Mythe: A Fairy Tale (65 page)

Chelsea was the very picture of patience and loving solicitude though. She was understanding and kind in the face of his dark moods and angry silences. Without his explicit consent, but lacking his discouragement, she somehow worked herself into his life. She took rooms near his and began accompanying him whenever he left his hotel, playing the part of the loving girlfriend to perfection. She was charming and beautiful in front of the press. Inevitably the media began to hale them as the newest “it” couple, splashing their pictures on the front covers of all of the magazines.

Once Chelsea had entrenched herself firmly in Richard’s life, Mikey pulled her in even tighter. He’d waited until he and Josh were alone with her, after Richard had wordlessly escaped to his bedroom to lay staring at the wall, thinking about Manda. Richard had listened intently, however, when he realized what Mikey was doing.

“Chelsea, if you’re going to be seeing Richard there’s something you should know,” Mikey had informed her gravely. “I’m sure you heard how Amanda was killed.”

“Of course. It was so horrible! Poor Richard.”

Chelsea’s false sympathy had ignited Richard’s rage, and his whole body tensed.

“What you don’t know is that she was killed by a shapeshifter, one that has been threatening Richard’s love interests for years.” Chelsea had exclaimed in convincingly shocked surprise at that point. “By being seen with Richard, you’re putting yourself at risk as well.”

“Well, I’m hardly some helpless little girl,” she’d sniffed. “I can take care of myself.”

Her disparaging tone, clearly in reference to Manda, had almost pushed Richard past the brink of endurance. Only by promising himself that he would make Chelsea pay in the future was he able to clench his teeth and his fists and control the fury that shook his body.

“You have to understand that Richard’s been through a terrible time, and we aren’t really anxious for a repeat of that,” Mikey continued firmly.

Richard could hear the defiance in Chelsea’s voice when she replied. “What are you saying? Are you trying to tell me to leave? I think Richard might...”

“No, no,” Mikey had quickly interjected. “Nothing like that. It’s just that I don’t want to take any unnecessary risks. I don’t want to put Richard through any more heartache. Josh and I would like to have bodyguards assigned to you at all times. I know that would mean you wouldn’t be able to change form freely, but surely you won’t begrudge us this little bit of insurance, to keep you safe?” Chelsea must have been unconvinced, because Mikey played his trump card then. “It would make Richard feel much better to know you’re safe. He’s not himself at the moment, but I know he’s been very worried about you, and that’s making things even harder for him right now.”

“Well, I suppose that’s reasonable. Poor Richard.” Chelsea sounded pleased.

Richard had to give Mikey due credit—he was brilliant. He had deftly manipulated Chelsea into voluntarily agreeing to have agents watch her every move.

“Why did this other shapeshifter kill the girl? Do you know?” Chelsea had asked with real interest.

“We aren’t sure, but we think it has something to do with an incident that happened when Richard was a teenager. A family friend and his wife and son were staying with Richard’s family for a time. The son was close to Richard’s age and they didn’t get along. Apparently they both liked the same girl but she liked Richard. I guess a lot of things happened and the other kid ended up humiliated. His family left right after that. It didn’t really seem like a big deal at the time, but we think that he’s been holding a grudge ever since. We’ve tried to track him down, but as you can imagine, that’s not so easy.”

The story Mikey had told Chelsea was true enough...sort of. It had been a minor incident involving a school boy crush, and Richard and the other boy had parted on good terms when he and his parents moved on to Australia. Mikey had turned it into a very convincing red herring though. Chelsea must be feeling more secure than ever, reassured that they were on a completely false trail.

After this exchange with Mikey, Chelsea had been even more confident of her relationship with Richard, practically preening under the media attention and viewing her constant phalanx of guards as a badge of Richard’s affection. She was poised and self-assured, the perfect superstar girlfriend—and it took every bit of Richard’s self control not to kill her.

Chapter 49

L
ate one evening, in a city Richard couldn’t have named, after a concert he couldn’t even remember, during one of the few times he was ever completely alone with her, Chelsea tried to take their “relationship” to the next level.

Mikey and Josh had stayed behind after the concert to handle some problem that had developed. With his emotions raw after the onslaught of pain he always endured when performing, Richard had returned to the hotel alone to find Chelsea waiting for him. He’d ignored her and slumped into a chair, trying to keep the pain at bay, to gain the measure of control over it he needed to function—the control that stayed his hand and kept him from lashing out at Chelsea violently and ending the charade once and for all.

Chelsea, oblivious to the threat he posed to her at that moment and unaware that it was a very, very thin thread of self-control that spared her life, kneeled on the floor in front of him with her hands folded in her lap. She leaned forward, gazing up into his eyes.

“Richard,” she breathed. “Why do you torment yourself like this? You’re so alone and in so much pain.” She placed one hand on his thigh. “You’ve been alone for too long. You’ve denied yourself a real, complete relationship with a woman for too long.”

She reached out with her other hand and picked up his hand from the arm of the chair, clutching it to her chest. Richard noted that she had apparently dressed with seduction in mind. Her dress was extremely low-cut and sheer enough to be obscene. Bile rose in his throat.

“You’re still inexperienced, I know, but you don’t have to deny yourself anymore. You’re an attractive, vital man. I know you have needs. I’m here for you now. You don’t have to restrain yourself with me. It can be so simple and uncomplicated with us. I would do anything for you. You know that, don’t you?” Chelsea’s attempt at seduction was ludicrous, like a parody of romance from a bad movie. At another time, from another person, Richard would have found it laughable. In this situation, with Chelsea, he was enraged and disgusted. He worked to keep those emotions from showing though.

Chelsea raised his cold hand to her lips, kissing it as she gazed up at him through her lashes. Richard snatched his hand back reflexively, lurching to his feet so abruptly that Chelsea rocked back on her heels, away from his suddenly looming form.

“I...I can’t do this!” he choked. He knew he couldn’t play this game anymore. He could feel his hands around her throat, could see it. And he wanted it, wanted to kill her. He groaned. No! He owed it to Manda to find the other one as well. He stood trembling with his eyes squeezed tightly shut, trying to claw his way back to sanity.

Chelsea misunderstood his exclamation and his outburst.

“It’s too soon. I understand. Don’t worry. I’ll be here for you whenever you’re ready.” She reached out to take his hand again.

With a strangled moan Richard brushed past her and out the door before his control could snap completely. He startled Josh and Mikey in the hallway outside Mikey’s room. The two men were just returning to the hotel and Mikey still had one hand on the handle of his partially open door. Richard shouldered past him and into the room. Feeling sick, he didn’t stop until he reached the bathroom. When he glimpsed his own face in the mirror he slammed his fist into his reflection. Shards of glass sliced open his hand and wrist and blood dripped into the sink and splattered the floor. He was promptly and violently ill.

It took all night for Mikey to convince Richard not to abandon their plan. Josh hadn’t been able to argue Mikey’s side. His concern for his brother was too sharp. Richard had refused to shift after he’d cut his hand open in the bathroom. He’d curled over the toilet retching long after his stomach was empty. The thought of touching Chelsea, of her touching him, revolted him, and his own violent, murderous thoughts made him sick. He’d eventually pushed himself into the corner of the bathroom with his back braced against the wall, his injured hand dangling between his knees. He’d watched the blood drip into a puddle on the floor—the pool of red had grown frighteningly large. It reminded him of the pool of blood that had surrounded Manda. Richard was afraid to transform—afraid of what he might do to Chelsea if he let his tenuous self-control slip while changing. The adrenalin rush during transformation might be all it took to push him past the edge of sanity. He realized suddenly that he hadn’t shifted at all since Manda had been killed. It was a detached thought, like an observation about a stranger. He supposed he was aging now. He had always loved changing form. Experiencing life from a different perspective had been exciting and joyous. He’d never understood how others could so easily give it up and grow old. His brother William’s choice to give it up for Becky had baffled him. He understood now. The thought of an eternity without Manda was unbearable. He wasn’t ready to die yet, but he could easily imagine growing old and dying a quiet death in the future. It was a peaceful, almost comforting thought.

Richard remembered something Kastl had said years ago. Richard had just been a boy and had been listening to a conversation between Kastl and William. The words seemed prophetic now.

“Just remember. The longer you live, the more things you’ll have to regret,” Kastl had said. It had seemed an unreasonably pessimistic statement at the time, but now Richard saw how true it was. His regrets had weighed him down for years, and with Manda’s death on his conscience, those regrets now threatened to crush him. What use was it to live on and on with that weight on your shoulders? Better to let life run it’s normal, finite course and be done.

“Richard! Please! You’re going to bleed to death!” Josh was kneeling in front of him pleading.

No, he wasn’t ready to die yet, and thinking of this new path for the future soothed him enough that he knew he was in control now. After all, it was only a matter of time. A few decades maybe—a few decades of pain as penance for what he had done to Manda.

Richard had changed just his mangled hand and wrist then. As always he could feel his entire body straining to shift as well, but now he had the required control to limit the effect to just his hand. It flashed into the large tawny paw of a lion and then back to its human form. The blood on his hand was gone, spattering to the floor in a fine spray at the instant of transformation, but his arm was still wet with it. He ignored it.

Richard’s breakdown had shaken Josh, pointing out as it did Richard’s fragile control. And so, Josh refused to voice an opinion either way during the argument between his brother and Mikey, simply sitting in a corner and fidgeting with a guitar pick, his face painted with worry and sympathy.

“I can’t do it. You don’t know how close I came tonight.” Richard shuddered. He was sitting on the edge of the sofa, elbows on knees, the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes. Dried blood still streaked his arm, drying stiffly on his shirt and jeans. “God help me, I can’t do it.” His voice broke.

Though it took all night, Mikey was able to convince Richard to go on. He didn’t have to convince him of the
necessity
of going on, he just had to convince him that he could indeed endure it.

“We won’t leave you alone with her again,” he had finally promised. “Someone will be with you all the time.”

“We can start writing more!” Josh had suggested eagerly, relieved to finally have an option that would accomplish their goal without leaving Richard open to a repeat of tonight’s events. “We’ll let her think you’re feeling creative again. She’ll see that as a good sign. She’ll think she’s having a positive effect. Maybe she’ll let down her guard even more and finally lead us to the other one.”

Mikey endorsed this plan and finally Richard agreed.

Richard returned to his room, with Mikey and Josh following closely behind, to find Chelsea asleep on the sofa. She stirred and stretched when they entered. Richard walked past her toward his room. After he’d showered and dressed, stuffing his blood soaked shirt and pants into the trash can, he returned to the sitting room where a server was just delivering breakfast. He saw that Mikey had ordered for Chelsea as well. Mikey was very good, he realized. If Mikey accepted her as a natural part of Richard’s life and treated her accordingly, her assumption would be that he did so under Richard’s direction.

“Thanks, Mikey,” Richard said quietly, sitting down next to Chelsea at the table. He would try to play into the deception. It was a little easier knowing that Mikey was there, laying the groundwork.

Richard had never willingly and consciously approached Chelsea before, always merely enduring her advances. This was something new and the effect was immediate. She smiled at him happily. He couldn’t manage a return smile, so settled for looking down at the plate in front of him. He hoped she would interpret his body language as contrition over his behavior the night before. He must have been convincing.

Chelsea chuckled softly and reached over to stroke his arm with her fingers. “You were covered in blood when you came in,” she commented. “What does the other guy look like?”

Mikey laughed. “Exactly like him! He had a run-in with the bathroom mirror!”