But they said they’d dealt with problems like this before. How? Would they kill someone who threatened their existence? “One moment, Andrew,” Timothy said, then he pulled me closer and whispered into my ear. “You have nothing to fear, my darling. We have people who deal with this sort of thing. They don’t practice murder, unless turning someone into a vampire is considered such.” I jerked away to look at his face. “You’re joking, right?” “No. Vampires do exist, but there are other solutions we will try first. Now, relax. We can still go to San Diego.” “I’ll stay here,” Andrew said. “Lillea might be endangered. I’ll send Terry and Bob with you. Grant and Steve will patrol the property.”
2.26 The Abyss of WonderLand
“There, now this has been dealt with, what shall we do next?” I put my elbows on the table and dived into another inquisition. “Wait a minute. Tell me about the Fae. Andrew said he thought that pookas were part Fae. So can you warm up my coffee when it gets cold?” Timothy groaned. “I love you a hundred thousand levels of fervency, but it is time to change the subject, my darling, and visit the waterfall, the cake decorating room, or the horse barn . . . or we could fly down to San Diego to see the zoo. You said you wanted to do that. Another possibility is that we could go get the cat you keep talking about but haven’t made the move to get yet. Which one of those?” I considered for a moment. “If we got the cat, then we couldn’t go to the zoo. We’d be sitting around oohing and aahing about how cute the kitten was.” “Probably true. So, is it to be the San Diego Zoo?” That still seemed extravagant to me, but I nodded my head in agreement. “Okay, let’s do it. We’ll go for a couple of days. I’ll see about getting tickets out of San Jose.” “But if we fly, how will we get around? Are we going to use buses?” “Scoot,” Timothy said, “or I’ll take you to San Diego without a single change of clothing, and then we’ll have to buy everything new.” I saw that he meant it. Me, with a whole room full of Simone approved outfits. I scurried up the stairs without another word. It wasn’t twenty minutes later when Timothy stood at my door, tapping the watch on his wrist. “We need to fly so we can fly,” he said, teasingly. I picked up my bag, which he immediately took from me, and we headed downstairs, only to be met by Andrew. “There’s a problem,” Andrew told us with a poker faced-wry look, but his stance looked rigid, and his hands were clenched like he was ready to either wring someone’s neck or punch him out. We continued down the stairs. Timothy swung his arm around me and then motioned for Andrew to enter the living room. We all sat down stiffly, Timothy beside me on the dark brown, leather couch. I hadn’t been in this room much. My eyes drifted about, even though I should have been studying Andrew to understand what the problem he’d mentioned was. The patterned Oriental rug with shades exactly matching the couch plus with some delightful cranberry highlights, looked classy and expensive. I wondered if it had ever been shampooed. Could someone shampoo an expensive rug?
2.25 The Abyss of WonderLand
Funny? No, nothing is funny in the face of cancer. It’s a black hooded demon that raises up like the boogieman monster of childhood. Except, cancer is real, and pulling the blankets over your head doesn’t protect you from its invasion into the bodies of people you love. “Sorry. Chef Stevens, everything is fine. I’m just having trouble processing the weird,” I finally said, sighing from the sadness of my sudden dark memories. The chef nodded his head. “I am Fae, Miss Penelope. Is that what this outburst is about? Timothy is very secretive about his employees, but I know that you’re going to be part of his life. It’s one of my powers, so to speak. I can read into your heart.” I slammed my butt back into the chair and heaved a great, big breath. “Ff.. . . fae?” I stuttered. I reached for my mug of coffee, planning to take a big gulp of it. “May I?” the chef asked, but he was already striding towards my mug. He touched it, then backed away. “It will now be at exactly the right temperature,” he said, giving me another brief head nod. He turned and was about to go back to the kitchen when I called out. “But why do you stay with Timothy, or whatever his real name is? Does he force you to do so?” The chef turned and glanced at Timothy, who shrugged, and said, “You will find that Penelope is strong-willed and extremely inquisitive, Ben. Give her a bite of information, and she wants a volume.” I opened my mouth to argue with him, but Timothy was probably right. I did have a tendency to dig. I wanted the whole picture, not just the pretty outer shell. Chef Ben turned back to examine me. “Those of us who live in the human world tend to stick now marked as supernatural, although ignorant still of our ways. I imagine that your husband-to-be will acquaint you with all that you wish to know as you are ready. “Now if you will forgive me, I have things in the kitchen that need to be completed. I plan to serve a cherry and dark chocolate crostata for dinner, and it requires some preparation.” I had no idea what a crostata was, but the fact that it had dark chocolate in it seemed drool worthy. I might have asked the chef about the recipe, but the door had already swung closed behind him.
2.24 The Abyss of WonderLand
I sipped at my iced tea and thought about that. Timothy was holding something back, acting secretive again. I stared at the mug for a moment, pondering that. “How long has Ben worked for you?” “I’ve only been here a short time, Penelope,” Timothy said “Evasiveness! I knew it. Tell me. Did he follow you from your last place of residence?” Timothy eyed me worriedly. “You’re going to gnaw on this, aren’t you? Are you going to marry me? Because that’s what it will take before I offer up any secrets concerning my employees, and that, only with their permission.” “So, if I went into the kitchen and asked Chef Stevens, would he answer me truthfully?” “Are you going to marry me?” Timothy asked again. “URGH,” I shouted, which brought the person we’d been discussing back into the room. “Is there a problem, young miss?” the chef asked, the lines of concern a definite pattern across his rather handsome face. I stood up, pushing my chair back in a very unladylike manner that my grandmother would have scolded me for. “Yes, I abhor secrets, and when people tell me half-truths, it irritates the heck out of me. How long have you worked for Timothy, Chef Stevens?” The man shot a glance at Timothy, who irritatingly shook his head with a single, very subdued gesture, but one I picked up on. I glared at the pooka. The chef sighed softly, then smiled. “I have worked for the man you call Timothy for only a few months,” he told me. His robin’s egg blue eyes displayed a hint of laughter. “The man I call Timothy?” I That means, you’ve used different aliases, right,” I asked, glowering down at the pooka I’d just spent such a lovely interlude with upstairs in his bedroom, the man I’d showered with, and kissed, and . . . I stamped my foot, something I’d only done as a rebellious teenager ONCE. My grandmother had quickly put an end to such rebelliousness. She’d been invaded with cancer. Funny how defiant teenager uprisings pale under serious issues.
2.23 The Abyss of WonderLand
“It will not cause you pain,” Timothy promised. “My saliva will deaden the injection site before I puncture your skin.” Even scarier. I shivered, and he tossed a blanket over my body, then held me for a while until my fears eased. Eventually, we showered (together) and preceded downstairs to eat a very late lunch. The cook had made a kind of Indian vegetarian stew. He told me what it was called, but all I cared about was that it was delicious, and I was famished. Apparently, lovemaking qualifies as exercise. We had Naan, also, which was a flatbread. I could have consumed an entire meal of it because it was scrumptious. Bread enthusiast, here. The stew was great for ladling into the Naan. The stew contained chickpeas, sweet potatoes, peas, cauliflower, spinach, and zucchini in a sauce made with turmeric, tomatoes. and coconut milk. The chef, Ben Stevens, also, had sprinkled cashew nuts over the top. Since I raved over our meal, he explained so much about the recipe that Timothy finally cleared his throat meaningfully, which Chef Ben immediately noted. “Why did you do that?” I fumed, after the poor guy scurried back to the kitchen. “I liked hearing about how Chef Ben fixed our lunch. Timothy fidgeted, which was so unlike him that I almost forgot my irritation. He sighed, then placed his hand on his forehead, shaking his head as he did so. “Sorry, Penelope. I guess you could say, one part jealousy, one part because he was wasting our togetherness time, and lastly, because I wanted to talk to you about our plans for the rest of the day. Do you want me to call Ben back to apologize?” I relented, shook my head, and babbled, “But why is everyone afraid of you? I mean, you clear your throat, and people practically cower and run off like whipped dogs, tails between their legs.” Timothy laughed. “No. It’s not like that, my love,” he said, shaking his head. “No one’s scared of me. Not in the way you mean. Nervous that I might terminate their employment, I suppose, although I would never do so for a non-reason. Especially not when the food is this excellent. “Of course, if I thought someone endangered you, or if you requested that I give them notice for some reason, then I would do it in an instant. But, rest assured, Ben is not afraid of me.”
2.22 The Abyss of WonderLand
“Perhaps, it is like a spider’s web that weaves us close. No, I see that image frightens you. I know, a pinball machine where the balls zing about, being flipped and slingshot from place to place.” He sat up and looked down at me. “I’m not explaining this well, am I?” I laughed, but I was feeling slightly sick. The sex had been great, and we were still lying on his bed, naked and slightly sweaty. My body felt tingly. My head had swelled as if I were high on a drug or from drinking alcohol — well, what I thought being high must feel like. I was still panting slightly, and my heart was pumping madly, like I’d run a marathon. But spider webs, pinging balls, and ricochets? Timothy picked up my hand, turned it over and kissed the soft parts. A thrill ran through me. Wasn’t my body saturated yet? How could I once more be full of desire? “Yes, it will be like that for a while, until the bond is complete,” Timothy said, smiling at me and nodding his head slightly. “You’re reading my mind again?” I gushed, hardly angry at the moment, since he was suddenly traveling up my arm, blowing hot puffs and kissing the suddenly sensitive pores of my arm. “Emotions,” he said, “Being eager for what we just experienced is an easy sentiment to read, like a neon sign,” he said, rubbing his hand along my upper arm, which shouldn’t have created the incredible vibrations of lust that were suddenly dancing up and down my spine. “Do you wish to talk or shall we engage in . . .” he asked, giving me that knockout smile of his. I cut him off. “Despite what neon signs you’re picking up, I think we should get up, dress, and do something with the day. I mean, something else.” His grin widened. His startling white teeth flashed. “Yes, I suppose so,” he said, caressing my face, then bending down to kiss my neck. Okay, I was wrong. The next time we cleaved, it was every bit as good as the former times. Maybe even better. It was only after that, when my brain finally kicked into gear that I finally asked the questions I should have asked before we’d jiggled the bed so thrillingly. No, he had no diseases, couldn’t get diseases, and no, I couldn’t get pregnant with him, unless he gave me the bite which would make me completely his. That was a relieving discussion, although the bite thing was rather worrisome.
2.21 The Abyss
“Thank you,” I said. “You are beyond words. You are magnificent, and I have fallen under your spell, too. I didn’t want to. You still scare me. At least, the thought of . . .” “I know. The pooka bit. I’m a supernatural, which is something you’ve had no experience with, but you have nothing to fear from me. I would never harm you in anyway, and be assured, that I would lay down my life for you, if required. I hope there’s no need for that, since I’d like to stick around and enjoy what we just did a million times more.” I giggled. Me, who’d never made that sound before. Not ever. But Timothy was straight out of romance novels, fondling words like he’d fondled me. Did I like it? Incredibly so. “I enjoyed that, but a million times?” I giggled again, I think flirtatiously, which was something I’d never done before either. Only blondes flirted — blondes with hair down their backs, tiny waists, big boobs, and eyes that were capped by eye lashes that fluttered like butterfly wings. But as I was thinking that, it became obvious that Timothy wasn’t done romancing me. He continued, giving my body a warm squeeze, and then centered on my breasts. Oh, my. His thumb on my nipple was erotic as heck. I arched instinctively, which seemed the signal for Timothy to move to my other breast where he massaged and stroked me until I thought I’d die. “When two are entwined as we are . . .” Timothy began. I could barely concentrate on his words. I tried, but his fingers were playing havoc with every nerve in my body. “It is always like this,” he said, continuing in a voice that carried the soft croon of sexy. “I realize that in this time period you don’t believe in the fates, but the truth is that each pookah is fated to love one woman with a constancy and depth that assures absolute purity. If you think this time was passionate, and I am pleased to hear that from you lovely lips, but every time we engage, it will become even more so. Our lovemaking will become an echo inside us, a ricochet of emotion that rebounds and bounces back over and over until we are completely enclosed in magic.
2.20 The Abyss of WonderLand
I hoped that Timothy was cordial to Chris, but I was mute, fragile in my lust. Timothy later said that we were signed up for a package of dance lessons. I had no recall of that. I was already dancing on a high plane somewhere, perhaps in the clouds, on a mountain peak, in the middle of the ocean. As silly as that sounded, that was how it felt. I barely said goodbye to Chris when he let himself out. “Do you wish to go upstairs to my room?” Timothy asked. I was coherent enough to nod. “Will we cleave together?” I’d never heard it called that, but it sounded exactly like what I wanted. I nodded again. And then, just as I’d envisioned, Timothy swooped me into his arms and carried me up the stairs. Was it romantic? I really couldn’t say. How do you define romantic when we tore off each other’s clothes and were kissing, stroking, and carrying on as if passion had overridden all common sense. It was ardent but giving, and exactly how such an occasion should unfold. But cleave, we did. Several times, with smiles, sweet words, promises, and even a bit of laughter. I guess I might have worried that a pookah might change when he became sexually excited. Timothy did not. His kisses continued fiery and enthusiastic. His efforts to lead me into glorious flights were successful, and the way he worshipped my body was something that boosted my self-confidence and made me feel even more special than before. In one word, our joining together was perfection. I told him that, of course. “Did you have any doubt?” Timothy asked, smiling. “I loved you from the first moment our eyes met. I might have been brunt and off-putting; at least, that’s what you said, but that was only because I was in a daze. You cast your spell, and I was lost.” For saying that, Timothy got another deep kiss, and I stroked his chest, a marvelous David statue of a chest, except warm, vibrant . . . and real.
2.19 The Abyss of WonderLand
“Good. Now move, Mr. Caldwell. Don’t worry about the steps or any dance procedure, just allow the music to carry you forward. Miss Casey, you are to imagine that this man has enchanted you, changing you into a floating leaf that flutters in the wind. Feel the movement of his body and flow with it.” And suddenly, Timothy and I were dancing. My feet kept politely on the floor, or at least, following his movements, not mashing or kicking as they’d always done before. We pirouetted, backed, and turned. I could feel Timothy’s body’s and moved with it, almost as if I were that leaf Chris had spoken of, and I was swaying in the wind. The musical piece ended and neither of us broke a part. The magic had sealed us together. A frozen embrace, perhaps. Chris applauded. “Oh, you two are unique, so natural, so unified in movement. It will be a pleasure to guide you through the more formalized dances, if that is what your wish.” Timothy ignored the dance instructor and seared my lips with his. As kisses go, it was soul deep and the most wonderful moment I’d ever known. I forgot about the presence of Chris, standing no more than a couple of yards’ distance away. I forgot about my doubts and about all my indecision. I wanted Timothy carnally, in a way I’d never wanted any guy before. If Timothy had lifted me up in his arms and carried me up to his room, I would not have protested. My body had sent out roots, anchoring me to this wonderful man. Timothy was right; we were meant to be together. When Timothy’s lips lifted, I whimpered. I wasn’t sure I could take such a severing. I might die from the agony, from the piercing of my heart. “Sh, my darling. It’s okay. I won’t let you go. I promise I will hold you forever.” That kind of statement should have sent chills through me. I should have retreated back to safety, but it was exactly what I wanted to hear. I felt at peace.