Electric Blue (8 page)

"What's happening to me?" Poppy had asked. Her voice sounded weak to her.

"Nothing," Alicia had said, "nothing at all."

"But I just. . .Oh, Goddess, Alicia, I remember everything, I remember."

"Sshhh. . . ." Alicia had said. "It's alright now, I'm here. It's going to be okay."

"I did magic, Alicia, real magic. I can do magic."

"Ssshhh. . .just relax, alright? It's going to be okay. . . ."

As Poppy had lain there, being rocked by her lover who would not say anything about what had happened mere moments before, she had wondered whether or not things would ever be alright again. She looked at the canvas in front of her. Just like the canvas, Poppy felt like a blank slate. She realized that she was now a blank slate. Magic changed things. She would have to relearn herself, reacquaint herself with herself. She knew who she could speak to. Who knew more about magic than Witches? Smiling to herself, she dipped her brush in some bright blue paint.

  * * * * *

Downstairs, Alicia called
Orlando
on the telephone and told him what had happened. She left nothing out. When she was done, there was silence on the other end of the phone. "Well?" Alicia prompted. "What do you think we should do?"

"There's nothing we can do,"
Orlando
said. "We still can't tell her anything."

"Why?" Alicia's voice was pleading, "Why can't we tell her anything? She's beginning to figure it out. It's the second time she's used magic,
Orlando
. How long before she begins to change?"

"She doesn't know how to. . . ."

"You know that doesn't matter. She doesn't have to know how to change; her body will do it for her." She stifled a sob. "I lied to her today,
Orlando
. I lied to my lover, to the woman who trusts me."

"You weren't supposed to fall in love with her,"
Orlando
said.

"I know," Alicia said quietly. "But I did."

"But you did. And we just have to work with that. In a way, it couldn't be better. You're better able to protect her because you're so close to her."

"I'm better able to protect her because I
love
her,
Orlando
. What are we going to do if she uses magic again? We can't leave this until it's too late."

"Halloween is coming," he said.

"We may not have until Halloween. And if Poppy learns that she's a Shape Shifter before I tell her, she's going to be pissed."

"We can't. Not until Karma gives the go-ahead. We have to proceed with this the right way. Poppy is the first Shape Shifter born in three centuries. There will never again be another of her kind. We don't even know what she changes into yet. We have to keep watching. Karma said she was going to keep an eye out for signs."

"I think our time for signs is almost over."

"We have no choice but to wait."

"Wrong. We have to tell her. And soon. If we don't, it could mean our downfall, as well as hers."

* * * * *

"Sweetheart?" Chip’s voice echoed in the bedroom. The light from the doorway streaked across the floor, engulfing Roz in shadow. Chip liked the bedroom; it was large, with high ceilings and two, large windows. Both were covered with thick drapes. They had moved from their old apartment near
Elgin
. It held too many memories for Roz; Jethro coming into their home, what he had done to them. Chip had scrubbed as hard as he could but could not remove the bloodstains from the bedroom floor. When Roz had recovered enough, they had moved to their new apartment. They lived in the entire top floor of an old converted brownstone on
Marlowe Street
, in the Glebe. Chip had hoped that the move to a new place, a new home, would bring back Roz from inside herself. She seemed haunted by her internal thoughts lately, replaying the same images in her head, no doubt.

Their apartment had a small, tight, winding staircase that had two landings, so that their apartment had two floors. You opened the door and there was a small space to take off your boots and coats. Their apartment was on the top floor, so you climbed the stairs upwards. The first floor housed the living room, the kitchen, a bathroom and a TV room. The upstairs landing had two bedrooms, a large bathroom and a small room that they had marked as an office. At first, Roz had thrown herself into making the apartment better, making it a home. But her enthusiasm began to wane. Chip had gotten himself a job for Random House reading novels in the slush pile that people sent in for publication. It was great work, he read and gave his opinions and then passed it on to his supervisor. He could read anywhere and they paid him a salary. Because Chip was at home a lot now, he was able to keep an eye on Roz. She went from blooming to depressed in three weeks. She stopped going to work, home decorating notwithstanding.

Chip had hoped that the change in scenery would help, that it would take away the memories of what had happened. Moving only served to remind Roz that they had been violated by a madman and he had changed their lives. She had withdrawn inside herself, a hermit in her own skin. Chip continued to try to draw her out.

"Sweetheart?" he tried again.

Roz looked up at him from where she was on the bed. She sat near the window, wrapped up in a heavy wool blanket. The air conditioning was on high, even though it was nearing the end of September. She was running her fingers along the fabric of the heavy drapes, feeling their smoothness under her fingers. Chip could see his breath in her room and his insides felt like ice when he breathed. Roz looked up from the bed with vacant eyes. They saw him but didn't see him, loved him but didn't love him. "Yes?" Her voice was a shadow of its former self. It was quiet and weak. It had no oomph, no force behind it, like the woman he had fallen in love with.

"I brought you something to drink, some tea. It's Earl Grey."

Roz shrugged. "Could you get me another blanket?"

"Why don't I turn on the heat instead? It's so cold in here with the air conditioner on."

"I like it cold."

"Then why do you need another blanket?"

"For protection."

"From what, sweetheart?"

"From him. He may come back."

"Roz, Honey." Chip took her hands in his; they were like ice. "He's gone now, he can't hurt us. David took Jethro away, remember?"

"But he's still there!" Roz screamed. She leapt off the bed and stood facing the door. "I can still feel him inside me."

"He tickles my thoughts. He told me things, such things. I remember him standing there, above me, your blood all over his hands. I thought you were dead, I thought. . . ." She began to sob.

Chip did the only thing he could do and took his lover in his arms. Once she had quieted and fallen asleep, he went downstairs and called David. David and Orlando had become a great help to him in the months following the aftermath. They had stood behind Chip, holding him up, when things with Roz became too much. They had become his support network and he was eternally grateful for them both.

David answered. "Yello?"

"David, its Chip."

"Has something happened?"

"You're quick on the uptake. She just had another episode. I wish she'd tell me what happened to her, David. It's killing me, watching it kill her. Her memories are killing her, David."

"It has to be her choice to talk, Chip. Until then, there's nothing we can do. They are her secrets to keep."

"I'm just worried that her secrets will end up killing her in the end," Chip said. "I just wish that there was more I could do for her."

"There is. Be there for her. Her secrets will come out soon. You have to be ready for them when they do."

There was a loud thump from Roz's bedroom upstairs. "I have to go, David, I'll call you back."

Chip hung up and ran up the stairs, banging into the walls, slammed himself through the bedroom door. Roz was lying on the ground, a bottle of little white pills dotting the ground like snow. Chip started screaming he name as he reached for the phone and dialed 911.

Chapter Twelve

Hospital Visit

Hospitals are for the dying
, Chip thought. He was sitting in the Emergency Room waiting room, waiting for some news of Roz. She had downed half or more of the bottle of Valium that he had found beside her. Spittle and blood was sprinkled around her moth. She had bitten her lip when she had fallen. Alicia, Poppy, David and
Orlando
were seated with him. He had called David first, and he had called Poppy. They had arrived at their place just as the ambulance came to take Roz to the hospital. They all followed behind, a little parade of uncertainty. Roz had almost died, but the nurse had come to tell them that Roz was now stable. She was sedated and in intensive care. They had to pump her stomach twice to get the drugs out of her system before they killed her. Chip felt like he was the one who had died, had felt a part of himself die when he saw Roz on the floor. If he lost her, he would wither inside. If he lost Roz, he would be a shadow of his former self. It was night time and the sky was blackness outside.

"I don't understand," Poppy said.

"What?" Chip asked when he realized she was talking to him.

"I don't understand," Poppy repeated. "Why would she try to kill herself?"

"She didn't do that," Chip said.

"Then what would YOU call it?" David asked. "She downs half a bottle of pills by accident? C'mon, Chip, you may be only 18, but you're not that dumb."

"You still haven't told us what happened," Alicia said.

"I don't know what happened," Chip said.

"You must have some idea,"
Orlando
said. "I mean, she's been acting odd for months, ever since. . . ." The words hung in the air, masked silence.

"Since Valentine's Day," Chip finished.

David leaned forward and put a hand on Chips arm. "Tell us what happened," he said, softly. His voice had a soothing effect on Chip.

"I don't get it. I thought moving out of the apartment where we were when Jethro came would make things better. It's only made things worse. She sits inside her bedroom, not letting any light inside, not eating. She's gone inside herself somewhere, and I just can’t seem to find her or bring her back. She keeps talking about what he did to her. . . ."

"Who, Jethro?" David asked.

"Yeah, but she never talks about what he did. I don't remember anything after he hit me. She does apparently. She won't tell me what happened." Chip felt tears start to sting his eyes. He sighed in frustration. "He's dead and he's still ruining our lives!" he took a deep breath. "She's getting stranger. She talks to herself now, wraps herself in blankets to keep her protected; she says they make her feel safe, that they'll keep him away. She's afraid of plants, won't go near any vines or ivy of any kind. I'm afraid that I'm losing her."

"You're not losing her," David said "I've known Roz for years and she's always been strong willed. She'll get through this."

"What if you're wrong?" Chip asked. "What if what he did to her was what finally broke her spirit?"

"Stop talking like that," Alicia said. "You're talking about her like she's dead or something. She's stable, isn't she? She's still alive, isn't she? I say we spend a little bit more time focusing on what's good right now rather than the negative. It's not helping."

"Alicia is right. We have to keep our spirits high. For Roz's sake."

They all looked up when they saw the doctor approaching them. Dr. Ramirez was gorgeous, her long sable black hair pulled back into a barrette, spilling in waves down her back. She smiled when she saw Chip.

"Roz is stable," she said first. "Her condition will improve, but it'll take about 48 hours or so. We were able to pump her stomach, so she just needs rest and healing right now. But the good news is that we were able to save the baby."

Chip paled. "Baby?"

"Yes, the baby. Oh, I'm sorry, didn't you know?" she had the grace to blush. "Your wife is pregnant."

* * * * *

"Pregnant?" Chip said softly.

"Yes," Dr. Ramirez said, smiling. "I take it that this was an unplanned pregnancy?"

"Yeah. We weren't even trying to have a child."

"Then the child is a blessing," Ramirez said. "Roz is stable and she'll have to stay in the hospital for the rest of the week for observation, but she should be able to be released on Friday." She reached out and squeezed Chips shoulder. "Congratulations," she said.

They all stood there for a moment, shock written on their faces. "Well," Chip said finally. "Anyone need a cigar?"

* * * * *

Lucia let herself in through the front door of her parent's house. It was a small duplex; three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, kitchen, dining room. Lucia's room was in the basement. Her parents had lived in the old duplex for as long as she could remember. It was situated in the middle of Mechanicsville, a lower end of town with a bad reputation. At night, you looked down and didn't make eye contact with anyone who passed you, unless you wanted a confrontation. Some considered Mechanicsville a slum, but Lucia just considered it home. Her parents had always lived here. She had grown up here. She still lived here. She sighed. Hopefully with the money she was now making from working at Strange and Unusual, she could move out. She would have to move out soon; her parents were asking too many questions.