Part 12 (2/2)
He walked across the parking lot, the wind whipping around him but not mussing him, the rain missing him too. He'd forgotten to remove the s.h.i.+eld spell from himself and it was too late now. She'd notice.
She hadn't stopped watching him. She seemed to record each movement, as if she were trying to memorize it. He even got the sense that she was nervous.
What was she doing here? He had sent her away. He'd hoped that she would be back wherever she had come from, long gone, the episode in the mountains forgotten--at least by her.
He doubted he would ever forget.
He had almost reached her when he realized he didn't have the appropriate insult. In fact, he didn't have any prepared insult at all. He wanted to compliment her, to tell her she looked a lot better, to tell her he missed her.
To kiss her again.
If he could borrow Evelyn's stepstool.
That last thought sent a bolt of anger through him. d.a.m.n his sentence. d.a.m.n the punishment that made him small and ugly, looking on his best days like a lawn gnome and on his worst like some sort of hideous doll from a ”Twilight Zone” episode.
No insult and feeling insecure. Wonderful. His plan to drive her away was failing even before he opened his mouth.
He'd have to play it somewhat safe then. He'd try to get past her without any conversation at all. And since she was waiting for her precious, gorgeous Darius, all six feet of him, she probably wouldn't even notice the troll walking past her.
As he reached her side, he caught the scent of her perfume, a trace of lilacs mixed with the clean smell of soap. He clenched his right fist, willing himself to keep moving.
”Excuse me,” she said.
He stepped past her.
”Sir, please,” she said. ”Excuse me.”
”Why?” he asked, making his voice even more nasal than it usually was. ”Did you fart?”
She blinked at him in complete surprise, as if no one had ever asked her that question in her life. ”No, I--”
”Then you don't need to be excused.” He grabbed the gla.s.s door's handle and tugged. Until that moment, he had forgotten how heavy the d.a.m.n thing was and how awkward it was to open for a person of his (current) height. He always had trouble readjusting after he changed back to Vari.
The wind made it worse. The door was nearly impossible to open. He would have to spell it too.
Ariel came up behind him and grabbed the handle. Apparently she had decided to a.s.sist him, but she couldn't get the door open either. The wind pushed on it, and she couldn't maintain her balance on her crutches and find enough force to pull the door open.
”If I wanted help,” Darius said, regretting every word, ”I'd ask someone competent.”
She dropped the door handle as if it burned her. At that moment, Evelyn came up beside both of them and opened the door with astonis.h.i.+ng ease.
The inside of Emerald Aviation had been the same for decades. Cheap brown paneling darkened the interior. Bad fluorescent lighting irritated his eyes. Shabby orange plastic furniture in the waiting area only made the room seem more offensive.
This morning, the entire place smelled of burned coffee. A styrofoam cup of the stuff steamed on Evelyn's metal desk, the blotter beneath it stained with rings from past coffee misadventures. A large radio set squawked in the back room, and a phone rang unanswered, as if voice mail had never been invented.
Even before Darius heard the shuffle of crutches on the cheap tile around the doors, he knew that Ariel had followed him inside. 'Please', he wished silently, 'please go away. I don't want to be forced to talk with you anymore. Not like this.'
”I'm sorry to bother you,” she said, apparently having rethought the excuse-me approach.
”Then don't.” He kept his back to her. Usually he was witty and mean. This time, he wasn't even witty.
”It's just that I wanted to thank you.”
He hesitated for a fraction of a second. There were a dozen ways to play this one, and since he hadn't thought he'd see her again--especially with his body in this condition--he hadn't a.n.a.lyzed which one was best.
He finally decided on the path of least resistance. Easier might not be better but it was--well, easier.
Darius turned to face her. ”Thank me for what?”
Her eyes were wide and green, deep and filled with life. He could still see that hint of a future soul mate floating in them. Dammit, dammit, dammit.
”Calling for the plane.”
His heart leapt. So she did recognize him, in some small way. Maybe she had overheard him. Or maybe she knew.
”Lady,” he said, ”impossible as this may seem, you have confused me with someone else.”
She swallowed visibly. ”You're Andrew Vari, aren't you?”
”Yeah.” He crossed his arms.
”Duke and Evelyn said you're the one who called for the plane.”
So she hadn't recognized him at all. He had to work to keep the disappointment from showing on his face. ”Of course I called for the plane. How the h.e.l.l do you think I'd get out of that G.o.dforsaken wilderness?”
”Not for you.” She spoke carefully, as if she were afraid she wasn't being clear. ”For me.”
”Lady, once again you are confusing me with someone else.”
”No,” she said. ”Duke picked me up at your house a week ago yesterday. I'd stayed there overnight, after I fell and broke my ankle. Your friend Darius rescued me. I was hoping you could tell me how to contact him.”
The anger Darius had felt earlier at the door, the circ.u.mstance, his size, himself, returned. She hadn't recognized him and she was only interested in beautiful Dar. She was as shallow as the rest of them.
”I don't know anyone named Darius. I have never seen you before, and I didn't call for a plane.”
”Yes, you did.” Evelyn was standing near the door. He hadn't realized she was there. ”When you signed off, you called me doll face like you always do.”
”Really?” He made his tone cold. ”I don't remember this phantom radio call.”
”Duke picked her up at your place.”
”A week ago yesterday,” he said.
Evelyn nodded. Ariel was looking back and forth between them, confusion evident on her face.
”A week ago yesterday,” he said, ”I was nowhere near that house.”
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