Page 46
Story: The Exorcism of Faeries
“Y es, that’s exactly what I mean.”
“But, sir. . .” The Head of New Days Rehabilitation gaped at with a look somewhere between disbelief and sheer confusion. “Sir, it’s an astronomical sum, and I was under the impression you don’t even know the patient.”
“Dr Reyes, I’m trying to cover, in its entirety, a full-length rehabilitation for a patient who willingly checked herself in today. The wise thing to do would be to take the money and begin treatment.”
Eyebrows still halfway to his hairline, Reyes finally agreed and accepted ’s money. He was back in his Capri without having to speak to Ms McDonough or her son again. As it turned out, Ms McDonough hadn’t taken all that much convincing to check herself into New Days. She was beside herself with gratitude for having survived such a traumatic experience and wanted to turn a new leaf.
had been worried she’d somehow remember his face, though she’d never opened her eyes while he and Atta were there, but she’d said nothing of the sort, only gone on and on about her guardian angels. That was why he slipped out without saying goodbye.
The sky was a slate grey when he returned to the manor, promising a heavy downpour. The house was quiet and he called out for Atta, wondering where he’d find her this time. Hopefully, he would find her curled up asleep after such a wild morning. With that as his hope, he checked her room first, but the bed was in an empty disarray. His study was also empty, so he ventured down to the kitchen to check there before heading out to the atrium. Chuckling at her recurring disappearing act, he noticed the cellar door was ajar. And the half-made sandwich on the butcher block.
Dread coated his gut.
Flinging open the cellar door, he bellowed her name, rushing down the stairs. He saw her in the dim light of the overhead bulb before he’d even made it all the way down. She was crumpled on the ground, a wet pool of something next to her.
“No, no no no.” He knelt beside her, trying to understand what happened. He touched the liquid, bringing it to his nose. “Oh thank fuck,” he exhaled when it was only lamp oil.
With two fingers on her neck, he felt for a pulse, relieved to find it was steady. He pulled her shoulders and head onto his lap, bending to quietly say her name in her ear, not wanting to startle her. Had she just fallen down the stairs? Tripped and hit her head? She didn’t stir, and he searched the shelf for the faerie lantern. It was there, intact, the door closed.
“Atta, wake up. Please .”
Nothing.
He brushed the hair back from her face, cradling her in his arms. “Wake up, darling.”
She began to stir, her eyelids fluttering open. The barest hint of confusion knit her brows before she winced, grabbing at her arm. helped her upright, inspecting her arm the best he could in the dank space. “You’ve a cut and your arm is covered in lamp oil and glass shards. We need to get you upstairs.”
But Atta’s mouth dropped open, looking behind him. spun around. “What? What is it?”
“It’s gone.” She stood and ran to the faerie lamp. “Oh no. No, no, no! The faerie is gone!” She put her hands to either side of her face, the gash on her forearm visibly oozing. “It’s going to Inhabit someone else. What have I done? The knot, it was loose, and I tripped and fell, and?—”
came forward and scooped her up.
“What are you doing? I’m fine! Put me down, ,” she protested as he carried her upstairs.
“You are not fine, you’re bleeding everywhere.”
“But the faerie!”
“We will sort it out.”
“You always say that.” She wiggled free of his grasp before he made it to the sitting room. “I’m fine.”
snatched her wrist and inspected her arm in proper light. “I don’t think it needs stitches, but at least let me clean and bandage it.”
Atta was looking at the gash with her nose scrunched, most likely realising it was worse than she thought. “Fine.”
She sank down onto the sofa and he returned a few moments later with a med kit.
“I let it get out,” she said quietly while he knelt in front of her and cleaned the cut, wiping the oil from her arm.
“What happened?”
“I wanted to see the faerie, maybe take some notes and begin studying it, but it turned into that vapour, and I panicked. I did think quickly enough to throw some black salt, but it wasn’t much, and when it rushed the side of the cage, I startled backwards and fell.”
“Did you hit your head?”
“No, I don’t think so. I don’t recall a vision, but I must have had one if I passed out.”
He tried to be as gentle as possible wrapping her arm.
“I’m not going to break,” she teased, and he looked up into her eyes.
“You’re all right?”
She held his gaze. “I swear it.”
He could feel the flutter of her pulse in her wrist beneath his fingers where he held her. Her gaze dropped to his lips, just for a second, and the pulse in her wrist began to beat faster. could feel his blood begin to heat. She was so close. . .
She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, and he tracked the movement with his eyes.
“Atta.” His voice had gone low, gravelly. Hungry.
And hers had gone breathy. “Yes?” Her breasts were rising and falling rapidly beneath her thin blouse.
“I’m going to kiss you now.”
Her gaze dropped to his mouth again. “All right.”
cupped her face in his hands in just the way he’d imagined doing for months. Her eyes searched his in the split second before he moved closer, and then they fluttered shut as he pressed his lips to hers. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, his blood roaring.
One kiss, just one kiss.
But her lips parted for him and all of his control evaporated. He pressed closer, his tongue colliding with hers, his fingers tangling in her hair. Then she was pulling him by the tie, her legs spreading to bring him toward her, against her. He picked her up by the waist, hauling her further back on the sofa, laying her out. Pressing his body to hers, he moved his lips to her neck, dragging his fingers beneath her blouse, up her stomach with its soft curves and warmth. The feel of her skin set him on fire, but then she arched her back, breathing heavily in his ear, her hands in his hair, and he thought he would combust.
“ Atta ,” he said on an exhale, “we need to stop.” But his words were contradicted by his hands finding her breasts. Fuck , he couldn’t take it.
“Why?” she breathed, her fingers untucking his shirt, sliding under it, toying with the dip of his pelvis.
“Because— Oh fuck, I can’t remember.” His mouth found hers again and they were a tangle of limbs, teeth, her fingernails digging into his back. Then she pushed him away and he thought she’d changed her mind, but she only ripped off her blouse over her head and he sucked a breath through his teeth at the sight of her.
He slipped his middle fingers underneath the straps of her black, sheer, sheer bra, and let them slide down her shoulders, the bra falling away to reveal her to him. He drank her in, her swollen lips and peaked nipples, her hair a wild mess, her cheeks flushed.
“Jesus, you’re beautiful.”
She pulled him back to her, her mouth greedy, and he slid his hands under her skirt feeling her arse through her tights.
“ .” She said his name like a plea when he trailed kisses over her breasts. He hooked a finger in the waist of her skirt and pulled, his tongue sliding down to her hip, and she let out a desperate whine, lifting her hips.
A bang sounded at the front door.
’s attention snapped to the door and Atta scrambled back, away from him, clutching a throw pillow to her naked chest.
“Who is it?” she whispered.
“Hell if I know.” He stood up and they both looked at his very obvious arousal. Atta pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, stifling a laugh. The banging came again, but his blood was roaring just as loudly. He bent down and kissed her roughly, biting that intoxicating bottom lip as he pulled back. Her gaze was heavy-lidded and he could only guess what sort of situation her arousal was in, but Christ, he wanted to find out.
She stood, and he tossed her blouse to her. “ Thank fuck ,” he said when she had to drop the pillow to catch her shirt, and he got to see her again. “Hurry up, stór .”
He could have sworn she whimpered when he said that, and then she rushed away down the hall.
adjusted himself as best he could manage and looked through the peephole.
“Gibbs?” he said, opening the door. “What are you doing here?”
“Why is Atta’s car here?”
The lad was finally growing a set of balls. “None of your fucking business. What are you doing at my house?”
“Can I come in? It’s important.”
Table of Contents
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- Page 45
- Page 46 (Reading here)
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