Lifeblood

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Book excerpt

Chapter One - Nuptials and Nuisances

Jonah had to admit that this was a very happy day. The afternoon air was pleasantly mild for late August, the sky could not have been bluer, and the sunlight couldn't have been brighter. The sunlight reflected its dazzling illumination in the metallic surface of a pond that was overlooked by many people, including Jonah himself.

As he surveyed the scenes of nature, everyone else was focused on the center of attention. With a mental shake, he turned his own gaze back to the subject at hand. It was a wise thing to do, seeing as he was one of the focal points.

He was one of seven groomsmen to his good friend and former co-worker, Nelson Black, who was just about to complete his own personally-made vows to his fiancée, Tamara Madden. Jonah's mind had wandered as Nelson read them. He was familiar with them, after all; he'd helped Nelson write them.

Nelson and Jonah met at a burdensome staff meeting at the accounting firm of Essa, Langton, and Bane. They were fast friends because of the fact that the two of them seemed to be the only ones in the entire firm that maintained an awareness of life outside of their job. Nelson was also one of the few people Jonah trusted enough to reveal his writing aspirations, and Nelson did not hesitate to encourage him to actively pursue the craft. They'd never lost touch despite Jonah's departure from the firm due to the politics and nonsense.

Nelson had been busy during that time. He met Tamara at the mall one day, and then became an almost permanent fixture in the shoe store where she worked. Jonah didn't recall all the details in between that time, but Nelson had proposed to her after five months of dating, and she'd accepted instantly. Enter Jonah, who was jarred from a nap one afternoon by a phone call from Nelson after he'd finished a strength test with his best friend, Reena Katoa.

* * *

“Hello?” said Jonah.

“Jonah? Jonah, is that you?” came Nelson's anxious reply.

“Yeah, Nelson, it's me. What's up? Everything okay?”

“No! Well, yes, everything is okay, great in fact—I popped the question, and Tamara said yes!”

Jonah's fatigue faded completely. “Great, man!” he exclaimed. “Glad to hear it!”

“Yeah! Are you willing to be a groomsman?”

“Really, Nelson, is this a question? Of course I'm willing!” Jonah told him.

“Thanks, and, uh—I also need your help.”

Jonah laughed. “What, you mean beyond being a groomsman?”

“Yeah, beyond that. See we've decided to write our own vows, and I know Tamara's will be epic, but—”

“Now, Nelson,” said Jonah, incredulous, “I know you aren't asking me to write your vows—”

“No!” said Nelson in a voice that was almost as panicked as it was scandalized. “I know what I want to say! I do! It's just that—it needs editing, shaping—well, you're the writer, and I am about as talented in writing as I am in parasailing, in other words, not. But I have a feeling that if I screw this up, it could very well be as dangerous as parasailing, so—”

Nelson's rambling was so jumbled and desperate that all apprehension Jonah had about assistance with the vows evaporated. This conversation alone proved that Nelson needed all the help he could get. That thing that Nelson said about screwing up being as dangerous as parasailing was inaccurate. If Nelson tanked in front of Tamara and her friends and family, it might prove fatal.

“Alright, alright, alright,” relented Jonah. “I'll help you.”

* * *

So after every detail was perfected and after the clandestine moments Jonah spent shoring up Nelson's shaky words were done, here they all were.

There. Nelson completed his vows without a single hitch. Jonah chose to gauge the success of the words by the tears that fell from the bridesmaids' eyes. Even Tamara got choked up, but Jonah could tell she fought back the sobs so as not to ruin the pristine state of her makeup.

The pronouncement was made, this kiss sealed the deal, and the ceremony was done. Jonah and company were the inaugural citizenry to meet Mr. and Mrs. Nelson Black.

Happy that this part was over, but cognizant of the fact that they were a long way from finished, Jonah readied himself and interlocked arms with his designated bridesmaid, who was one of Tamara's older sisters. Her face was blotchy due to tears, so Jonah supplied her with a handkerchief. They joined the procession and took the short walk indoors to where the reception would take place. Before seating himself in his designated spot, Jonah nodded to Reena, who had agreed to come with him as friends since he had no date (Reena had suggested that he ask Vera Haliday, another of their friends, to come with him as his date, but Jonah had paled and shot that down).

He knew he was going to owe Reena big for this. She abhorred dressing formally, and only tolerated it for her job. She preferred tank tops, sweats, and sneakers—basically anything she could guiltlessly splatter her beloved paints on. Today, however, she'd made a concession, and looked quite pretty in a sleeveless black top and pants to match, with her black hair and its usual scarlet highlights pulled back in a tight bun. Concerning her outfit, Jonah counted his blessings. A dress or skirt was out of the question.

Tamara's sister noticed the acknowledgement, and glanced at Reena appraisingly. “Is that your girlfriend?” she asked quietly.

Jonah stifled a snort. “Um, no,” he answered. “She's just a friend.”

“She's a beautiful woman,” Tamara's sister coaxed. “You might not want to let her get away. One of the men in here might snatch her up.”

Jonah politely grinned and nodded, preferring not to tell her that the chances of Reena being picked up by one of these men was about as unlikely as Nelson's ability to handle his wedding vows by himself.

In the reception setting, further speeches were made. The last of which was by Tamara's father, an extremely thin man that somehow still managed to be intimidating. Then the well-wishers came in droves. After a great deal of socializing, Jonah found himself next to Tamara, who had beckoned him close, as if to confide a juicy secret.

“Jonah,” she said quietly, “I wanted to thank you for helping Nelson with his vows.”

“Huh?” said Jonah, who then silently scolded himself a second later. “I mean, what would ever give you that idea?”

Tamara laughed and pushed a strand of brown hair out of her face. “Jonah, Nelson is really high on you; always complimentary. He tells me all about how good your writing is, and he—” she cast a glance at him while laughed with his mother, “—I love him dearly, but he is hopeless at writing. You should see the Valentine's card he got me.” She closed her eyes and chuckled. “Sweet, but I know he couldn't articulate his feelings like that without help. And I thank you for it.”

Jonah sighed, relieved. “You're welcome,” he conceded. “For the record, though, they were all his words. I just kind of fine-tuned them.”

“I know they were.” Tamara smiled. “He'll probably want to dance again; I see he managed to prise himself from his mom.”

Indeed, Nelson joined them minutes later, clapping Jonah on the shoulder and taking his wife's hand.

“Alright, Jonah!” he said brightly. “Tam, I wanted another dance—”

“Congratulations to the happy couple!” cried a voice from behind them.

That familiar voice made the happiness in Jonah dim within seconds. He turned and looked into a face that he hadn't seen in over a year, but hadn't missed. One quick appraisal, and he saw, with a narrowing of his eyes, that not one thing had changed. Standing there, with the usual flawless strawberry blonde hair, French-tipped nails, and of course, the skimpy, risqué dress, was Jessica Hale.

“Hey, Jessica,” said Nelson, much more successful at concealing his disdain than Jonah ever would've been. “And thank you.”

“Not at all!” Jessica flashed a smile that did not reach her eyes to Nelson and Tamara. Then her expression fell on Jonah. The smile didn't slip, but her eyes hardened. “And if it isn't Jonah Rowe.”

She extended her hand to him for appearance's sake, but Jonah smoothly escaped touching her by running his hand across the condensation on his glass.

“Well damn it, would you look at that,” he said as he gave his hand of mock annoyance. “Sorry.”

Jessica's eyes flashed, but she withdrew her hand and turned back to the newlyweds. “Here you are,” she said, placing a chocolate-brown box in front of them. “A wedding present. Quaint, but quality.”

She turned on her heel and began to mingle. Jonah turned deliberately to Nelson.

“What—the—HELL is she doing here?” he demanded.

Nelson took a deep breath. “She said she wanted to come long enough to bring a gift. Said she would leave right afterward.”

Jonah glanced at Jessica, who wasn't anywhere near the three exits. “She's here to replenish her stores of gossip,” he grumbled. “But she'd be hard-pressed to find anything in here.”

Tamara leaned in with interest, and chimed in as soon as she got an opening in the conversation. “So that's Jessica, Nelson?” she asked. “The easy, politicking brown-noser from your job?”

“Well, I wouldn't say easy—” said Nelson in an attempt to be delicate to his wife, but she waved her hand.

“Save it, sweetie,” she muttered, observing Jessica's less-than-conservative outfit. “That dress and that demeanor say it all. She's probably the type of woman who'll unbutton her blouse halfway and flirt without shame just to get out of a task she doesn't feel like doing.”

Jonah and Nelson looked at each other. How could Tamara have been so spot-on?

“It's a good thing it's just her,” said Jonah after a minute. “Would've been worse if she'd had her manservant Anthony with her. But she is still a problem, even when she is alone—”

“Well, the two of you needn't worry,” said Tamara, who rose with her hand still clasped with Nelson's. “This day has been perfect thus far, and it will remain so. If, by chance, she sees fit to infringe upon said perfection, she will have me to deal with. And my mother. And my sisters.”

The mere thought of such an unbalanced confrontation was enough to refill Jonah with lightheartedness and mirth. “Why don't you two go release the tension with some dancing?” he said laughingly. “I've got to get back to Reena.”

He turned from them and headed to Reena's table. Halfway there, his path got barred by Jessica. Her face was a lesson in condescension.

“So, Jonah, I hear that you've enrolled at a university in some backwater town in the northeastern part of the state,” she drawled. “Workforce that inflexible about letting you back into it?”

Jonah's irritation rose as if it were sentient and recalled how it was always at the surface at the sight of this bitch. “Not that it's any of your damn business,” he replied, “but the bookstore where I was employed is undergoing extensive repairs from structural damages. My boss has seen fit to rest, recharge his batteries, and take things slowly. I don't have any trouble with the workforce, thank you very much.”

Jessica's eyes surveyed Jonah hungrily; she enjoyed getting a rise out of and pushing the buttons of other people more than anything in the world. “Huh. Well, I said a while back that your grand plans would fail. You seem to be adhering to my affirmation.”

Jonah hung his head in mock resignation. “You got me there, Jess,” he said in a small voice. “But seeing how your assets have yet to get you to the top, I see that you are still compliant with my affirmation.”

The smile snapped off of Jessica's face. With a smirk, Jonah brushed past her and continued on to Reena.

“Hey again, friend,” Jonah said, and plopped down next to her.

Reena turned to him and grinned. Jonah could see that she was wearing her Jarelsien and selenite dampener, which nullified her ability to read people's essences. Jonah was thankful she had it. With all the warring energies in an emotionally -charged setting such as a wedding, she'd be subject to collapse. Seeing as she already had experience with that, no one was interested in a repeat.

“I wanted to tell you before I forgot,” he told her, “Tamara's sister told me, in all seriousness, not to let you slip away, because one of these guys in here could pick you from the bunch.”

As expected, Reena laughed out loud. “She needn't worry,” she said, “but it was awfully nice of her to be concerned for my virtue. By the way,” she frowned slightly, “who was that skank who hopped in front of you?”

“Oh, right,” muttered Jonah, irritated. “Remember me telling about Jessica Hale, from the accounting firm?” He told Reena all about Jessica Hale; the duplicity, the charm, the politics, the backstabbing, the skimpy skirts.

Reena made a wry face when Jonah was done. “So that's that woman,” she grumbled. “Little twit. You know that I have no love for women who attempt to advance themselves using their bodies. Does she take pleasure in making all women look bad with her actions?”

“Jessica takes pleasure in a lot of things best not repeated here,” replied Jonah. “But have no fear. Tamara informed me and Nelson that if Jessica caused any disturbances, she would sic her mom and sisters on her, and then scour the scraps herself. She was adamant that this day remain perfect.”

Reena smiled. “Ah, love. The emotion that will make people go full-blown primal.”

Jonah raised an eyebrow. Both Reena's tone and smile were wistful. But then a suspicion reared itself in his mind. “Were you ever in love, Reena?” he pried.

Reena took three bites of her salad, chewed deliberately, and gulped down half of her water before she answered. “Yes. It's been about seven, eight years ago now. Julia Gallagher. I met her at Ballowiness—that's the local rec center in Rome. We were both really intelligent and really athletic. All these guys wanted her, but she never showed any interest in them whatsoever. After a couple weeks of friendship, she told me that those boys did nothing for her because she wanted me.”

Reena stopped speaking, and resumed her contemplation of her salad. But Jonah was hooked now; Reena rarely spoke on her past.

“Wasn't easy, I take it?” he asked unnecessarily.

Reena glanced up at Nelson and Tamara once more, and then returned her eyes to Jonah. “At first, it wasn't as hard as you might think,” she answered. “It wasn't like we were always together or anything; she went to the Trand High up I-40, coincidentally where Trip does most of his substitute teaching now,” Jonah snorted, “and I went to Caulfield High, the rival. We'd act like we were sworn enemies at meets, and then meet later at night in the town square or at Ballowiness and spend hours together. It was great…every second of it was great.”

Reena laughed softly, but ceased shortly thereafter. Jonah allowed her time to collect her thoughts, and then plunged once more.

“What happened?”

“I messed up, Jonah,” said Reena without hesitation. “I snuck a letter in her car one time. Lodged it in the steering wheel cover. Unfortunately, her dad was the one driving it that day.”

Jonah winced. Reena caught the expression and nodded.

“Yeah, it was like that,” she told him.

“So what did her father do?”

“Simply put, he went nuclear,” Reena replied. “He sent Julia to some fundamentalist bible camp. Paid for her to get therapy in Raleigh. Branded me scum after he found out how my family did me. Funny thing, though? Julia didn't stop seeing me. She even smuggled her phone into the stupid camp to talk to me at night. So her dad went below the belt. She'd gotten accepted into Princeton. It was no small feat, and it was her one-way ticket out of Rome, N.C. Her dad told her that if she didn't break up with me, he wouldn't pay the tuition.”

“Are you frickin' serious?” demanded Jonah.

“Oh yeah,” said Reena. “But even then, she refused. She was willing to go to LTSU to stay with me. She was going to blow off the Ivy League for me.”

Comprehension dawned on Jonah. He didn't know how he knew, but he did. Reena looked at him, which was enough to confirm his suspicion.

“You set her free.”

Reena nodded. “Hardest thing I've ever done, next to losing my uncle. I told her that I'd always love her, gave her this ring—,” she extended the last finger of her right hand and revealed a ring with a smooth surface that showed two female symbols joined at the stem, “—and told her to never lose faith in love.”

Jonah was stunned. “Profound words for an eighteen-year old,” he commented.

“I'm a profound woman, Jonah,” said Reena.

“So how come you have it back?” asked Jonah. “That ring, I mean. I've never seen it before.”

“You wouldn't have,” Reena muttered. “I just got it back two weeks ago. Julia sent it back to me, with a note attached that said that she hadn't lost faith in love, but she found it in the traditional way. She has some job in finance in Princeton, and she's also married, with a daughter on the way.”

At that moment, Jonah got summoned by someone for a conversation. He held up one finger. There was no way in hell he was going to leave Reena so bummed out and raw. Not when everyone else was elated.

“Was she trying to imply that she was going through a phase?” he questioned.

“Seems that way,” said Reena quietly. “But whatever. It's in the past. What do you always say? It was what it was.”

Jonah didn't buy that Reena was over it, but he felt like he got all that she was willing to give. He glanced at that ring. “I remember your ability to get people's essences off of objects,” he said. “Did you get any of her essence off that ring before you cleansed it?”

Reena looked at the ring and sighed. “I don't like being this way, Jonah,” she told him instead of answering. “Sometimes, I feel like if I could drop it, I would. I'd give anything to be…normal.”

“Now hold on Reena—” began Jonah with disbelief, but Reena interrupted him.

“Think about what I said before you respond, Jonah,” she said in a calm tone. “I do not mean my being gay.”

Jonah frowned, but then his expression cleared. “Oh,” he said. “You mean being an Eleventh Percenter.”

He knew that Reena had it rough. Her ethereality was a little different from his own (which had complexities that he still didn't understand), or their other best friend, Terrence, whose ethereality was almost purely strength-based. In addition to her preternatural speed and cold-spot ability, Reena was also a very powerful essence reader, and had to take certain measures to keep that sensitivity from overwhelming her. She was quite adept at it nowadays, but it still had to be a hassle at times.

“You don't need to think that way, Reena,” he said in a consoling tone. “You're fine just the way you are, friend. I'm sure that there is no one at the estate who would want you any other way. Everyone looks up to you; you're one of the leaders at the estate! And besides,” he waved an impatient hand, “what the hell is normal anyway? Who can define what that is? Don't you worry, Reena. Follow your own advice, and don't lose faith.”

Reena smiled faintly, and took Jonah's hand and gripped it. “You're a great friend, Jonah,” she said. “Terrence, too. Speaking of Terrence, do you know when he is returning from Maui?”

“Oh yeah,” said Jonah quickly. “Five days from now. He promised to come back and cook us all the dishes he sampled there. But never mind that now. I want you to cheer up, Reena! What do I have to do to help out with that?”

Reena's eyes widened slightly. “Anything?”

“Sure,” said Jonah without thinking.

Her expression went devilish. “Then I want you to go up there and do that stupid line dancing they've got going on right now. It just started, I was watching.”

Jonah's determination faded. “Are you serious?”

“Uh-huh,” she replied simply.

“But I can't dance!” protested Jonah.

“Then you're in luck,” snorted Reena, “because half of the people up there are too drunk to do much better than you.”

Jonah shook his head. “Reena, you don't want to see me dance,” he warned her. “You'll lose all respect for me.”

“Not possible, Jonah,” disagreed Reena. “We've been through too much. You did say you'd do anything.”

Jonah couldn't say anything. Reena nailed him. But it seemed that he'd had the desired effect. She no longer looked somber. In fact, she looked as if she anticipated seeing Jonah provide comedy on the dance floor.

Whatever.

“Fine, Reena,” he relented. “But there's one thing. I know that I owed you for dressing up and coming with me. If I do this, we're square, right?”

Reena sat back in her chair. “Depends on how amusing this is,” she replied. “Now as they used to say, go cut yourself a slice of rug!”