Page 41 of Pocus
The mention of the bastard’s name makes my chest tighten with the rage that her presence has somehow subsided.
“I don’t want to talk about Anderson,” I say, pouring myself another shot of moonshine. I’m more than halfway through a jar now.
“What do you want to talk about?” she asks softly.
She places a hand on the back of my palm, and I instantly lose my train of thought. I can barely hear past the clamoring desire in my head. The need to claim her lips has become so intense that it almost surpasses the need to breathe.
“You mean what do I want to do?” I asked, more than a little overwhelmed by my desires.
She blinks at me in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
As if pulled by some force beyond my control, I close the gap between us, capturing her lips in mine. She tastes like dreams, flowers, and sunshine…everything that I secretly wish for.
The soft sound of her gasp was like a call to consciousness. I jerk away from her as if she burns me – and maybe she does. She’s fire, and I’m ice…we don’t go very well together.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I shouldn’t have done that. I had no right to. I’m sorry.”
To my surprise, she chuckles softly and waves it off. “That was…unexpected. It’s fine, though. There’s no need to apologize.”
I don’t know which stings more; my momentary stupidity or her nonchalant attitude?
I pour myself another shot of moonshine. I can finally feel its numbing effect kicking in.It’s about time.
“What are you drinking?” Abigail asks, gesturing at the half-empty jar of liquor in front of me.
“This….?” I ask, raising my whisky glass to my eye level. “Moonshine.”
“Isn’t that illegal?” she asks with an amused smile.
There’s not a hint of judgment in her pretty hazel eyes, just pure curiosity, and an animated fascination.
“I can’t be accused of being a model citizen,” I reply with a snort, and she chuckles and shakes her head at me.
“I want some,” she says after a while.
She sounds so determined that I don’t have the heart to laugh. “You’re sure you can handle this?” I ask solemnly.
She wordlessly takes my glass out of my hand and gulps down the whole content in one go. She drops the glass with a thump and grins triumphantly at me.
“Did you see…?” she suddenly clutches her chest and starts to cough. “Oh my God, it burns! I thought I could hold that in.”
I burst out in laughter, and she joined in. The combined sound of our laughter creates a warm memory among the cold, dark ones in my head.
I haven’t laughed so hard in a long time.
For the first time ever, I won the battles against my demons. And I owe this victory to Abigail Miller.
* * *
Seer hasn’t flipped a page in more than thirty minutes. I’ve known the man for years, and he goes through a book faster than anyone I’ve ever met. But whenever he has a lot on his mind, Seer tends to get stuck on a page in his books. It’s a habit that he doesn’t even know he has.
“Seer?”
Seer raises his head with a start and blinks at me in surprise as if he’s only just realizing that I’ve joined him on the porch.
“When did you get here?” he asks, putting his book aside after carefully arranging the bookmark.
“An eternity ago,” I reply with a scoff. “What’s on your mind? You look like you’re caught up in one of your visions.”