Page 128 of Crimson Promises
“I gotta head out to take the wife to an appointment. Everyone else headed out already. Are you going to stick around?”
“No. I already stayed past what I should have.”
“Did you have a nice snooze in the ring?”
“I wasn’t sleeping. I was resting.”
“Well, whatever you were doing looked like it was leading to a happy ending.” He gestured towards my shorts, where there was now evidently a tent.
I launched my glove at him. “Mind your own business, old man.”
He caught the glove one-handed. “Not that old. Now get out of here. If you aren’t staying, you’re either getting locked in or locked out.
“Okay, okay. I’m out.”
“And next time, do us both a favor and save your erotic dreams for the privacy of your own home.”
I rushed out of the gym, everything stuffed haphazardly in my bag.
* * *
The Ducati roared to life between my thighs. I pushed the bike to its limits. The open road gave me no answers to the burning questions rolling through my mind. I should have been racing towards home, to the warm body I left tangled in my sheets. Instead, I drove northbound along the 101 towards Hug Point State Recreation Point. Hug Point became my refuge while Aurora lived with Stephen in Cannon Beach. My life hadn’t been my own over the last twenty years. In the span of living a millennium, it was a grain of sand on the beach, a necessary evil to the goal of something much bigger than my own. Aurora had become a bright spot in all of that.
But there were times when I felt like each was another brick laid on top of me until I was squashed by the weight of it all, escaping to places like Hug Point and Saddle Mountain. The morning sun was hot against my back, making the leather of my jacket stick to the nape of my neck at the point where my t-shirt fell below the collar. I squinted behind my aviators, tipping my head to the right. No cars sounded for the next few miles.
I grinned to myself as I revved the throttle. Part of the beauty of riding to Hug Point was the smooth curves the road took before you approached the park. The wind hollowed out my cheeks against the high speeds, and the fresh air from the forest mingled with the smell of exhaust. Knowing I had to slow down before the exit, I tucked my body in tight as I leaned to the left before heading into the turn.
The next thing I knew, I was floating, motionless, my bike beside me. I whipped my head from side to side. My Ducati and I were each entrapped in separate gold bubbles. Red paint shimmered against the sun’s rays, it looked like it was made of millions of tiny rubies. The motorcycle was whole, and a quick scan of my body told me we obviously didn’t crash. What the hell was happening?
I pushed against the bubble, trying to break free. I mustered whatever minimal amount of magic I had to try and break a hole through the boundaries.
It was no use.
The globule of air constricted to a smaller size.
Figuring it was wiser to reserve whatever amount of magic I had left, I tilted my head back to take in the clouds drifting past, carried along by a gentle breeze that brushed across my face even within the confines of the bubble, cooling my skin. Fresh grass and flowers filled my nostrils, the fragrant aroma blending with the crisp air.
I floated over forests and lakes, grass fields, and wildflowers. The bubble began to travel upwards. I squeezed my leather jacket closer to my chest as we climbed upwards in elevation. The fluffy clouds had thinned out. gray with streaks of white seemed to stand guard wherever we were headed.
Without warning, I was dropped on hard ground made of uncompacted gravel and rocks that left indents on my ass cheeks. I snapped my neck towards my bike. If there was so much as one scratch on it, someone would pay.
A rough laugh had the hairs on my arms standing on end. “Surely, you don’t assume that you would ever be able to make me pay, Caelum.”
My stomach twisted and turned. I hadn’t realized I had said that out loud.
“Michael,” I stated as I rose to stand, swiping off the dust that made my black jeans match the color of the clouds that moored above us.
As always, he stepped from the shadows cast from the mountain's peak over the large plateau he had summoned me to. The guy really did love his dramatic entrances.
“Was all of this really necessary?” I gestured towards my kidnapped bike and the remote location. “You could have just called or sent me a message like you usually do and I would have come.”
“It seems that you needed a little bit of reminding regarding our arrangement, Bennett,” Michael said.
This was it. He must know.
“Three demon attacks and an encounter with a demonic object at her workplace.” His voice rose and carried on the thrashing wind. “All of which I have not been informed of.”
“You knew?—”
