Chapter 22: Ezra - Entities to Lovers

RORY (6:24 PM): Update: We’re still cursed :/

EZRA (6:25 PM): Oh no.

RORY (6:26 PM): Don’t worry, the barista was really nice about it.

Rory sweeps back into Ye Olde Spirit Shop moments later with two coffees in hand and a frazzled look on her face.

Well, apparently finger-banging doesn’t break curses. Who knew?

We’ve been back in Boston for a little over a day now, spent all last night tracking down Eddie Hartman via Facebook and Yellow Pages, and have had few reasons to part ways. Honestly, we haven’t wanted to. It’s hard to pull myself away from Rory when we’re this new, enchanted, exciting revelation I can’t stop thinking about. I get to kiss her in the kitchen as she makes us tea in the morning. She pulls us tarot cards and we ponder how the day’s going to go. Granted, we’re only two days in, but it feels like years.

God, I just hope it lasts, because I’m overwhelmed by the magic in her.

After rescuing the car from the mechanic and learning apparently nothing was wrong with it, we drove back home and got to work figuring out the next steps in cracking Temperance’s curse. We’ve been lucky so far, but what happens if we can’t be together? With The Out There coming to film later this week, Rory’s schedule could be unpredictable, and I can’t call out sick when my evaluation with Dr. Belmont is in a few days. We need to break this curse before then, otherwise…god only knows what’ll happen.

“What happened?” I ask her. We’ve got a tour tonight, and we’re expecting Eddie Hartman any moment, so coffee was in order, but it seems like catastrophe struck. “Did you spill on yourself?”

“No,” Rory says. “Worse. I poured it on someone’s child. In my defense, it was iced, and they didn’t need to stand so close to the counter. The top didn’t stick and I just—”

She motions picking a coffee up and it crashing down onto a small child in elaborate form.

“…Oh. That’s…really unfortunate.”

“But they made us new drinks and I scurried back here as fast as I possibly could, so here. I said sorry to the damp child, too.”

“How kind.”

She places the coffee on the table in her alcove and sits across from me. As she eases onto the seat, she regains her composure and settles into comfort with me. I take a sip of my coffee, which is hot, and I’m glad this wasn’t the one she dumped on the child. She sips at her cold brew and eyes me as she bites her straw.

“Are you trying to flirt with me, Ms. O’Brien?” I ask her, in accent.

“Of course not,” she responds similarly. “You’re much too old for me. My word, you were born in the 1700s.”

I laugh and reach across the table for her hand, stroking the back of it. “You wound me, my lady.”

The skeleton keys above the door jingle and Eddie Hartman, I presume, walks in. He’s an older guy, built like a linebacker. I absolutely see why this guy worked security.

“Eddie?” Rory says.

“That’s me.”

What comes out of his mouth, though, is an incredibly meek voice, like a kindly grandfather with a thick Boston accent. It’s anything but bouncer-like.

“I’m Rory Woods. Nice to meet you. Thank you so much for stopping by before work. This is Ezra, my…yeah, we’re cursed together.”

I should feel some tinge of insecurity over her not giving us a name, but I don’t know how to explain to this old guy that we’re cursed together and also hooking up, but the second part’s new. I offer a wave as she directs him to join us at the séance table.

Eddie sits between us and folds his hands in front of him. Everything about his demeanor is quiet and steady.

“So, Temperance is taking people out two at a time now?” he asks.

I nod. “Afraid so. To catch you up to speed, we were arguing and knocked over her séance table in the parlor. Now we can’t go anywhere without chaos striking—”

“Or argue. We can’t argue either,” Rory says, but I’m beginning to suspect it’s not quite that. We argue plenty, but most of it’s in good fun. It’s only when we really mean it that things go haywire. I wonder if the key to breaking this curse is more nuanced than we think. It doesn’t seem fair. Temperance is dead. How can she have this much sway over us? “Or do anything she doesn’t like, but she won’t tell us what all those requirements are.”

“Interesting.”

“Can we ask what happened to you?” I start. “We spoke to a woman—Lettie Morgan—up in Maine over the weekend, and hearing what she had to say gave us some good perspective.”

“Sure,” Eddie says. “I worked as a security guard at Talbot House about thirty years ago. Shortly after it opened as a museum. One night, a buddy of mine asked if I could sneak him in to check the place out—heard it was haunted and wanted to see for himself. I knew it was against the rules, and dammit, I hate breaking rules, but I also couldn’t say no to my pal, you know?”

Rory nods. “People pleaser. I get it.”

“But to a comical point,” he exclaims. “I couldn’t say no to nobody. It physically pained me to let anyone down, and so I let this yahoo of a friend into Talbot House and what’s the first thing he did? Graffitied a dick on the stairs.”

“Oh…” I gasp. “That is…bad.”

And a flagrant disregard for a historic building! I hate this guy, too.

“So what happened after?” Rory asks.

“I had to take the fall for it, which I hated. But then I started running into trouble everywhere. Anytime I agreed to something, I’d be whacked with some kind of disaster.”

“Sounds a lot like what we’re working with. Did it ever get better?”

“It did—”

“How?” I demand. “We’re out of ideas and we can’t keep sticking together all the time. We need an out.”

“It was gradual, but I figured out what she was doing. The more I said no to things, the easier her punishment was. It’d go from nearly getting hit by a car to stubbing my toe because I was learning to say no to things and not worry so much about disappointing people.”

“Did it just…fade away after some time?” Rory questions.

“No,” he says. “There was a moment where I knew the curse was gone. It happened when my ex-wife wanted to get back together—she was no good to me or for me, just made my life harder—and everything in me was wired to tell her yes because I couldn’t disappoint her, even if she’d hurt me.”

“You said no,” I conclude.

He nods. “I said no. And in that instant, a weight lifted off my shoulders. The bad luck went away. It was magical, dare I say it?”

“So, we have to do something…big?” I ask.

“No,” he corrects. “You have to make a choice. You have to choose to leave those things behind and shed them. I know Lettie, I know her story. She had to choose herself instead of choosing her job. I had to learn to start standing up for myself, and made a hard choice, even when it felt hellish at the time.”

A choice. That makes sense for both Eddie and Lettie, but what about us? If the choice was to get us to stop arguing, or even get together, we’ve done that. We’ve done more than that. Surely Temperance doesn’t want us to get married, does she?

Fuck, I hope not.

We’ve only been vaguely sexual together for like two days.

I glance across the table at Rory, who bites her lip. She’s thinking hard, but I can tell she’s coming up short. This is a more nuanced situation when it involves two people, I reckon. Fuck.

“I don’t know how that applies to us,” I tell him.

“You might not right now,” he says. “But I guarantee you there will come a moment where you’re going to need to make a choice. When you do, you’ll be free.”

Rory lets out a frustrated sigh and shakes her head. “Thank you, Eddie. Really. And thanks for coming down here before your shift.”

“No problem. I gotta get rolling, but give me a call if you have any more questions—I’ll do what I can.”

“Aren’t you supposed to tell us no?” I tease.

Eddie chuckles and points at me. “No, I’d do this willingly. That Temperance is a fickle woman, but…she’s not unreasonable.”

Rory shakes her head. “You think very highly of her. She’s been a real fickle pain in our ass.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

Eddie stands from the table, and my god, his height is staggering and I feel like a North Pole elf or something. He gives me a firm handshake, and a gentler one to Rory, before departing for his night shift. Once the door shuts, Rory slumps back into her chair.

“Why does Temperance have to be so fucking cryptic?” she laments, then lowers her forehead to the table. “What the hell does she want? Us to be afraid all the time? I already am. I’ve got anxiety!”

“I mean, that did help,” I assure her. I scoot my chair closer to hers and rest a hand on her messy bun. “Now we know we have to make some intentional choices rather than just going with the flow. Maybe we’re not being deliberate enough.”

“About what?” she mumbles into the table.

“I don’t know.”

Rory faces me, still leaning against the table in defeat. And she’s pouting. It’s cute, but I don’t like that she’s annoyed.

“Drink your coffee,” I tell her. “It’ll help.”

“Break the curse?”

“No, morale.”

I draw my hand away from Rory’s head as Delia’s footsteps thump down the stairs and she enters the store.

“Hey, kids,” Delia says. Her hair’s up, with a full face of makeup I’ve seen on her maybe twice. And she’s dressed…my god, she must be going on a date. Rory notices this, too. “How was Eddie?”

“Good,” Rory says. “Uh, where are you going looking so nice?”

“Can’t I look nice if I want to?” She grimaces, planting her hands on her hips.

“You can, it’s just weird. And it’s a Monday! Angel City Noir is on.”

“I’ll catch it tomorrow. I’m going out with a friend, so I may…stay over.”

I feel like I shouldn’t be here for this, but now it’s too awkward to excuse myself to the dressing room.

“Right,” Rory says, crossing her arms. “Have fun. Make good choices.”

“Love you, baby girl,” she says before departing. “Oh, and lock up after your tour, okay? I’m trusting you two.”

“Copy that, boss,” I confirm.

“We should get ready,” Rory says. She stands on her toes and kisses me. I clutch her sweater and tug her toward me. She slips her arms around my shoulders for extra balance and gives me one final peck.

“I could use some help lacing up again,” she teases.

“You don’t need to tell me twice.”

—

* * *

We’re doing something right, because that was one of the smoothest tours I’ve ever had. Usually we hit some traffic, have to deal with some heckler from a Bruins game, or Vic deliberately hits the brakes so I fall. But tonight, open roads, easygoing pedestrians, and no Vic. And wicked sweet tips.

“That tour got me thinking,” I suggest as we reenter the shop. “Would we get more tips if we played up the ‘Royce and Kitty are into each other’ angle?”

Rory scoffs. “Because my mom is going to let us do tours together forever?”

“It can be a little treat,” I suggest, untying my ascot and slipping my gloves off. While I still like doing tours on my own, doing several with Rory has been a fucking delight. Once we vanquish this curse, it can’t be the last time. I’m having too much fun.

Rory laughs. “Right. For special occasions.”

But something’s off. She unties her scarf and absentmindedly walks back into her alcove. Our two tours this evening are done, so we’re ready to get home.

“What’s up?” I ask.

Rory sits back down at her séance table and fiddles with Temperance’s charred brooch from a few nights ago. Before we left for Maine, we kindly explained to Delia that while channeling Temperance, she ignited the brooch, to which Delia replied, “Sounds like her own fault,” so at least we didn’t have property damage to worry about on top of everything else.

I sit across from Rory.

“What if we can’t break this curse?” she asks, voice quiet, genuinely concerned.

“We will. Surely Temperance can’t have cursed us forever.”

Rory frowns. “In Holes, Madame Zeroni cursed the family for always and eternity.”

She does her spooky little Eartha Kitt impression and it’s so fucking adorable; I reach across the table and clasp her hands. She shifts her attention from the brooch to me.

“So, we’ll get peaches and onions. Climb a mountain that looks like a thumb. Whatever we’ve got to do. We can’t stay like this forever—but for now, I’ll just tell you I like being around you. And being cursed to be at your side is not a curse at all.”

Her fingers tighten around mine. “Until we have to part ways.”

“I know, I know. Logistically, this is a fucking nightmare, but getting to be around you isn’t.”

“Quite the change from a few days ago.”

I shrug. “Happens all the time in history. You make discoveries that change the way you see everything.”

Rory smiles softly. She passes me a makeup wipe from inside her bureau. “And what changed about me?”

“I realized all of this animosity we had, the need to one-up one another, the rivalry I felt with you—it was all because I was deeply, deeply angry at how into you I was.”

It’s the complete truth. I thought I could combat those burning feelings I had for her by trying to get under her skin, but it was never going to work. But this? This timeline where I get to curl up next to her at night, kiss her in quiet moments until she’s breathless? This is so much better.

Rory flips her hair. “I hear I have that effect on people.”

I think of all I’ve learned about her over the past few days. I’ve learned this woman I find unstoppable is constantly belittling herself, letting her darkest thoughts convince her she’s not incredible. But when she’s with me? She’s unmatched, unafraid. As much as I love having this private side of Rory that fears nothing, I want her to see herself the way I do.

“Let’s not even get into all the effects you have on me.”

I rise from the table and begin removing my makeup in front of one of her allegedly haunted mirrors. I might call some bullshit because I haven’t seen a single suspicious blur in the glass. I do, however, see a very tempting woman sneaking up on me and wrapping her arms around my midsection, toying with the buttons on my vest.

“You look like you’re up to no good,” I chastise her.

She laughs, kissing the center of my back. I flinch.

“Whoa! You know this is a really nice vest, right?” I laugh. “You’re going to get your Erotic Eggplant lipstick on it!”

“It’s Midnight Plum. And no, I won’t. This lip stain can survive the apocalypse. Nothing’s taking it off.”

I toss the wipe into the trash and turn around to face her. Rory stands on her toes and laces her arms around my shoulders, pressing her body to mine. The lights are dim in her alcove and it perpetually smells like earthy incense—today, it’s something with a hint of rose and patchouli. In here, in her costume, Rory looks like a mysterious ingénue from another era, testing the bounds of our mortal plane, someone who exists on the fringes of society. She looks like a woman who can’t be tamed or told what to do.

“Can I put a valiant effort in to prove you wrong?” I ask.

Rory blushes. “I don’t see why not.”

I draw a finger along her jawline and lure her in. She sinks into our kiss. I wrap her in my arms as she parts my lips with her tongue. She lets out a soft moan as I slide my hands lower, gripping her hips. She rolls them into mine, sending a bolt of pleasure to my core.

Fuck, I want this woman so badly.

I kiss her harder, wanting to get that lipstick off her mouth and make an absolute mess of such a careful girl. I suck her lower lip into my mouth, nipping it between my teeth. Rory groans and digs her nails into the side of my neck, raking them down to my chest. We’ve kept things relatively tame since we returned home.

There are wandering hands and late-night kisses under the covers, but we haven’t taken anything further than the night at the hotel. I’m okay with taking it slow and savoring every second with her, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t desperate to leave her desperately panting for me again. I want to taste her, fuck her, show her how goddamn obsessed with her I am…

Rory grabs the lapels of my vest and drags me toward the séance table, knocking us into it.

“Careful there,” I warn.

“It’s okay,” she affirms, only breaking the kiss for a brief second. “This one’s mine. I kind of hope we disturb it.”

Of course, that damn lipstick is still intact. She wasn’t kidding.

Rory backs me up onto the table, nudging me to lean back. It’s sturdy…but is it sturdy enough to withstand all the things I want to do to her? She unbuttons my shirt, working her way down my chest. She touches me with the same precision she reads her cards with, arranges her crystals, and lights her candles. I’m a ritual for her, and I think I’m okay with being sacrificed at her altar.

Her hands settle at my belt buckle. Jesus Christ, I’ve never gotten this indecent at work before—but I suppose we’re both off the clock, and the teacher’s pet in me needs to please her. So I’m going to let her do whatever she wants to me. A cool rush of air hits my lower stomach as she untucks my pants and toys inside my boxer briefs. Her lips hover above the ship inked beside my hip.

“What’s this?”

“The HMS Terror,” I tell her, but god, as she kisses down the trail of hair leading into my pants, how am I supposed to recite a goddamn history fact to her? “A…uh, failed expedition to the Arctic. The Franklin expedition.”

“Mm-hm,” she hums against my skin, pushing my waistband lower.

“Franklin’s wife consulted psychics and clairvoyants to try and find her husband. And the ships.”

“Well, call me one psychic who found it right here.” She draws the tattoo with a fingertip. “That wasn’t so hard.”

What is hard, however, is me. Especially as Rory’s lips circle around my cock and she takes me into her mouth. My eyes slip shut and I lean back on the séance table. Fuck, her mouth is so warm and delicate. The little sounds she makes, all hungry and deliberate, send me into overdrive. My heart thunders in every part of my body and I have no idea how long I’m going to last.

I knit my fingers in her curls and she leans her head into my hand. God, this fucking woman. A swirl of tongue makes my entire body shudder, rocking the table and the apothecary bottles on her bureau. Despite the frigid cold in the shop, I’m breaking into a sweat. Everything feels warm. All of me is breathless.

“Rory,” I moan. “Jesus, Rory…I’m going to…”

She catches me off guard with another stroke and I lose my train of thought. I dig my nails into the wooden séance table and stars prick at the corners of my vision. No, no, no, I refuse to let myself dive over the edge—not before I’ve had the chance to taste her, or to be inside her. I want her to know all the ways I think about her and show her exactly what her magic does to me.

“Please,” I gasp. “I…I don’t want to finish now. Not without you.”

She makes me wait for it, and doesn’t relinquish control until a pleased moan—her name, a swear, something—slips out of me. Then she works her way back up my body and I let myself breathe again. She presses her lips to mine, and nods. The table creaks underneath us as we devolve into another kiss. And another. I’m no longer climbing toward an unfathomable peak, just coasting and savoring her, and I know the wait will be worth it.

Sure enough, her lipstick is still intact.

“I have condoms at home,” she says. Rory’s eyes open slowly with a moan, but pop fully open as she stares at something behind me. “Oh…”

I stop kissing her for a split second, turn, and follow her sightline—to Clementine, who is holding a single condom.

I sigh in relief. “Thank you, Clementine.”