Swallow the Moon (15 page)

"Well, of course," Iris fluttered her lashes at him. "I don't think you need any help in
that
department."

Eric laughed, blushing in spite of himself. He was used to flattering women; now the tables had been turned. Flirting with a woman older than his mother felt – weird didn't quite cover it – odd, disconcerting. He covered his discomfort by drinking more tea.

"Tell me –" Iris began, then the door opened and two young women came in the shop bringing a blast of cold air and a soft dusting of snow.

"Iris!"

Their light voices and warm greetings gave Eric a moment to regroup. He should call June, not flirt with a woman twice his age. He finished his tea as the young women turned their attention from Iris to him.

"Thanks for the tea," Eric said, standing up. "I'll stop in again."

"You're always welcome." Iris flashed him a knowing smile before she fluttered to greet her guests.

The two women smiled brightly at him, then giggled as he walked out the door. Eric pulled his cell phone from his pocket to call June. He paused for a moment, thinking he should go back for the figurine, but three pairs of eyes were watching him avidly. There was no way he wanted to get waylaid by three flirtatious females. A smart soldier knew when to retreat.

He called June. She picked up on the third ring.

"Hey, it's Eric."

There was a beat.

"Hi," her voice was warm and surprised. "How are you?"

"Still sucking air," he grinned. "I'm back in town for a couple of days. Are you busy?"

"I'm just leaving work."

"Can we meet somewhere, have a drink or dinner?"

"Where are you?"

"Bridge Street."

"You have a nose for trouble, don't you?" June laughed.

"Me? Ah, come on, I'm not that bad."

"Well, no. What on earth are you doing in the Harbor?"

"Trying to get you to have dinner with me," Eric let his tone drop to coaxing. He was rewarded with a sound of pleased protest.

"I've had a rough week. I'm not up for a night on the town."

"How about I pick up a pizza and come out to your place?" He kept the coaxing tone.

"Tonight?" She was weakening.

"Why not?" He gave her his best 'come on.' "I really want to see you."

"Oh - okay," she sounded a bit breathy. "I'm working on a project."

"Are you ruining more soap?" Eric teased.

"You guessed it," June laughed. "I've got a pound of beeswax, a gallon of goat's milk and set of new molds. I'm a dangerous woman."

"Don't touch anything until I get there."

"I promise."

~^~

June was in the garage setting up her soap making supplies when the dogs barked a warning. An SUV pulled into the driveway, up to the house and stopped. Still a little nervous from the phone call, June went outside to see who it was. She hardly recognized Eric when he swung out, grinning at her. Just as she suspected, all cleaned up, he was a knockout.

"Hey, girl." He scooped her up in an enthusiastic hug that made her giggle.

"Wow, look at you!" She admired the hair cut and trim. "What's the occasion?"

"I had a job interview." He gave her a kiss on the cheek before he let her go.

"I guess it went well, huh?"

"Oh yeah!" Eric ducked in his Explorer to get the pizza. He handed it over to her, then grabbed a couple bottles of soda. "It's a veterinary lab. I'd be running tests for several vets and a bunch of horse farms. Sounds interesting and the money would be good."

"Good." June turned back to the door. "You want to eat now or later?"

"Now." Eric followed her. "We can work and eat at the same time."

"Is that safe?" June walked into the garage.

"Of course." Eric raised an eyebrow at her. "Don't you trust me?"

"Are you sure you want to trust
me
around caustic chemicals?" June snickered.

"Good point," Eric said, setting the soda down. "Pizza and lye don't taste good together."

They ate and talked about all kinds of things. Eric briefly touched on his marriage to his high school sweetheart. June listened with sympathy. The things they didn't talk about were the most important things – his time at war and her magic. Watching Eric's eyes flick at the mats covering her pentagram without bringing up the subject vexed her.

"Is there an elephant in the room?" she finally asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"What?"

June looked in the direction of the pentagram. Eric followed her eyes, then looked at her with a faint flush. He turned back to melting the chemicals.

"That's a hell of an elephant you got there."

"Are we going to dance around it all night?" June leaned her back against the work table so she could look him in the face.

"Do elephants dance?" There was a quirk to his lips that told her he was teasing.

"Apparently this one does."

"Okay, you got me." Eric set the metal spoon down with a clank, then faced her. "I don't have a clue about how to talk about it. It's not like I can say, 'Cast any good spells lately?' like it was – ah…"

"Normal?" June raise an eyebrow at him.

"Truce, okay?" Eric held his hands up palm out. "I said I was sorry about – er – that. I was scared shitless. I didn't have a clue."

"And now?" Hope flared in her heart. Would he be able to understand and accept her?

"I did some on-line research the other night. Wicca is a religion, not hocus-pocus or Harry Potter." He gave her a smile. "The whole 'turn the-prince-into-a-frog' cliché is bullshit."

"Pretty much," June admitted. Maybe it
was
going to be all right.

"Good, 'cause singing 'It Ain't Easy Being Green' is
not
my idea of fun." The wicked gleam in his eyes made her smile. When she smiled, he moved closer, pinning her against the worktable. As they moved together to kiss, cold wrapped around them both, squeezing their legs and slithering up their bodies.

"What the fuck?" Eric tried to shift away after touching her lips. The cold gripped tighter, June thought she heard music – the soft run of a keyboard. She held onto Eric as the cold squeezed her hips.

"Hold still. Don't move." She looked up at Eric. "Trust me, okay?"

"Yeah," he said.

June closed her eyes, breathing deep and reaching deep inside herself – it was there. Just under her heart chakra, cool, brilliant light washed through her and out as she breathed. The cold slowed its deadly slither, squeezing them painfully. June kept breathing, feeling the light flow from her, washing over the serpent of Cora's will, forcing it back. The squeezing stopped, the cold faded as June swayed in the cage of Eric's embrace. He supported her weight as she went deeper into the trance, to push the garage area clear.

Cora fought back, a swirling darkness that refused to give up. They were matched against each other in a contest of seething will and light. Eventually, June was able to beat Cora back, push the serpent of dark will out of the garage. At that point, she could tap old wards, snapping up barriers Cora could not cross.

When it was over, June came back to herself to find she was cradled in Eric's arms. At some point, he had picked her up. Her head was on his shoulder. She looped her arms around his neck, snuggling close to his warm solid body.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, you can put me down."

"You fainted," he set her on the worktable instead of on her feet. "What happened? One minute we were – uh – close, the next I was in a freezing cold fist that tried to squeeze me to death."

What to say? What would he think if she told him that she'd swallowed the moon? That its light was now inside her – that she could call it, tap into it. He would think she was crazy. Then there was Cora. Would he sell the bike if she told him the truth? Would he understand that the spirit was much stronger than she was supposed to be?

June stalled by leaning on him, settling into the curve of his arms, her head on his shoulder. He was her friend, someone she was very attracted to, in spite of everything. How much of the truth could he handle?

"Cora attacked us. I think she's trying to possess one of us." She expected him to pull away.

"Go on." His body tensed, but he gently rubbed her back.

"I – I called white light to push her out. She fought me – she's very strong. I won, for now."

"I saw the light," he said so quietly that she barely heard him, even with her head on his shoulder. "You glowed. It was – scary as hell."

"You stayed." She smiled at him.

"You fainted." There was amusement in his voice. "I could hardly let you fall in order to run off."

"Sorry. I'm okay now." She rested her hands on his shoulders. "I was wrong about Cora. She
is
dangerous."

"I know." Eric smoothed her hair. "I've known for a while." Then he hushed her with a finger against her lips. "I'm not selling the motorcycle. Cora doesn't – bother me – but she's – jealous of you."

"I can help." June caught his hand, held it in both of hers.

"She's my problem, not yours." He gave her a crooked smile. "I never meant to drag you into this mess. You saved my life. That doesn't mean that you have to take on my problems, too. I don't want you involved."

June teetered on the edge of telling him about the threats. She
was
involved, up to her neck in it.

"If I get this job, I'll move to Lexington. This will all blow over – in a week or so. In the mean time, Van Man Go will have the bike. Without the bike to target, no one will bother me."

Maybe he was right. As long as she stayed quiet, those men would leave her alone. She could start looking for a new job.

"The soap is going to be ruined." She changed the subject. He was leaving soon; she had to get a grip on her feelings for him.

"I turned it off." Eric grinned. "I'm pretty good at crisis control."

"Good thing." June gave him a peck on the cheek. "Let me down." He set her on her feet.

"What about – the ghost?"

"She's gone for the moment. We don't have to worry about her."

They got back to the task at hand. The goat's milk soap turned out perfectly. It was softly scented with lavender from her own garden and rose oil. The pale blue, heart-shaped molds were all filled, then they made three shallow pans of bars. They went back into the house to finish off the cola.

Eric kicked back in a chair, sipping cola and looking more relaxed than she'd ever seen him. She admired his ability to shake off the attack. She was dead tired.

"You know I'm staying on Bridge Street at the Iroquois club."

June smiled, shaking her head; the stories about the Harbor were pretty bad.

"They have a good oldies band on the weekend. Would you come down Saturday?"

"The Harbor is a rough place."

"Oh come on, it's not that bad." Eric grinned. "Besides, you'll be with me."

How could he be so sure of himself? Then again, he had been in the Middle East for a long time. A rough neighborhood was nothing in comparison. He would keep her safe.

"Okay." She yawned and stretched. "I'm going to have to ask you to go. I've got to work tomorrow." She walked him to his SUV, gave him a hug goodnight that ended in a light kiss.

"I'll see you at the Iroquois."

~^~

October 8
^th
, Ashtabula Harbor

The old lift-bridge that spanned the Ashtabula River gave Bridge Street its name. In summer the bridge rose every hour to let pleasure craft out of the marinas onto Lake Erie. The quaint shops lining Bridge Street catered to the wealthy boat owners. During the day, the brick buildings oozed charm to delight passing motorists; after sunset the mood on Bridge Street changed.

The Harbor had a dark reputation that went back to the 1880's when it was the Barbary Coast of the Great Lakes. The street had gone from derelict to trendy and back a couple of times in June's lifetime. Tonight the street was decorated for the fall, with hardy flowers in big tubs dotting the sidewalk.

At the center of Bridge Street was a three story, red brick building that had once been a hotel. The Iroquois Club building dated back to the 1890's. It had been a bar for more than a hundred years. Tonight a scattering of people came and went through the doors.

As she got out of her car, June wondered how many people had passed through the heavy wooden doors over the years. Eric was waiting just inside the door. The guy checking ids and collecting cover charges from everyone else stamped her hand without asking for either. He smiled at Eric beside her, then turned to the next person in line.

"Thanks, Tyler." Eric stood aside to let her in.

She stepped into the dark wood-paneled hallway, with a room like a parlor to the left, and a mahogany staircase on the right that led up to the second floor. The carpeting was dark red, the trim black, the walls to the left a smoke-stained white, the rest paneled with wood dark with age. None of the stories she'd heard about the Harbor had mentioned its smoky grandeur. Straight back, the long bar was full of people; they all seemed to be staring at her. June froze at the end of the hallway realizing she was overdressed. She was the only woman in a skirt and heels. Most of the rest wore jeans or very short skirts.