Page 14 of Love the Way You Lion
“Pull up a chair,” she says again, and it’s not a suggestion. Her command slices through any lingering doubts or second thoughts.
He obliges, dragging a chair with a scrape that echoes off the walls, its noise a minor testament to the storm brewing within him. As Taurus settles down, there’s a collective tightening around the table—a silent acknowledgment of the task at hand.
We’ve got work to do, indeed.
The Cat Resists The Urge
DELILAH
Ilean forward, elbows pressing into the scarred wood of the kitchen table. The room is a cocoon of hushed anticipation, the kind that comes before a storm or an earthquake—something life-altering and unpredictable.
“We will find all the things that we need,” Sari declares with a conviction that is almost palpable, her fingers drumming against the tabletop. Her eyes, two pools of fierce determination, lock onto mine, and she delivers the promise of an ending—or a beginning—with a magician’s flourish. “And once we do...poof!”
The word hangs in the air between us, a single syllable loaded with the weight of uncharted territory, echoing off the peeling wallpaper and the flickering bulb overhead. My heart skips a beat, and for a brief moment, I’m suspended in the gravity of what she suggests, feeling the pull of desperate hope against the anchor of hard reality.
She cannot be serious.
“Poof?” The word echoes in my mind like a gunshot in an empty hall, and it’s all I can muster. My face contorts, the horror seepingthrough the cracks of my worn-out facade. I’ve been running on fumes, each day bleeding into the next without reprieve. Comforting others, offering shoulders upon which they could unload their grief—it left me hollow.
Sari’s nod is slow, deliberate, as if she’s aware of the bombshell she’s just dropped, but is too invested in her plan to back down now. The other two women, accomplices in this wild scheme, can’t hide their excitement; their grins are like slashes of triumph across their faces.
“We’ve got it all worked out,” Sari continues, her voice commanding. “I had Veruca use auto-scan to search records for every source available on the Internet, and Calista has been tracking down leads from practitioners on the other side.” Her fingers dance through the air as if she’s orchestrating the very elements. “We’ve got what we need to begin.”
Their certainty chafes against my raw nerves.
How could they be so sure? So blasé about meddling with the thin veil between life and death?
“They will continue that work as we get further along, so we know where to go next,” she says, leaning in, her gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that seeks to melt away my doubts. “But Deli, I’ve solved it. I can get him back.”
The finality in her tone is meant to be comforting—to spark hope. Instead, it feels like a cold hand reaching inside my chest, squeezing around my already fragile heart. My throat tightens, and I can feel the pulse at my temples pounding with each erratic heartbeat. With a shaky hand, I push a lock of hair behind my ear and try to steady my gaze on Amanda and Belle. They’re statuesque in their silence, offering no thread of sanity to cling to in the madness that Sari proposes. My eyes dart between them, desperate for an ally in this lunacy.
“Dead pets? Zombies? Hell, dinosaurs?” The words tumble out, haphazard and laced with incredulity. “It’s bad fucking juju to bring things back from the dead, Sari.” The images flash through my mind—scenes from horror flicks, cautionary tales whispered in the dark, all of them screaming that what lies beyond should stay beyond.
Sari’s laugh is light, almost musical, as if we’re discussing nothing more than a child’s bedtime story. “Oh, come on, Deli! What about the elves and orcs? The lion? Hell, wizards come back from the brink of death. There are plenty of counter stories.” Her hands sweep through the air, painting a picture of triumph over tragedy, of fantasy victories where the impossible becomes possible.
But her words, meant to soothe, only chafe against my raw, frayed edges. Fantasies. Stories. That’s all they are. And here we stand on the precipice of reality, where actions have consequences, and playing god comes with a price too steep to pay. My fingers twitch at my sides, nails biting into my palms as Sari’s ludicrous litany hangs in the air. The room closes in, a vivid swirl of misguided enthusiasm and dark promises.
I can’t be a part of this—it is wrong and we will suffer the consequences of messing with the natural order.
“Yeah!” Amanda pipes up suddenly, her voice a sharp crack in the tense atmosphere. She leans forward, eyes alight with a fervor that chills me to the core. “Don’t forget they do it in comic books all the time, too.” Her hands animate her point, flipping imaginary pages of the countless graphic novels she’s devoured, where death is but a temporary setback for heroes clad in spandex.
A twinge of betrayal knots my stomach at her words. Amanda does not have atrueconnection to magic or nature; she’s just along for the ride.
Belle doesn’t miss a beat, seizing the moment like prey. “Itishow everyone’s favorite vampire is still kicking it after one hundred and twenty years,” she adds, the corners of her lips pulling upward into a smirk that suggests she relishes the scandalous edge of our conversation more than the gravity of its implications. Her dark humor feels like a lead weight in my gut—another person who doesn’t comprehend the terrible possibilities of this mistake.
I stare at them both, the familiar faces twisted into cheerleaders for an act so outlandish, it seems ripped from the very pages of fiction they cite. Their eagerness dances before me, a mirage—or perhaps a mockery—of the stark, painful reality that looms just out of reach.
I clasp my hands together, knuckles white, as I funnel every chaotic emotion into an inner vault that’s already strained at the seams. My chest rises and falls with a labored breath that feels like it might be my last before drowning in the tempest of my own making. The room blurs for a second as I wrestle control over myself, and when clarity returns, my face is an impassive mask.
“I won’t do it.” The words come out steady, despite my anxiety.. “It’s not natural, and it goes against every law of the universe.” I sweep my gaze across their eager faces, hoping to impart the gravity of my refusal. “Not only is even thinking about it unhealthy and insane, but the kinds of magick and the people you’d have to deal with working them, the bargains you might have to make, are unacceptable. Ican’tdo it.”
Silence settles like dust after a collapse. Amanda’s eyes widen slightly, and her lips part as if she’s about to argue, but no words come. She turns her head toward Belle, who mirrors the motion in a silent exchange that speaks volumes of unspoken thoughts and shared disbelief. Their synchronized movement is like a dance they’ve rehearsed in secret, and then both sets of eyes drift to Sari. The architect of this mad plan remains unfazed by my stance, her expression unreadable. There’s a crackle of something unsaid in theair, a challenge left dangling from the precipice of choice. Amanda and Belle’s silent exchange crystallizes into a cold, undeniable truth. The air thickens, my pulse hammers in my ears as I piece together the reality of the situation.
This was planned and they’re all here to high-jack me into complying.
My chest tightens in betrayal. “Oh, fuck them all,” I mutter under my breath, feeling the sting of deception sharper than any blade.
I scan their faces—one by one. Sari’s serene composure, Amanda’s expectant tilt of the head, Belle’s barely contained excitement—they’re not just complicit; they’re invested. This was an ambush. A meticulously planned snare dressed up in the guise of concern and sisterly unity. They all knew what she was thinking about and signed on already. There’s no ignorance here, no hesitancy to be seen in their eyes. They’ve already navigated the moral labyrinth and emerged ready to act, leaving me behind to grapple with the ethics of it all alone.
