Hemlock Veils

***

On her way to the door, Elizabeth grabbed a small sack of her belongings, her keys, and her new umbrella. It was just before six a.m. and the sun hadn’t begun to rise, but she needed to shower before she went to the shop; she needed it like she needed sunshine. She’d called Regina the night before to ask if she could make a stop over there the next morning, and Regina had offered her the use of her shower before Elizabeth could even ask. Once again, she was indebted to her only real friend here. Her only friend in human form, anyway.

Rain still poured from the night before, heavy and relentless. Cold and damp darkness took over, and she tightened the bag under her arm before stepping out and closing the door. Even with an umbrella overhead, she felt the moisture, from deep in her bones.

Almost to her car, she stopped short. A dark figure approached, rain ricocheting off his shoulders. She couldn’t make him out, but he held something in his hand. He seemed to walk with difficulty, too, and he brought the item in his hand to his mouth. A bottle of liquor, no doubt.

She sighed and kept moving. “What are you doing here, Brian?” she called over the rain.

“I need a reason to see you?” His voice was slower than usual, giving away his inebriation, and he blocked her way. He wore regular jeans and a t-shirt beneath a denim jacket, and the bottle in his hand—nearly empty—was large.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

A clumsy hand wiped his face. “I’ve been up all night. You know what I’ve been thinking about?”

She swallowed instead of answering.

“I’ve been thinking about you, and how you turned down my deal.”

“I’m sorry I’m keeping you up at night.” She tried getting around him, but he blocked her again, laughing.

“I’m messing with you, Beth. You don’t have that much a hold over me.”

“That’s good to know. I really should get going though. I have a lot to do before the shop opens. You’re welcome to come by when it does. You know, when you’re sober.”

He laughed again, inching closer, and his breath reeked of rum. “I’m pla

“How’d you know I was going to Regina’s?” she asked, recoiling.

“I stopped by there last night to return something. It was just after she got off the phone with you. You know, Beth…a shower’s so much more enjoyable with two. You can take one at my place.”

“Go home and go to bed.”

He chuckled. “Lighten up, learn how to take a joke.”

“I can take a joke when there is one.” She tried getting around him again and this time he grabbed her arm.

“I was really coming to say I can fix your busted pipe. Like I said before, I’m pretty handy.”

She stood back, studying him. He still held onto her arm, but his eyes were unreadable and dull. “You…would do that?”

“Sure, sure.”

“Not now though. When you’re sober.” She still eyed him skeptically.

“Course.”

“Well, thanks. I think.”

He waved his arm. “It’s nothing. See, some of us are still gentlemen around here.”

“Opposed to…?”

“Just saying I don’t think Mr. Clayton would help out.”

She eyed him again. Did he feel threatened by Mr. Clayton? The idea oddly amused her. She’d thought about calling Mr. Clayton last night after the pipe had burst, only because he’d lived here before. But then she remembered it was Mr. Clayton, and in order to spare her ears of some arrogant response like, “That house isn’t mine anymore, Ms. Ashton,” or, “Deal with it yourself, Ms. Ashton,” she’d decided to conquer it on her own.

“I didn’t ask Mr. Clayton,” she finally said. “It’s my house now and we agreed I was taking it in the condition it was, good or bad. It’s my responsibility, not his.”

“See what I mean? I doubt he would have helped, even if you asked.”

She folded her arm against herself, and her teeth chattered. “What’s your point, Brian?”

“Just saying if you’re go

“I’m not going to be into anyone. And this is hardly the time and place—”

“Relax, all right?” Massaging her shoulder, he tilted his head as though a remarkable idea had struck him. “So, payment-wise…”

She sighed, ripping her shoulder away from his hand. “Forget the pipe, Brian.”

Even his laugh slurred. “You say you’re different than other women, but you’re all the same. No means yes, Beth. Trust me, I know. I can read the body language you’re putting off…” He pinched her ribs in a playful ma

“Maybe it does with everyone else you’ve tried to sleep with, but I promise you I’m not one of those women. And reality check: most women aren’t those women.”

Still he advanced, chuckling. “Tried and conquered,” he corrected, lifting a finger.

Rolling her eyes, she tried moving around him again. When he took her umbrella, her hair immediately soaked through, and she held back a gasp. “Give it to me,” she demanded, peeved beyond comprehension. Yet somehow not surprised.

He laughed as though she was playing with him. “Make me.”

She sighed through her teeth, and her core heated almost hot enough to relieve her of her shivers. “This isn’t a game. Please give it back, Brian.” She backed him into the car, trying to get it from him, and he held it high out of her reach.

“I love seeing you wet,” he said, his laugh fading into a wistful sort of sigh. “I guess this’ll be the closest I get to watching you shower.”

With that, she slapped him in the face, her hand as taut as her nerves. It happened before she could talk herself out of it, but she didn’t regret it, even as he stared wide-eyed at her. She hadn’t hit many people in her life, but if there was anyone deserving of it, it was Brian. Backing away and still holding her bag, she folded her arms over herself, wanting to hide from his eyes and thoughts.

His jaw stiffened and he threw her umbrella. By the time it stopped rolling it was twenty feet down the street, in a puddle pock-marked with continuous, rippling spots. “Get it if you want it,” he challenged.

Startling her, he pitched his empty rum bottle, where it shattered against a tree at the forest’s edge behind her. In her shock, she had dropped her belongings. The silence following was harsher than the shatter itself. And her a

“Please leave.” Her voice wavered.

A smile crept in, slow and mischievous, and he stepped closer. “See, Beth. When you’re saying that, all I hear is ‘come in.’” He took her arms and twisted around, pressing her against the car. He brought his face to hers, his breath against her mouth. “And you know what I think when you slap me?” he whispered.

She recoiled from his mouth and he laughed, trying to kiss her. She pushed, but he pushed harder. With a low and gravelly grunt, he said, “I like this fight in you. I don’t usually get it.”

“Get. Off,” she said, pushing him with all her strength. If she still had her keys in hand, she wouldn’t hesitate to use them, but they lay on the street, next to her bag.

He grunted again, but this time it seemed to be out of anger, and like the flip of a switch, he became a monster far more dangerous than the one in the forest. His eyes, already glassy and bloodshot, appeared to swell from their sockets, and a Y-shaped vein bulged from his forehead. Even in the dark, she could see that his wet face reddened. “Go on and keep denying me, Beth!” He lifted her high in the air and slammed her into her car, making her back shudder with pain. “Tell me no one more time!”

Her breath came with difficulty, but she lifted her feet, attempting to kick him off of her. He was too strong, however, had too powerful a hold on her, and though it felt futile, she fought with him. “Go to hell,” she managed, telling herself not to stop fighting.