Chapter 23 - Bee

As best friends (aka team BeeMac), I swear if you jump off a bridge, I’ll paddle out a canoe to save your ass!

~ Mac, the spankadelic

I was laughing my ass off as I watched Elias gag into a bucket. Drool fell down his chin and snot was everywhere, and I was in hysterics. We were both sitting crossed legged in the small space where a tiny dining table could have been wedged in beside the kitchen breakfast bar. Guns n Roses currently serenaded us from the speakers of my iPod with their classic, “Welcome To the Jungle.”

“That’s, just . . .” Elias gagged again. “I can’t, there are no words,” gag, “take it,” gag, “away,” gag.

He pushed away the plate sitting on the floor before him and reached for a tissue to wipe his face before glaring at me. Oh, those eyes were far too soft and puppyish for the anger he was trying to convey.  My poor little Goth Boy.

“Shikaro is a delicacy in Japan, dude. You are totally dissing on a classic. One hundred and twenty-seven million people can’t be wrong.”

“One hundred and twenty-seven million people are whacked. Fish sperm sacks are wrong in every way.”

Laughter burst forth from my nasal cavity, and I rolled on to my back in another fit of hysterics while Elias continued to sulk.

“Oh, come on,” I said, finally settling down. “You know I hate it when you mope. Give me my plate and let’s get this over with.”

Elias had reached his breaking point the night before last, sick to death of my brooding. He’d asked me if I wanted to play a game. I was so not a board game kind of girl, but depression had led me straight down the path of desperation. “What kind of game?” I’d asked, mulishly. “Anything,” Elias had been quick to reply, “as long as it gets you off the couch and showered because you reek.”

“Anything,” a word which I knew he now regretted. I’d given him a day to put together the worst and most disgusting foods he could get his hands on. And since I was housebound, thanks to Mac using her magical mojo on the doors and walls, again, I asked her to collect my own list of nastiness. Now we were seated on the floor in front of each other, eating the other’s chosen dishes. If we didn’t eat it, we wore it, literally. I’d already dumped casu marzu, a rotten cheese usually infested with larvae, from Italy, on Elias’s head. I really hadn’t expected him to eat the shikaro, but after a lot of hesitation and pep talk, he’d stuffed it in his mouth, swallowed, then proceeded to vomit it all back up. Apparently, fish sperm sacs weren’t his thing.

I reached for the next plate of food I was supposed to devour. Lamb fries, and I can promise you they weren’t fries. Instead, they were deep-fried lamb testicles, tagging the word ‘fries’ onto their name was just plane mean. I hated eating animal genitalia. Well played, Elias, well played. Elias watched me with wide, expectant eyes as I raised one of the round meat sacs to my nose and sniffed. Smelled like grease and batter and was roughly the size of a small avocado.

“I’m sensing a pattern here,” I confessed, glancing to Elias’s abandoned plate of sperm sacs and my lamb testicles.

Elias snorted and covered his groin. “Why do people feel the need to eat a male’s junk?”

I raised a brow and glanced at him over my deep-fried nut-sac. “It’s not always bad, some men even enjoy getting their junk consumed now and again.”  My Goth Boys cheeks filled with color, and I laughed. “We really need to find you someone to help you lose that V-card.”

Shoving the lamb fry in my mouth, I tried to imagine it was something other than a testicle. It had the texture of a scallop, but the taste was all lamb, and not the yummy part of a lamb. No, it was more like the chewy stomach.

What Elias didn’t know when he agreed to play my crazy game was that I had put plenty of questionable things in my mouth, mostly on dares from Mac, over my many years of existence. This was nothing, and the pigs brains burger had been absolutely delish.

“You know, these aren’t horrible,” I finally confessed, swallowing the deep fried appendage. I was lying, of course. They were awful, but there was no way I was giving Elias that kind of satisfaction.

“Really?” he asked, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“Really, try one.”

I shoved the testicle toward Elias, and he threw himself backwards and crab walked away from me. Of course, this had me falling into another puddle of hysterics.

A slight crackle in the air announced Mac’s arrival, and rolling to one side, I reined in my cackling and smiled at her. She rolled her eyes and grinned.

“You’re hustling Goth Boy with your eat it or wear it game, right?”

I nodded. Then, my gaze dropped and any signs of laughter vanished. Rolling and climbing to my feet, I stepped towards my best friend, my gaze glued to the object in her hand.

She raised it up and shoved it towards me, like one might do an object that didn’t hold the utter respect this object deserved.

Carefully, I took my bow from her, my fingers reverently tracing the etchings, and the deep rooted magic in the wood tingled over my fingertips and danced with the natural born power every immortal was born with. The arrow tattoo behind my ear burned, but in a good way. It was a reminder of who I was and the power I had been missing.

“Where did you find it?” I asked Mac.

I had been trying to convince my father to return my bow for days. I’d even resorted to—cough, cough—begging, but the stubborn man refused to budge. He said I wasn’t “ready yet.” Pfft, I begged to differ. I had been a Negative Nancy buzzkill ready to gut anyone who dared look at me the wrong way for the past four days. If that wasn’t proof I’d given love a chance, I don’t know what would convince my father. Mac had confined my ass to the apartment for the last three of those days and taken off to Ibiza with Walker. Apparently, she didn’t trust me not to become Stalker Suzanne. The fact of the matter was, I was love-freaking-sick, a decaying lump of flesh and bone. Apart from my entertaining hour watching Elias puke and gag, my thoughts had remained thoroughly glued to Austin, the man who had walked out my door asking for ‘time,’ and had apparently chosen to abandon me, ripping my beating, lump of a heart from my chest and taking it with him. I need time, three words I was adding to my Death of a Relationship Dictionary, a hobby of mine. Those words sat right between, ‘but I pulled out’ and ‘we need to talk’.

“He tried to hide it in the Well of Endless Dreams.” Mac snorted. “Such a rookie.”

I allowed the bow to merge with me and it disappeared from my hands. My body shivered as the power I’d been missing flared slightly before settling down. There was a slight tug in region of my shoulder blades, where my wings made their presence known. My useless, impotent wings, oh how I missed them.

“I’m going to shoot Austin,” I whispered. “With a good arrow,” I clarified. I’d been thinking about it since he walked out of my apartment four days ago. Shooting him with an arrow would intensify Austin’s feelings for me and boost his lust. We’d be banging thighs by dinner time.

Mac shook her head and tsked me like a one might do a child who’d just eaten their entire Halloween stash of candy in one sitting.

“Bad move, Cupid.”

“I beg to differ. That is the best idea I’ve had in weeks.”

“Oh my gods, four days in solitary has made you delusional. Do you honestly believe that shooting Austin would be good for your relationship?”

“Right now we don’t have a relationship. He left!”

“He just needed some space to come to terms with all the immortal gobbledygook.”

Elias, who had abandoned our game to sit at the breakfast bar with a bowl of cereal, snorted. “Gobbledygook.”

“He needs a nudge,” I argued, ignoring Goth Boy.

“You don’t want to nudge him. You want to wedge an arrow through his heart like some sick, twisted ex-girlfriend.”

“You’ve never had a problem with me shooting my arrows before,” I shouted.

“That’s because you weren’t shooting them at friends, and right now you are being a total dillhole!”

“Excuse me?” I sucked back a breath at her insult.

“Everyone has the right to do stupid things, but right now you are abusing the privilege.”

“You want to rumble right now?” I asked, my voice low and dangerous. The need to fight was riding me hard, not necessarily because Mac called me a dillhole, but because I was angry; angry at Austin, angry at relationships, angry at stupid effing love. I was also a little power drunk, and it wouldn’t hurt to expel some of the energy. Mac’s eyes rolled. “Keep rolling those freaky purple orbs, princess, and you might just find a brain back there.”

“Oh, you did not,” Mac purred, stretching her head from one side to the other as she prepared for the inevitable.

We stood standing in the small apartment, staring each other down, the suffocating fury that emanated from our powerful bodies making Elias shift nervously before moving further away.  The silence added to the thick, cloying stench of rage. I knew the moment Mac was about to charge by the slight shift in her feet. I let her come at me, a psychotic smile gracing my lips. Mac reached for me, her hands pressing hard into my shoulders as she pushed me backwards with a force that made my hair whip around my face. When we reached the wall, we disappeared rather than crashing through it.

I rolled, dislodging Mac as we hit the icy ground. Somehow, through my fury, I had the good sense to trace us to an empty field in Iceland where the destruction would be minimal.

“You’ve called me a lot of things over the last thousand years or so, but never stupid. You crossed a line today, Mac.”

“Stupid is as stupid does,” she spat out as she stood, flicking her ponytail over her shoulder.

I charged this time and pushed off my feet at the last moment, planning to bury my Converse in Mac’s chest.  Mac grabbed my leg, though, and knocked me carelessly to one side. I slid across the ice only stopping when my back hit a massive tree trunk. The tree split with a giant crack and fell to the ground, throwing snow into the air. I rolled to one side, but before I could stand, Mac was on me.

Allowing my friend to pin me to the frozen ground, I raised a knee, wedging it between our bodies, and threw Mac off me and through the air. The dull snap that accompanied the move meant I had likely broken one of Mac’s ribs. Her dark hair was a stark contrast against the white snow as Mac flew through the air and hit the ice hard, sliding until she too hit a tree.

“You think it’s stupid to want your soul mate to care about you?” I shouted as I climbed to my feet. “Do you have any idea how infuriating this situation is? I put myself out there, me, the woman who swore to never let a man play with my heart. But he didn’t just play with it, he freaking stole it!”

“Oh for the love of . . .” Mac’s words drifted in the air. She shook the snow off and rubbed her ribs tenderly. “You really need me to explain this to you with small words and crayons?”

I attacked again, this time with my fists. Most of my hits were blocked, though I did get the odd one through Mac’s defense. She ducked under a right jab, clipped my nose with a left hook, and swept out her feet, sending me to the ground once more. This time she pinned me as I madly bucked and tried to free myself.

“He already loves you. If you used your arrow now, it would be a betrayal of that love,” Mac hissed, and I stilled for a moment. “Impatience makes clever people do dumb things, and you are about to do the dumbest thing you have ever done, which is a long, extensive list, girlfriend.”

“Get off me,” I whispered, the fight draining out of me.

Mac cautiously climbed off, allowing me to sit up. We both sat in the snow, blood dripping from my nose and Mac’s cheek beginning to swell. Grabbing a handful of ice, Mac held it to her cheek, and I copied her, applying my ice pack to the bridge of my nose.

“It hurts,” I quietly confessed.

“I broke it, it should,” Mac spat out.

“Not my nose.” I raised my free hand to my chest and held it over my heart. “In here. It hurts and it won’t go away. This is why I avoided love. It effing hurts.”

Mac sighed and dropped the ice. “I’m sorry.”

“I practically begged you to fight me. I wanted to blow off some steam.”

“Then you’re welcome,” Mac replied. We looked at each other then smiled. “And when Austin comes banging down your door begging for another chance to be with the you, the kickass goddess of pleasure, that pain will disappear. You can even make him grovel for a little while. Two words, my friend,” Mac raised her hand. “Massages,” she said, raising one finger, “and orgasms,” she finished raising the second finger.

“What if he doesn’t? What if this life isn’t something he wants be a part of?”

“Then we move forward and continue to be the two coolest and most dangerous immortals in existence. We have a bucket list to get through, and with me now practically hitched, that means you need to seduce Liam away from Miley and be his shoulder to cry on, a Hemsworth snuggle-bunny.”

I huffed out a chuckle. “Not the worst way to mend a broken heart.”

Mac stood and wiped the snow off her behind. “Enough of this doom and gloom. You are being ridiculous. Austin doesn’t just love you, he floves you, and he is going to be sitting in your apartment waiting for you when we get back.”

Mac reached out a hand and I accepted it, letting her drag me to my feet.

“Thank you, you crazy filly,” I murmured, pulling Mac in for a hug.

“Any time, you crazy bunny-boiler.”

Picturing my apartment in the mortal realm, we disappeared, and when we reappeared in the living room, we were still wrapped in each other’s arms. Elias cleared his throat from somewhere behind us and we parted, grinning foolishly at each other.

“Still besties?” Mac asked.

“Does the Tin Man have a metal peen?”

Mac snorted, and we ended up in a fit of laughter.

“Dude, they are so going to kiss next,” Walker’s voice came from somewhere in the room.

Our laughter disappeared immediately as we spun around to find Elias handing Austin a cup of coffee while Walker leaned against the kitchen counter watching us with rapt attention. My gaze sought out Austin like a lusty hooker who’d been through a dry spell. The obvious concern in his gaze made that painful stabbing sensation in my heart dull. I had never I seen a better sight. His disheveled hair, the dark rings under his eyes, the wrinkled shirt . . . he was a mess, a beautiful, hot, mess.

“Please, just ignore us, continue groping.” Walker said, taking a sip from his own coffee.

“You knew they’d be here?” I asked Mac with a raised brow.

“Did you think I’d let Walker see me battered and bruised? He thinks I’m invincible,” Mac whisper hissed.

“What the hell happened to you two?” Austin asked, stepping around the breakfast bar.

Those delicious, long, denim encased legs caused my heart to flutter, the pain now completely gone. I wished he’d turn around so I could catch a glimpse of the way the distressed fabric clutched his perfect ass.

“We were attacked, by Bellona, Goddess of War,” I quickly explained, my gaze never leaving Austin’s.

“And four of her cronies,” Mac added.

“Five,” I corrected.

“Oh, totally five, silly me,” Mac slapped her palm against her forehead.

“It was a blood bath, but we totally kicked ass.” Austin’s lip twitched as I went on with our cover story.

“Kicked, stomped, and flayed, blood everywhere,” sang Mac.

“They were fighting with each other,” Elias interrupted our awesome story, and I shot him an annoyed glance. “I was ready for them to knock the building to the ground, but they just, disappeared.”

“Eep-Kay our-yay outh-may ut-shay, Goth Boy,” Mac growled.

“Your-yay ory-stay as-way upid-stay, incess-pray of-way arkness-day ,” Elias snapped, showing the most defiance we had seen from him yet. Under that meek, mild, abused exterior was a moody man just waiting to let loose.

“Did you just call her princess of darkness?” Walker grinned. “That is so fucking sticking.”

Austin took a few tentative steps towards me, his finger raised, and ever so gently touched the spot above my mending nose.

“Are you okay?”

Oh, heart aflutter, I could barely contain my swoon.

“Of course, this is nothing. I totally cracked Mac’s ribs.”

Mac snorted. “Hardly.”

“We need to talk,” Austin murmured.

I nodded perhaps a little too enthusiastically. After all, those were words from my Death of a Relationship Dictionary. I glanced at the people standing in my apartment.

“What about Cocaine Carl?” Mac asked. “He smoked a joint and wants to raid your pantry.”

My eyes narrowed.

“Okay, okay,” she said, with her hands held up in front of her. “Carl, maybe you should go visit Nancy Needles in the foyer.” Mac then rolled her eyes as she stared into what appeared to be thin air somewhere in the direction of the fridge. “Just tell her you’re not interested, and for the love of all that is holy, don’t mention the giant bullet hole in her forehead. She's self-conscious about it.” With a satisfied nod, Mac’s eyes followed the ghost toward the front door, then she turned to grin at a shocked Walker, Austin, and Elias, and a slightly impatient goddess. I tapped my foot to punctuate my exasperation, and Mac rolled her eyes, again. One day, I was going to pluck those violet orbs right out of her skull.

“See you later, masturbator,” she finally said with an impish grin, and she, Walker, and Elias disappeared.