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  My struggles had stopped while I took the plethora of scents in. As though their presence, and my recognition of them, was grounding, calming even. My heartbeat had settled, my skin no longer crawling with the sensations of insect-like feet, my nostrils no longer filled with dirt, but filled with the delightful smells and scents of the earth.

  And... I liked it. I liked it a lot. For a moment I just savoured it, all of it. Even the intrusion of exhaust fumes and pollution. My nose reacted badly to those, but immediately pulled the scents of nature around me to soothe. As though a natural protection from the outside world.

  I realised, from feeling trapped and imprisoned by something so very foul, I was now embraced within it, cared for by it, comforted and cosseted and protected from unnatural sights, sounds and smells. I still couldn't see, and I was no longer hearing any scratching sounds.

  But, oh God, could I smell. I wanted to sit up and see what else I could scent. I wanted to embrace the earth around me, give worship, roll around in the welcoming smell of dirt.

  As soon as those thoughts found my conscious mind, the earth above me shifted. Weight lifted off my body and the vines and rose bushes that had held me, parted and simply slipped away. I sat up gingerly, finding myself in a deep trench at what I presumed was the back of the Rose Gardens on Gladstone Road. Where my early morning run always took me. I hadn't made it to Tamaki Drive, I'd only made it this far. And fallen into an open pit in the early morning dark.

  What a dork. Clearly I'd tripped and fallen and then the dirt, being newly dug over, collapsed on top. Somehow making the rose bushes and some nearby vines get tangled up in the whole mess. My struggles had only gotten myself more entangled in them, until I almost buried myself alive, trapped by prickly thorns. What a friggin' freak.

  I shook my head and staggered out of the pit, into a brighter sunlit sky than when my self-inflicted ordeal began. I had no idea how much time had passed, but by the position of the sun in the sky I was late. Way late for work. I dusted myself down, feeling soothed by the sensation of dirt beneath my palms as I cleaned my leggings of sod.

  Then I raced back up Gladstone Road and slipped my key in my apartment door. Traipsing dirt across the entranceway, I kicked off my running shoes and tiptoed towards the bathroom down the hall. My efforts were entirely wasted, as little spots of soil followed behind in a zigzagging trail. I showered as quickly as I could, but several hours in the dirt meant three shampoos and conditioning treatments, as well as half my extremely expensive Lilly of the Valley body-wash from Monsoon.

  Fifteen minutes later, no doubt half a day's pay packet, and I was pristine clean, but weirdly still smelling the earth. It was as though it was all around me. In the kitchen as I downed a glass and a half of milk. In the lounge as I snatched up my latest supplier's bill off the coffee table for work. And out on the concrete driveway of my apartment complex as I hot-trotted it towards the shop.

  I couldn't shake the scents of nature around me. Every blossom on a tree caught my attention, their fragrance meeting me first, calling my eyes to find out where that delightful scent came from. Crossing Parnell Road, to walk down the side in the sun, I could smell the hanging baskets several feet away, before I even registered they'd been replanted for Spring. Smells assaulted me at every corner, they were rich and delicious, making me lick my lips and smile a mile wide. After what had happened this morning, you'd think I would abhor anything to do with dirt. But I seemed to gravitate towards it, weaving along the pavement, avoiding harried mid-morning workers, just so I could walk beneath each basket overhead.

  My deli came into view, the planters outside appearing fuller and brighter than those on either side. They would have been replanted at the same time as the others in the street, by the Parnell Business Owners Association, whom I paid an exorbitant fee to, so my shop matched all the rest. But they looked so much better, so much more, than those trailing the length of the street either side.

  I pushed the chiming door open and glanced around my domain. The potted plants I enjoyed tending, and received many remarks of approval about, looked lush and vibrant this morning. I was sure they hadn't been as healthy last night when I left. But today their leaves were silky and smooth, unblemished and verdant. The whole place looked full of life.

  Except for Sonya, whose eyes expanded to the size of saucers as soon as they met mine.

  "Where the hell have you been?" she hissed under her breath as I approached.

  "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry I'm late, I'll tell you all about it later, when we're not so busy." The place was packed, and with lunch just around the corner, everyone would be wanting a flat-bread or focaccia loaf with salad and cold cuts and some decadent home made sauce.

  "Late!" she spluttered. "That's a bit of an understatement. You're not just late, you're..."

  But I waved her away as a customer approached and set about making a little slice of heaven for their lunch. Sonya watched me like a hawk for the duration of the lunchtime rush, but thankfully didn't get a chance to wring me out. I knew I deserved it. They'd been left to open and prep on their own, and they'd only ever had to do that when I was sick. And I always warned them, I never simply didn't turn up. But I was sure she'd understand as soon as I got an opportunity to explain.

  Lunch rush zoomed by and before I knew it, Marcus and Alice were able to hold the fort, so I walked out the rear of the shop to face an extremely irate Sonya. I brushed my fingers over the leaves of the pot plants that lined the back of the shop, somehow feeling braver for the action, even if what I was about to admit would sound really lame. Who falls into a pit and gets buried alive whilst jogging through a park?

  "Hey," I said, rounding to face her as we made it to the kitchen out back. "I'm sorry I'm late, but there is a perfectly decent explanation, if you'll just hear me out."

  "You didn't call. You didn't leave a message. You simply didn't turn up," Sonya said, sounding more serious than I had ever heard her before. Her face was set as hard as stone, the water bottle in her hand was crushed under her fisted palm. Her pale blue eyes blazed with ire, and her rosebud lips were pressed in a thin line. I'd never seen Sonya this angry before, and for a moment I lost the ability to speak.

  I reached out and thumbed the leaf of a potted palm off to my side nervously. God knows why I have so many plants in the store, even here out the back, where we bake the bread, I had a little green corner by my work desk. The smooth leaf sifting through my fingers calmed me down and allowed me to find my voice again.

  "I fell into a ditch on my run. It must have knocked me out for a time and when I woke up the sun was higher in the sky," I admitted with chagrin.

  Sonya stared at me for several long seconds, a shocked look on her face. Then through gritted teeth she said, "You were knocked out for two days?"

  I stared back at her, speech impossible right then. She had to be wrong. Two days?

  "What day is it?" I asked eventually, through numbed lips.

  "Thursday," she replied, the look of anger turning to something else. Concern.

  I shook my head and slumped onto my desk chair, my face landing into my cupped palms. It couldn't be Thursday. I couldn't have been in that ditch since my run on Tuesday morning. No way.

  "You're kidding right?" I said in a croak.

  "Oh, hell, Casey. What the devil have you been up to? Everyone has been so worried. The staff, your brother. Even Theo was asking where you had gone."

  "Theo asked where I was?" Of course I'd home in on that little bit of gossip. I'd been flirting with the adorable, very fine looking Theo Peters for almost a year. He was the one man I could actually use my feminine wiles on. Or at least attempt to. I'm not sure he'd been that affected by my unskilled flirting talents, or just humouring me. But either way, since Theo started getting his afternoon snack in my deli, life had taken on a new sense of fun.

  "Yes, even Theo. He was concerned as much as us." Sonya flicked her glance to a wall clock in the corner. "And he should be here any minute to as
k again. So, honestly, you're going with passed out in a ditch in the Rose Gardens? Is that the best you've got?"

  She started chewing on a strand of her long blonde hair, a habit I had unsuccessfully been trying to wean her from. It does not look good in a delicatessen having the staff gnaw on their hair. Dusky blonde locks or not.

  "Stop that!" I reprimanded and watched in utter shock as the branch on the potted palm next to her swatted at Sonya's hand. She let out a choked, strangled sound, then reached forward to grasp the base of the pot as though she thought the movement meant it was about to fall off its stand. With two hands and a frown line marring her usually smooth forehead, she shoved the pot back a few centimetres, despite it not needing to be moved at all, and then dusted her palms off on her jeans.

  I was so stunned that she hadn't realised that the plant had actually swatted her, that I stood up too quickly. And consequently made the chair tumble over backwards crashing into a tower of baking trays, which all clattered to the ground in a thundering crash.

  Sonya yelped. I shushed her. Then we both started snapping at each other as adrenaline flowed.

  A noise came from the front of shop interrupting our little sniping match, then pushing through the swinging kitchen doors, into the chaos and raised voices, stood Theo. Staring at Sonya who was still yelping and now swearing something unspeakable about bossy employers and even bossier best friends, and then his gaze turned to me, as I bent over trying frantically to right the baking trays with little success.

  But at the sight of Theo Peters - made to measure suit, red silk tie and stunning hazel eyes - I promptly dropped the lot of them. The clang of metal on tile rang out and Sonya screamed in surprise. Then promptly stormed from the kitchen with a look of thunder on her face directed at me. I huffed out a breath at Sonya's inability to handle loud and disruptive situations at the best of times, and tried to ignore Theo's piercing gaze.

  "Let me help you with that, Cassandra," he said in that deep, velvet voice of his.

  For some reason Theo always calls me Cassandra. I don't know why, but he does. And although I should be annoyed by it, I am endeared. My reaction makes no sense at all. Maybe it's his slight Greek accent; Cassandra rolling off those lush red lips not only sounds seductive, it somehow connects right to that hidden spot between my legs. Every time he calls me Cassandra, I threaten to pool in a puddle of longing and desire at his feet.

  "Don't be silly," I chided. "You're a customer, you shouldn't even be back here."

  I started stacking the trays haphazardly, tempting fate as they would surely topple again. Theo reached over my shoulder and straightened them, his proximity almost too much. I slipped out from under his arm and placed several steps between us. It was one thing to verbally spar with the man, but anything physical still made my legs turn to jelly.

  I stared up at him for a moment, enjoying the fact that he wasn't watching me, but instead concentrating on his task. He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. He simply stole my breath. Thick black hair, cut a little too long for fashion, but somehow setting a trend of its own. Tall, at well over six feet, with broad shoulders and long legs. His clothing, whether dressed for work in his expensive suits, or just in casual weekend wear, was bespoke. Definitely from High Street, or Smith and Caughey's on Queen. If I could afford it, I'd shop there.

  His eyes were a mesmerising hazel, hints of jade and amber in amongst a deeper brown. He had a strong, firm jawline, with cheeks that cut sharp lines across his face. His lashes swept down to meet them, and I often found myself just staring at their length. There was a hollow at the base of his neck, that when dressed in a suit and tie I couldn't see. But on weekends, when he'd bless my store with his presence, I saw it. I was staring at that hidden spot now, when his attention turned back to me.

  "Where have you been, Oraia," he said softly, taking a step towards me. He'd called me that before too. I'd looked it up on-line. It was Greek for 'lovely'. An endearment he surely used on every girl in town.

  "I had an accident," I admitted, reaching out to smooth a leaf on the potted palm that had just caused this ruckus. The branches seemed to sway towards me and for a moment all I could do was suck in air. It was calming to touch them, but to see them move in a way that was not possibly natural, made me hold my breath.

  I glanced up at Theo to see if he'd witnessed the unnaturally moving palm, but his eyes were on me. I watched as his face slowly turned completely white. That was saying something; Theo, being of Greek descent, had an all-year-round tan. Those beautiful eyes also widened for a moment and then he sucked in his own breath of air, muttering something under his breath that decidedly sounded like a swear word. But I couldn't be sure; I think it was Greek.

  His gaze ran over my entire body, but unlike before when heat had pooled deep down inside whenever he'd done that same move, a chill of dread followed the path where his gaze landed. And when his eyes came up to mine they flashed. Actually flashed a different colour. And not any colour I'd seen on anyone ever before. But gold. His hazel eyes flashed gold; pure, brilliant, shining yellow-gold.

  He shook his head once, hands fisted at his sides, and then spun on his heel and stormed through the door to the front of the shop. I followed hurriedly behind him, wanting to ask him what was wrong. But by the time I made it to the footpath, he was gone.

  And all that met me was a wash of heat across my body, as though a fire had flared and I'd stepped too close. I jumped back inside the doors to my deli, seeking refuge automatically amongst the plants.

  Something had upset Theo and I had a sinking feeling it wasn't anything that I'd like.

  Chapter Two

  Singing A Lament On The Still Night Air

  "What do you mean he simply frowned and walked away? Didn't he say anything?" Sonya asked, grabbing another slice of pizza off the coffee table beside us.

  After Theo left in such a hurry, the rest of the afternoon seemed to drag. Sonya kept staring at me with sad eyes, understanding the hurt I had felt at Theo's rejection, which even now I admitted I did not fully comprehend. Why had he been so angry? Because that's what I had felt, a boiling pit of anger bubbling up from deep down inside the man. What the hell had I said or done?

  "I don't know," I admitted, trying to swallow the bite of pizza in my mouth. It tasted delicious, but for some reason my stomach churned at the thought of eating it. Finally I put the half eaten slice back in the box and leaned back on my side of the couch. My hand automatically sought out the plant at my side, fingers running softly over smooth leaves. "He didn't say a word."

  "Maybe he had an appointment and he only just remembered it?" Sonya asked, shovelling another mouthful of Super Supreme in her mouth and chewing thoughtfully.

  "Lame, Sonya, and you know it," I pointed out, then had a thought. "I don't suppose you saw his eyes?" Memory of that gold flash he'd displayed in the kitchen swamped me. A vibrant unnatural eye colour which hadn't dimmed when he walked back out the swing doors to the front of shop. Sonya had been watching us both intensely when we emerged. She had to have seen it too.

  "What about them? Sexy, melty, delish?" she replied with a wink, then added, "or intriguing hazel with lengthy lashes that should not exist on a man?"

  I stared at her for a long suspended moment. A strange sense of dread pooling in my gut.

  "You must have missed it, but they changed colour. Flashed this unusual" - but alluring - "gold."

  Sonya snorted into her cola. "Yeah, right. They looked angry when I saw him come out from your little convo. But they were definitely just brownish, greenish, you know, hazel."

  I took in a deep breath and sank further into my seat, feeling slightly defeated and a whole lot stunned. They were gold, weren't they? Maybe I was wrong.

  No. I know what I saw and Theo Peter's eyes flashed gold.

  I shook my head.

  "You're serious, aren't you?" Sonya asked softly. "You really think they flashed... gold?"

  I nodded, worry making the pizza
I had eaten sit like a lead brick at the bottom of my stomach.

  "Trick of the light?" she offered, and I smiled despite my unease. Sonya trying to be supportive, trying to make sense of something that was rapidly sounding crazy.

  "Had to have been," I said with a forced shrug of my shoulders. "Or I was seeing things from the bang to my head at the Rose Gardens."

  "Have you got a lump anywhere?" Sonya asked, returning to her pizza and following it up with a loud guzzle of cola.

  I reached up and ran my hand through my hair, but nothing hurt and no lumps appeared beneath my fingers.

  "Nah, but why else would I have been out for two days?" I shivered at the thought of having been buried for two days and not remembering it. I felt violated, but I had no recollection of the initial act, simply the after effects.

  The plant next to me caught my attention again, I have no idea how, but I found myself smoothing down its silky leaves. Feeling the panic, that had begun to rise at thinking of my entombment, subside.

  "Are you going to call the police?" Sonya asked, eyeing me tentatively.

  I felt my face flush red at the embarrassment that admitting to the police that I'd fallen into a pit on my early morning run, would cause. I shook my head and bit the side of my mouth.

  "What about getting a check up at the hospital?" Sonya asked, this time concern casting a shadow across her face. "Even if you don't think you hurt your head, something made you lose two days. What if..." She paused, clearly unsure how to proceed.

  "What if what?" I asked, wanting her to say it and not me.

  "Well, what if you were attacked and the attacker drugged you or something so you can't remember. They can do toxicology tests to see what drug was used. At least then you'd know you're not losing your mind."