Chapter Thirteen
Cain’s bonfire intensified in anger at being removed from Helena’s presence, and then suddenly it was gone completely. Cain was gone. It was a stunning sensation, and Will grabbed Liam’s shoulder to steady himself. But when Liam looked at him, he made light of it, as if it were Darryl’s antics and not Cain’s intrusion that were the cause of his unsteadiness.
Darryl moved away from them to the bookshelf as if to peruse the titles, but there was more tension coming off of him than Will had ever felt before. “Grab the second part of the spell boys, and hit the can if you have to but tarry not.” He shot them a smile over his shoulder. “I want to show you something.”
When they’d done what they needed to do and cooled down a bit, which took them about an hour, Darryl reappeared in the safe house and asked if they were ready. Will had showered and changed clothes, donning a plain white tee and a black jacket. Liam seemed to have done the same, and thanks to magic wards, their hot water never ran out.
At Darryl’s question, the cousins looked at each other. Will said, “Yeah.” He wasn’t at all sure he was ready for what Darryl wanted to show him. If it had to do with Helena however, he was in for an ancient penny, in for his soul.
“Good,” said Darryl. He raised his left hand, prepping his forefinger and thumb for a snap. “Let’s be on our way then.”
He snapped, and the boys suddenly found themselves standing in a garage. It was unfamiliar to them in that they’d never before been in it. But it was familiar in that it was a typical grease monkey garage, replete with shelf upon shelf of car parts, some twisted or rusted, some brand spanking new. Oil, lubricants, antifreeze, and red gallons of gasoline were lined up along one wall. Two walls contained work benches. One work bench displayed firearm re-loading materials and machines, buckets of empty shells, blade sharpening equipment, and so forth. The work bench opposite to that had a few clean towels spread across it, polishing creams and oils, and a vintage turntable. It was the boxed type, and right now the case was closed. Beside it stood two impressive speakers, one on either side.
Despite the dirty work the garage was meant for, everything was placed in an orderly fashion, and the cement floor had been well cleaned.
Will took it all in with the speed of a warden, unconsciously noting what could and could not be used as weapons, and then his attention fell on the thing in the center of the garage.
“This is the Shelby,” Liam said as he slowly made his way around the automobile. Will’s head filled with the odd tickle of familiarity once more, and he had no idea why. He wouldn’t have known this car from any other vehicle. He wasn’t the car man; Liam was. But one observation was very clear to him on the spot. The car was completely totaled.
“This is a piece of absolute junk,” he said, following Liam around the vehicle. “She’s seriously gonna try to fix this up? It looks like…” he shook his head, “like it’s been sitting in the sun and rain for forty years.”
“That’s because it has,” said Liam with a slight smile. His eyes moved with wonder over the vehicle, no doubt taking in the completely missing paint job, the copious amounts of rust, the lack of any glass in any of the window frames, and the fact that all four tires were not only flat, but in ribbons. God only knew what it looked like under the hood.
But Darryl was smiling. Will noticed his eyes were no longer red. He seemed to be reigning in his inner monster a little better than earlier. “Just wait,” the warlock said, moving to lean against one of the work benches in the garage. He again slipped his hands into his black coat pockets, and crossed his legs at the ankles. “I brought you so you’d have a taste of what Helena Dawn is all about. The scope of her powers can otherwise catch you off guard.” He grinned. “You’re going to love this.”
As if on cue, the door connecting the garage to a house swung open, and out walked Helena.
At once, both Liam and Will seized up, and their heads snapped to Darryl. But he nodded. “Yes, you’re invisible, inaudible, and without scent again.”
Will’s shoulders slumped and Liam let the air out of his lungs with a whoosh of relief.
Helena had changed clothes, donning ripped jeans that hugged her slim, muscular legs in a way that made Will ache inside. Her white cotton tee-shirt was no different, and his throat had gone dry by the time she descended the last of the three steps that lead into the body of the garage.
She had a black leather jacket draped over one arm, a beer in one hand, and a vinyl album in the other. The slip cover was only slightly worn, and Will could read that it was Dire Straits’ “Brothers in Arms.”
Will watched as Liam had made his way around the car and waited in front of the hood. Helena was headed straight for him. But he wasn’t moving. He seemed frozen in place, just staring at her… his green eyes shining with hidden thoughts.
Will swore softly. “Liam,” he said, trying to get his cousin’s attention.
“Spiky!” called Darryl. “Get out of the way. Still tangible, remember?”
Liam blinked and seemed to come awake, taking a big step back just as Helena rounded the car. She now stood exactly where Liam had stood less than a second earlier.
Will let out a breath and touched his forehead. It was hot to his fingertips. Helena Dawn was giving him a fever. “That was close,” he muttered.
But Liam didn’t look apologetic. Instead, he moved only as far out of the way as he absolutely needed to as Helena looked over the car for a moment, then turned and walked to the vintage record player on the work bench opposite Darryl. She laid her jacket down, popped the top up on the player, and turned it on. The small turntable began to spin, and the speakers staticked to life. Next, she pulled the vinyl out of its dust case, and gently set it into place on the turntable. Then she lifted the player’s arm, placed it into the proper groove, and notched the speakers up.
A second or two of static bumps passed before the slow climb of the intro for Money for Nothing rose steadily from the speakers. The sound was heaven. Will had always loved Dire Straits. One of his personal favorites.
Helena returned to the front of the car as the drums slowly kicked in. She closed her eyes, and a slight breeze picked up in the room. Will glanced around, trying to decipher where the wind was coming from. But there was only one window in the garage, and it was shut up tight. Night beckoned peacefully from beyond the panes.
Inside the garage however, the music and the wind both rose in strength as Helena slowly lifted her hands palms-up at her sides – and the car in the center of the room ascended from the cement to hover two feet above the ground.
“Holy shit,” muttered Liam. Now he stepped back, and his eyes grew wide as saucers. He moved to the side, taking up his shark-like circling once more as the vehicle spun in place to the sound of the lead-in guitar solo. It was like watching an MTV crossover with Stephen King’s Carrie and a bit of Christine. Helena was moving the beat-down automobile with nothing more than the power of her mind and, perhaps, the inspiration of music.
Will was barely becoming adjusted to the reality of what he was seeing when suddenly something flew off one of the shelves behind him and spun toward the car. He ducked just in time to keep from being bludgeoned by an engine part. He stumbled, caught himself and looked up as the hood of the slowly turning, eerily hovering car cranked open, and the new part settled in.
A second piece flew from the shelves a few seconds later. And then another.
On and on, parts removed themselves from the car or the shelves, interchanging in mid-flight, until at last, the hood of the vehicle was once more swinging shut. But apparently Helena wasn’t finished.
Her hands were now glowing, and a slow, easy smile had spread across her beautiful face, and even though her eyes were closed, Will had a feeling she knew damn well exactly what the car looked like in front of her. She proved as much when she tilted her head slightly to the right, and a bent and rusted piece of the front bumper suddenly popped back out, smoothing into its original position the way a dent responded to dry ice.
The car continued to turn, and Helena tilted her head the other way now, straightening out another massive dent. Areas of rust or places where the metal was completely gone began to flake away, and the clean metal around them spread, reproducing itself until the original mold of the car was once more in place.
Liam whistled low again, and Will glanced at his cousin to find him shaking his head in wonder. “My God, I think I’m in love,” Liam muttered to himself.
I bet you are, thought Will quietly. Liam was the playboy, and girls came easy to him. There was something about Will on the other hand, that women found... he wasn’t sure how to put it. Daunting? Menacing? Off-putting? He was big enough to admit it. In fact, that was apparently part of the problem. According to Liam, when it came to reasons women shied away, Will was either too tall, or his gaze was too perceptive or his smile was just a touch… cruel. Cruel! He had no idea why that would be. He didn’t feel cruel.
Did he?
He wondered that very thing as that gaze of his narrowed on his cousin and his hairs stood on end and his teeth pressed together behind his lips. Liam went through women like recreation. Will had always had to work a little harder to get to know the girl. And maybe that was the problem right there. Liam didn’t ever really care about getting to know the girl. Just getting to know her biblically.
Not this time, Will thought. For three reasons. One, if the look on Liam’s face was any indication, something in the way of Helena Dawn had never before happened to the older Slate cousin, and Liam was in way over his head. Will didn’t think Liam would be satisfied with a roll in the sack with this woman. Two, Helena wasn’t the kind of woman to go for that anyway. And three, and perhaps most importantly, Liam would touch Helena over Will’s dead body.