Chapter Four

In spite of her massive life experience, Helena was having a difficult time deciding upon her approach. She couldn’t just throw herself at a total stranger, regardless of his looks. Most likely, Cliff would suspect her, and her whole plan would backfire. Subtlety was crucial. It would help her hide her real motives. But, for whatever she opted, she knew she would have to be patient. An FBI agent didn’t reveal secrets over a drink. Even one steamy night with him would still not be enough. The mere thought of asking him questions about the case in bed sounded nonsensical, and it would have the results she had been dreading. If Helena wanted to protect her loved ones, she had to play the waiting game, hoping that she would get an opportunity to go through his laptop or his notes. In other words, she had to get into an actual relationship with him. A relationship: a concept so simple to people of almost all ages; a reality that had been eluding her for years, was now a necessity. Worse than that, she had to have it with a man she considered an enemy.

Hidden in her underground residence, somewhere in Lockhart forest, the witch anxiously awaited Kate’s call, as she selected her outfit: a dark-green, mini dress with a low-cut top that accentuated her curves, matching heels and black pantyhose. If this was a girl’s night out, she would enjoy dressing provocatively. Her friends would tease her, she would tease them back, and she would have tons of fun with all the attention she would get. Still, Helena wasn’t feeling good about herself. In fact, she felt cheap and dirty, as if she had just emerged from the sewers.

“This is how prostitutes must feel,” she thought, as she looked at herself in the mirror. However, before she could make any more comments on her emotional condition, Kate’s feminine voice echoed in her head.

“I’m right outside.”

Helena exhaled hard, as she made her way to her staircase. In her sadness, she tried to comfort herself, by remembering the faces of the people closest to her. This was one of the smallest sacrifices she had to make for them, and yet, that plain truth wasn’t enough to lift her spirits. The witch raised her hands above her head, and pushed up the cover of her home. Just as she did though, the sound of an engine, as well as the smell of diesel puzzled her. Kate was there, but she was in Dean’s gray pickup truck. Helena squeezed her eyes shut, as the headlights blinded her.

“It’s a little too cold for a walk in the woods,” Kate shouted out loudly, as she stuck her head out of the driver’s side window.

“Whatever…” Helena mumbled, as she let the cover drop onto the ground. Her fellow witch’s eyes sparkled with excitement as Helena closed the distance between them.

“Great outfit,” Kate commented, as Helena seated herself beside her. “We really should do something about your accommodations, though. Naming a forest after you might have been a noble gesture, but you need something a little more…” she paused, “tangible, I think.”

“Like what?”

“Like a real house?” Kate retorted, putting her foot down hard on the gas pedal. The large tires picked up rocks and chunks of mud, as the vehicle skidded across the forest surface. “Come on, girl. Don’t tell me you like living in a hole.”

“Just drive, Kate,” Helena urged, folding her arms across her chest, as she lay back in her seat. “Do you have an address?”

“Helena, what’s wrong?” Kate asked, her voice rising up and octave, as their bodies rocked on the bumpy ground.

“This…” Helena sighed, turning her head to the left to face her. “I don’t feel good about doing this.”

“I hear you,” Kate nodded, as they left the forest behind them. “I really don’t know what to say to you, darling. What you’re doing is admirable. I just wish I was single, so you wouldn’t have to do it.”

“What about that address?” Helena posed the same question yet again, as her voice returned to its normal state.

“Oh, yeah,” Kate gave a short chuckle. “I had to show a lot of cleavage to get that, but I did. That jerk couldn’t stop staring at my breasts. Anyway, those feds are staying in the ‘Star Deluxe’, a hotel just off of I-87 S.”

“I wonder if we should have shared this with the boys,” Helena muttered, returning her gaze to the road up ahead.

“Don’t,” Kate groaned, tightening her grip around the steering wheel. “Raul would rip those cops’ heads off.”

“We could have told Dean,” Helena suggested, as her face hardened.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Kate wondered, once again turning to her. “Damn…” she whispered, clenching her jaw. “Of course you don’t get it. You grew up in a time when the radio was considered the biggest technological achievement. Well, let me tell you this.” She began speaking emphatically while still focusing on the road up ahead. “The federal government possesses insane technology. The level of sophistication of their equipment is just beyond imagination: cameras, the size of a fingernail, capable of capturing the tiniest detail; microphones barely visible to the human eye; remote-control airplanes, with enough weapons to raze a big city to the ground; you name it. None of the Bradford’s can go anywhere near those feds. Neither can Julia. They can contain their wolves when they get upset, but they all glare, and when they do, their eyes change color. Do you think it will go unnoticed? I don’t. Anyway, why would you want to tell Dean? What could he do that I can’t?”

“I just don’t like to keep them out of the loop.” Helena explained, her voice calm, as they turned right and onto the uphill road that led out of Paxton.

“They don’t need to know everything,” Kate replied candidly, speaking her mind, as a clever smile spread across her face. “Besides, what would you say to them? ‘Hey, guys. I’m going to try to seduce somebody into revealing details to me about the evidence he has against you’?”

The witch did not dignify Kate’s last comment with a rebuttal. Instead, she returned the smile, barely able to prevent laughter from bursting out into the truck cab. After all, their little chat could not go on for much longer. As much as she enjoyed talking to Kate, Helena had to concentrate on her mission. Kate’s jokes and her constant teasing would only distract Helena.

Minutes afterwards, the view of the tall, well-lit hotel in the distance, sent chills rippling across her spine. The moment of truth drew nearer and nearer by the second, and she still had not decided on an excuse to give him for her visit. She did have his phone number. She could reach him anytime she wanted.

“Some things cannot be discussed over the phone,” Helena thought to herself, as Dean’s truck slowly rolled to a halt outside the hotel’s glass façade. However, as she looked through the glass, she discovered she didn’t need any excuse at all. Cliff was to the right of the hotel bar, all alone, with his side turned to the road, sipping his drink.

“That’s him over there,” Helena told Kate, as she raised her hand to point up at him. “Third stool to the left.”

“Are you serious right now?” Kate squeaked, as she laid her eyes on Cliff. “That guy’s hot. I was expecting to see an old, fat fart, not a young stud like him. Go get him, darling.”

“Wish me luck,” Helena muttered, unwilling to respond to her friend’s crude remarks.

“Good humping,” Kate murmured, provoking her fellow witch’s instant glare, as Helena grabbed the door handle. “Oops,” Kate snorted in amusement, as her lips curled into a huge grin. “I meant ‘good hunting.’”

“I’ll see you later,” Helena grumbled, stepping out of the vehicle. Kate was her friend. She loved her. She knew that she was merely trying to relieve her tension; but all those nasty comments only served as a reminder of her objective. Instead of helping her relax, they intensified the feeling of guilt that had been growing within her. In any case, Helena had to put that awkward moment behind her. She couldn’t afford to let it affect her in any way.

Her heart skipped a beat, as the glass door slid open sideways, revealing a large, luxurious lobby. Beige tiles graced the floor, with a massive, golden star in the middle of the hall. The witch threw a quick glance over at Cliff, as she started off to the right. Thankfully, his attention was not focused on the entrance. He was talking to the young bartender. Determining that choosing a seat near Cliff would probably give away her motives, Helena decided to head towards the other side of the bar. Fixing her gaze on the mirror across from her, she hopped onto a stool. By then, she was starting to imagine a possible outcome of that night.

“We chat: he tells me a little bit about himself; I pretend to be having a good time. I give him my number, and that’s it. I’ll leave. No sex. He looks fantastic, sure, but it’s not about his looks. If I sleep with him tonight, he’ll think I’m a slut. He’ll definitely lose interest. I doubt we’ll see each other again.”

“Good evening, ma’am,” greeted the bartender, his nasal voice snapping her out of her thoughts. “What can I get you?”

“I’ll have a gin and tonic, thank you,” she responded, lifting her eyes to meet his.

“Coming right up,” he answered, giving her a polite smile, as she leaned her elbows on the bar’s surface. Part of her wanted to look at him once more. Knowing if he had noticed her presence would at least prepare her psychologically for the rest of the night. Yet, Helena had to fight off other emotions, ones that kept her eyes glued on the mirror: first, was the fear of being exposed; utter humiliation would follow, along with possible jail time; second was the shame eating away at her, since she’d agreed to participate in this plan. Still, as she tapped her fingers on the shiny wood in faint impatience, she caught a glimpse of a large hand, setting down a half-full glass just next to her.

“Ms. Lockhart, mind if I join you for a little bit?” Helena recognized the rasp of Cliff’s voice in an instant. However, there was more in it than that sexy color. It was filled with laziness. He was speaking rather slowly, a clear indication that he’d already reached the definition of intoxicated. The pungent smell of alcohol only confirmed her suspicions.

“Not at all, agent Daniels,” she said, whirling her head to the right to face him, her pulse rising, as a smile of embarrassment burst upon her lips.

“Nah, I should go. Your date won’t like to see you with another man,” the drowsiness in his tone intensified, as he picked up his glass from the bar’s surface.

“I don’t have a date. I’m meeting with a friend,” Helena pointed out, putting some force in her voice. “You can stay.”

“In that case…” he managed to croak, while putting his glass back down, as he sat on the stool next to Helena.

“Agent Daniels, pardon my curiosity, but, um…” she faltered, pressing her lips together, as she dragged her gaze away from him. “The whole town is asking the same question: w why would the FBI bother looking into a case that’s got ‘accident’ written all over it?”

“You didn’t, by any chance, read the names of the victims, did you?” He wondered, assuming a softer voice, as he leaned closer towards her.

“No,” Helena shook her head sideways, as she brought her gaze back to his face. “I’m afraid I haven’t.”

“Well, I have,” Cliff pointed at himself, the green in his eyes fading in the bright illumination. “I saw the name ‘Donna Lockhart.’ Some local said she was your niece. I’m sorry for your loss. I only remember it, because it was right before the name ‘Jonathan Daniels.’ He was my brother. That’s why I’m investigating it.”

“Oh, my God…” she whispered, swallowing hard, as she gazed into his eyes; “Your brother?”

“Yeah,” he affirmed with a nod. “You’re right. It does look like those people died in a freak accident. But, when I heard about my brother’s death, I asked for an autopsy. The coroner didn’t find any carbon monoxide in his lungs. Jonathan died of a heart attack. Which is weird, given the fact that he was just forty-six years old, and his medical history was spotless. By law, FBI agents and cops can’t investigate the death of first degree relatives, but my supervisor owed me a favor, so…” he paused. “Here I am.”

Helena couldn’t believe her ears. The tragic loss of his brother sent her heart into a downward spiral. Cliff’s words fueled her guilt, which instantly turned into a ravenous beast, threatening to consume her. Her first thought was to tell him the truth. She knew what had caused Jonathan’s heart attack. The mere view of a massive wolf was enough to literally scare anyone to death. Still, her shock was too profound for her to force even one word out of her throat. Plus, even if she could find the strength to speak up, she would not betray her family. The witch parted her lips, hoping to utter a simple sentence, but, as she did, a tear toppled over the edge of Cliff’s eye, making her heart sink even more into despair.

“I keep wracking my brain…” Cliff sighed, his voice wobbly, as he lifted his glass to his mouth. “What could have caused him to have a heart attack?”

“I take it you were close,” Helena assumed, as the bartender put her drink in front of her.

“Jonnie was more than a brother to me,” he declared, downing his drink. “Our folks got killed in a car accident, when I was three. He raised me.”

Cliff’s statement was like a dagger to Helena’s heart, once again leaving her breathless, taking away her ability to speak. Cliff banged his glass onto the wooden surface, as he turned to her. She could tell by the eagerness in his teary eyes that he had been expecting her to address him, but, what could Helena really say to him? What would soothe his pain? What would comfort a man who had lost his brother, his flesh and blood? The answer was simple: absolutely nothing; especially just seven days after Jonathan’s death. Cliff slowly blinked, the whites of his eyes turned into a shade of dark red, and he unfurled his fingers from around his glass. Tension tightened the back of Helena’s neck as his body swayed towards her. In the blink of an eye, he crashed onto her, knocking her off balance. Helena’s brow’s popped up, as she thrust her left arm towards the bar. Cliff’s head was resting in the crook of her shoulder and neck, as she gripped the edge of the wooden surface.

“Bartender!” she choked out; “a little help here!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” the bartender yelled, moving around the counter. “Security!” he cried, glancing out at the two men near the entrance. “Don’t worry, Miss,” he continued, grabbing Cliff by the shoulders. “We have a doctor here. He’ll take good care of him.”