The Crystal Warrior
By Maree Anderson
Chapter Eighteen
When Chalcey wandered into the kitchen, Sam and Marcus glanced up and then quickly down, concentrating far too intently on their breakfasts.
"Morning," she said, ignoring the undercurrents swirling around the room.
"Coffee's on." Sam waved a casual hand toward the counter. "Marc made a fresh press a couple of minutes ago."
Chalcey poured a coffee and leaned against the counter, cradling the cup in her palms. Despite their efforts to be covert she spotted both Sam and Marcus shooting glances at her. Great. Obviously they knew exactly what today was. There went her chances of trying to pretend nothing was different, that it was merely a day like any other.
She took a sip of coffee and tried not to grimace at the bitterness. It was not a patch on Wulf's brew. He had a magical touch when it came to coffee.
Crap. Now that she'd thought about him, her composure was totally screwed. Tears burned her eyes. She'd never realized that tears really could burn. They were only mildly saline weren't they? How could they burn? But these did. As had the tears that she'd cried for Wulf each night since she'd lost him.
She stiffened her spine before facing Sam and Marcus again. "It's okay, you two. You don't need to walk softly around me. I'm not made of glass. I know you know what today is, so just say it, all right? Then we can get back to being normal."
Sam's gaze oozed such compassion that Chalcey yearned to turn tail and flee. Either that or fall to her knees and lay her head in Sam's lap so Sam could comfort her while she blubbered like a baby.
"It's exactly twenty-eight days since you first met Wulf, isn't it, Chalcey?" Marcus finally said.
"Yep."
"So?" Sam prompted.
"So, I'm going to work. I've got a private lesson with Esmeralda coming up—she wants to move up to Intermediate level. Plus I need to work through a lesson plan. I'll see you tonight, guys. Still okay for me to stay on until the weekend? I'm not getting in your way or cramping your style?"
"No," they both chorused.
"Yeah, right. Look, you've both been wonderful but I need to go home sometime. I can't hide out here forever."
"Why not?" Sam asked, her brows creasing in a frown. "Don't you like my place, or something?"
"Like it? I love it. It's completely fabulous, you nitwit. But I didn't convert the storage area of my studio into a living space so I could freeload off my rich best friend for the rest of my life. Besides, I think it'd be good to have some time to myself. Figure out where I'm at, so to speak." She managed a credible smile, a genuine smile, which rather surprised her. But then, watching Sam and Marcus working things out was worth a smile or two. They were perfect for each other. "You two young lovers need some space. You don't need a freeloading guest right now."
Sam glanced pointedly around the spacious apartment and snorted. "Plenty of space from what I can see. I've even been considering getting a dog."
Since Sam had always insisted that she was the only bitch allowed in her apartment, Chalcey chose to ignore that incredible statement. She would believe Sam's yen for canine companionship when she laid eyes on the puppy. "What if you two have a burning desire to jump each other's bones some place other than the bedroom, huh? Would hate to think I'm depriving you of the chance to be truly depraved. And you and I both know I couldn't afford the cost of a visit to your shrink to get over the trauma I'd suffer if I walked in on you two in flagrante delicto."
Vivid images of making love to Wulf in some pretty interesting places flooded her mind. Her grin faded.
"So, are you going to try and talk to him again?"
Sam wasn't going to let her off easily. So much for Chalcey's pathetic attempts to distract her.
Chalcey took another sip of coffee. Her stomach rebelled. She whirled toward the sink and poured the rest of the coffee down the drain. Toast. She'd make toast. Wulf had never made her toast so perhaps she would be able to stomach that.
"Well? Are you?"
"No, I'm not. He made his choice and now he has to live with the consequences. If he prefers death over a life with me, then who am I to convince him otherwise?"
"That sucks, Chalce," Marcus spoke up. "If you really love him, you should give it another shot."
"Good try, Marcus." She stared him down until he got the hint to drop the subject.
Sam pinned her with a thoughtful gaze.
Uh oh. Wait for it....
"When I ditched Marc, I made the biggest mistake of my life by screwing Ray. But Marc gave me another chance. And when he tried it on with you, I gave him another chance, too."
Marcus choked on his coffee. "You know about that?"
Sam smiled.
"Crap!" He glanced at Chalcey.
"Don't look at me," she said. "You're on your own with this one."
He gulped. "Sam. Sweetheart. I only kissed Chalcey because—"
"Aha! So you did kiss her. Babe, you are so busted."
His jaw hung open as the realization that he'd been thoroughly played dawned.
"She's evil, Marcus," Chalcey said. "Just thought you should know."
Sam huffed on her fingernails and buffed them on her robe. "Chill, Marc. I forgive you for kissing my best friend because we were on a break."
He recovered enough to growl deep in his throat. "Considering who you hooked up with when we were on that break, you'd damned well better!"
She walked her fingers up his chest. "I'll forgive you—so long as you make it up to me." Her voice was a purr. They exchanged significant glances that had Chalcey squirming and planning on being elsewhere tonight.
Sam dragged her besotted gaze away from her equally besotted boyfriend's. "So?"
Rats. So much for dodging that bullet. "So, what?" Chalcey asked.
"Are you going to give him another chance?"
Chalcey might have reiterated that Wulf had already said all he needed to say, that he'd made his choice, and she'd made hers. But she would have been lying.
Dammit. Guess she was going to have to suck it up and give him one last shot. She picked up the phone and dialed his hotel. When he picked up the extension in his room, she said, "Meet me at the studio. You still have a key?"
"Yes."
"I'm leaving now."
"Very well. I am taking a taxi. I will meet you there."
She rang off and turned to meet two hopeful gazes. "Don't say another word," she said. "And if you know what's good for you, you won't get your hopes up. He's determined, and I can't see me changing his mind."
"If you want to wait five minutes, I can give you a lift on my way to work," Marcus offered.
"Thanks, but the walk will help clear my head." She rinsed her cup and plate in the sink, and then snagged the duffel full of her dance gear and headed out the door. Once she'd exited Sam's building, she walked as slowly as she could, planning what she was going to say. Not even splurging on a halfway decent takeout coffee helped her organize her thoughts. This was going have to be ad-libbed from the heart.
All too soon she rounded the corner and stood outside her studio. The street door was ajar. Huh. Wasn't like Wulf to be so careless. He'd taken Will's advice about security to heart, and had been vigilant about locking the street door. Perhaps he wasn't as calm and sure about his choices as he'd sounded.
Chalcey left the door ajar so Esmeralda wouldn't have to phone up when she arrived for her lesson, then dragged herself up the stairs. Her mind whirled with all the things she wanted to say. Did she need to say them for her own benefit, to help alleviate her own guilt and pain, or might they be better left unsaid? But if she didn't say them, for the rest of her life she would always wonder.
The rest of her life. A life without Wulf.
With each step, she died a little more inside.
At the internal door to the studio she paused. She could head back to Sam's. Call Esmeralda and reschedule. Then she wouldn't have to face Wulf—face having her heart ripped out all over again.
Don't be a fucking coward, Chalcey. She squared her shoulders and pushed open the door.
~*~
The studio door opened. Wulf dared not move too quickly for fear that he would topple over. He refused to give the rabid bastard that satisfaction. With agonizing slowness, he slid his gaze sideways.
Dread sliced through him. Chalcedony stood at the threshold. Her mouth gaped as she took in the smears of blood where he had dragged himself across the floor. Shock turned to horror as she turned her gaze on him.
Wulf snarled a silent curse. He'd hoped.... He'd hoped she wouldn't come, prayed to every god he knew that she would change her mind about meeting him here, and leave him to his fate.
He sucked in a deep breath, filling his lungs, ignoring the agony that ripped through his abdomen and the flood of wetness that soaked the material of the shirt beneath his fingers.
"Run!" His hoarse shout throbbed through the room.
The madman aimed his weapon at Wulf. "I'm warning you. Shut the fuck up or—"
"Terry?" Chalcedony's voice was tight and strained. "What the hell have you done?"
"My name is Terrence—not fucking Terry!"
"Okay, okay. Calm down. What's going on, Terrence? Why are you here?"
Chalcedony's stricken features blurred to a hazy outline. A hazy outline that seemed to be coming closer. Wulf blinked and she came back into focus. Damn her. Did she have no sense of self-preservation? He could only watch, profound fear for her safety compounding the lightheadedness of blood loss, as she approached the man—Terrence—her hands held palm up at chest height, proclaiming that she was no threat.
If the bastard hurt her, harmed a hair on her head, Wulf would strangle the man with his bare hands. It mattered not how many more of the things Terrence had called bullets pierced his body. He would not leave the woman he loved to the mercy of a madman.
"Just showing your boyfriend who's boss, Chalcey," Terrence said, his high-pitched voice suggesting that he was not as in control of the situation as he would have Wulf believe. His words tumbled out in a rush. "I came here looking for you so's I could get that dance costume back. It cost me a mint, yanno. And it's not like you're ever gonna wear it—you made that real clear. Thought I'd stick it on eBay or something. Recoup my losses. But he wouldn't let me into your room. He was gonna chuck me out. Me! He wouldn't listen, even when I threatened him with the gun. Dumbass didn't even know what one was. Can you believe that? What is he, retarded? Had to shoot him when he went for me. Self-defense. You understand, don't you, Chalcey?"
"Yes. Of course I understand." Now Chalcedony's tone sounded pleasant and calm with only the merest tremor.
Wulf was proud of her strength, her courage. Even so, he wished with all his heart that she'd run. Stubborn, stubborn woman.
"Wulf is a very scary-looking guy when he's pissed off," she said. "No one could possibly blame you for shooting him, Terrence. It was an unfortunate accident. I'll ring for the EMTs. They'll get him all fixed up and everything will be peachy."
Wulf couldn't suppress the hitch in his breathing as she headed straight for the phone.
Terrence's gaze darted to him, and then slid back to Chalcedony. The blunt nose of the weapon wavered.
Wulf tensed, willing the man to keep the weapon aimed at him. He released a little of the pain he'd been holding inside with a long, drawn out groan, and shifted slightly, hoping to command the man's attention.
Chalcedony grabbed the phone. "Hello? Ambulance, please."
"Chalcey?" Terrence frowned, indecision flitting across his features. His weapon was still pointed at Wulf, but his gaze, his focus, was now on Chalcedony.
"You should put the gun away, Terrence," she said. "We wouldn't want another accident, would we?"
"You shouldn't have done that," Terrence said.
"Done what?"
"You didn't cover the phone's mouthpiece, you stupid bitch. You shouldn't have done that!"
Wulf didn't hesitate. He slumped to the floor and rolled onto his side. From somewhere, he found the strength to get his feet beneath him. He launched himself at Terrence, shouldering him to the ground. Even as they fell, Wulf was reaching for the man's weapon, hoping to knock it from his hand. He missed.
Cursing, he grabbed the man's wrist and twisted, feeling the bones grinding beneath his grip.
Terrence punched him in the stomach. It was akin to being kicked by a warhorse, and as the pain ripped through him, Wulf blacked out.
From a great distance, he heard Chalcedony scream.
He forced his eyelids open. Terrence had looped one arm around her neck in a chokehold.
He'd failed. An insane madman had the woman he loved. But Wulf could thank the gods for one small mercy: The gun was aimed at him, not Chalcedony.
"Keep that up and I'll shoot him again," Terrence said.
"Bastard." Chalcey's voice was a pained rasp. "I'll. Kill. You. Myself."
Even now, when the situation was hopeless, she struggled.
Blood loss grayed Wulf's vision. He knew he was about to pass out again. And this time, he did not believe he would awaken. But before he bled out and passed from this world he had one last message for her.
"I love you, Chalcedony!"
Wulf's shout chased Terrence as he dragged Chalcedony through the door into the stairwell.
The door clanged shut. "I loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you but I didn't understand what I was feeling." Darkness shrouded him. I didn't know. I... didn't... know.
~*~
Copyright 2011 by Maree Anderson
www.mareeanderson.com