Where A Witch Goeth

Chapter Twenty-One: Out Of Time

A distinctive knock came to my door not twenty minutes after sunset. Two slow knocks and four rapid ones. I pulled open the door to find Evander lounging against the frame, once again in drab workman's clothes.

He looked me up and down and laughed out loud. "This is what you spent my money on today?"

I was wearing tweed, golfing knickers, high socks, and sensible shoes.

"Among other things," I said loftily. He had told me to shop for what I needed, and I had, while Minnie and Henry asked a lot of questions and got back very interesting answers that I was eager to report to Evander. "I'll pay you back for the clothes. Eventually," I muttered. It might be that I might have to pay him back a hundred years from now. If I saved his ass from burning in the present, it's likely he'll be around in the future when I get back there.

"There's absolutely no need," he said breezily, still grinning at my pants. "You are practically my wife. What's mine is yours."

I grabbed him by his ugly plaid button-down. "Get in here."

"Thought you'd never ask," he growled at me, moving rapidly into the room as he captured me in his arms.

For a moment, the intensity with which he stared down at me made me worry that he'd misunderstood my invitation, but as soon as he kicked the door behind us closed, he released me.

"Sorry," he said lightly, going to the window—as a way to put some distance between us. He tested the seam of the drawn drapes, waiting for a handful of seconds until the night descended to the perfect nonharmful shade. Then he pulled them open. "There was a curious guest in the hall."

"Was it Helen Baker?" I asked evenly.

He went perfectly still. With his back still to me, he said, "In fact, it was. Did you meet her today?"

It was on the tip of my tongue to retort, no, did you fuck her last night? But I caught myself. It was none of my business what Evander did. I shouldn't fall into the same gray zone of confusing our actual, nonexistent relationship with the fictional one we were perpetrating.

That was his delusion, and I couldn't afford to fall victim to it as well.

So instead, I said, "No, I did not, but she wasn't very subtle when she scuttled right after you last night. It was a little embarrassing, considering I'm your fiancée."

He turned around to face me. "Yes, I imagine it might have been somewhat obvious. She didn't follow my instructions to wait half an hour. I apologize for putting you in that position. I only sought Helen's blood because you didn't seem to approve of Thacker and Troy's mandated donations."

"She must love being your blood concubine."

He smiled at me in a patronizing way that seemed to indicate he thought I was jealous, and that made me even more prickly. "She is not a concubine of any sort. When I met her, she was a sick young woman—dying of a blood cancer. Dr. Daniels and I healed her, without any expected return. I didn't tell her exactly how we healed her, but she's no fool. She would return for the healing benefit of our springs each year, and over time we developed a mutually beneficial relationship. We give her maintenance tinctures to make sure her blood cancer will never return, and she is an occasional benefactor of mine."

Yeah, I wasn't going to be able to help but ask. "And lover?"

He smiled. "Well, you should know, I don't usually mix the two."

That was not a denial. I was fairly certain Helen Baker was an exception to his usual rule.

"But I won't insult you by denying that Helen's continued interest in me is not only supplying me nourishment. Which is a bit inconvenient, since she's married now. Her blood, however, has become... an acquired taste, and I'm reluctant to put her aside as a benefactor."