Page 51 of Sore Throat, Slight Fever

Zipping around her is a hummingbird: her worries. It flies in her face, tangles in her hair, making it impossible to step forward, to see beyond its iridescent wings. She stills, waiting patiently for it to slow down, to hover in front of her with curiosity. Then, she scoops it up in her hands, and walks, barefoot through the forest, past the sinkhole that is her memory of Officer Burton—still buried quite deep—beyond the clematis that covers the scars caused by her memory of Elijah’s blood.

Hun walks beside her, her many eyes holding the sunlight like tiny flames. Her large paws leave impressions in the soil that fill up with water, becoming tiny ponds with lazy koi fish and frogs hopping excitedly.

Calliope finds a tall, strong oak tree with a birdcagehanging from its lowest branch. She deposits the hummingbird inside and locks the cage. The hummingbird hovers in the air, eyes narrowed at her. It’ll find its own way out eventually, she’s sure of that, but, for now, she feels the ease spread through her. She opens her eyes as Rory turns into a gas station.

“Just need to fill up the tank,” he says, maneuvering into a space beside one of the gas pumps.

She blinks at the clock. She was in her Mind’s Eye for an hour and a half, though it felt like mere minutes. She gets out to stretch, the smell of gasoline and exhaust sticking to the back of her throat.

“Did you fall asleep?” he asks, looking at her over the top of the car.

She leans on the car, propping her head up with her hand. “No, I was working on my forest, actually. I’ve gotten pretty good at navigating.” She looks down, fiddling with a small chip in the paint. “I wanted to be prepared. To be around people, that is.”

“Are you worried about that?” he asks, as he returns the pump to its cradle and replaces the gas tank cover.

“Yes. Aren’t you?”

He rests his forearms on the top of the car. “Why?”

She frowns. “What do you mean?”

He tilts his head to the side. “Why are you worried?”

“Because…” She shrugs, hugging her arms around her torso. “Well, you know.”

He looks around. The gas station he picked is right off the road, surrounded by nothing but empty land. There’s not a soul around, except for the bored gas station employee inside of the white concrete building. Off to the side, is a small rest stop. He motions for her to follow and sits on top of the table, feet propped up on the seat.

“I have my own ideas,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean they’re true. Tell me what you’re feeling. Explain it to me.”

“I’m worried that I’ll…lose myself. Again. Like with Officer Burton and even Elijah.”

His eyebrows knit together. “You didn’t lose yourself. Instincts are sometimes stronger than logic. For any living creature, but especially for a vampire.”

She shakes her head. “No, I get that. Both of those…incidents could have been worse. If it wasn’t for you and Kane…” She bites her lip as she looks out at the empty road. She looks back at him. “I know you can compel me, and I give you permission to do that if something goes wrong. I won’t fight against it. But I guess I’m also hoping that if I can strengthen my shields, then maybe that instinct won’t even have a chance to get out in the first place.”

“And how are they now? Feeling strong?”

She makes a noncommittal sound in the back of her throat. “Sort of,” she admits.

“Do you want to test them?”

She nods quickly.

He eases himself up from the table and comes to stand in front of her. “I’m just going to ask you to take a step backward.”

She nods, chin down as she readies herself for his mental intrusion. When she looks up into his eyes, ageless and bright, she can see his pupils dilate, dark pools pushing away the shimmering gray. He tilts his head to the side and smirks, his tapered canine teeth just visible.

She is painfully aware of the physicality of him: of how his height and weight are so different from her own, and yet, his bulk is not awkward. How could it be when she can feel the strength buzzing under his skin even from where she stands? He is dangerous and wild and so very alluring. The thought sends a shiver through her body and she is acutely reminded that whatever tender, delicate thing she has been cultivating for him is not the same as the infatuation she felt for her husband. That was a flash of white-hot heat, a flame spent quick. This is gossamer-thin, pearlescent emotion. This is heavenly warmth pooling in her center, this is—

“Step backward.”

His words melt over her mind like honey—like her first drink of blood—and the command hits her with a strike of lightning, so strong, her throat burns with the force of it. Electricity seems to crackle in her head. She reminds herself of what they’re doing, the purpose of this exercise. Her grandma’s voice seems to echo inher head: Stay focused, Cal. Hun agrees.

She feels the electricity sink down into the earth of her Mind’s Eye—but instead of bracing herself against the impact and pushing it away, she embraces the energy. She lets it travel down into the soil and it tangles with the tree roots. She feels it disperse with a thin crackle as she very purposefully takes a step forward.

Rory repeats his command, slightly louder this time, the familiar syllables sliding off his tongue, caressing her skin like a kiss. She tries a different approach, this time. She clenches her teeth, willing her feet to stay firm. In her Mind’s Eye, she imagines her legs turning into roots, burrowing deep in the ground.

He says it again, his tone soft yet still demanding. Back.

---