Little Red Riding Witch

017: Grimm and Grimmer

[Rosalynd]

When I closed the door behind me I felt surprisingly sober.

Coven leader? Me? Did Gideon tell me that I have the potential to lead a coven? I’m not completely convinced I can trust him. There is something about him that doesn’t feel quite genuine. In many ways, his kindness and understanding are harder for me to understand and accept than his arrogance and contempt from before. The way he seemed to change personalities, like flipping a switch from harsh to caring, feels like a red flag for other behaviors. I will try to reserve judgment until I get to know him, and his coven better, but there is a tingle in the pit of my gut that is telling me to tread carefully, at least until I know more.

I also feel that Gideon wants something from me that I am not quite ready to give--trust. If a coven is like a chosen family, am I in any state to choose? My heart is still broken from my betrayal in LA. This is my second day in Humboldt. Am I ready to rush into something new, something emotional and lasting? It’s funny that Gideon, a person who called me reckless and unable to be in control of my own life, is asking me to hand over the little bit of autonomy that I have. I don’t want to decide on any of this while on the rebound.

Musing over my situation and still more than a little bit drunk, I stumble around in the dark, tripping over half-packed boxes. By some miracle, I find the sleeping bag I’m borrowing from Slone and curl up on the carpet wrapped up in my new cape, my bag as a pillow. Pulling the sleeping bag I feel my eyelids, as heavy as bricks, close.

When my eyes finally flutter open again, a steady stream of sunshine illuminates the living room, the warm light softening the edges of the cardboard boxes and randomly scattered belongings. Slone is completely zoned out, lying face down on the brown and yellow plaid couch, drool pooling on the cushion beneath her as she snores gently. I hope the cushion has a chance to dry out in time for us to place the couch out on the street later today. We are hoping to put it out on the side of the road with a large “free” sign, spreading our new fortune to others needing a helping hand. Since our new rooms come completely furnished, we won’t need any of our Slone’s big furniture, and with the school year about to start, a free couch could be a much-needed boon for a struggling college student.

I'm tempted to do something childish to my friend while she sleeps, maybe paint a mustache or put shaving cream in her outstretched hand, but the impulse passes quickly. We aren’t eight years old and this isn’t a sleepover. I am still miffed about the whole “not-telling-me-about-having-to-move-before-I-came-up-here” thing, but not enough to be petty. At least not today. I have a date arriving in about 30 minutes and after taking a brief sniff of myself I decide that taking a shower should be my top priority.

Not knowing much about Axel’s birthday plans for me today, I try to prepare myself for anything. He did mention something about a walk in the woods so I decided to go for a practical but cute style with my best stretch denim and my vintage band t-shirt, The Ramones, that I purchased at a thrift shop down in LA. It’s a bit too warm for the cape, so I take the wolf pin and place it on the lapel of a cropped jean jacket. I want Axel to see that I appreciate his gift.

I am sitting on the front porch tying the laces of my hiking boots when Axel pulls up in his bright red truck. He steps out of his truck and his delicious warm honey and redwood scent greets me first as his smiling hazel eyes sparkle in the sun.

“Hello Rosie,” he hands me a single, white rose and a small sprig of jasmine and sage tied in a long red ribbon. “Happy Birthday, again.”

Taking the flowers from his hand, I breathe it in slowly. “These smell amazing,” I thank him.

“They smell like you,” he blushes. “It is what I smell every time you are near me, this sweet and earthy scent.”

I lift my wrist to my nose and try to smell what he is smelling, but all I smell is warm flesh and the light grapefruit scent of my body wash. “No,” I argue. “These smell far sweeter.”

“Impossible,” his intense gaze melts me where I stand.

Fidgeting with the end of my braid I look away. “I’ll be right back, I just want to put these in water. Ah…I’d invite you in, but Slone is still asleep.”

“Long night?”

“Too long,” I admit. “We went to The Goat, remember. Apparently Slone’s friends LOVE karaoke.” I didn’t tell him about the coven. He seems like a nice guy, I’d hate to scare him away, especially since I’m still deciding if I want to be a member of that coven, or any coven. Not to mention, who even knows if after today he’ll even want to see me? We are still essentially strangers to one another. It feels too early to reveal all of our secrets.

Placing the flowers on the counter, I hear Sloan moan as she rolls over onto her side. Her hair is plastered to the side of her face in thin, knotted strands.

“What time is it,” she croaks.

“8:35” my voice sounds sing-songy, even to me.

“f**k my life, and f**k you morning people,” she groans as she covers her head with a pillow. “Why on earth are you even up right now?”

“I told you yesterday,” I remind her, “I have a date with Axel. We’re spending the morning together to celebrate my birthday.”

Slone is silent, the sound of me adding water to the vase echoing in this almost empty house.

“What about Gideon?”

“Gideon?” I scowl in confusion. “What about him?”

It is silent again as if Slone is waiting for me to realize some mistake I just made. “Never mind.”

I move to the door and call over my shoulder, “Don’t forget, today is moving day! You’ll probably want to shower and change before we move into our new place.”

“Whatever,” she buries her head deeper into the couch. “Just text me when you’re on your way back.”

“Bye, Slone. I love you!”

I can’t hear whatever she says in response, as I close the door behind me.

Axel is an excellent driver. He also know his way around Humboldt, so as we drive down 101, he points out some of his favorite places. The radio is off and we spend the entirety of the drive discussing our favorite things to do on the weekend. Axel loves to go to the river in the summer, or take a break and head to the beach. He loves reading mysteries and werewolf romance novels online. That part makes me laugh, but more from surprise than anything else.

“Really? Romance novels? Does it have to be werewolf romances or can it be anything?”

He takes a moment to consider, “No, I guess not. I mean, I just like books about true love. When I was a kid I was a big fan of fairy tales.”

“Hans Christian Anderson or Brothers Grimm?” I quiz him.

“Grimm.” His answer is short, with no moment of hesitation.

“Same. Original or Disney version?” I continue my inquisition.

“OG all the way,” he gives the correct response.

“Indeed,” I nod sagely. “That is the only real option. The Grimmer the better.”4

We both smile at that.

“It’s a good thing you gave the right answer.” I continue. “Because that one was a deal breaker…”

“Is that so…” he pulls the truck into a small parking lot near a wooden kiosk. “It’s a good thing that I have good taste.”

“Well that remains to be seen,” I nod again. “I’ll plan to quiz you again on the way back.”

He leans forward, his mouth next to my ear, his hair grazing the skin on my neck. “Oh really?”

My breath hitches. The feeling of his breath against my neck is sending delightful tingles along my skin. “Yes, Mr. Addams…I must be thorough in my investigation of you.”

He licks his lips, the sound amplified by his proximity. “You’re assuming,” he whispers, “that I’m going to let you go back.”

I turn my head to meet his gaze. He is sitting, looking at me, very still except for his deep breathing, like a predator waiting for his prey to move. His irises seem to glow with a golden fire as the light filtering through the trees hits them at a slanted angle, reflecting the light like a wild animal.

My heart races as I grip the door handle tightly.