A Deal with the Devil

Have We Met?

It had been a long week, and the only thing Maya could think to do was clean the apartment. It wouldn’t cleanse her mind of all the problems she dealt with at work, but it at least offered something mindless to do so she didn’t have to think about it. Chloe had told her to take some more time off, but Maya couldn’t bring herself to do that. Throwing herself into other people’s pain and problems was better than wallowing in her own, so to work she went day after day, month after month, until the thought of Chris was only a dull throb in her heart.

Maya had just finished cleaning the apartment and putting the kettle on when there was a knock at the door. She sighed quietly. “Please don’t be Chloe,” she whispered as she went to the door. Gazing out of the peephole, Maya saw a very attractive, very large man. She put him around her age, maybe a few years older. While Maya knew she had never met him before- who would forget a face like that? She also felt something was vaguely familiar about him, so she opened the door.

“I don’t mean to bother you-” he began, but Maya cut him off.

“Cillian?” she asked hesitantly.

“Have we met?” Cillian responded.

“No,” Maya said, regaining her composure. “I’m sorry, I just found a box of photos and law books in the utility closet, and your name was on a few. They were of you and a woman, Maddy.”

Cillian felt his heart stop for a moment just at the sound of Madison’s name. He didn’t know why he had come to this apartment. Maddy wasn’t here, and he had known that before he had even knocked. This woman was human, but smelled nothing like Maddy.

“I can get the box for you, if that’s what you came for,” Maya said after an awkwardly long pause.

“I’m sorry,” Cillian replied. “I...my...my wife used to live in this apartment, and she, well, passed away a few months ago.”

“I’m so sorry,” Maya said. “I lost my husband not too long ago as well. The pain never truly leaves, does it? We can hide it from everyone and go about our day, but inside we feel it.”

Cillian nodded. “I didn’t mean to bother you. I should go.”

Maya suppressed a sigh. She knew it was stupid to invite strangers into your home, and she knew what Chloe would say about her inane need to help people she thought needed it. Still, Maya felt a connection to Cillian.

“I’m making tea. Why don’t you come in and have some with me, and I’ll find that box,” Maya offered.

Cillian looked thrown off for a moment. He hadn’t expected such a kind offer. He was a random stranger who showed up at her door on a Saturday afternoon. Still, Cillian wasn’t ready to leave a place that had once been Maddy’s home.

“Thank you,” he said, entering the apartment. He glanced around, trying to find any semblance of Madison, but there was nothing. This woman had modern art hanging on the walls, and a few sculptures and decorative pieces on the tables. Maddy was more a landscape and minimalistic person.

“I’m Maya, by the way,” Maya said as they entered the dining and kitchen area.

“Cillian,” Cillian replied. “Which of course you knew.”

Maya laughed softly. “Are you from Boston?”

“No, I’m not from around here,” Cillian answered. “I was just in the area and thought I’d see Maddy’s apartment again. I didn’t know anyone was living in it.”

“It’s a great place. Lots of natural light,” Maya replied. She went into the kitchen and prepared the tea. “Sugar?”

“No, thank you,” Cillian said. He knew he should leave, but Maya’s presence was comforting in a way. He felt a sense of calm that he hadn’t since Maddy’s death.

“It must be strange, being back here since your wife’s death,” Maya commented as she brought the tea over and took a seat in one of the armchairs.

Cillian took a seat on the sofa. “A bit,” he admitted.

“I’m a trauma therapist, and visiting places of memory is one of the last steps we take for closure,” Maya said. “Not that you suffered a trauma or need a therapist. I mean losing a spouse is traumatic, of course. I’m going to stop now.”

Cillian had to smile. “I wouldn’t say I’m at closure,” he said after a moment of silence. “In fact, my family would say I’m not processing it well.”

Maya nodded as she sipped her tea. “If you want to talk about it, I’d be happy to listen. It’s what I do, after all.”

Cillian shook his head. “It’s fine. Despite what they say, I’m fine.”

Maya didn’t reply.

“I’m not a psychiatrist, but I’m feeling judged now,” Cillian remarked.

“Not judged,” Maya said quickly. “It’s just, usually when someone says they’re fine, especially after something like the death of a loved one, they’re lying.”

“You’ve known me all of five minutes and you’re calling me a liar?” Cillian said, raising his eyebrow quizzically. “Do your patients respond well to that tactic?”

“You’re not one of my patients, and I’m a forward person,” Maya replied. “If you’re offended, I apologize, I just know what processing grief looks like.”

“How do you process a grief like this?” Cillian asked. “I mean, like losing a spouse. You lost your partner as well, so honestly, how do you process it all and move on?”

Maya thought for a moment. “I suppose work helps. There are people who need help, and if I can help them, it lessens the pain I feel.”

“Isn’t that just a distraction?” Cillian asked.

“Are you familiar with the five stages of grief?” Maya responded. “Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance,” she listed. “Distraction is a way of accepting that he’s not coming back, and moving on with my life.”

Cillian was silent for a moment as he drank his tea. He tried to think of where he was in those stages. He had seen Maddy die, and denial and anger were obviously there. He would have given anything to bring her back, so there’s bargaining. Was this depression? Was roaming about Boston and showing up at Maddy’s old apartment only to be sitting and talking to this human a form or depression or acceptance?

“Are you trying to figure out what stage you’re at?” Maya questioned.

“How’d you know?” Cillian asked, locking eyes with her. There was something familiar about her eyes and the way they seemed to stare deep into him. He had never met this woman before though, and she was definitely a human.

“You looked deep in thought,” Maya said with a shrug. “If you can’t figure it out than you’re not at acceptance though, and if you’re showing up at her old apartment than you’re looking for some comfort, so I reckon you’re depressed still.” She paused for a moment. “It’s understandable,” she added quickly. “Your wife was obviously very important to you. I’ll get that box for you.” She set her cup down and left the living room.

Maya returned a few moments later with a cardboard box. There was no lid, and it wasn’t very full, but Cillian knew from the scent that it had belonged to Maddy. He could smell the vanilla and lavender on it. He picked up a few photos that were lying on top. They must have been the ones Maya had looked at when she had found the box. They were innocent photos of Cillian and Madison together throughout the years. One was of Madison’s high school graduation. Ash had taken it when everyone had been in the park together. Cillian was sitting on the picnic blanket next to Madison and they were sharing some fries. She hadn’t known about the mate bond then. Cillian smiled slightly at the photo. The next photo was Madison playing violin on her eighteenth birthday.

“Thank you,” Cillian said, sensing Maya watching him still.

“Not a problem,” Maya replied. “I wish I still had anything of Chris’. Sometimes it’s nice to have reminders as long as you don’t get lost in them.”

Cillian nodded. Everything back home was a reminder of Madison. He envied Maya for being able to accept the death of her partner. Granted, humans didn’t have mates, so they couldn’t feel the pain werewolves did. Suddenly Cillian noticed that the pain in his chest, the constant pain that had been there since Maddy’s death, he hadn’t felt it since coming into Maya’s apartment.

“I should get going,” Cillian said. “Thank you for the tea and for Maddy’s things.” He stood up and picked up the box.

“No worries,” Maya said, standing up again as well. She felt she had to since Cillian was so tall. She walked with him to the door. “I hope you find what you need.”

“I do too,” Cillain admitted. He left the apartment to distracted with the lingering scent of his dead mate to notice anything off about the surrounding area. He didn’t even notice the stranger at the corner watching him keenly as he got into his car and drove away.

 “Fate,” the woman on the corner whispered with a smirk.