
Shades of Gray
A Jude Magdalyn Novel
L.M. Pruitt
Red Hot Publishing
P.O. BOX 651193, STERLING VA, 20165-1193
Second ebook Edition August 2011
Copyright 2010-2011 L.M. Pruitt
All Rights Reserved
ISBN 978-1-927116-00-5
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
PUBLISHER'S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental
Acknowledgments
This book is the result of numerous factors and people coming together. Without the help of my friends and family, I wouldn't have had the courage to write. Without the dedication of C.J. Ellisson, I wouldn't have a publisher. Without the perseverance of Danielle Gavan, this would not have survived a fifth round of edits. And finally, without the constant prodding of Shea MacLeod, I might have forgotten why I write---to tell a story.
Thanks.
The moment I sat at the head of the table and took a good, long look at the three people making up the private party, I knew taking this job was a mistake. They looked like nice, normal, sane people. I'd learned many years ago when people look that normal, they usually aren't, not by a long shot.
My employer for the evening, Mrs. "Just Call Me Bee" Talanger, clapped her hands together like a little girl and twittered excitedly. If one could imagine a child in the surgically over enhanced body of a fifty something year old woman. It might have been the twitter, the heavily perfumed room, or the look of hungry anticipation, but the feeling of I really shouldn't be here got stronger. I started to stand, and the woman on my right raised a groomed eyebrow.
"Sister Henries, don't tell us you plan to leave already? Bee assured Hart and myself you'd have a vision, answer some questions for us." She shivered, as if the thought was both frightening and delicious. The look in her eyes was one I'd learned at a tender age meant they would find it delicious if you were frightened.
In answer, I arched my left eyebrow, making the tiny pinprick mole on the outside corner wink up. A handy, often impressive, trick. It was like a tiny exclamation point at the top of my face, an easier and less time consuming accent for my pale gray eyes than makeup. "Mrs. Talanger misunderstood my area of expertise. I read cards, I don't have visions. I am not... gifted in such a manner."
Thank God. It was difficult enough acting like a disgraced nun with a talent for tarot. Pretending to have visions would have been too difficult a con to pull off. Even for me.
"Are we to assume you have limited gifts then, Sister Henries?" The pale blond man on my left asked the question, a small smirk creeping across his face. I let my own face go blank, the type of blank usually reserved for when a person's thoughts are far too wrong to be allowed to be seen. The smirk died away.
"That would be a very correct assumption." I leaned against the high back of the chair, slouching despite the rigid frame. The movement loosened up the sloppy bun I'd thrown my hair in and strands of dark, almost black hair teased my bare shoulders. The outfit for this evening's debacle was fortune teller, which also happened to be boho chic -- the long, flowing skirts, loose, baggy shirts. The sort of style you can put together in under five minutes if you walk into a decent thrift store.
"Ladies and gentlemen, you all seem to have forgotten you're sitting in a dining room in New Orleans, one of, if not the most, haunted cities in America. Not all of those spirits are friendly neighborhood ghosts. I would be most distressed if my attempts to foresee the future were thwarted by one of them."
Mrs. Talanger exclaimed her lack of thought on the issue. I refrained from rolling my eyes in disgust because I hadn't been paid yet. If it looked like I wasn't, I'd indulge in some displays of annoyance, until then I'd be polite. I'd try -- I didn't know if I'd succeed.
While I waited for my employer to work out the unexpected news and how it impacted her party and my payment, I let my eyes roam over the room. I didn't know if the house had sustained any serious damage from Katrina almost two years before, but if it had it was impossible to tell. I remember walking through the Garden District, a few weeks after the all clear allowing us back into the city and the massive piles of debris on the sidewalk. Like a neighborhood garage sale gone wrong.
If you liked the traditional look, it wasn't a bad room. There was a huge dining table with matching sideboard and china cabinet, all done in the same glossy mahogany. I'm not a good enough judge on whether something is antique, but if it wasn't it was a damn good knock-off. The china red walls hurt my eyes and made my head pound slightly, but the incense in the room could also have been the culprit. For some reason, people always believed in order to do a good card reading, you had to be swimming in incense. It just made me cranky.
The huge crystal chandelier was a little on the tacky side, but hey, it looked like it cost a load of money, maybe it wasn't so bad. Or it was, and the saying money can't buy taste is spot on. Either way, Mrs. Talanger needed to have the maid dust it more often. I could see a thin film of dust on some of the dangling crystals. Now that was tacky.
The sound of a throat clearing had me dropping my eyes from the ceiling to meet those of my employer. She twittered again, her platinum bob bouncing with the movement. "Are you sure you can't attempt a vision, Sister Henries? Is it really so dangerous?"
Something about the way she asked the question and the way the woman to my right locked eyes with the man who'd asked about my delicacy, Hart, had my back straightening in a way the sisters at the orphanage would have approved. Pushing back from the table, I bent to pick up my bag, ignoring the small sighs of disappointment and the squeal of distress from Mrs. Talanger. I was already at the entranceway to the hall when a hand clasped my elbow.
I froze, shocked and angry. Nobody, and I mean nobody, touched me without permission. I turned slightly, my face inches away from Hart. This close, I could see his eyes were as pale as mine but the brown of watercolors mixed too thinly. His lashes were as pale as his hair and clustered tightly together. The sheer number gave him more color than he'd otherwise have. His mouth was so thin you knew - if he pursed his lips together, the line of it would all but disappear. His body was lean. Everything about him was as though he'd been whittled out of somebody else and gotten the smaller portion.
There was a look in his eyes, like the woman, that said, I'll smile while you scream. I'd spent a scant two weeks on the streets at sixteen before recognizing such a look. I'd tried to explain it to one of the other kids, and he hadn't understood. He got into a car one night, and none of us ever saw him again. I'd like to think he had a Julia Roberts-Pretty Woman moment, but I severely doubt it.
"Sister Henries -- Jude. My companion and I will double Mrs. Talanger's offer if you'll try."
I barely managed to control my flinch at his use of my first name, but not the look in my eyes. When you're a female a few inches short of six feet, sometimes all you need is a good hard glare to put someone in their place. Luckily, this was one of those times. Hart let go of my arm slowly, as if he just now understood I really didn't want him touching me. He stepped back and let his hand drop to his side. I backed further into the hall. If I shifted my eyes to the right, I could see the door, and escape.
Freedom was suddenly something very, very important.
I moved to the right, and he mirrored me, keeping me in his line of sight. Behind him, the guests sat silent. The woman who'd asked the first question licked her lips, in amusement or anticipation. I didn't want to know which.
"There is no amount of money that could induce me to dabble in something I have no experience with. Apparently, you three missed The Exorcist. Only the pure of heart can deal with what lies between this world and the next."
Hart smirked again, as if hearing a joke no one else did. "Are you implying none of us, yourself included, are pure of heart?"
I smirked. It was such a ridiculous question given this day and age and the present company. "If you were able to deduce that, you're only ninety percent as arrogant and ignorant as you appear to be."
Mrs. Talanger gasped loudly, fanning herself with her hands as if my words had sent out a wave of heat putting her on the verge of fainting. The woman, who could only be Hart's companion, bit her lip in an effort to control a giggle. Nice to know someone found me amusing.
Hart's eyes filled with anger, the kind that makes everything brighter and fiercer, like a huge ball of fire inside. Looked like someone had issues with criticism. I'd have told him to contact a therapist, but I don't think he'd appreciate hearing that piece of advice. "And you, Jude Magdalyn Henries, are only a tenth as knowledgeable about the world between worlds as you believe."
I couldn't control the flinch this time as he spoke my full name. The smirk on his face grew to a smile and my skin broke out in goose bumps. I had to swallow twice before I could speak without a tremor. Hard to be tough when your voice is shaking.
"Keep your money. I'd rather have my soul."
Not the most original parting shot. Not even one of my better ones, but he and the woman at the table jolted. Mrs. Talanger sighed as her eyes rolled back and she dropped not so gracefully to the floor. I smiled a little. I'd won the war -- and had no doubt in my mind, we were at war, the two of us. I didn't have to be a tarot card reader, real or fake, to figure it out.
I backed down the hall, my eyes trained on him as he matched my movements, until I reached the door. Feeling for the doorknob, I grasped it firmly, stepping forward only far enough to pull the door open behind me. As soon as I stepped over the threshold into the warm New Orleans night I let out a breath I hadn't been aware I'd been holding. Hart stared at me from the hallway, pale skin almost glowing in the darkened corridor. Something about the pale glow hitched the breath in my lungs, almost strangling me.
I pulled the door shut, never breaking eye contact, until the polished wood separated us. A second before it snicked closed his faint whisper carried to me on the heavy night air.
"Women today. They must always make things difficult."
It was at least five blocks to Saint Charles and another twenty to the Business District where I'd have better luck finding a taxi. The only thing keeping me from running all the way there was imagining explaining it to any cop that might spot me.
"All that trouble and I bet you didn't even think to ask for at least a partial payment since Mrs. Talanger was at fault." Izzy drained the last bit of beer from her bottle of Bud Light and shook her head at me. "There are times I wonder about you, Jude. Seriously."
"Izzy, I wanted out of there so bad I would have been happy paying them. You don't understand. There was something really wrong about the whole thing. Just really, really wrong." I knocked back the shot of Jack Daniels, wincing as the alcohol burned down my throat. Wrinkling my nose, I continued. "Kind of like this scene here. I thought we weren't going to drink for another week."
Izzy looked at me sorrowfully, which would have been moving, except she reminded me of a dog when she did it. "You were upset. You needed liquid comfort."
"Your mom's in town, isn't she?"
"Came in about two hours ago. She said to tell you that you still don't eat enough, and you're supposed to come over for dinner."
Isabelle Bordeaux, otherwise known as Izzy, is my best friend. Truth be told, she's my only friend. I'm not what one would call a people person. Izzy doesn't seem to mind much. I think I'm like a project to her. Or a series of projects.
Izzy grew up in New Orleans, for the most part. Every year or so, her parents would decide to move to another city, only to move back after a few years. When she turned eighteen, she'd told them she was staying put. One of her parents made a visit every six months or so. When her mother had found out I didn't have any family to speak of, she'd adopted me after a fashion. Which meant, I got to hear as many lectures about how I was too skinny and needed a man as Izzy did.
I remained uncertain whether this whole adoption thing was going to work out or not.
"Tell your mother if I gain any more weight, it will not be a pretty picture in the least." I leaned over the bar and whistled for Joe. He shot me the middle finger, but nonetheless set us up another round. I think the fact I worked part time at Hole in the Wall kept Joe from dumping the drinks in our laps. It might have been the cleavage peeking through the veil of Izzy's hair. Either way, we had our drinks.
Izzy batted her lashes at me, a demure smile completely at odds with the look of mischief in her eyes. She was blonde, blue eyed and tiny, as much my physical opposite as somebody could get and still belong to the same gender. Which just meant no one looked at her when the shit hit the fan. Lucky bitch. The only thing we had in common was chest size, which meant I looked proportional and she looked like Pamela Anderson's kid sister. "You can tell her, when you come to dinner."
I almost choked on my second shot of Jack, the alcohol burning my throat and the area behind my nose. Eyes watering, I turned enough to glare at Izzy. "By no means do I have a death wish. You tell her."
"Oh, no. You, she wouldn't kill. Me, she'd murder in my sleep and then have a press conference decrying the crime rate of the city."
I snorted, wincing slightly at the residual burn, before standing and tossing some money on the bar. Our drinks were free, one of the perks of working at the Hole when the card scam was slow, so Joe had gotten a much larger tip than he deserved. Joe and I had a mutual relationship based on dislike. He disliked me because I had ovaries and I disliked him because he was a prick. Not because he had one, but because he was one. There is a difference.
Hole in the Wall was only about four blocks from my studio in Faubourg Marigny, and only a block from Esplanade. One of the reasons I'd taken the studio on Frenchmen near Dauphine was its proximity but distance from the Quarter. I'm not ashamed to admit I like to party, but when I'm ready to sleep, I want to sleep, and not worry about some drunk tourist getting mugged underneath my window. Not that drunk tourists don't get mugged in my neighborhood, but in general the muggers here are slightly more discreet.
Izzy followed behind me, falling in step next to me once we hit the street. Call me crazy, but I don't like people at my back. It makes me nervous, in an I wish I had a big knife sort of way. Which is really bad when you're in the Quarter --- but I've managed to not hurt anybody who's made the mistake of accidentally invading my comfort zone.
In a matter of minutes, we were out of the Frenchmen District, crossing Esplanade and heading down Bourbon. Izzy finished her beer, tossing it in one of the numerous garbage cans lining the street. New Orleans is one city with an overabundance of garbage cans, in my opinion. Half the people are too drunk to think about not throwing their garbage on the ground, so why waste the money on the container?
Most people don't realize part of Bourbon Street is residential. Most of the Quarter bordering Esplanade and Rampart is, and if you're up early---or late enough---you'll see people out walking their dogs and watering their plants. It makes the walk toward the heart of the Quarter interesting at night, watching the change from respectable housing to raunchy commercialism at its best. We passed the Clover Grill and I made a mental note to stop by on our way back home. You can't beat a diner that lets you know the employees are there to make you feel more beautiful than you are.
"So, seriously, are you going to call Mrs. Talanger tomorrow and demand at least a partial payment? I know the only reason you took the job was because you wanted to buy that jacket. Which was a stupid reason to take a job, by the way."
"You apparently don't remember what this jacket looked like. This is a must have jacket." I slid to the left to avoid being plowed into by a trio of drunken girls who looked like they were barely old enough to vote, let alone drink. One of them had to be, because New Orleans bartenders are insane about checking I.D. Izzy and I shared a look when the one in the center tripped over a crack in the sidewalk, bringing the other two down with her. Amateurs.
"Jude, you have something like five trench coats. You don't need another one, even if it is vintage, and embroidered with little butterflies and dragonflies." Izzy veered left into one of the open mini-bars selling drinks in a space so bright you need sunglasses at midnight. Every now and then you see people seated at the bar. When you do a double take to make sure, they're gone. Maybe they're an urban legend.
We both ordered a kamikaze. Not my first choice but it was listed on the menu so the chances of the so obviously stoned guy knowing how to make it were pretty good. I made the mistake one time of asking for something not on the menu. Two words -- never again. The stoner came out of his haze enough to leer at us before realizing we weren't remotely interested and lapsing back into whatever mental playground we'd called him from.
"It's vintage and it has pink. You keep telling me to wear something other than black when I'm not working, and you like pink." I gestured at her pink shirt and my black, as if she didn't have any idea what we were both wearing. She frowned at me, which made her look like an unhappy Barbie.
"Buying a black trench coat with pink embroidery was not what I was suggesting and you well know it."
I turned my head to say something smart but my brain seized. Absolutely froze. Possibly the most gorgeous man ever was leaning against the wall next to the Cat's Meow. Over the roar of the crowd, I could vaguely make out someone doing a horrible rendition of Britney Spears' "Baby One More Time," in the distance.
I couldn't say what made this man so gorgeous but, God, he was. I knew I was staring but I couldn't help myself. Since he was staring back at me just as intensely, I didn't feel bad.
He was slanted against the wall, but even so, I could tell that he was at least four or five inches taller than me. At my height it's always a good thing and a pleasant surprise. His hair was almost as dark as mine, long enough to graze his chin and fall in front of his eyes until he shook it out of the way. It reminded me of the hair you see in shampoo commercials, all shiny and rich looking.
We were less than ten feet from each other, close enough to see the color of his eyes. They were brown, but saying they were brown is like saying the sky is blue. There was such a depth of color it was dizzying, forcing me to drop my gaze and end up looking at his lips. The change of scenery put an entirely new meaning on the phrase kissable. Just looking at them made me lick mine.
We stared at each other for a minute or two, when Izzy grabbed my arm and shook it. Concern clouded her eyes when she said, "Hey. If you really want to buy it, you can buy it. I'm just joking with you."
It took me a moment to put meaning to her words and I replayed the conversation we'd had in order to do it. I laughed and shook my head to clear it. "No, the guy over...." I trailed off when I shifted my eyes and realized sometime in the moment Izzy had caught my attention the man had vanished. "Well, he was there. And he was gorgeous. As in, you would have wanted me to share."
Since Izzy and I don't have remotely the same taste in men, this caught her interest. "I missed him? Damn. Alright, no more arguing with you in public about clothes, it makes me blind apparently."
I laughed, and we crossed the street arm in arm, to go up the left side of Bourbon. "Apparently. The funniest thing, though. He seemed really familiar even though I've never seen him before."
"Come on, if we miss Cayenne's debut performance we'll hear about it for a week."
Groaning, I walked up the three steps to flash my I.D. at the bouncer. With the plastic cup in my hand, it should have been unnecessary. I eyed the poster on the right of a half-naked woman and poked Izzy in the side with one finger.
"I swear, the first guy who asks us if we're lesbians because we're in a strip club, I'm punching him in the jaw."
Okay, I have to admit. I'm fascinated by strip clubs. Fascinated in a bird watching a snake way. Or a train wreck way. Either way, it's one of those so wrong fascinations, you're almost forgiven for having it.
It's not the women, because I've never played on that side of the street. I think it's the overt, almost aggressive sexual nature of the whole thing. When you grow up in a Catholic orphanage, strip clubs are the ultimate flip off to the Mother Superior. I had the brief thought once of having my picture taken with a stripper and sending it to the nuns, but decided against it. It wasn't their fault they believed I was full of sin and I believed they were full of crap.
And, let's face it, it's a kick. No matter if they're upscale or absolute bottom of the barrel, strip clubs are always dark and smoky and somewhat seedy. You feel as though you should look over your shoulder just to make sure no one you know saw you go in, even if you're hundreds of miles away from home. I think if the clubs set up a photo booth, you know the "I went crazy at... " kind, it'd be a serious competition whether the girls or the booth pulled in more money.
Having said I'm fascinated by strip clubs, I'm not a regular patron. For one, I can't afford it. Two, if you're not into girls, you can only watch all but naked women for so long before it gets boring. It's like porn in a way -- once you've seen it once, you've seen it all. A friend of mine and Izzy's recently had the dubious honor of being hired to dance and we were obligated to attend her debut performance. It was also our job to tip her if nobody got up, we had to get the ball rolling, so to speak.
Izzy ordered another Bud, and I asked for Jack and Diet, already resigning myself to the astronomical cost of it. When the cheap stuff is eight dollars a drink, you know you're getting hosed. Sure enough, the total for the two drinks was over twenty but I gave the woman who brought them to us a sizable tip. Less than five minutes in the door, and I was already out forty bucks. This is how they get you -- drinks and tips.
We'd timed our arrival almost perfectly. I'd barely taken a sip of my overly Diet drink when the D.J. announced Cayenne's appearance. We clapped, as expected, and deserved. Not many women can boast having a body made for stripping without having some surgical enhancements, but Cayenne could, and she knew how to use it.
Cayenne strutted, swayed and crawled her way around the stage, garnering a fair amount of attention. She knew how to use what God and Nature had given her and she used it well. I was okay with watching until the bikini top came off and then I shifted my eyes to the ceiling and kept drinking. It's one thing to see your friends naked when you're changing, and it's another to see strangers stripping their clothes off. It's something completely different to see your friend stripping her clothes off for strangers.
Izzy must have been thinking the same thing; she leaned over and spoke in a low voice. "If you ever decide you need to do this for money, please, don't tell me. I won't be making your opening night performance."
I opened my mouth to ditto her comment, when my eyes swept down and across the stage. It might sound melodramatic, but I seriously thought my blood froze in my veins. It's hard to get cold in New Orleans, but I felt like I was sitting in a block of ice.
Twenty feet away, separated from me by a stage with a mostly naked woman and at least a dozen momentarily thought challenged men, sat Hart. He was staring directly at me.
My first reaction was to grab Izzy's hand and make a run for it. The man was just creepy in a nightmarish way, one you can never fully understand. Add in his severely unhealthy obsession with supernatural contact and I knew his being in the same strip club at this time was a really, really bad thing.
Izzy's breath against my ear jolted me unpleasantly enough to break my stare-down with Sir Creeps-a-Lot. "I don't know what's going on, but whatever the two of you are doing together in his head, he finds it real fun."
Hart's eyes shifted back to the stage and I let out a breath I hadn't been aware of holding. Turning enough for Izzy to hear me and still keep him in my line of sight, I replied, "That's the man from Mrs. Talanger's."
Izzy's gasp was enough to let me know she thought the situation as strange as I did. "Not to be cliché, but of all the strip clubs in the entire world...."
"I think the quote is actually about gin joints, but I get the picture. I suppose it's out of the question to ask security to throw him out because he's creepy as hell?"
As we watched, Hart took out a wad of bills held together by an expensive looking bill clip, peeled off five twenties and threw them on the stage. Izzy sighed violently enough to make the hair near my temples dance slightly. "That would be a yes."
We sipped our drinks in contemplation, not really paying attention as Cayenne shifted into her second song. By now, the seats around the stage were filling up, and money was starting to appear in more than one hand. Hart was watching Cayenne work the men and the way he watched her chilled me.
"I think we've done our duty as friends. It's time to leave."
I nodded my head at Izzy's announcement and stood, hitching my jeans back up around my hips. I stopped the woman who had served us our drinks earlier, Izzy and I each gave her a fifty to give to Cayenne. Not quite the same as buying a friend business cards when she got a job, but it was the thought that counted. Considering how hard I'd had to work for that money, it was a damn sight better than business cards.
Cayenne blew us a kiss as we passed the stage on the way out the door and I took my eyes off the man long enough to throw her a peace sign in return. The first breath of air as the mirror tinted glass door opened was heavy with the smell of liquor and the press of human bodies. I inhaled it as though it was crisp mountain air. There was something about being in the same room as Hart that made fresh air imperative.
Izzy and I crossed Bourbon to one of the numerous souvenir shops, lit up as bright as noon in a sea of neon. In addition to the beads, postcards and t-shirts---my favorite being "FEMA: Fix Everything, My Ass"---there were bottled, non-alcoholic drinks. Normally the pair of us could drink all night, but the whiskey I'd already had wasn't sitting well in my stomach. Izzy went for the caffeine she considers a major food group.
We were both quiet, unusual in and of its self. Something about seeing Hart had creeped out not just me but Izzy. She doesn't scare easy, one of the reasons we're friends, so I was comforted by the knowledge it wasn't all in my mind. The shop attendant was handing Izzy back her change when I felt the hairs on the back of my neck ruffle. I turned my head slightly to the right and noticed a woman watching me. Without looking fully in her direction I couldn't be one hundred percent certain, but I was willing to bet my favorite trench coat it was Sir Creep-a-Lot's companion from earlier in the evening.
I waited until we were on the sidewalk walking back toward home before saying anything. "That strange woman from earlier was just in the shop."
Izzy stopped in the middle of St. Peter, causing a group of rowdy tourists to part and flow around us like water. Izzy's eyes were a little wider than usual and I could see the pulse jumping in her throat when she spoke. "Weird man's lady of the night? Jude, this is way beyond coincidence. Way, way beyond coincidence."
"You think?" I shut my eyes, took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. "Sorry, I know you're just as freaked out as me. I have no idea how they even know where I am or why they want to know."
"Look, we'll just stop one of the ever present members of the NOPD, and...." Izzy trailed off and I threw my hands in the air, causing water to splash up from my open bottle and land on my face. Swiping it away with my free hand, I shook my head.
"What can I tell them? 'Gee, officer, I met these two earlier when I was preparing to swindle them by reading tarot cards, insulted their intelligence and moral character, and now they're in the Quarter at the same time that I am.'"
Izzy took a sip of her soda and tapped her left hip with her fingers. "Okay, I can see how explaining this to the police would be more than a little difficult, but---."
She let out a little shriek as I pulled her out of the middle of the street and against the wall outside Preservation Hall. I'm sure if it wasn't for my hand clapped over her mouth she would have cursed me up one side and down the other. As it was, she tried to bite me and stomp my foot until I leaned close and hissed in her ear, "Opposite corner."
They couldn't see us, mostly thanks to the swell of college kids on the sidewalk. Never have I been more thankful for drunken Tulane students than at that moment. God only knows why I was whispering, or trying to get Izzy to be quiet. There was no possible way we could be heard amidst the thunder of Bourbon Street, but there's something about terrifying situations in general that makes lowered voices and silences seem more appropriate.
Sir Creep-a-Lot and his female companion had acquired a couple of compatriots, and it was clear they were looking for someone. The way the night and my luck were going, it was a fairly safe bet it was me. It was bad enough when there were just two of them. The new members of the hunting party looked like retired football players, or bodyguards -- big and bulky. You can look and tell it's muscle, not fat, and if it hits you, it's going to hurt. A lot.
When Izzy stopped struggling, I let my hand drop. Without another word, I grabbed Izzy's hand and headed toward the river. We were halfway down the block to Royal Street when I risked a glance over my shoulder. The convenient crowd a moment before split apart and I felt Hart's eyes lock onto me.
I broke into a run, Izzy right next to me, taking to the street when the crowds on the sidewalk proved too thick to push through. I knew where I was headed. Common sense would have me turn onto Royal and heading to the police station. Whatever was guiding me had me barreling down St. Peter for Jackson Square and St. Louis Cathedral.
I've seen the Cathedral more times than I could begin to count. I worked in the open area between it and Jackson Square during the day, reading cards for tourists and locals alike. The ghost tours do a little spiel near the gates of the Square before heading down Pere Antoine Alley where it's said a ghostly funeral procession sometimes passes during intense storms.
The one night when we desperately needed a group of people, hell, a swarm of them, not a person was near the Cathedral.
My shirt was stuck to my back and my breath heaved in my lungs when I stumbled to a stop in front of the Cathedral. My heart sank with recollection. I should have remembered, the gates were locked at night. Short of jumping the fence, there was no way to get on church grounds. I had no idea why it was so paramount for us to be on church grounds, but it was.
Before I could figure out the next step in my lack-of-a-plan plan, the Creepies came around the corner of St. Peter. Suddenly, jumping the fence seemed like the best idea all night.
Izzy was bent over, her head between her knees, trying to catch her breath. She isn't active at her best moments, and running a block and a half full out had left her more winded than me. If it came down to a fight, Izzy was at more of a disadvantage.
I hauled her up, not giving her time to complain. With my eyes on the approaching quartet, I knelt down and made a basket out of my hands. "Up and over, Izzy. No arguments. And back away from the fence."
For one of the few times in our friendship she did exactly as I told her, without any comments or complaints. She'd just turned around and started backing towards the steps when one of the new, larger players jerked me up by my left shoulder, fast enough to have me stumbling into him. Without missing a beat, he whirled me around, locking both of my arms behind my back.
There's a reason cops cuff you from behind. It immobilizes your upper body and more than one person has discovered you can't kick with both legs. The muscle behind me knew all this and used his knowledge accordingly. If there's a scarier sensation than looking into a face that could haunt your nightmares and not being able to get away from it, I don't want to know what it is.
Hart reached his right hand out and stroked it gently down my left cheek. His touch was icy and even though he'd had to have run just as fast as Izzy and I, he wasn't winded in the least. None of them were, including the woman, and she was wearing three-inch stilettos. The woman had some serious skills.
His voice was just as cultured as earlier this evening but there was something else in it now, it took me a moment to pinpoint exactly what - eagerness.
"You sacrifice yourself for your friend. How noble. I do believe I'll enjoy bending your will to mine."
He leaned toward me, close enough I should have been able to feel his breath on my face. His mouth was less than an inch from mine and I couldn't feel even the minutest stirring of breath. As close as he was, the pulse in his neck should have been visible -- it wasn't. He smiled and the flash of light on his teeth buckled my knees.
He had fangs. Honest to God, true as you live, fangs.
Oh, this is bad.
The muscle behind me grunted loudly and for a moment I thought my sagging had put too much weight on him. The thug could probably bench press me. There was no way a little thing like my knees buckling would make him grunt. I heard a whiz above my head, followed by a second, louder grunt, and I put two and two together.
Somebody was shooting him -- with arrows.
This night could not possibly get any more fucked up.
My captor dropped my arms, probably in an attempt to pull the arrow out of his chest, and I fell to my knees. I heard the air above me hiss again and then twice more. When I turned my head to look behind me, I saw the thug on the ground, arrows in his heart and head. I would have screamed, except Izzy was doing enough for the both of us.
I was suddenly jerked back to my feet.
Hart held me in front of his body like a shield and I got my first look at the new dancers joining the fight. If the evening hadn't already taken more turns than a drunken man's road, seeing the gorgeous man from outside the Cat's Meow aiming a loaded crossbow at me would have been the cap on possibly the worst night of my life. It didn't help when I noticed more archers on either side of him, and to the far left -- a woman old enough to be my grandmother -- with a ball of fire in her hand.
Apparently, I'd been wrong. The night could get more messed up.
"Release the girl, and I'll allow you to walk away tonight, Hart."
Hart laughed and it was the sort to make small children cry and flowers die. Well, maybe not, but it wasn't pleasant.
"What makes you think such an outcome is possible, Williams? Would you shoot the girl if I refused to release her?" he shouted at the archer.
I was getting irritated at being jerked around and being called "girl", but figured in this moment discretion was the better part of valor. Williams, as my would-be rescuer answered to, smiled coldly. "You've forgotten to guard your back, Hart. One would think you would have learned such a lesson over two hundred years ago."
The woman, who'd been silent until now, spoke from behind Hart and to the left. "They have us surrounded. Leave the girl for later. You cannot complete your plan if you are a pile of ash."
At that particular moment the woman with the ball of fire closed her hand. Instantly, my left palm began to burn. Hart and I let out a yell as my hand seared through the fabric of his pants. In a panic, he hurled me away from him, sending me sprawling on the ground between the two groups. I turned over and scuttled backward, crablike. Elegant, no, but it kept Hart in my sight which was good enough for me.
The fiery burning in my hand was gone as suddenly as it had come and when I raised my hand to check for blisters, I blinked. Nothing but smooth skin. I shook my head and looked away from Hart long enough to catch the older woman's eye. "How did you, I---."
"Questions best kept for later, Jude Magdalyn Henries. One event at a time."
Apparently everybody knew my name, even though I was learning the players in bits and pieces. Nodding slowly, I turned my eyes back to Hart and pushed to my feet. I walked backward until I felt a hand grip my left. I didn't have to look to know it was Williams. I couldn't explain it but I was out of the crossfire and safe as I could be at the moment. Good for me.
Hart seethed. His female companion all but dragged him back to St. Peter, through the row of men at their backs while their guard had died. The row of men, I assumed they belonged to Williams, let them pass, but didn't take their eyes off them. Neither did I, yet it still seemed like the pair vanished between one breath and the next.
The group breathed out a collective sigh and I heard a voice whisper a quick Hail Mary. Slowly, the sounds of the Quarter filtered back in and I remembered to take a breath of my own. Or what would have been a breath if Williams hadn't chosen that moment to speak and my breath became a squeak.
"I assume you have questions. Let's see to your friend. Gillian and I will do our best to answer them."
I turned my head to stare at him. Up close, he was even more mouthwatering, but strangely enough, it wasn't the foremost thought on my mind. "Oh, you can bet your ass I've got questions. And somebody sure as hell better have answers."
The cup I poured the stiff black coffee into was white, a voodoo doll silhouetted on it with the words "Even if the marriage wasn't magic, the divorce can be" emblazoned below it. A client had given it to me for Christmas and I got such a kick out of it I used it for an instant pick-me-up whenever I felt stressed or annoyed. It usually worked.
Taking care of Izzy hadn't been as easy as Williams made it out to be. It had been a downright pain in the ass. It was a good thing I loved her or I would have been seriously pissed. I'd seen the exact same things, had actually had said things touching me, or being shot at me, or exploding out of my hand, and I was perfectly fine. Which, I guess, was a sign something was really wrong with me. Either way, I wasn't having hysterics.
It took half a bottle of Cuervo and a few mumbled words from the fire-wielding woman, Gillian, before Izzy fell asleep or passed out. Honestly? I didn't care which. I was assured when she woke in the morning she'd remember everything she'd seen as nothing more than the result of large quantities of alcohol. Lucky her.
The Frenchmen District was still alive and kicking when we climbed the stairs to my third floor studio. Any other night, I would have stopped in at one of the clubs along the way, thrown back a few and listened to the jazz being played. Instead, I was cramming way too many people into a small space.
Some people make the mistake of thinking a studio is like a loft apartment. Sometimes it is, but often it isn't. Loft apartments always seem large, spacious and architectural. My apartment isn't any of those things. Oh, Lord, it is so not any of those things.
Don't get me wrong, it's a nice space. My landlord, bless his perverted little heart, actually does care about the building and the tenants. Before I moved in three years back, he'd actually gone to the trouble of having the hardwood floors refinished, the walls painted and the entire building pretty much firebombed for pests. Katrina hadn't caused too much damage and as a result, I'd renewed my lease for the last two years. Unless something fabulous fell into my lap, I'd renew it again in a few months. When your rent doesn't go up more than twenty bucks in three years, you don't go looking for a better deal. Because you ain't gonna find one.
As far as layout goes, it's pretty standard studio: open space, kitchen, bathroom. No closet. No walls. Just space. Although I did get a corner unit, which meant lots of windows. The landlord had upgraded almost everything in the building, which meant my appliances were all new and matching. I had enough counter space for a microwave, a few cookbooks, and some bar stools. My bathroom would put some of the city's hotels to shame. When I'd asked him one time why he'd gone to all the trouble to make the apartments nice, he'd patted my butt and said, "When you get to be as old as I am, you take joy in giving joy to other people." He was so cute, and so sincere, I didn't smack him for the butt pat.
At the moment, the folding screen normally separating the bed and sleeping area from the living room was folded up and leaning against the far wall. I had four strange men on my bed, two on my couch, two guarding the windows and two guarding the door. In addition, I had Gillian and Williams propped on bar stools at my quasi-island. Their cups sat steaming in front of them; neither one made a move to pick them up. I shrugged and settled for hopping up on the stove. I made sure the stove was turned off before doing so. I definitely did not need a burnt ass on top of everything else tonight.
I took a sip of coffee, sighing in relief when it flowed over my tongue. Some people don't like their coffee screaming hot, and some don't like it strong. I laugh and call them weak. After a moment of my heels kicking against the oven door and the clock ticking loudly the only sound in the room, I let out a sigh.
"We're here. I'm waiting. Talk."
Gillian raised an eyebrow, dark in shocking contrast to the shiny silver of her long enough to sit on hair. It makes a picture but it's a bitch to maintain, at least it was the one time I let my hair get as long. Gillian's looked like all she did in the morning was wake up, brush it and it set perfectly all day. I hated women with hair like hers, simply on principle.
"You're much more abrupt than we imagined you would be."
I smiled, unable to help it. I'd heard variations of such comments for a number of years. "I'm from New York. It's bred into us."
"I hate to disillusion you, but you are no more from New York than I am." This from Williams, who'd curled his hand around the coffee mug but still hadn't taken a sip. Apparently I was the only one who liked coffee after midnight. Pity.
I took another sip of the strong brew, longer this time, savoring the rich, bitter flavor and closing my eyes for a moment in appreciation. Opening them, I found Williams staring at me with The Look. I'll assume people know what I mean when I say The Look. The one men -- or women, we're guilty of it, too -- get when they're thinking about what an attractive member of the opposite sex looks like naked. Preferably stretched out underneath them. Or on top. No accounting for positional preference.
I sighed, crossing my left leg over my right, and braced my right elbow on my knee so I could prop my chin on my hand. I made my eyes very big and wide, and my voice very sweet before speaking. "Williams, two things. One, stop looking at me like you want me naked. Two, unless you've magically changed the information on my birth certificate, I was born in upstate New York. So, would you like to retract your previous statement at this time, or wait a few minutes for form's sake?"
Williams smiled at me, a mirror image of my own just before the sarcasm attained a new level of discomfort. "You mistake my words, Jude Magdalyn. It's true, you were born in New York. But where you are from, where your family came from, is also the place you returned to over two decades later."
The coffee was starting to lose its simple joy but I drank steadily, if only for the caffeine jolt. I switched my attention back to Gillian. It's hard to stare down a person who doesn't seem to blink. It was weak, he and I knew why I'd shifted my focus, but he didn't comment on it. Small point for him.
"Would you care to elaborate on why everybody seems to know my name and my history or is this going to be a long night of twenty questions?"
Gillian smiled for the first time, it made her eyes twinkle and took years off her face. For a moment, it was easy to see she'd been beautiful when she was younger. Stop people on the streets and stare beautiful. "We know your name, Jude, because we've been waiting for you."
She seemed to feel this was explanation enough and left me waiting for more. I shifted my gaze back to Williams, who gave me a look of innocence in return. I sipped my coffee and waited some more. Finally, Williams rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh.
"Apparently being mysterious and cryptic is not enough to satisfy you. Although why it should be, I have no idea." Williams finally lifted the cup, taking a tiny sip before making a face and putting it down. "That is truly horrendous. How can you possible drink it with such a calm face?"
"Practice. Now, why don't we start with the comment about my family? It seems you know more about them than I do."
Williams and Gillian shared a look before Gillian placed her hands on the counter, folding them neatly together. "Do you know why you were given the name Jude Magdalyn?"
I shook my head, shrugged and shifted my legs. "The nuns simply told me my mother's dying request had been I receive those names. They refused to tell me my mother's name until I turned eighteen, and by the time that happened...."
"You were in Kentucky, if memory serves correctly." Gillian nodded her head, seemingly satisfied with my answer. If anybody else in the room thought it was strange a person I'd never met knew where I'd been seven years before, they didn't mention it. She unfolded her hands before folding them together again, something she didn't seem aware of - I was betting she did it when nervous or uncomfortable.
"Your mother was the only daughter of a woman who herself was an only daughter, also born of an only daughter---."
"Ok, I think I get the picture. I come from a long string of only daughters. Paternally, any clues?"
Gillian brow creased in a grandmotherly sort of frown. "The nuns made no mention of your father?"
I smiled and shook my head. The coffee had cooled to lukewarm but I was almost done with the cup, so I took another sip. "I was told my mother refused to name the father, leading the sisters to assume she was unmarried and I was illegitimate."
"I can imagine how the nuns treated you, with such an assumption."
I glanced at Williams' somber face. I cocked my head, pretending to think. "Well, there was one time when Sister Mary Penitent called me a sin-filled bastard, but it was slightly deserved."
"What could you have possibly done to deserve such an epitaph?"
I glanced at the man who'd blurted out the question. Boy, really, since he looked younger than I did, despite the massive amount of weapons strapped to his body. I grinned, something I could never not do when the memory surfaced. "I'd just called her a stultifier of young minds and a harbinger of doom and misery. If memory recalls, she'd just finished ridiculing half my English class for their inability to understand the nuances of Shakespeare's tragedies. All of them."
Williams coughed, the unmistakable sound of a covered laugh, while Gillian frowned and did her hand-folding thing. "Hand-fasting is recognized in only a handful of countries and religions as being a legitimate form of marriage. Your mother and father were hand-fasted and consequently any child conceived during the twelve month period is considered as legitimate as a child of a state marriage."
"So, my parents were married, but they weren't. Great, but who were they? Were you planning on telling me that little tidbit of info, or do I have to guess?" The coffee was gone, I still had strange people in my home, and I didn't really have any more information about the night's events than when I'd started out. I was getting a little annoyed, to say the least.
"Patience is a virtue."
I set my empty coffee cup down with a thump and crossed my arms over my chest, glaring at Williams. "So is timeliness. And if it's not, it should be. Let's speed this up so it doesn't take all night."
Gillian huffed, the sound reminded me oddly enough of Sister Mary Penitent. "Very well. Your mother's name was Martha Anne Henries. Your father's name was Luc St. Martin."
"If they were hand-fasted, or married, or whatever, why do I have my mother's last name, and not my father's?"
"Your father was murdered before they could be state-wed."
Williams lifted his right hand, and one of the men near the windows stepped forward, pulling a large manila envelope from inside his coat. Taking it from the silent man, Williams pushed the envelope across the counter in my direction.
Curiosity is one of those things you always regret. Sooner or later, you usually end up regretting it. Mine had me hopping down from on top of the stove and reaching for the envelope. I was surprised to find my fingers shook, and opening the flap was more difficult than it should.
As soon as my fingers brushed against the top photo, I stumbled, the ferocity of it almost knocking me off my feet. I heard someone saying my name, then my fingers gripped the photos firmly and I lost it.
Huge, engulfing waves of pain lashed through my body, dropped me to my knees. The photos spilled out of the envelope, landing face down on the floor, and I thrust my hands out in an attempt to break my fall. When my hands came into contact with the photos, I felt my skin sizzle like grease in a pan. If what I'd felt before was pain, this was something nobody was meant to endure.
Images flashed through my head, some vague, some clear, all of a man with hair as dark as mine, skin as golden as mine. None of them were pleasant. Whips, knives, screws --- torture apparently hasn't gone out with the Inquisition in some circles, and murderers would be one of those circles. I felt the skin on my back open, a thin line of blood, followed by a second, and a third, until I lost count, and it dawned on me - I was experiencing what had been done to my father before I'd even been born.
I don't know if I would have gotten the full show because a hand gripped my shoulder, pulling me to my feet. The sudden change in elevation, in addition to the shock my body had already been through, made the room swirl rapidly around me. Black began to eat at the outer edges of my vision and I cursed violently and colorfully enough to have Gillian comment, "Oh, language."
"Fuck language, somebody catch me when I pass out."
I was out long enough for Williams to carry me into my bathroom and strip off my shirt. When I came to with the feel of cold tile against my bare stomach and the heavy weight of a body on my legs, I reacted without thinking -- I kicked my heels up as high as possible and was rewarded with a thud and a muffled curse.
"If you're done battering me, perhaps you'd like me to take a look at your injuries."
Williams' voice had me slumping as much as it was possible against the floor, and I turned my head to rest my left cheek against the tile. My own voice was thick and slurred, which told more than anything how badly I was hurt. "Sure, whatever. Knock yourself out, champ."
"If there had been any indication your powers included such results, we would never have allowed you to handle the photos."
A tiny part of me was glad Gillian sounded worried and apologetic. The larger part of me was pissed as hell. After everything I'd been through, I was still having to pull information out of these people like you'd pull teeth out of a chicken. An impossible task.
"Well, since it seems you apparently don't know as much as you thought, why don't we cut the bullshit, and you tell me what the fuck this night's been about." Before either Gillian or Williams could respond, I continued, "The short version. Because I'm tired as hell and would like some sleep some time tonight."
Warm water dripped on my back and I hissed at the sting, the small pain temporarily clearing my mind. Williams' hands were gentle as they washed the blood off and as the air came into contact with the open wounds I hissed again. Pain on the level I was experiencing meant a lot of opened flesh.
"I don't think it'll scar. They seem to be more surface wounds than the full monty, so to speak."
"For these small miracles," I muttered. When the room was quiet enough I could hear a drop of water roll off my back and drip on the floor, I sighed. "Talk. Now."
"Very well." The direction of Gillian's voice put her to my left, most likely perched on the toilet. Since it would have been more disconcerting to stare at her shoes than just listen, I kept my eyes closed and my head turned away. She had a good voice, one for stories, and it made me wonder idly if she had any children.
"Your mother was a member of an... organization, for lack of a better word, as was your father. More than a religion, it was a way of life. One open to those with... gifts."
She paused and I sighed again, prompting her. "Gifts?"
"Those with the power to see, to heal, to communicate with other worlds, to call the elements and spirits. More than either voodoo or Wicca separately, a compilation of the two. What worked was kept. What didn't was tossed aside. The Covenant was born of the results."
"The Covenant?" Apparently I was more injured than I thought I was. Not only was this making sense, it sounded familiar. "It's a myth. It doesn't exist. Half the kids on the street who are convinced they have psychic powers talk about the Covenant. Nobody has ever actually known a member of it."
Williams smoothed something thick and gel-like over my back. I bit my lip to keep from whimpering at how good it felt. His voice was once again cultured and controlled when he spoke. "Over the past quarter century, the Covenant has lost a number of members due primarily to the fact their power source was absent."
I could feel myself getting drowsy and realized there must have been some sort of sleeping aid in the balm. I should have been furious, but couldn't work up the energy for it. "What's the power source?"
The last thing I heard before sleep washed over me was Williams' low chuckle. "You, Jude Magdalyn."
The sound of glass breaking and a man cursing woke me up. I was still more asleep than awake, lingering in the moment when everything in the world seems like a dream and you could lay in bed forever. Something always happens to ruin the moment - and today proved no exception.
I swear, I felt like a small inferno raged on my back. I've never been set on fire, but take the little tingle of pain you get from a match burn, magnify a hundred times over, and you'd be close to understanding what I experienced. I'll admit, I let loose a girly shriek. But hell, if I couldn't make the pain stop, I was damn well going to vocalize my discomfort.
I was struggling to sit up and keep the sheet in place when Williams came around the edge of the repositioned folding screen. Whether it was my continued pain or the sight of his very appealing chest, I panicked. I grabbed the closest object, which happened to be a cast iron paperweight from my nightstand and hurled it.
Faster than I could blink, Williams ducked. The paperweight sailed over his head, crashed into the wall and left a good sized dent before thudding to the floor. I would have cursed the loss of my security deposit, but squealed instead when Williams launched himself from his crouching position pushed me back into the mattress and pinned my wrists.
"You make me wonder if this alliance is worth the headache, Jude Magdalyn."
"Well, somebody should have thought about how I'd feel waking up with a strange person in my apartment, especially after the crap that happened last night." The sheets were rubbing my back, which hurt like a bitch. I prayed none of the wounds reopened and I wound up with blood on the sheets. Something told me I wasn't going to have time for laundry today.
Williams' face was close enough I could have counted his eyelashes, which were long and thick enough to make most women green with envy. Up close he was even more striking, soft curves and angles blending together in a way that was beyond amazing. His lips parted slightly, the breath coming from between them blew gently across my cheek.
I was so absorbed in studying his face it took me a moment to realize he was only using one hand to hold my wrists against the headboard. I wondered briefly where the other one was then felt his fingers glide down my jaw line. His touch was warm and I shivered slightly. He smiled, more a mischievous curve of the lips, and I trembled -- and not because it was cold in my apartment.
"I thought you didn't need to breathe." Distracting my hormones through insane questions seemed a good idea. I wasn't sure if I wanted it to work or not.
"I don't. I choose to make the motion to appear more human than I am." Williams moved back, using his hand on my wrists to pull me to a sitting position. I gave him points for not trying to lower the sheet. I wasn't entirely sure how I would have responded. "Now, let's see what all the fuss was about, shall we?"
Awkwardly, I twisted around to give him my back, pulling my hair aside to give him an unobstructed view. I bit my lip and whimpered when he ran his hands over the wounds with the whisper of a touch. His quiet sigh told me whatever was back there wasn't great.
"Apparently what they say about healers is true. You may be harder to injure, but your injuries are harder to heal." The bed shifted, and footsteps headed toward the kitchen. Clearing my throat, I called out, "Are you going to explain your statement or do I have to guess what you meant?"
His muttering drifted to me from the kitchen along with the sound of cabinets being open and shut. A thought occurred to me while I waited for him to come back and do whatever he thought needed doing. "Didn't you mention to what's his name, Hart, that he'd made the same mistake two hundred years ago?"
"A little closer to two hundred and fifty." Williams' voice rose in volume as he returned. I started to turn but the twisting motion set my back on fire again. I grimaced and settled for staring in the bureau mirror. He settled behind me with a wooden bowl, my basting brush, and some torn fabric. I hoped it wasn't one of my good kitchen towels.
"Hart, as I'm sure you've guessed, is a vampire. I am also. We were turned by the same man, who recently decided he'd had enough of life, after six hundred years, and impaled himself. The will dividing up his businesses and territory, as well as naming his successor, is mysteriously absent."
"And let me guess. The two possible heirs are yourself and Hart." I shook my head, careful to keep my back straight. The nuns would have been so proud of me -mostly. Except for the wearing a sheet and being in bed with a relatively stranger part. That wouldn't have gone over so well. "Please, tell me this isn't just an inheritance dispute."
"You would be correct. This is much more than an inheritance dispute." I watched as he stirred whatever was in the bowl a final time. He paused for a moment, brush half-raised, dripping with some thick, gelatinous mixture. "This may sting a bit, but seeing how the balm last night did little good, it might be prudent to try something else."
"No pain, no gain, right?" I attempted a laugh, but ended up making a sound like a dying rat when he swept the brush down my back the first time. "Ok, that's more than a slight sting."
"As you said, no pain, no gain." I watched his reflection as Williams bit his lip in an effort to not smile and I decided I wouldn't punch him in the jaw at the first opportunity. "Perhaps you'd like to hear more about the situation and your role in it."
"Gee, one would think I hadn't been asking questions along those lines for the last half a day or so." If you can't laugh or fight it off, drown it with sarcasm. "So far, there's feuding vampires, the Covenant, which has always been deemed fictional, dead parents, and some other freaky shit. Maybe we can start tying it together."
"You forgot the proposed alliance." I almost ground my teeth at his mild-mannered tone, but remembered grinding my teeth gives me a headache.
"Roughly twenty-six years ago, when your parents were hand fasted, word of the Prophecy resurfaced." Another brush stroke and I gave up trying to be stoic and twisted my hands in the sheets.
"The Prophecy. Is it a requirement that everything sound mysterious and archaic, or do people just like it like that?"
"Probably a little of both. Either way, the Prophecy stated someone with no past, lost in the present, will bring in the future through gifts of this world and the next. Your father was an orphan who, until he met your mother, had been a feckless wastrel."
"So people assumed the Prophecy was in reference to him." Now that Williams had put the first layer of goop on, my back didn't seem to be as much of a pain pit. He started over, spreading the ointment on thicker. His calm voice lulled me into a semi-relaxed state.
"Some did. Fearing what would happen if he came into full power, for his gifts lay with visions and contacting the spirit world, they tortured and left him for dead. None of the healers of the Covenant could do anything."
"Did they ever catch the people at fault?"
"Some of them. They refused to name the rest of the conspirators, despite much... persuasion." The way he said the word persuasion made me wonder if the Covenant's interrogation methods were as brutal as the murderers.
"Your mother was grief-stricken. If she hadn't known she carried you, she might have grieved herself into the grave within a few weeks."
"And she ended up dying anyway." I watched in the mirror as Williams set the bowl and brush aside and began laying the torn fabric against my back. He was concentrating solely on his task and his tale, and seemed to miss the irony in my statement.
"Yes, she did. Your mother was a good woman, skilled at healing, but not overly strong. She must have known what the future held for you, though, since she was very specific about your name."
Jude comes from Saint Jude Thaddeus, the patron saint of lost causes and desperate situations. Magdalyn from Mary Magdalene, the patron saint of women." Williams pressed gently on my spine, and I bent forward so he could apply the makeshift bandages to my lower back. "Your mother sealed your destiny with your naming and her death."
I have to admit, it took me a moment. My brain wasn't functioning at full capacity, probably due to information overload. "Hold up. Are you telling me that this prophecy, the Prophecy, is in reference to me? Cut the crap, no way."
"Denial is to be expected. But can you deny you have no past and spent the years since you left the orphanage wandering, lost? Can you deny that even if you had none before, you are manifesting power now at an incredible rate?" His voice was reasonable and something about it just pissed me the hell off.
"Yes, I can deny it. I can deny anything I want to. In case you missed the memo, denial is the fifty-first state in the union, and I'm so a resident, especially in moments like this." I scrambled off the bed, taking the sheet with me, and wrapped it toga style. I had a moment of weakness seeing his perfect body sprawled across my bed but shook my head to clear it. "I don't know where you guys get your intel, and really, I don't care, but if you're looking for someone to step up and be the general in this war you're hinting about, you're looking at the wrong girl."
"This is your destiny, Jude Magdalyn. You have a people, indeed, a city, depending on you to fulfill this destiny." Williams' face was urgent, bordering on desperate, as he rose to his knees and gripped my crossed arms. If it had been any other situation he would have had me with the look and the urgent pleading. I'll admit, I'm a sucker for a good-looking guy on his knees, but this was way beyond ordinary.
"Like I've said, you've got the wrong girl. Whatever powers I have are probably just proximity related, and I was a ready outlet." I paused and shook my head at the technical-ness of the statement. "And now that we've finished with story time, I think you need to go."
Williams gave me a withering look. I rolled my eyes. "Right, sorry, the whole daylight explosion thing. Whatever. Go sit in the bathroom or something, just leave me alone for a few minutes. We'll deal with the fact that I'm stuck with you for another ten hours or so when I've had some coffee."
He slid around me and headed toward the bathroom. I let out a relieved breath but couldn't hold back a giggle when I heard him mutter, "Americans and their coffee. I will never understand it."
There's something calming about Mass, even when you don't want to be calmed. You're sucked into the peace, but when it's all said and done, you're better for it. Even if God never comes and speaks directly to you, you feel better for having been in the presence of something bigger than yourself. It's hard to explain, almost impossible, but here's hoping you understand what I'm talking about.
After listening to the same words I'd heard throughout my youth, I turned to what had become my new source of outside information. I'm a con artist at the cards. If you had asked me yesterday, I would have admitted this freely; today, I'm not so sure. There are some who have the gift, you can tell by looking at them. When I need help, guidance, whatever you want to call it, I go to Suzanne.
I fake the fortune teller look. Suzanne embodies it. You would think we shopped at the same places, and for all I know we do. It just looks better on her. She was maybe ten years older than me, but looked my age or younger. I'd never seen her blonde hair up, or makeup around her brown eyes. Suzanne was always laid back and natural. And blunt - she almost put me to shame.
As usual, she got straight to the point. "Normally, you would be showing others what they seek. Today, you look for yourself." Yeah, there's no moss growing on Suzanne.
"It's been a rough twenty-four hours. I just need some good news."
Suzanne studied me for a moment, and then took my hand. She smiled and even though it was friendly and Suzanne, it disturbed me on some level I couldn't identify.
"Love. It waits for you. All you've ever wished for, truly wished for, will be yours."
Great - like life wasn't complicated enough at the moment. I smiled back, because Suzanne really can't help what she's given to say, but I wasn't happy about it at all.
Being who she was, Suzanne tried to refuse the twenty I gave her. In the end I won, and headed toward the river and Café du Monde. It may have been approaching ninety degrees without the heat index, but I needed more coffee. And beignets - God, did I need a big plate of those. Nothing can be entirely wrong when you have sugar and caffeine flowing through your system.
Unfortunately, I never got my beignets. There I was, minding my own business, until someone bumped into me. Normally, I wouldn't have cared, but it wasn't just your normal bump.
On the off chance you ever are about to or have hit someone with a car, don't slam on the brakes. It's pretty ugly - there's no other way to describe it. The brakes lock, bones and internal organs get shifted around in ways they're not supposed to, and it's a foregone conclusion - whoever had the misfortune to be on the receiving end of the car is going to die.
All that being said, in retrospect it's a good thing he bumped into me. Before I realized, I grabbed the man's elbow and pulled him back onto the sidewalk. He turned to yell at me, but it was difficult to hear exactly what he was trying to say, due to the blaring horn as a car ran the yellow/red light at Decatur in front of Café du Monde. In the moment it took him to realize what might have happened he went from yelling to keeling over with his head between his knees. The woman with him, his wife judging by the impressive rock on her left ring finger, knelt next to him, patting his shoulders. It took them a moment to compose themselves and think about the other person involved in their melodrama.
By that time, I was a block down Decatur and lost in the crowd.
I shoved the door of my studio open with enough strength to rattle the pictures on the wall and kicked it shut with an equal amount of force. There's something about slamming doors that makes you feel a little bit better. Williams looked over his shoulder from his position on the couch. Law and Order's theme music was a decibel lower than his question. "Is there another problem, Jude Magdalyn?"
Dropping my purse on the counter, I contemplated acting like a mature adult. Playing the part of someone who could sit down and talk about disturbing issues in a calm manner without violence. In the end, I yanked my shoe off and threw at it the back of his head.
Of course, he ducked. Damn it.
"I would take that as an answer in the affirmative." Williams muted the television, which is more annoying to me than simply turning the volume down. I suck at reading lips, so I get distracted trying to figure out the story line because I have no idea what they're saying. "Perhaps you'd care to tell me what the problem is, and we'll see what can be done to solve it."
"Unless you can turn the clock back and keep the past twenty-four hours or so from happening, I don't think there's going to be a solution to this problem." Disgusted with myself for throwing my shoe at him, for missing, and for the whole damn day in general, I stomped over and plopped down on the couch. Grabbing the remote from him, I turned the volume up, then back down to a murmur. Not enough to distract, but enough that I wouldn't be looking at the television trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
"I take it you've had some sort of power manifestation."
"Hell if I know. It could have been just some variation on a psychotic episode." I propped my feet on the coffee table and noticed absently I needed a pedicure. It wasn't at the dire stage but you never actually want it to get to there before you do something. "I can now see into the future, as well as the past, by contact with someone."
"When you say future, do you mean the immediate future or further down the road so to speak?" Williams took the remote back from me and turned the volume up. Apparently he was as obsessed with Law and Order as I was. Funny.
"Right now, seems to be just the immediate future." I told him briefly about the man and the bump and the almost car accident. Lenny Brisco was on his third wise comment of the hour when I finished.
"Interesting. Anything else?"
"Yeah, I didn't get my damn coffee and beignets." It was absolutely vital he understand how pissed off I was at not being able to live my normal life. I wanted someone else to be as upset and frustrated as I was and if it meant me sounding like a whiner, so be it. I'd be damned if I was going to suffer alone or quietly. I may have been named for saints and martyrs, but no way in hell did I have the disposition of either.
"Yes, I can see how such a thing would annoy you." He sounded just as pissed off as I did, but I guess when you're two-hundred plus years old, you can afford to sound pissed off. "As I said, interesting. Would you care to reiterate your belief that you are not the one spoken of in the Prophecy?"
"I would, thanks." I pushed up from the couch and stalked back into the kitchen, pulling the freezer door open. After a moment of rummaging, I found my emergency supply of Ben and Jerry's Phish Food. Stereotypical, yes. Out of line for the moment, possibly. What I wanted, right then? Absolutely.
"Jude Magdalyn, at some point you are going to have face facts. Events such as the ones happening to you are not what most people experience. Given your background---."
I swallowed a spoonful of ice cream. It gave me almost instant brain freeze, but I needed to be able to point the spoon. It's the little things that matter. "My supposed background. You have your side of the story and I have the history I've known my entire life. Take a guess on which one is easier for me to believe."
I paused in the act of scooping more chocolate and marshmallow. "And another thing. Is there really a reason why you keep addressing me by my given and middle names? I mean, is it something I'm going to have to get used to or are you going to stop doing it after a while?"
Williams smiled, the slow kind my girly-side stopped breathing for but made my streetwise-side instantly go on guard. "Does it bother you, Jude Magdalyn? In my youth, in our situation, I would address you much more intimately than by your name."
"Just so I'm clear, what precisely is our situation? Because I'll admit, I'm more than a little out of my depth. You've got a couple of lifetimes worth of experience and I have no doubt you've put all that time to good use." I licked the ice cream off the spoon, watching him watch me. I could have made it sexual, I'm not lacking in experience, but didn't. You don't play with fire unless you're willing to get burned, and it was still too early to tell whether this was the kind of fire you could walk away from or whether it was the burn everything in the area to the ground kind.
"Our situation." Williams rose from the couch and I wish I could say it was just like any other person getting up from a piece of furniture, but it wasn't. It was more than catlike, it was like watching water move - it just does. I tossed the spoon in the sink, and snugged the lid back onto the ice cream, turning my back long enough to open the freezer door and shove it back in. By the time I turned around, he was standing in front of me, close enough to touch.
I eeped. It was better than a scream, which was the next option on my list of sounds. Slapping one hand against the refrigerator and one hand on his very close, very appealing chest, I made an effort to clear my throat. "Okay, see, this - this is what I would term a little too close for comfort."
"But our situation, Jude Magdalyn, is one I doubt is going to lead to any level of comfort, anytime soon." My hand was a non-existent barrier between his chest and mine, so I did what any self-respecting person would do and moved it down to my side. It was putting a cramp in my elbow, and it wasn't doing any good where it was.
"Right. Our situation." I paused and licked my lips, trying not to notice the way his eyes followed the innocent, nervous flick of my tongue. At the moment, he was close enough I could have licked his lips instead of mine. "What is our situation again?"
Williams laughed, the exhalation brushing across my cheek, and I shivered involuntarily. "Ah, Jude Magdalyn. Perhaps words are not explanation enough." His face was close and so beautiful; it was just too much effort to keep my eyes open. As a result, I didn't see him raise his face slightly, but felt it when his soft lips brushed across my left temple, and then my right. My right ear, and then my left. My left cheekbone, the bridge of my nose, my right cheekbone. Little brushes, barely enough to qualify as kisses, except for those amazing lips. People talk about being kissed like they're being gobbled up but this was more like delicate sips of wine or water or some other precious liquid. They made my knees go weak and made me thankful for the refrigerator at my back.
"You need to tell me, Jude Magdalyn, if more explanation is necessary." Apparently I wasn't the only one affected by those little teases, because his voice was ragged and shaky. If I was smart, I would have pushed him away, kneed him in the balls, anything to put a little space between us. I wasn't feeling very smart just then.
Smart is overrated.
I nodded. I wasn't entirely certain my vocal cords could work at the moment. I hoped he understood what I meant, because explaining it was pretty much out of the question. I felt one hand reach up and cup my cheek, while the other traced the tattoo on my limp wrist.
What would have happened - the kiss to the end the ages or just the kiss ending with us both naked on a bed - I'll never know. At that moment, someone chose to burst through the door I'd carelessly left unlocked.
"Someone said they saw the Prophecy on the streets! Williams, Gillian wants you to---." The unfortunate messenger broke off in mid-sentence as he realized Williams was leaning against more than the refrigerator. "Oh. Well, I'll, uh, I'll have Gillian call you, and discuss her concerns with you."
"Please do. And remind Gillian, the Prophecy has a name and a life outside of what we require of her. Things we might want to take into consideration." Williams waited until the boy shut the door before speaking again.
"We'll discuss this further at some other time. Gillian will no doubt be here in the flesh within the hour." Williams headed towards the bathroom, looking for all the world as if he hadn't just spent the last few minutes seducing me.
I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or pissed off.
"I was sure we agreed The Prophecy should not be allowed to run around the city unsupervised. Given the fact we are unable to predict how her powers will manifest, and how explosive they could be, The Prophecy should not, cannot, be allowed to be un-chaperoned." Gillian wasn't quite wringing her hands, but it was close. It would have been funny, except for the fact she kept referring to me as The Prophecy, and I was more than a little punch-drunk from my almost kiss.
Williams was too calm, especially if you took the almost kiss into consideration. He sat on my couch, serenely sipping tea, his face a perfect blank slate he could affect in less than a second flat. "No, Gillian, you made the decision and at the moment it was made I decided it would be less problematic to pretend to agree than to point out it's foolhardy to believe a young, healthy female would be willing to be... chaperoned." Williams sat his tea down on the coaster, which scored him points in my book, and ran one pale, perfect hand over his face in a gesture that on anybody else would have made me think they were tired.
I lay stretched out on the floor, or more accurately on the sleeping bag I kept for overnighters. I wasn't entirely sure about being close to Williams when my hormones were uneasy. I'd rather err on the side of caution and not be tempted to jump him while there were guests. Besides, I had a better view of the show from a distance.
"It is absolutely unthinkable for her to be allowed to run willy-nilly through the streets of New Orleans." Gillian stirred her tea absently. "What if she were to come into power out on the street, what could be expected to happen if she had no chaperone?"
"Most likely the same thing as today. She would return home, a discussion of what happened would ensue, and a decision on whether the power needed to be added to her practice sessions would be made." Williams took a sip of tea, and managed to suppress a grimace.
"Practice sessions? Chaperones? Really, did any of you think to remember I have bills to pay, which means I have to work? And since I don't have a college degree, hell, I don't even have a high school diploma, that means I'm working odd and other less... ethical jobs." I rolled from my side to my back before I remembered the lashing from the night before. I managed to not squeal, but only because I was biting my lip. With a sigh, I rolled all the way over onto my stomach, pillowing my head on my arms.
Williams raised a concerned eyebrow. I shrugged and rolled my eyes. His lips quirked up before he spoke again. "Practice sessions. The chaperone issue is under negotiation, but practice is non-negotiable. As to your expenses, I'm surprised Gillian and the Covenant haven't given you the good news yet."
"Oh, there's good news? Well, that'll be a pleasant change."
Gillian raised her cup and sipped her tea. I'm not sure if it was as horrible as the cold tea on the table next to me, but based on her expression it wasn't great. "Well, it's news. Whether one would term it good is based on one's perception." Setting her cup down, she pushed her hair back in an eerily familiar gesture I couldn't quite place. "The Covenant looks after their own. Knowing what a responsibility and how time consuming it is to lead the Covenant you will be provided for financially until the day of your death."
Before I could wrap my mind around the first bit, Gillian dropped another bomb. "In addition to being provided for financially, as your mother's daughter, you are also the recipient of her monies and the titled owner of a piece of property on Royal Street. For the whole of its existence, the property has served as the primary base of the Covenant. During the last twenty-five years, the Covenant has conducted a good portion of its business elsewhere, but with the assumption of your ownership the dealings of the Covenant will once again be centered solely in one location."
I tried to sit up but ended up having to wrestle my way out of the sleeping bag, costing me valuable seconds and an untold amount of dignity. "Wait, wait, just wait one effing second. Not only will I never have to go on the grift again, but I have a mortgage free house?"
"To be completely accurate, you have a mansion. I'm not sure on the exact count, but I believe there are roughly a dozen bedrooms between the main house and the refurbished servants' quarters." Williams smiled his little half smile again, clearly enjoying the way my jaw went completely slack. "I'm not sure what your feelings will be on the décor, but you have plenty of funds to redecorate it to your tastes."
"May we please return to the matter at hand?" Williams and I turned our heads in Gillian's direction. She threw her hands up in the air and exhaled a huff of air. "The issue of chaperoning the Prophecy?"
"Apparently you did not receive the message - the Prophecy has a name. A delightful, highly meaningful one. Perhaps if you say it a time or two, it will be easier for you to remember it." Williams picked his tea up, looked up at the air conditioner vent, and set the cup back down on the table. "I personally enjoy saying her name. Jude Magdalyn."
Gillian glared at us, huffing out another breath. "Very well, the issue of chaperoning Jude Magdalyn. I do not see how this is a negotiable issue. She simply cannot be unaccompanied. What if she were to meet Hart or one of his compatriots? At her current level of training, it would be akin to the slaughter of the lambs by the lions."
"Gillian, you're going to ruin your nerves completely if you continue at this rate. You know as well as I do, neither Hart nor any of his minions venture out in the daylight hours, nor does Hart believe in "stooping" to using humans." Williams cracked his neck, sighing heavily before continuing. "The only time Jude Magdalyn will be in any danger is from sundown to sunup. Which is why I suggest she be assigned a guard of her own, preferably an even dozen."
"Magic number." When Williams and Gillian turned shocked faces in my direction, I threw my hands in the air. "Geez, you complain I don't know enough Wicca, voodoo stuff, then look shocked when I show a glimmer of knowledge about what's going on. Make up your damned mind."
Williams smiled while Gillian looked more stressed. "We do seem to be of a somewhat divided mind, don't we? Rest assured, our overarching goal is one we both agree on, and while our personal methods for reaching it may differ from time to time, it is the goal of the greater good that truly matters."
"Well, as long as it's for the greater good," I replied, more than a little sarcastically. While it was great to not have to worry about bills or a roof over my head ever again, it didn't make the fact I was going to have a dozen men watching my every move once the sun went down any easier to swallow. I'd never been the type of girl who liked having a shadow and I had a feeling a dozen of them would be twelve times as annoying as just one.
"You must learn to think of the greater good before anything else, Jude Magdalyn, if we are to win at this battle." Gillian dumped her tea down the sink, confirming my assumption of its nastiness. "Hart and his forces already have a hefty advantage in light of your general inexperience. While the powers of the Covenant are vast, in the end, a battle will commence and you will fight Hart on your own. It is our job to ensure you live beyond the battle."
"Yeah, I get this is really serious. I do." I stood up, rolled my shoulders out, pleased when the motion didn't send pain screaming down my back. "But what everybody apparently has forgotten is, even though I may have spent my early years in the convent school, I've spent nearly a decade in the real world, on the streets. Trust me, if Hart thinks he's scarier than a winter night in D.C. with no money and no place to stay, he's sadly mistaken."
Gillian threw her hands up in the air, in a gesture so reminiscent of the Mother Superior I automatically flinched, a reaction that even twelve or thirteen years after the last time I'd been on the receiving end of a blow was still instinctive. I could tell by the look on Williams' face he knew why I'd flinched and I rolled my eyes to cut off his sympathetic look. He broke into real laughter, not the fake kind reserved for awkward social moments, which this definitely was turning into.
Shaking his head, he stood, sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks. "I think, Jude Magdalyn, we all underestimate you. I believe Hart is in for more than one unwelcome surprise before this is all over."
Gillian shook her head tiredly. "Let us hope the surprise is how long she lasts, and not how easy she was to kill."
I opened the window and reached for my emergency stress pack of cigarettes. "Well, I hope you're not this chipper all the time. I don't know if I'll be able to stand it."
"Please, tell me you're fucking joking."
"Jude Magdalyn, your language leaves something to be desired."
I stared at Gillian. "If my language is the only problem we have at this particular moment, we're doing real good."
I stepped off the sidewalk at the corner of Royal and Ursuline, flicking off the driver who honked the horn when I crossed in front of his car. I stared at the building in front of me, and shook my head. "I own the house catty-corner to Jacques St. Germaine. This is so not fabulous."
The building at 1041 is infamous, nearly as infamous as the Haunted House a little bit further down Royal back towards Esplanade. Both have bloody, supernatural histories, and both ooze evil. Germaine's more specifically involved loose women, bottles of bloody wine, and a cult in his name. Lucky me, I could see his resting place from my front door.
Never has the saying about there being no such thing as a free lunch been more relevant, at least to my way of thinking.
Williams caught up to me as I reached out and to touch the padlock that was the only visible sign of security on Germaine's building. "Really, Jude Magdalyn, I think it would be safe to say - doing what you seem to want to would not be the best move."
I glanced from the lock to him. "Why? I just want to know if I need to worry about a guilt-free killer hopping over to borrow a cup of sugar, or some wine to go with the blood he just collected. I'm looking out for my personal safety."
Williams grabbed my hand and pulled me a few steps away from the door. "Jude Magdalyn, Jacques St. Germaine has left the city relatively alone for a number of years now. No one would thank you if you were to annoy him."
I widened my eyes at him. "Annoy him? Whatever makes you think I would do something like that?"
"Because you lack discipline and focus," Gillian snapped from behind us. She had crossed the street, but refused to step onto the sidewalk. Maybe she didn't want any of the evil of the building to rub off on her. Or maybe she was just cranky. With her it was impossible to tell.
"I'm sorry, finding out about homicidal neighbors is sort of a priority as far as I'm concerned. Like you keep reminding me, I have no idea what I'm doing so forgive me if I focus on the little things like my neighbor murdering me in my sleep because that's what he does." The sarcasm might have been a little bit thicker than needed, but I was getting frustrated. All I'd heard for the past twenty hours was how inept I was and quite frankly I was sick of it.
"Ladies. I think we are all forgetting why we're here." Williams turned me away from Germaine's building and back towards my own. "If we could all hold our tempers - and tongues - for a bit longer, perhaps we could manage to deal with the admittedly valid points raised."
I eyed him suspiciously as we crossed the street again to where our ensemble waited patiently. "You weren't by any chance a politician before you were turned, were you?"
The left corner of Williams's mouth turned up slightly and I felt his fingers relax their one-step-below-viselike grip on my arm. "No, that is one occupation I have been fortunate enough to never have taken up. But seriously, Jude Magdalyn, will you do the city of New Orleans a favor and not disturb St. Germaine?"
"I promise to leave him alone as long as he returns the favor," I replied fervently, crossing myself more out of habit than out of true fear. I didn't have to look at Gillian to know she was rolling her eyes, something I was beginning to anticipate in much the same way I did Williams's low chuckle. My guard made no sound as we crossed the street back toward them. No sound. No movement. I was beginning to wonder if they even blinked.
Standing in front of a house that had survived more than me, I had a sudden, acute longing for my crowded, but very much my own, apartment. Yes, this building had been my mother's, and her mother's, and so on for God knows how long, but it wasn't mine. Looking at the key in my hand and the lock it would open, I wanted to hand it back over politely, find the closest bar, and get so drunk I couldn't remember my name, let alone any of the other events from the recent past.
"Open the door, Jude Magdalyn. You can deal with all those messy emotions you're undoubtedly feeling once we're out of the open."
Gillian's voice shook me out of my ponderings and I had to resist the urge to snap her head off. Settling instead for a glare, I climbed the small set of stairs, jingling the set of oversized keys in my hand. I pressed a hand against the smooth, polished door, curious at the warmth emanating from the wood. Behind me, I heard a murmur almost overshadowed by the light gust of wind rushing through the street.
"Open the door, Jude Magdalyn. The house waits for you, and it grows impatient." Williams lifted my limp hand and slid the key into the lock with minimal effort on my part. The tumblers shifted smoothly and I could almost see them fall away. Our hands turned the knob and the door swung open without a sound. The keys dropped from my hand as I took my first look at what had been decreed mine.
Every surface gleamed, sparkled or shone, and the rest were free of any sign of dust or neglect. The foyer boasted a long row of china cabinets on either side filled with pictures and books rather than any plates or statuettes. In the quiet of the house I could hear a clock ticking, and had the vague, slightly insane hope it was a Grandfather clock. They always seemed to me the epitome of quiet wealth.
As I wandered further, the foyer giving way to a short hall ending in a flight of stairs, the others - except Williams - flowed around me. Gillian turned into one room and then another and I hoped there was not only a clock but a map, because as big as this place was, I was bound to get lost without one. The men split off, half heading up the stairs while the rest filtered throughout the main floor.
I stopped at the first cabinet, studying its contents before moving on to the next. Some cabinets had one picture, with a few books and random objects, others with almost a photo album on display, surrounded by faded books and wooden dolls beginning to turn to ashes. I could feel Williams behind me, patiently waiting as I worked out what this series meant. It meant something, I just couldn't figure out what it was.
I paused in front of an empty one. The dust tracks inside indicated things had been removed recently. One more puzzle in a long line of them. The next cabinet wasn't empty and I let out a little gasp when I saw its contents.
There were only a few pictures but it seemed fitting since she had barely been older than myself when she died in the convent hospital. I'd never seen a picture of my mother; the sisters hadn't bothered to keep one and didn't think to save her personal belongings. I knew it was her, as surely as I'd recognize my own face. It was mostly the eyes, exactly the same shade of pale gray as mine, that gave it away but there was something else.
That something was the way I knew the woman in the photos was my mother. I just knew. The photos were mostly of her alone, or with a group of people who could only be members of the Covenant, but toward the bottom and back were a few more. It was like someone had tried to hide them from sight but hadn't been able to bring themselves to do it completely. Reaching up, I opened the doors, noticing the slight tremor of my fingers.
Careful to not disturb the arrangement so much I wouldn't be able to replicate it, I pulled a framed photo forward, the dust thicker on the glass than on any other surface in the house. My lips were dry and my voice low when I spoke.
"My parents?"
Williams turned the photo fully toward the light, a sigh slipping from him. "Yes. If memory serves, they had just been hand fasted. She was with child---you---within six months." Williams dropped his hand, sliding it into his pocket. "Within another three, your father was murdered, and five months after, she was in her grave as well."
"They look so young. They look... they look in love," I finished, somewhat lamely. But they did. They all but glowed with it, and even now, twenty-six years later, I could feel it while holding their photograph.
"They were. The members of the Covenant yearned to be around them the way flowers yearn for the spring sun after the winter." Williams took the photo from my hand and gently placed it back in the cabinet, the doors shut with a small snick. "One cannot speak of them without speaking first of their love. Few find something as amazing as they had, though we all search for it."
I turned my head to look at him curiously, our faces so close I almost made myself cross-eyed looking at him. "Do you mean to tell me that as long as you've been around, you haven't found anything even close to what my parents had?"
Williams chuckled and I swallowed at the little spark of pure lust it sent through my body. Just a little one, but sometimes the littlest ones do the most damage. "Jude Magdalyn, my living years were spent amongst the sort of women that gave their favors not for love, but for love of money, and little changed once I was turned until I came into contact with the Covenant. If I were to find such a love, I doubt I would even recognize it as what it was."
Somehow my hand had found its way to his waist, where it settled, whether for my support or his I don't know. "So you're just going to give up, even though you know there's a possibility it's out there?"
Williams' hand dropped from the cabinet door to cup my jaw, and I couldn't control the shiver it elicited. Sparks, shivers -- if I'd heard bells and whistles, I'm not sure what I would have done. His eyes bored into mine. "I wouldn't have taken you as an incurable romantic, Jude Magdalyn. You would seem to be full of surprises, quite a few of them pleasant."
I let out a shaky breath, trying to laugh it off. "Must be the air."
Williams stepped closer, one little half step that brought us up against each other. "Weak excuse, Jude Magdalyn. Try again."
His hands playing along my jaw and along the nape of my neck made it difficult to breathe, let alone form rational thought. "The house."
His teeth grazed the lobe of my ear, and my hand clenched in his shirt while my pulse slowed down to a standstill. Hart could have launched the end of the world and I don't think either one of us would have been able to move to stop him. "Once again, I doubt your veracity, Jude Magdalyn."
A sound, half groan, half murmur blew across his cheek when I turned my lips to his. "Maybe I just want to jump your bones, and this is my plan to do it."
His hand fisted suddenly in my hair, and the gasp I let out wasn't due to pain. My heartbeat was loud in my ears. If Williams had a pulse of his own, I wouldn't have been able to hear it over mine. I felt his answer on my lips more than heard it.
"Clever girl."
For some reason, my first thought when they pressed against mine was, his lips should have been cold. They weren't, a hint of heat grew and spread from his lips to mine, and through the rest of my body until I was a pool of gentle warmth, my muscles loose and yet tight at the same time. My hand lay loosely against his hip, there more to keep contact with him than to hold myself up. Williams was doing that all on his own, one hand twined in my hair while the other pressed against the small of my back, pushing me into him.
I'd seen the past, and I'd seen the future, but I hadn't seen time stop until then. The steady tick-tock of the unseen clock slowed until it stopped altogether. When I opened my eyes, I could see tiny particles hanging suspended, waiting patiently to continue on their journeys. The air was so thick, so full of the moment, breathing it was like inhaling maple syrup.
Keeping my eyes open was too hard, and I closed them again as Williams's mouth moved over mine. I hadn't been wrong when I'd assumed he'd had a few lifetimes of experience and knew how to use each one of them. Gradually, all the tightness went out of my muscles and even though Williams held me in a firm grasp, I felt my knees give way. I let out a little whimper of disappointment when the move pulled my lips from his. His mouth swallowed it up as he shifted us smoothly, as if he'd anticipated such a thing.
I think we could have stayed forever in that moment, in the kiss, as impossible as it seemed, if a few things hadn't happened. The first was the sound of someone cursing furiously, in what sounded like French. With it, everything---sound, time, gravity--- poured back in on us. I felt my pulse accelerate until I thought my heart would burst from the sudden pressure. I pulled back, gasping for air as my lungs fought furiously to inhale and the air around me fought for me to exhale.
Williams helped me slide to the floor, pushing my head between my legs, kneading the back of my neck. I don't know what the conversation above me entailed as it was conducted in French at a furious pace, with people joining in at random moments, but I had the feeling at least one person was not happy with the pair of us kissing. Probably more, as the yelling increased.
How long the argument would have gone on I have no idea, except Gillian and Williams had the brilliant idea of asking me my opinion of me kissing him. They asked simultaneously, in French. When I raised my head and gave them a confused look, they both exhaled a deep breath.
"Gillian is concerned you were... forced into kissing me," Williams explained, throwing her a look full of disgust. Gillian crossed her arms and returned his look with one of her own.
"Right. Because in the brief time you've known me, you've been able to use force at every juncture, and I've just followed as meekly as a lamb." I sent Gillian a withering look of my own before shaking my head. "Any more concerns, Mother Superior, or does that cover it?"
The second thing that would have brought an end to the perfect moment, if it hadn't been interrupted by angry chaperones, was the peal of the doorbell. You would have sworn there were a thousand church bells in one little button. And the longer you pushed the button, the louder and angrier the bells got.
One of the guard stepped around the pile Williams and I were making on the floor. I noticed the slight bulge at his back, and when I would have asked what it was, Williams laid a finger over my lips. I glared at him, but kept quiet. The hall had gone silent, except for the rejuvenated clock. There was a click to my right, and I turned my head to see one of my guard crouched on the stairs with an absolutely enormous gun in his hand.
On a silent three count, the guard at the door grasped the knob and wrenched the door open, moving to block Williams, Gillian and I as the rest of the guard moved forward. The bells were finally silenced, and the guards gathered in front of the door, staring down at something on the stoop. One of them called back to Williams and he and Gillian stared at each other.
My heart was still pounding, but now it was adrenaline making it race. "What's at the door?"
"The guard will take care of it. Right now, you need to familiarize yourself with the house, and---."
I cut Gillian off, pushing to my feet despite the continued wooziness I was feeling. "I want to see. What's at the door?"
I was already moving down the hall when Williams made to grab my arm. I eluded his grasp easily. I pushed the guard aside, it was easier thought than done considering the fact one of them had twice my body mass. Eventually, I pushed to the front to stand next to the one who had opened the door. He caught me before I fell to my knees.
Izzy was laid out on the narrow stoop, as peacefully as if she were sleeping. She was eerily reminiscent of a corpse, lacking only the pine box. Someone, in a sick attempt at humor, had wound her rosary through Izzy's hands, clasping them over her heart.
I wasn't aware of holding my breath until my lungs begun to burn. I let it out on a sob, clamping a hand over my mouth in an effort to contain the sound. I felt the shifting of bodies behind me, and let Williams pull me back into the house, my knees giving way completely. I pressed a fist to my heart, rocking back and forth, tears streaming down my face.
The hall was utterly silent except for the sounds I made. Eventually they fell away to whimpers. When Williams knelt in front of me, I lifted my head, locking eyes with him. My voice was low and quivered with fury when I spoke.
"When Hart dies, I want my face to be the last thing he sees."
The sun's first rays colored the horizon when I laid my head on the pillow and closed my eyes. I would have traded damn near anything for an hour of absolute quiet and solitude. Not everything -- but I would have traded quite a bit, for an hour without someone hovering over me.
Under the direction of Williams and Gillian, Izzy's body had been checked to make sure she was truly dead and not just in the first stages of turning. The only good piece of news - that her neck was snapped -- meant there was no way she had been turned. One of the guards advised she most likely hadn't felt anything more than a brief snap of pain.
My eyes watered for a moment before I rubbed them with my palms. Izzy hated any kind of pain. If she broke a nail she'd whine for a half hour, minimum. If she had to die for no reason, at least she hadn't suffered.
There had been a brief argument over what to do with her body. We couldn't leave it on the front steps. Gillian wanted to burn the remains to make absolutely certain she wasn't going to rise. Apparently a snapped neck wasn't enough proof for her. I knew Izzy's mom enough to say that if Izzy disappeared without a trace, she'd have the city in an uproar looking for her.
In the end we staged an elaborate, painstakingly detailed accident in her apartment bathroom. My guards did most of the work, with Gillian and Williams once again doing the directing. If they were looking for some sign of the leader of the Covenant, or whatever I was, to move to the forefront they were disappointed. I stood, watched without lifting a finger, or offering comment. I wasn't hollowed out, empty, or any of those things they say are normal when you experience death. I just couldn't seem to connect what was going on with reality.
God, I was so tired. Every part of me ached, in a way that reminded me of winter nights when none of us had been able to score enough cash for a hotel room and the shelter was full. The cold chilled right down to the bones, sucked you dry, no matter how hard you fought to stay warm. That's how tired I felt - achy and dry.
The closer it got to sunrise, the more nervous everyone got. I could barely tell the difference, but the others seemed able to discern we were running out of time without being told in any way. We left Izzy's apartment an hour before sunrise, and the ride back to the Crossroads - the proper name for my new home - was only slightly less terrifying than being in a professional race car. We made it in one piece and I decided to save the complaining for a time when it was a bigger deal.
The guards scattered through the house again, and before you could say the word "chaperone", Gillian gripped my arm and frog-marched me up the stairs, leaving Williams to stand at the bottom. I managed to turn my head at the top for a quick look and caught the half smile he was fond of before Gillian herded me down a long hallway, presumably toward a bedroom.
She did take me to a bedroom, but only to drop me on the bed, plant herself on a chaise, and read me the riot act as far as Williams was concerned. I tuned out ten seconds into her speech. I've never been one for taking directions, even less so when it relates to my personal life. Gillian noticed, and zapped me with a little of her extra energy, anger, or plain bitchiness.
After I quit yelping and rubbing the singed hair on my right arm, she continued. "You cannot allow your lust to overtake your common sense. Believe me when I say these types of things always end badly."
"Anastasia. Funny movie, although I don't think you got the quote quite right. I know you didn't get the voice." I flopped back on the bed and pulled a pillow over my face. I wondered if it was stuffed with feather down because it sure as hell felt like it. The fluffy cushion was heaven to my tired senses. "Geez, Gillian, lighten up. I may not be able to set people on fire like others in the room, but I know when someone's pissing on my shoes and telling me it's raining."
"Just like your mother. So sure you know what you're doing." I could hear her voice through the pillow, an odd combination of anguish, regret, and exasperation. "Even the smartest people can be fooled, it doesn't make them any less, it makes them more human."
I sat up, tossing the pillow aside to tilt my head and stare at her curiously. "I think that's the least critical thing you've said to me in the short time I've known you. And, truth be told, vaguely insulting." Pulling my t-shirt off, I tossed it toward the hard-backed chair by the bathroom door, giving a small "whoo-hoo" when it draped over the back. My bra and track pants were going to have to stay on. As much as I would love to strip down completely and turn my brain off, I wasn't getting naked in a house full of strangers.
"I'm well aware that my personality is fairly abrasive, but being in a position of authority does not afford one the luxury of being polite and tender when dealing with allies and enemies." Gillian rubbed her eyes, one of the few signs of weakness I'd seen from her, and pursed her lips before continuing. "We, Williams and I, have placed the lives of hundreds of people in your hands. Perhaps you can understand our -- my -- position better, knowing the Covenant's future lies with your ability and willingness to learn."
"Well, nice of you to make sure I know there's no pressure." When she opened her mouth to respond with an equally snarky comment, I held a hand up, palm out. "Seriously, can we just table this until we've both slept? I'm not at my best without sleep, and if we're going to be throwing fireballs or moving mountains, or whatever the hell I have to learn how to do, I'd like a little sleep before I have to start learning."
Gillian rubbed her eyes again, a gesture I could understand. It doesn't really make you feel any better, but it helps.
"One day−."
"I swear, if you say one day 'when you're older', I will throw a temper tantrum without the aid of magic that will make you look like an amateur."
My threat fell on deaf ears as Gillian continued speaking over me. "I'll tell you more about your parents, and hopefully you'll better appreciate the delicate position you're in. Until that time, I trust you'll rest well. You've little need for alarm during the day with a house of trained warriors."
"Yippee," I muttered into the pillow, pulling the unbelievably soft sheet and comforter up to just under my chin. "For now, I'm serious about the checking out thing. We'll talk more when I wake up. Later. Much later."
I was ninety percent asleep before I finished speaking. Maybe I dreamed it, because it didn't strike me as something Gillian would do, but I would have bet she tucked the covers around me and dropped a kiss on my forehead on her way out.
I'm not sure how long I slept. Not long, because the first thing I noticed when I jolted out of my slumber was the sun shining through the windows. It turned the pretty, thin curtains transparent, a pale film of blue on the otherwise heavy air.
I'd been told the windows were specially tinted to allow in light but not UV rays. My look of confusion had been met with one sentence. "The whole exploding in daylight thing."
Williams was such a smartass.
The second thing to tip me off was the pounding in my head. Worse than your worst hangover ever pounding. I'm relatively good with pain -- thank you, Mother Superior -- but this was excruciating. Running on empty followed by not nearly enough sleep always gave me a bad headache, but this was outlandish. If my head could have rolled off my shoulders, it would have felt better.
The third thing weighing in on my not having slept long was the guard in the chair across from me. He looked very much like he wanted to kill instead of protect.
Thoughts about why he was relaxing in what was probably an authentic piece of Art Nouveau furniture -- with a very long, scary blade in his lap -- made the pain in my head explode.
We sat there for a moment. Me -- bleary-eyed and only partially dressed. Him -- alert, scary and dressed. The bedside clock's ticking echoed in the room, and the silence stretched until it was thinner than thread, begging to be broken. I was more than happy to oblige.
"I assume you're going to try and kill me?"
The guard, who was supposed to be on my side, nodded, his shaved head shining dully in the late morning sun. I couldn't stop staring at the tattoos covering his face and what I could see of his upper body. It reminded me of Celtic knot work, but it seemed... off. It was still beautiful work, starkly black against his glowing white skin; but it was wrong.
"I don't intend to try, Prophecy. I was sent because I'm the best assassin seen in the past seven hundred years." He smiled briefly, amused. "Well, I suppose I haven't really been seen -- but my work definitely has."
"Looking to share your resume, boast a little?" I let the sheet drop to my waist, thankful beyond reason I had kept some of my clothes on. I was also thankful that men, no matter their age or species, are men. His slim fingers stilled for a moment in their massaging of the knife blade, his eyes traveling south before rising back to my face. When he met my eyes, I made sure to keep them blank -- why, no, Mr. Looking to Kill Me, I wasn't trying to distract you with my marvelous cleavage. After a moment, he spoke again.
"I usually just complete my assignment and collect the remainder of my fee. Seeing as I'm a few hours ahead of schedule, I suppose I could take a few minutes to share some of my exploits." This time, the smile was genuine when he asked, "Perhaps you've heard that Hitler and his mistress were killed in the bombing of their safe house by Allied forces?"
I stared at him; slack jawed, forgetting this was not the time to be impressed by a guy's job. "You're telling me you killed Hitler and Eva Braun? No way. Seriously?"
He laughed a deep, joyous sound so at odds with the conversation and situation it was more than a little freaky. "I must say, it's almost too bad I have to kill you. It's been a long time since anyone has been so amused with my accomplishments. He made the grave error of sending more than a few vampires to the concentration camps, turning them over to his horrible doctors as "subjects" in their various experiments. His reasoning was anything that killed an undead would truly kill mere humans. He was, quite simply, pure evil."
I blinked, thrown off by the last words he spoke. "Pure evil? Like Satan and the Anti-Christ pure evil?"
He laughed again and rose. His boots made loud thuds as he crossed to sit on the edge of the mattress. The look in his eyes now was one I was very, very familiar with. Sometimes, you have to let the people who only get off on hearing you scream, get off. Survival is much more important than a misplaced sense of pride.
His fingertips running up and down my arm made the hairs there stand on end, something else he found amusing. This close, I could see his eyes were black. Not that he had a large pupil, but the iris was the dark ink of midnight. For some reason, the detail freaked me out like nothing else in our encounter had. The sudden racing of my pulse made him smile, which only served to scare me even more, if possible at this point.
"No, Prophecy, pure evil is something so rare that those who have been touched by it are invariably changed." His hand slid over my naked stomach, and I felt my muscles tremble. "Even Lucifer, in all his evil, was once chosen of God. And, though he was cast out of heaven, he retains the beauty and grace that placed him so near to the Almighty. The Anti-Christ, when he arrives, will share his father's beauty and charisma -- these things will draw people to him."
His cold hand trailed upwards, cupping my left breast. I wanted to break his hand, every bone in it, but it would have to wait a few minutes. His eyes shone with amusement as he massaged my flesh, almost like he was waiting for me to yell, cry, or beg.
"You are remarkably self-possessed. Or maybe you prefer a little danger with your mating?" One finger dipped below the lace of the bra, flicking across my nipple, and he chuckled when it peaked in response. "I might be able to indulge you. Pity, truly, that I still have to kill you in the end."
"Yes, that part is truly a pity." Slowly, cautiously, I moved one hand to brush over his face, tracing his tattoos with one finger, edging closer to his eyes. I didn't know if I'd be able to do it, but I would damn well try, and before he got most of his clothes off. "I only ask that you move the knife out of reach, at least until we're finished." His eyes narrowed. I leaned forward until I could lick his lips, laving them gently, unsurprised when his body twitched. "I have a feeling it would put me off my game, if you understand what I mean."
Men, no matter their age or species are men, and this person sent to kill me reacted in the same way any fifty year old pot-bellied trick on the street would. He did exactly as I said, dropped the knife to the floor and kicked it away. If women would get over using sex as a weapon, they'd rule the world in one or two months, tops.
Weapon discarded, he pushed me back onto the mattress, balancing my lower body on his knees. His body, when he pulled his shirt off, was impressively muscled and covered with more of the somehow wrong tattoos. Needing just a few more minutes, I asked, "Why so much ink?" You only need a short question to get a five-minute monologue from a man.
Taking my hands, he did exactly as I hoped he would and ran my fingers over the various tattoos. One for Hitler -- the largest, because Hitler was pure evil; a pair for the Kennedy brothers and one in a similar vein for Kennedy, Junior; a surprisingly pretty and delicate one for the Queen of Scots; another for Lincoln, which made me ask if he was responsible for all U.S. president assassinations -- to which he responded, "Only the ones that succeeded." The more he talked, the higher he drew my hands and the closer he moved to me. Only a few more inches, and I could hopefully execute my plan.
The ones closest to his eyes were marks from his killing of Jack the Ripper and there was no mistaking how excited my exploration of his tattoos was making him. His hands dropped away from mine, moving toward his belt buckle, and I knew this was my only chance. Taking a deep breath and reminding myself that now was not the time to be a total girl, I settled my thumbs over his eyeballs and pressed hard.
Apparently I got a boost of strength with being the Prophecy. Even though I pressed hard, hooking my thumbs to make sure I'd sever the optic nerve, there was absolutely no way humanly possible I could have pushed them hard enough to do the job in under a second. I ignored the wet plop on my skin as his eyes fell out, drove my knee up with all the force I could, and twisted my body to make sure he wouldn't fall on top of me.
The horribly loud and keening screams he let loose were enough to make every hair on my body stand on end. My breath coming in shallow pants, I twisted, pulled and shoved myself off the mattress, hitting the hardwood floor with a thud I hoped would get someone's attention, although I had a feeling the man's screams would do a better job.
Unfortunately, my thud tipped him off to my location. Even without his eyes -- my stomach rolled involuntarily at the thought -- he was still deadly as hell. I scrambled to my feet a split second before he leaped, growling, and landed right where I had been. The door, when I rattled the knob, was locked with a key I was betting Super-Assassin had in one of his pockets.
Great. Just great.
"You won't make it out of this room alive, Prophecy. I've been paid well to ensure you don't continue your rise to power, and I've yet to not complete an assignment." We were circling each other, a deadly game of cat and mouse, and I had no doubt which one I was. "I might have let you die with some dignity, with a lack of pain, but now. Now, I'll enjoy every scream."
I bumped into the bed, and began crawling backward over it , never taking my eyes from him. Whatever he'd done to my guards, it was pretty obvious they weren't coming. Which meant I got to play with Super-Assassin all by myself. Oh, goodie.
You can manifest fire. You can end him now. You know how.
Gillian's voice rang in my head, and with it a light switched on. She was right; I knew how to make one of those crazy fireballs. Like it had been waiting there all along for something to trigger it, suddenly, there it was.
Concentrating, I took a deep centering breath. I felt the heat rise and focused, pushing it down my arm until the length of it burned, and my palm was an angry, fiery red. I began to think my hand was going to turn to ash, when the flames began to push through my skin, little licks of fire, the smell of pure heat filling the room. The faster I breathed, the higher the flames leapt, and my hopes soared.
I was going to live.
With a growl, he darted forward, and I instinctively thrust my hand into his face, gripping it tight. He began to struggle and smoke and the smell of burning flesh filled the room. The flames covered his face, ran down his body; yet, my hand and arm remained untouched, felt cooler. Giving a little push, I released him, watching him shriek and wallow on the floor.
The door blasted open behind me, and I craned my neck to see the doorway filled with people, Gillian and Williams at the forefront. Turning back to watch Super-Dead-Assassin convulsing and ashing away on the floor, I remarked absently, "I think we have a few kinks in the guard program."
I spat into the toilet a final time, the taste in my mouth beyond description. I'd been throwing up for the better part of an hour. The heavy mass of my hair shielded my face, sweaty strands sticking to my cheeks and back. If I thought I had a headache before Super-Assassin, I'd been corrected after the two-second-behind arrival of the Cavalry. This was a headache -- everything else before? Child's play.
I flushed the toilet, and shifted to lean against the wall. The small movement amplified the pounding in my head, and when my left hand accidentally brushed my thigh I bit my lip to keep from whimpering. Apparently, even though I could produce fire, I needed to work on my technique a little bit - the burn probably wouldn't scar, but it would be painful for a little while. Throw in the lashes on my back, which were healing pretty darn fast but not enough to suit me -- I looked like a walking accident.
I jumped when something cool touched my arm and moaned at the cascading effect on my headache. A glass was pressed into my right hand and pills into my left. Without opening my eyes, I slugged them back, my stomach rebelling at the water. I'd had enough of the toilet, so I gritted my teeth and fought through the roll of nausea. A cold compress was placed on my left hand while my nursemaid of the moment wiped my face.
"Your mother didn't do nearly as well the first time she had to use power in a hurry. It took us nearly a week to get her back on her feet."
Gillian's voice was low, almost casual, and yet there was a certain amount of pride in her words. "Well, looks like all those years as a street-urchin are finally paying off, eh?"
Gillian chuckled, a husky sound that didn't seem to quite suit the image I'd been building of her in my head. "You did very well, considering the circumstances. If you had frozen or not pushed as hard, we might not be having this conversation." The damp towel was replaced with another, and the coolness felt like heaven on my overheated face.
"She was very lucky. Hart will not be pleased the most feared assassin among vampires was brought down by a slip of a woman, with no experience in our world."
I opened my left eye, staring out of the corner at Williams leaning against the doorjamb. "Hart can kiss my ass. If he messes with my shut-eye one more time, I'll kick his keister just for practice."
Williams threw back his head, laughing, and even Gillian couldn't resist another chuckle. Encouraged by not being scolded, I braced my back against the wall, using my right hand to push up from the floor. Gillian rose, shifting to stand in front of me, and it seemed for a moment I'd be able to stay upright without assistance.
I pushed off from the wall, swaying for a moment. It took only a second for the outer edges of my vision to cloud and fade to black. I had time to mutter "Shit," before pitching to the left. Luckily, Williams moved faster than my mere mortal self could and I wasn't halfway to the floor before he'd scooped me up like I weighed nothing. I didn't have to look at Gillian to know she was shaking her head. I didn't care.
Williams turned, carrying me back into my new bedroom. I made a mental note to have my bed moved from my apartment. There were two smaller rooms, probably former servant annexes. One was now a closet Carrie Bradshaw would have envied. The other was to house my new companion. Gillian and Williams had ganged up on me, decreeing that since it was impossible for me to be in one or the other of their presence all day and the male guard couldn't realistically go with me everywhere, I needed to have a female companion of sorts.
I wanted to wait until I was steadier on my feet, literally and figuratively, before fighting that little battle.
Williams gently deposited me on the bed, averting his gaze when the cotton robe Gillian had wrapped me in before my hour-long purge slipped open to reveal a little too much chest. Since most men actually try to see my chest, and not avoid it, his noble gesture meant a lot. It probably had something to do with being raised in a different era, but I'd take any display of chivalry at the moment. Something about being sick makes you want to be a little helpless and girly.
Gillian laid a cool cloth over my forehead, and then reached down to pull the layers of sheets and blankets over me. They turned to leave, when a question popped in my head. "Wait. How'd Super-Assassin wind up in the guard?"
"Super-Assassin? That's something he's never been called before." Williams smiled slightly, sliding his hands into his pockets. "One of Kazimir's unique talents, even among vampires, is the ability to take on the form of another. Not for an extended period of time, say, weeks, but such a feat is possible for hours, even days."
He glided over to perch on the edge of the bed, taking my left hand gently. He began tracing the angry red circle already fading from where the fireball had burst through my skin. I'm not into pain, like real pain, but something about the slide of his fingers over my skin had my nerve endings singing, and not because it hurt. There was a grumble from near the door, but I was getting good at ignoring Gillian when it suited me.
"Gossip spreads fast, more so when the news in question needs to be kept silent. Kazimir had been in the city for at least a week, waiting for a moment to fulfill the contract. When the call for your guard was sent out, he disposed of one of those selected and took his form. From there, he simply needed the right time."
My eyes met his and I was shaken at how grieved they were. "So one of the men supposed to protect me has already died? And the war hasn't even really begun yet?"
"Baptiste was a good man. His passing will cause grief among even those who've sided with Hart." Williams continued to trace my wound, his eyes somber. "He was a soldier and would not have looked upon his death as anything other than being killed while performing his duty. One he took seriously."
I swallowed, nodding my head. Less than seventy-two hours ago, my biggest worry had been how long I was going to have to play at Ms. Talanger's party. Now, two people were dead because of me. Oh, I knew it wasn't really my fault. Hart had been the one to cause their deaths; but they were dead because they had been involved in some way with me, one of them before he even knew who I was. My stomach rolled again, but I took a deep breath and waited for the queasiness to pass.
"He didn't have a family, or a girlfriend, life mate, you know, whatever you want to call it, did he?"
Williams crooked an eyebrow. "Very few vampires can have children, the dhampyr. Baptiste was too much of a warrior for such tender emotions as love."
I sighed with relief, my tense muscles relaxing. "If he'd had any connections, I'd have wanted to see them provided for, compensated in some way. His death was in the line of duty, so to speak, and deserves to be treated with all due respect."
The strangled sound Gillian made from her sentry post at the door had me shifting my gaze from Williams, and him turning his head. To my utter shock, she gave a short bow from the waist, before hurrying from the room. I widened my eyes when Williams turned back to stare at me. "Seriously, I don't even have a clue what I did this time."
Chuckling, Williams rose to stand beside the bed. "A mark of respect. Few would think to concern themselves with the survivors of a man they've never met. You do the Covenant proud, Jude Magdalyn."
Before I could say anything, he laid his head on my forehead, murmuring, "Rest."
I was asleep before he finished uttering the word.
"I'm not doing it again. I'm tired, my whole body aches. There's paper and crap everywhere that somebody, probably me, is going to have to put back in place." I threw myself into the closest chair. Huffing out a breath caused my overly long bangs to float briefly on the air. I narrowed my eyes at Gillian. "I'm not doing it, and you can't make me."
Gillian stood in the center of the debris-strewn room, arms folded serenely, hands clasped together at her waist. "You are aware you sound like a petulant child." I crossed my own arms, my annoyance ratcheting up a notch or two. "And I could, if I truly wanted to, make you continue practicing."
I rolled my eyes at her. "So says you. Even if you could, we both know you wouldn't, so as far as threats go it's not a good one." Her silence confirmed I'd pegged her and quite possibly won our first real argument. I took my reprieve to survey the damage again, wincing as I realized it was worse than I'd originally thought.
After I'd woken from my medically, and vampirically, induced sleep and taken a few steps to look slightly less like a week old non-animated corpse, I'd headed down to the first floor in the hopes of finding the kitchen. I'd figured it'd take me half the night, but some smart ass had taped little maps throughout the house. My money was on Williams. The kind with "you are here", and where everything else is in relation to your position.
I always feel slightly "special" when I have to read those maps, but I've never gotten lost using one.
I found the kitchen in less than five minutes. Even better, I found other people who'd already cooked enough food to feed an army. Some of the appliances looked like things I imagined on a space ship and I figured somebody else cooking was best for everyone. With my luck I would have made something blow up.
I grabbed a plate and piled it high with eggs, bacon, and other breakfast type foods. Sliding into a chair between two guards and across from Williams, I joked, "Keep this up and I'll be ruined for work in less than a week."
"Your work now is the Covenant. By the end of tomorrow you'll have a fully staffed house." Gillian spoke from her place at the head of the table. Like everything else in the Crossroads, it was built for large parties. By large, I meant huge. All of my guard, again at twelve, Gillian, Williams, and myself were seated comfortably, and we probably could squeeze another five or so in with us. Absolutely huge.
"The staff will be a mixture of the Covenant and the vampire faction." Williams tapped his fingers against the table, seemingly lost in thought. He brought his eyes to mine, crooking a slight smile. "It would seem to be better overprotected than under."
"And better to be trained than untrained." Gillian stood, her hair and robe swirling around her for a moment before settling. "Bring your plate. You can eat while I demonstrate the object of your first lesson. Then you may attempt it."
"Thanks so much," I muttered, but since my mouth was full of food, Gillian didn't hear me. Williams did, thanks to his extra human senses, and the guard to my right tried to hide his laugh in a cough.
"Laughing will only encourage her," Williams remarked in a low voice. I was still chewing French toast as I stood, but I swallowed it before I followed Gillian through the door. I spun around, crossed my eyes, and stuck my tongue out at Williams. I smiled as I turned around and the room behind me erupted in laughter.
Gillian was tapping her foot impatiently where she stood waiting at the break in the hallway, waiting for me catch up before continuing further into the maze. I tried to remember where we turned, but after the second dogleg after the flight of stairs I gave up. I was going to have to see about those maps being placed through the whole of the building. To be honest, I'm sure we weren't even in the main building anymore.
Finally after a ten minute hike during which I managed to finish clearing my plate, Gillian stopped in front of a big, wooden door. It looked older than the house, the city - hell, it looked older than God although that last was probably gross exaggeration.
"This room has been sealed since word of your mother's death. Until the leader of the Covenant says it may be opened, it remains shut."
"So why didn't you open it, since you've been leading the Covenant?"
Gillian stared at me for a moment before closing her eyes and shaking her head. "Only the true leader, no one else, not even an acting leader, can open the door. It was charmed thusly to prevent any imposters or usurpers. If the door doesn't open, the person is not the true leader."
I looked at the door, tilting my head to the side to study it for a moment. This was a pretty important door. I reached out to touch it, get a feel for the spell. My fingers were a half-inch from its surface when the door swung gently inward. I glanced over my shoulder at Gillian, whose mouth was slightly open in shock.
"I'm going to guess that's usually not how the door-opening thing works."
Gillian swallowed, rubbing her throat with a shaky hand. "Traditionally a verse is spoken, a prayer offered, the spirits acknowledged." She let out a weak laugh, her hand dropping away. "You seem to be the long awaited prodigal for more than just the people."
Not sure what to say, I turned back toward the open door and stepped inside. I nearly dropped the plate in my hand in disbelief. This room put all the others I'd seen to absolute shame, at least size-wise. It was three individual areas melded together, almost like a studio. Half of the walls were lined with bookshelves up to the ceiling, at least fourteen feet high. There was a fully-equipped kitchen, minus a table, which made me think you probably weren't cooking dinner here.
In the center, three circles were etched into the stone floor. The center was perhaps three feet in diameter, the next nine feet, and the last twelve. If the Covenant was even a tenth as large as Gillian hinted at, there was no way everyone could meet down here at one time. This was a big place, but it wasn't that big.
"How the hell does this place not flood? I mean, we are underground, below sea level, right?"
"Magic." Well, of course. Why didn't I guess that?
"Rites are performed twice a month, for three days surrounding the time of the new moon, and three surrounding the time of the full moon." Gillian moved from behind me to walk the path of the outer circle. "The Council meets here, for worship and for business. When the room is open, that is."
"The Council? When were you planning on telling me about them?" It never failed, just about the time I'd get used to things, something else would get thrown in the mix. I was going to develop weak nerves in less than a year, I'd bet on it.
"In time." Gillian strode to the center of the room, the center of the circles, her robe winging around her. "For now, we need to focus on harnessing your powers, so as to produce visible, purposeful results." And with that, she threw her arms in the air - and the room was full of rushing air, rough and dry against my skin.
Luckily, I was wearing something more substantial than my usual tank top and jeans, a long-sleeved black shirt protected me from the worst of the windstorm. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I raised my voice to carry over the sound of the wind, my hair whipping around me. "Do you think you could tone down the sandpaper factor a little? I've got sensitive skin."
Nailing me with a withering look, Gillian dropped her arms, the wind dying away. Pulling one hand out to brush the hair out of my face, I said, "Thanks, it's a little easier to talk this way, too. So, is it just that simple, or is there more to it, like an incantation?"
"The arms are something my mentor got me into the habit of doing." Gillian gestured me forward to join her in the circle, turning me so my back was to her as she stood slightly behind me and to my left. Taking my hands, she turned them palm up, careful to stay away from the fading burn mark on my left hand. "One summons air in the same way as the other elements, with a few brief words, imagery, and will."
"Any words in particular or just throw them together?" I was paying close attention, probably the closest since the bomb had been dropped about my parents. I'm not going to say I wanted to make Gillian, or even my long-dead parents, proud. I didn't feel like getting the look from Gillian that usually meant utter disappointment. Those looks were really starting to wear on me.
She murmured the phrase into my ear and I repeated the words. Closing my eyes, I tried to see the wind moving around me like Gillian had done. No luck. Not even a single wisp. I tried again, and again.
Somewhere around hour three, sheer temper produced short bursts of windy fury. Gillian crossed her arms, unruffled in spirit or in person. "Again."
Now, it was close to four in the morning, and I'd been trying to move air for five hours. As pissed off and disgruntled as I was, Gillian took it all in stride.
"Your mother wasn't able to stir air of any sort for a good week after she was shown how. Members of the Covenant who can call air, even our more powerful ones, take two, three, sometimes four times as long." She looked around the room, a single page floated to the floor. "You are actually doing remarkably well. If you could control your temper, you would progress even further."
As much as I didn't want to, hearing her say how good I was doing was enough to get me out of the chair. I still glared at her as I marched past, but went back to the center of the circle. I took a few deep breaths to center myself. I opened my mouth to whisper the words, then shut it again.
When I'd been on the streets for a while, I noticed there were various code-words. Not code, because none of us had the time to sit down and work on something quite that complex. Just an easier way to get word out when time was short. If the word cowboy started making its way up and down the street, the drug slingers would close up shop. The lead detective on the drug patrol had a habit of wearing cowboy boots, more often than not. And so it went, different words summed up a sentence or two in less than a second.
Why can't the same thing work now? Ignoring Gillian, I closed my eyes, and took another deep breath. What word? The thought bounced around for a few seconds before coming back with hurricane. Swallowing hard, I thought of the outer edges of a storm, the word ringing in my ears.
For a moment I thought it wasn't going to work, but then I felt it, light puffs of constant air, flowing around me. When it lasted longer than a minute, I heard Gillian clap her approval. I wanted to see how far I could push the hurricane thought and let the storm in my head move closer to land. To my surprise, and Gillian's, the wind blew faster, the fallen papers caught up and spun around. After a moment, I pushed it a little more, thrilled when the wind took on a bite, buffeting me.
I couldn't reasonably throw all my power, however much it was, into the air in such a confined space. I might be crazy sometimes, but never suicidal. Inhaling, I sent the storm back the direction it'd come from. Once I had the image of a massive storm in my head, it was much easier to control how hard and fast the wind blew.
When the air was still again and the last rustle of falling paper stilled I opened my eyes. Gillian stood with her hands clasped at her waist, a smile playing across her lips. I tried for the same serene look, but ruined it with a fit of laughter. When I regained control, Gillian crooked an eyebrow and said something that normally would have pissed me off but I let it go in the joy of the moment.
"I told you I could make you continue practicing."
"Brick dust, brick dust, brick dust. If I were brick dust, where would I be?" Fisting my hands on my hips, I scanned the shelf where it should have been for the fifth time. Again, nothing. Unless I was blind, which was entirely possible given the lack of lighting in the storeroom. Rooms. Whatever.
They were a series of rooms, containing every possible ingredient for spells and a few random odds and ends. When I'd jokingly asked Gillian where the pickled bat's wing was, she'd absently replied, "Second room, second row to the left, third section down, middle shelf." I'd doubled checked to see if she was serious. I should have known better. Of course she was serious.
Again, I hoped for a map.
I didn't get one, more like the Dewey decimal system for spell ingredients, which, I guess, was the next best thing. Thankfully, someone had been keeping the whole kit and caboodle in order, because the system had proven to be spot on. With the exception of the brick dust. I wanted to be absolutely sure it wasn't there before I asked for help finding it. The less to look like an idiot when I called for assistance.
"You would appear to be out."
My eeping was beginning to be a rather common sound around Williams. At least my hands were empty so there was nothing to drop. Turning to my left to face him, I asked, "Is it possible for you to make the slightest bit of noise when wandering around? Just so those of us who have a heartbeat aren't given a heart attack?"
"I could endeavor to do so, although it would be an absolute trial."
I narrowed my eyes at him, pretty sure there was sarcasm underneath his bored tone of voice. I guess when you've spent a couple hundred years dressed to kill, no pun intended, you assume people are too dazzled by how you look to pay attention to what you say and how you say it. Not that he looked any less fabulous than usual. He must own a hundred cream colored shirts and tailored dark chocolate slacks, because that's all I ever saw him in.
I, on the other hand, was wearing my oldest and most wonderfully comfortable jeans; and for a change of pace, a red tank top instead of black. Yep, chock full of fashion sense. We looked like the Prince and the Fashion Disaster next to each other.
"Right. Shooting a crossbow barely makes you break a sweat, but making noise is just way out of your league."
His casual step forward had me taking an equally casually one back. The last two times we'd been face to face things had heated up. Not that I'd be overly adverse to it, but Gillian had been in such a good mood, I'd hate for something to spoil it.
And I really, really wanted to find the brick dust.
"I was a hunter of humans for over a hundred years, Jude Magdalyn. What one couldn't take by flattery was often taken by force." There was a flash of grief in his eyes, gone almost as soon as it appeared. His left hand tremored for a moment, although I don't think he realized it. "Stillness is much more of an asset than a detriment."
"Still, it's probably a lot easier for you to walk loudly than it is for me to not nearly jump out of my skin when you just pop up all of a sudden." I was nearing the end of the aisle, maintaining a safe distance between the two of us despite his continued movement forward. I tucked my bangs behind my ear, my head canted to the right. "Unless, of course, you enjoy scaring the bejesus out of me."
"What, exactly, is the bejesus? Some body part akin to the appendix, that a person doesn't really need but if something adversely affects it the situation is bad?" My back hit the wall, and I had a split second to decide to slide left or right or stay put. Williams patiently waited for an answer to his question, and a clue as to which way I was going to go. When I didn't move, he took another step forward. "Do you have an answer, Jude Magdalyn, because I confess it's a question I've had for quite some time now."
"At the moment, I seem to be out of answers for odd yet highly interesting questions." I also seemed to be out of common sense. The idea of keeping Gillian happy for a little bit longer was rapidly inching toward the window of oblivion the closer Williams got. The man was like walking erotica - not too sleazy, just enough to push your buttons.
When he took the last step that brought him to me, fronts touching just enough to tease, I couldn't help the shiver that ran through me. I was getting used to the shivers a lot faster than him showing up out of nowhere. His arms came up to brace against the wall, eyes boring into mine.
"You seem to be very up close and personal."
"You draw me in like the light of salvation."
I swallowed hard, the noise incredibly loud in the stillness surrounding us. "I'm nobody's salvation. I'm just as much a sinner as everyone else. Maybe more."
"Are you? Have you taken a life, Jude Magdalyn, for no reason other than you were bored and it was good sport?" His hot breath in my ear, made me arch my neck. I had to wet my lips before answering.
"I've worked the streets, selling whatever was handy to get by."
I bit my lip when his tongue traced the edges of my ear lobe, my nails dug into my palm, my eyelids fluttered closed. "That's survival, Jude Magdalyn. The Church would forgive it if you asked."
"I've stolen, lied, all with premeditation."
"None of which are mortal sins, Jude." I let out a groan when his teeth scraped over the space right below my ear. It was like he had detailed instructions on exactly where to touch me to make me weak and mindless. He was doing a good job of following them. "The Church wouldn't take me back even if I begged. I think in the game of who's the larger sinner, I win."
It took me a moment, because it was difficult to breathe with him moving his teeth over the one spot, and one hand trailing back and forth over my stomach. I managed to get enough breath to rasp out, "The Church may excommunicate. God doesn't."
He froze, suddenly so still I almost thought he'd be gone when I opened my eyes, and I'd realize the last fifteen minutes were a figment of my imagination. He wasn't, but the look in his eyes when he drew back made me wish he was. Rage, regret, pain. If what was there could have manifested, it would have drowned New Orleans in a deluge to make Katrina look like a light summer rain. I shivered again, but not from want this time.
I was scared.
Williams realized it, and before I could blink he was a foot away. Some small thing caught his eye, and his voice was a smooth brush of silk when he spoke again. "The last person to use your supply of brick dust seems to have replaced it improperly. Next to the bottle of dried chamomile." He spun on his heels and the steady thump of his feet on the stone floors echoed for a minute before dying away completely.
Once I was sure he was gone, my knees gave way, and I slid down the wall. Leaning my head back against the wall, I took a few deep breaths, and tried to get my lungs to work properly again. The canister of brick dust glinted in the dim light, mocking me.
"Screw you and the mason who dropped your ass."
"Jude, you've been ignoring me for the last ten minutes. I would be secure in saying you have no idea what I've just told you."
Since I'd actually been ignoring Gillian for more like fifteen or twenty minutes, I didn't bother to correct her. I was intent on finishing my experiment and if what she had to say was really all that important, then she could tell me again. Or do the zappy thing she was fond of.
My encounter with Williams had wiped me out, especially on the heels of my five plus hours of training with Gillian. While calling air had been a big entry on the plus side of things, being semi-seduced and scared silly in the span of fifteen minutes was an equal in the negative column. When you look at it that way, the day was even and I was exhausted.
The night, or rather the day, had apparently passed uneventfully. When I woke up around seven, after a good twelve hours of sleep, there weren't any assassins or dead bodies in my room. Which for me meant the day, or night, was off to a really good start. Thirty minutes later, my masterpiece of a shower had cleared out all the cobwebs and I skipped breakfast to go hunt down the brick dust again. One of my guards, with the unique name of Tancrede, kindly pointed out the other way down to the storerooms. After finding the brick dust, I gathered up the rest of what I would need and headed toward the Ritual Room, or the R.R.
Gillian had informed me the kitchen in the R.R. was for spell-mixing. Everything in it had been cleansed and blessed, and ready for use once you got past the dust. If I could deal with vampire assassins, a little thing like allergies was so not going to get in my way.
I don't know how long I was down there before Gillian found me, but I knew how long she'd been there. And since she was pacing and swirling and gesturing, I even had a pretty good idea what she was so pissy about. So for me, deciding between paying attention to her and paying attention to what I was doing was pretty much a no-brainer.
She stopped in my line of sight, and I blinked to bring her into focus. "What, precisely, is so important that you cannot pay even the slightest attention to the discussion we're having?"
I refrained from pointing out it wasn't a discussion so much as a lecture. "A little security system. Maybe. I'm not sure."
"Well, that was informative." I hope one day I can sound as scornful and sarcastic as Gillian does. Her we're so worried, whatever shall we do act had worn thin pretty fast. I liked the real Gillian better. "I'm not sure if it'll work, but I figured I'd give it a shot. Although, I was doing much better when I wasn't being distracted by irate figures who know I'm trying to ignore them."
Rounding the island counter to stand next to me, Gillian peered down at the ingredients spread on the surface. "Brick dust. Rowan wood. Holy water." She turned her head to look at me, eyes puzzled. "I confess, I haven't the slightest idea what you're attempting here, Jude."
"That makes me feel so much better," I muttered, raking my fingers through my hair. Unlike Gillian's, which had fallen back into place once she stopped moving back and forth semi-frantically, my hair was tangling with me standing in one place. I tugged at the knots for a moment before giving up.
"Brick dust is laid across a doorway to prevent any living person who means you harm from entering." Gillian nodded, and I continued my explanation. "The rowan tree was laid across the door to protect the inhabitants, traditionally, in Ireland."
My fingers ran lightly over the bottle of holy water. There wasn't a great deal, and I made a note to see what needed to be done about replenishing it. Given the current supernatural climate, it seemed to be one of those things you should have too much of rather than not enough. Better safe than sorry, or dead.
"And holy water is something vampires are highly non-compatible with."
"Well, that's one way of saying it." Gillian waited a beat, and then tapped her fingers on the counter. "I'm still not sure what you're getting at."
"Maybe nothing. But if you could soak the rowan wood in the holy water, sort of making an essence of rowan, you could add it to the brick dust." I realized I was tapping my fingers to the same internal beat Gillian was, and forced myself to stop. "If the brick dust recognizes the living, the holy water the undead, and the rowan anyone with ill-will..."
"Then you've covered all your bases." Gillian shook her head, laughing softly. "Ingenious, Jude. Well thought out." She pinched the brick dust, rubbing it between her thumb and forefinger. "You're right, it should work. Laid across all doors, windows - all entrances, the house should be well protected."
There it was again, a flush of pride and accomplishment. I hated to admit it, but the feeling was addictive. "Well, thanks. I don't want to tell anybody what's in the brick dust, because it's easy for people to change their thoughts, and then they'd be able to get around the rowan wood."
"Again, a good idea." Gillian sighed, and I knew we'd shifted from the moment of togetherness back to business. "Unfortunately, the arrival of the Council is going to postpone your experimentation."
I choked on air, something you think would be impossible to do. Gillian was helpful enough to give me a few thumps on the back, and for the first time in three days, it didn't cause an avalanche of pain. "Sorry, I thought you were ranting about something else. Guess I should check in a little more often during your tirades."
"Amusing. Come, the Council as a whole is not patient. Mostly because one half despises the other, two thirds are less powerful than the other third, and individually they're more neurotic than even you." Not realizing, or caring about the insult, Gillian rubbed her hands together briskly, shaking free the last of the brick dust. "Out of the eleven that comprise it, maybe three are worthy of their position."
"Wow. I pretty much assumed the only thing that got you this worked up was me kissing Williams." Rubbing my hands on my jeans, I pulled my hair back into a loose ponytail in an attempt to look less like a rag-a-muffin.
"Most of the Council annoy me. You and Williams...frighten me."
I stopped, funnily enough in the exact center of the three circles. "Forgive me if I sound naïve, but I'm under the impression you don't really scare easy. If at all."
"Years of practice at hiding emotions." Gillian grasped my elbow, turning me toward her. "Entanglements such as the kind you seem to be aiming toward almost never work out. The end result is often, at minimum, heartache."
"For some people that might be the worst thing."
"Generally speaking, death is considered worse than mere heartache. Not for your mother." She sighed, folding her hands over her waist. "But you are not your mother." Her eyes had the same intensity Williams's had shown last night, serving the purpose of keeping me frozen in one place. "You are stronger than your mother. More centered, despite what you show. Your years at the orphanage and on the streets have given you a core of strength that all her years with the Covenant were unable to provide."
I waited for a moment, unsure if she was finished. "So, you're saying that being a street-urchin is really an advantage, and I wasn't being all that flippant when I said that earlier."
"No, you were, but since it was truthful it was in the best interest of the moment to ignore the flippancy." Gillian's eyes were scanning my face, searching for something. I didn't have a clue what, and I had doubts on finding out without dragging it from her. I sighed, as ready to change the subject as she was.
"There's my good news for the night." I rubbed my arms, slightly chilled. "Now that things can only go downhill, I guess it's time to go meet the Council."
As soon as I entered the informal parlor I knew I'd been absolutely right. The night was going downhill, and fast.
A pair of ice-blonde twins, a good ten years younger than me, shot me a pair of eye-fucks. A rail-thin, twitchy, man sat scratching in the far right corner, jonesing for a fix of whatever he preferred to poison himself with. To the left of the fireplace an elderly woman snored. She appeared the most approachable out of the bunch.
It was the priest standing to the side of one of the tall guillotine windows, hands clasped behind his back that sent a frisson of fear down my spine. With everything I'd gone through, to be scared of a priest was tantamount to finding out Superman was afraid of a mouse. Unless you've been raised in a Catholic orphanage, most people don't understand being afraid of priests and nuns.
He turned away from the window, a knowing smile creasing his face. I'd been caught staring. Damn. He was younger than I would have expected, no more than forty-five, but looked old for his age. It suggested he'd seen too much, too young, for it to not show on him somehow. His smile was friendly, borderline sympathetic.
"I thought the Church had a thing about psychic powers. Like they're not real, or they're from the devil."
His cheeks flushed a delicate pink. His smile grew into one I couldn't call sheepish. "Well, what the Church doesn't know won't hurt it, will it?"
Before I could think of a suitable remark, a voice across the room boomed out. "Gillian, bring the girl over here so I can get a good look at her. You know I can't see that well these days."
A chuckle made the rounds, and broke some, but not all of the tension. Shaking her head, Gillian guided me to a tiny woman perched on one of the endless amount of chairs around the room. I noticed more than a few of the people present bowed their head as we passed, although the Ice-T's, as I was starting to call the twins in my mind, continued with their demon stares. I made a mental note to re-watch Village of the Damned to see if any of those kids made it out alive - and where they might have gone if they did.
We stopped in front of the old woman - there wasn't another way to describe her. She had to be a hundred years old, and she looked like she would blow away into little particles with one good, strong wind. Her hair was long and unbound like Gillian's, although where Gillian's had gone the silvery color dark hair turns as it ages, this woman's hair was snow-white. Her hands, when they latched onto mine and tugged me to my knees in front of her, were as wafer thin as the rest of her looked.
Slowly, she patted her way up my arms, inward to my neck, each touch a little gentle glide. I kept my face motionless as her fingers roamed over my features and ran through my hair. When she let her hands drop back into her lap, I let out a small sigh of relief.
"Well, as best as I can tell, you don't have that horrible Roman nose your father did. How your mother ever got around that, I'll never know. But at least you got his skin tone, as opposed to that milk-white of your mother. She always looked half-dead, even before she was."
The boom of her voice was more staggering up close than it had been across the room. Her words startled me and knocked me from my heels to my butt. I heard a quickly muffled giggle behind me, and I had the sudden urge to see if I could call a little wind to mess with the perfect hair of the Ice-T's. Instead, I addressed the possibly crazy woman sitting in front of me.
"How is it you can't see my nose, but you can see the color of my skin?"
She loosed a foghorn laugh. "Gillian, you've not told this child nearly enough. Girl, I've been blind my whole life, but the forces that be were kind enough to grant me a second sight of sorts. Small compensation, but sometimes you take what you can get."
I waited, certain she wasn't done talking. I'd discovered the older a person gets, the less likely they are to confine answers to a simple sentence or two. Experience proved me right. "Feeling you up, which definitely wasn't as much fun as when I was younger and out on the town, is just to make sure the picture in my head matches reality. For all I know, you've got a few of those crazy piercings in hidden places, and as far as I'm concerned they can stay hidden."
"Great-grandmother Lisette, you do remember the conversations we've had about inappropriate comments." A man around my age pushed off one of the bookshelves. He blended into the background enough for me to not notice him and his sudden appearance startled me He stepped forward into the lamp light and I gave myself a mental shake. He was the kind of person you didn't not notice.
He wasn't tall, close to my height, but well-proportioned. I had the idle thought he was hopefully that way all-over, and I bit my tongue. My hormones were problematic enough around Williams, I didn't need to add a yen for a Council member into the mix. His skin, the same golden hue as mine and presumably my father's, set off the chestnut colored waves around his face. His eyes, when they met mine, were a nice, ordinary sort of brown, and amused.
He held a hand out to help me up and not to appear ungracious, I took it. He pulled me to my feet with hardly any effort, and I wondered where all the men worked out. I shoved the thought away quickly, and tried on a smile, a different sort of look for me. "Thanks."
"No problem. Great-grandmother Lisette tends to forget what's acceptable for public comment and what isn't."
"I do no such thing, boy." The old woman, Great-grandmother Lisette as he'd called her, banged her tiny fist on the chair of the arm. The force in her voice danced goose bumps over my skin. "I've reached an age where I can say whatever I damn well please, whenever I damn well please. One of the few benefits of getting old, I say."
"Yes, Great-grandmother Lisette." The un-named man rolled his eyes, making me smile wider. I didn't detect a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but his great-grandmother did.
"Stop rolling your eyes, Theophile. One of these days you're going to do that, and they'll end up pointing in opposite direction, you mark my words."
"Theophile?" The question popped out before I could practice the same thought-censoring Great-grandmother Lisette couldn't quite get down. Her grandson blushed, and it reminded me of a priest caught watching two healthy, young people semi-flirt.
If this wasn't my own version of hell, it was getting pretty close.
"Old family name. Most people just call me Theo." His hand was still holding mine, and the warmth coming off him was like being in a cocoon enveloping me. I was aware of Gillian behind me, and wondered how she was taking the idea of another guy on the scene, so to speak. When I pulled my hand away and turned back to her, a puzzled expression covered her face, but nothing approaching the disapproval the same gesture from Williams would have garnered.
"Perhaps the Prophecy could take some of her valuable time to greet the rest of the Council. If it's not too much to ask?"
The prissy, nasal voice could have only come from one of two people. Although which was going to be virtually impossible to tell. I felt more than heard Gillian sigh next to me, and I got the feeling the two little demon brats were about as high on her list of favorite people as they were on mine. In other words, they could drop off the face of the Earth and I wouldn't notice or care, unless it was to do a happy dance.
"Jude Magdalyn," Gillian shot a warning glance at the twins, careful to keep her hand on my elbow as she steered me in their direction. "These young ladies are known as Lies and Guile."
I waited for an explanation. Four, five minutes ticked by, but nothing came. I wasn't going to ask why, because if I had this thing down, they were supposed to volunteer information to me. If I had to verbally compel them to do something, I would look weak in front of the other people present, and that little bit of information would wind its way through the whole Covenant. Not going to happen.
Finally, the one on the right -- Lies, I think, let out a huff of air, stomping her foot once. The one on the left, Guile -- I hoped, narrowed her eyes. "We don't like you."
"Well, that'll just keep me up every night for the rest of my life."
She swung her arm suddenly, fingers curled and ready to claw at my face. I grabbed her hand, twisting her wrist sharply. She gasped, and her sister let out a sound perilously close to a growl. "We really don't like you."
I smiled, although it wasn't kind like the priest or Theo's had been. "That's fine. I don't have a problem telling you that I think you're both first-class bitches, and I don't like you either. But until I'm dead or replaced, you'll respect me."
"Or what?" The one who hadn't been stupid enough to try and swing on me asked, her voice on a lower register than I would have thought possible given the earlier nasal quality of their voice. I sighed, shoved the stupider one away from me, sending her into her sister and the pair of them to the floor.
"Or I'll see the pair of you replaced."
"You mean dead."
I shrugged my shoulders, sliding my hands into my pockets. "Whatever. I'm not real picky about how some things go down."
"Girls." Gillian spoke up, her tone taking on the scolding edge I was all too familiar with. "Let's see if we can control our tempers for at least tonight."
"Finally time somebody stood up to the pair of them. Little demons," the priest grumbled loud enough for the room to hear. No one commented, and I wondered if they had the same feelings or if they were just enjoying the show.
"Perhaps it might go faster if we simply stood and told who we were." Finally, somebody with a smart idea. I swiveled my head to see who was doing some thinking, and zeroed in on the man who looked like an addict. My surprise must have shown on my face, because he sent me a bitter smile. "Not exactly the look of a man who has a thought or two, is it?"
With no polite way to answer the question, I shrugged again. The man rose from his crouch, bending at the waist to send me a bow of sorts. "Rian, at your service. As best as can be managed."
"Whenever he's not higher than a kite," one of the twins muttered. I resisted the urge to slap them both across their angelic faces, just to make sure I got the right one.
Rian didn't need any help defending himself. His eyes flashed with something akin to hate, and his hands balled at his sides. "Some of us were given more difficult tasks than being bearers of ill-will, Guile. If I only had to stand in a room and breathe to accomplish my goal, I daresay my life would be much easier."
"What task do you have, Rian?" I interrupted the flow of words before they grew any more virulent. I could feel Gillian stiffening with indignation behind me; anything to keep her from going on a tirade was a small price to pay.
His eyes fell, almost as if he was ashamed. "Visions of the future. Which wouldn't be so difficult, except for the... side effects."
Now my curiosity was peaked. "Side effects?"
Rian nodded, turning and lifting the back of his shirt. I gasped, because his back was covered with scars uncannily similar to my relatively fresh marks. Dropping his shirt, he said, "I trust no more explanation is needed."
"You saw what they were going to do to my father." Picking my way through the maze of furniture, I stopped in front of him. Like Theo, he was about my height but sickeningly thin, his hair limp and dull. Rian lowered his eyes to the floor, nodding his head.
"Since that time, I've done my best to repress the visions."
"Against the advice of the Council," one of the twins interrupted nastily. I ignored her, although I could tell by the soft thump and the squeal following it that someone, probably Gillian, had smacked whichever twin had talked. I rolled up his left sleeve, studying the track marks.
"With heroin. Not the best choice, given the possible side effects of the trips."
"Members of the Council are generally as tough to kill as the leader." Rian smiled grimly. "I can handle a lot of heroin."
I thought for a moment, mulling the situation over. He was as valuable a weapon as any, and considering the current climate I couldn't afford to have him stoned out of his mind. "So you block the visions with heroin, because they're not just painful mentally, but physically."
When he made a defensive noise, I pursed my lips and shook my head. "I'm just making sure I have it right. No judgment, I'm not a fan of S&M myself. If you could have the visions without the pain, would you come off the heroin?"
Rian's eyes met mine, and through the haze of withdrawal I could see the hope and longing in them. "How?"
I tilted my head to the side, eyes closed. At some point during one of Gillian's lectures -- there were far too many of them to keep track of -- she'd brushed over something about being able to take in other people's pain. Part of the healer deal, although she still hadn't explained it to me.
"Jude, there is a fine line between making sacrifices and throwing yourself into the fire."
I ignored Gillian, trying to remember how she said it could be done. Both parties had to be willing to transfer the pain. The healer had to be strong enough, mentally and psychically, to do the transfer. I slid my hand down to grasp Rian's, my free hand going to his other hand. I eased up the grip, until my hands were hovering right over his.
There was something I was forgetting -- or didn't know. There was a lot I didn't know, and it was becoming frustrating. How was I supposed to lead hundreds of people without any idea what any of us were capable of?
Hands grasped my elbows, and by the scent enveloping me, I knew it was Gillian. Her low voice, murmured in my ear as when she'd explained how to call air. It blew lightly over my skin, drying the sweat dripping down the side of my face.
If calling air had been difficult, this was impossible. It was like doing brain surgery in the dark with no experience. Which, I guess, is what I was doing. Setting up levees, keeping some things out, letting others in. I wasn't foolish enough to take all the pain - if Rian stubbed his toe, I wouldn't know about it unless he told me.
I'd seen a few TV medical shows, so I knew a little about synapses and nerve ending and whatever else is up there. Rian's were whacked as hell, and I had to do some major rearranging. Somehow, line A had been connected to part C instead of part B, and so nerve-ending D was in hyper drive.
If I ever had to have any electrical work done at the Crossroads, I was so tipping the guy. This was damn hard.
When I finally opened my eyes, my breath came as fast as if I'd run a five-minute mile, and my hair was sticking to my neck. But Rian was smiling, and his eyes didn't look quite so hazed over. I made to drop my hands, and jumped when someone grabbed my left to place what felt like a heavy glass in it. I glanced at it long enough to see it was some sort of dark liquor, and tossed it back.
It burned going down, but helped hold back the shakes I could feel coming. The hand turned me and helped me to a chair, and I finally saw it was Theo. Gillian was attending to Rian, and the room was silent. For a moment.
"Well, it looks as if the Prophecy can do any little thing she sets her mind to. How lucky we all are."
I held up the hand unoccupied with the glass and crooked my fingers. Guile, I think, hesitated for a moment before stepping forward with a mutinous expression on her face. She knelt until our eyes were level, hers full on insolence. I had a moment's hesitation on what to do. Then she smirked.
Curling my free hand into a fist and making sure not to tuck my thumb, I managed enough energy to throw all my weight into the punch. It hurt slightly, but had the desired effect of knocking her on her ass. Fully exhausted, I slumped back in the chair, closing my eyes. The priest spoke up across the stunned room.
"I would have used an uppercut, but the girl has an excellent right hook."
I hadn't jammed any knuckles, which was good. But my hand was singing -- definitely not good, and this meeting wasn't even fully under way.
The bad omens kept piling up.
Rian had been kind enough to get me a bag of frozen peas, although Gillian had said a salve would work just as well. At this point, I was tired of the out of the ordinary and ready for the mundane. Unfortunately, that was going to happen about the time ice skating was possible in Satan's living room.
After hurried introductions by Gillian, the priest turned out to be Father O'Brien, which made me hungry by thinking of breakfast potatoes. Being hungry and with nothing else to do, I suggested we shift this disaster to the kitchen. If they weren't hungry, well, they could watch me eat.
Most of us assembled around the table. The twin I'd knocked out was in the informal parlor, although Theo and Rian had moved her from the floor to a sofa. I think they'd jostled her more than needed, but she had it coming in one way or another. Gillian hadn't made any comment, which made me wonder exactly how bad things were among the Council as a whole.
Great-grandmother Lisette thumped her fist on the kitchen table, silencing the whispering more effectively than a shotgun blast. I'd have to remember her technique for future meetings. Something told me it wasn't the thumping alone that had people ceasing their conversations and turning their heads in her direction. When you'd lived as long as she had, people tended to pay attention to you no matter what you did.
"While I've always enjoyed dinner and a show, I'd have to say now isn't the best time for it. We need to figure out what we're going to do with this war going on, and whether or not we're going to go through with this proposed alliance." Something about her tone of voice let me know where she stood - firmly on the not side.
"Proposed alliance?" I set my fork down on the plate. "The way it's been talked about, I assumed it was a done deal. And even if it's not, what's there to discuss?"
Lies spoke up from her place halfway down the table. "What's there to discuss? It's a war between vampires. The Covenant has no place in it."
The tiny murmur of agreement had me shaking my head. "It's a war between those who kill innocent people and those who don't. What does it matter if they're vampires?"
Gillian looked up from the pot she was stirring. When I'd asked her why she wasn't sitting, she'd smiled mirthlessly. "Thirteen's a tricky number. Best not to chance anything right now." I'd raised an eyebrow, especially since with Guile on the sofa there were only eleven at the table, not twelve, but accepted her statement. There was enough going on without pondering superstitions.
"Many people are of the opinion that there's no such thing as a good vampire. Or if there is, it's because they're no longer a body but a pile of ash."
The water soothed my dry throat. The streets teach you how to survive. Learning how to survive beats some down until there's nothing left. I'd seen it happen more than once, the kids who never found a way out of the alleys and out from under the overpasses.
Sometimes, learning how to survive made you see there's more than black and white in the world. There's a whole spectrum between the two, millions of shades of gray, where something can be right and wrong at the same time, or it can be neither. Survival isn't a pretty thing. It plays hell with moral systems if you're not willing to bend.
At that moment, I wondered how many sitting at the table with me would survive whatever was going to be thrown at us.
"Jude." Gillian's voice jolted me out of my thoughts, and water sloshed over the rim of the glass onto my hand. Theo, sitting on my right, silently handed me a napkin. One of the other council members, a plump, middle-aged woman whose name might have been Sarah, wrung her hands where they sat on the table. Everyone was watching me, waiting. For something.
"If Hart wins this war, there won't be any peace. Not even a trace of it. I think we all know that. He'll use any means necessary to win, which means we're already screwed."
"How can you say that? We've some of the most powerful voudouns, witches, seers. All he has is brute force." At the opposite end of the table, seated next to Great-grandmother Lisette, a man a little younger than me spoke up. Christophe, if I remembered correctly. "How could he possibly hope to launch an attack against the Covenant with so little?"
"Hart kills because he likes to. Even if he didn't need to, he would." I thought of Izzy, and sighed. "I don't think any of us here can say the same. I don't think most of you could kill even if your life depended on it, literally."
"You could." My eyes met Theo's. There was no reproach in them, just a simple acknowledgement of the truth.
"I did. And I know asking others to do the same, even if it's the only option, is asking too much." I set the glass down, a dull thud on the heavy, glossy wood. I looked around the table again. "But I can ask Williams. I can ask those in the Covenant who want to learn how to fight be trained by people who've had decades of fighting experience."
"You'd turn us into warriors. We've never been warriors." Father O'Brien tapped his fingers on the table, a frown marring his features. "Surely there's another way."
"There isn't. Either we fight, or we die." I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands, suddenly more tired than I'd been all night. "Whether you kill someone with a sword or a spell, they're still dead. I'm just giving us another weapon to fight with."
"And afterward?" Lies asked. If I wasn't firmly convinced she had a heart of ice, I'd have said she sounded worried. "When you've conquered the evil, and good has won the day, what happens to your alliance, to the Covenant then?"
"Does anything have to happen? It's not like you haven't been coexisting with vamps for a while. You just wouldn't have to worry about getting picked off if you ran into the wrong one."
"Enough with the debating. Jude, is there an alliance?" Gillian's voice cut across the rising whispers as effectively as Great-grandmother Lisette's. Once again, all heads turned toward me. Good thing I didn't really have a fear of public speaking or I'd have been royally screwed.
I thought of Izzy and of Baptiste, whom I'd never met, but had died because of me. Two dead before the war had even begun. Whether I agreed to an alliance or not, Hart wasn't going to leave me alone until I was dead. If nothing else was certain, that was. I could sit back, wait and watch while people around me died, or I could do something about it.
"I've said it already. We either fight, or we die." My eyes met Gillian's, and I could see she had known all along what I'd do. "I don't want to die. And as long as I lead, all of you are my responsibility. Your lives are worth as much as mine. That means I'll do whatever it takes to keep more people from dying, even if you don't like it."
"The Council has the final word." Christophe spoke again, and part of me knew the kid was trouble. Whether it was normal teenage trouble or the kind to get somebody killed was something I couldn't tell, yet.
"The Council had the final word." Rian spoke, and we all jumped. He'd been quiet since entering the kitchen, blending in from habit or not having anything to say. "With her ascension to leadership and -- even more so, her place as the Prophecy -- Jude is the final word in all things pertaining to the Covenant."
"So we fight." Theo's hand grasped mine under the table, and I held on, needing something solid at the moment. Gillian nodded, and I let out a breath I hadn't been aware of holding. Great-grandmother Lisette spoke from the other end of the table, and I noticed for the first time there was a subtle division in the table -- those siding with myself, and those siding with Lisette, even though she hadn't expressed a concrete opinion. Subtle, but enough the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
"We'll see how the Covenant fares with such leadership."
The vagueness of her statement had me clutching at Theo's hand. Sometimes damning by faint praise could sound an awful lot like a threat.
Dawn was a few hours away when I opened the door to the Ritual Room. Theo, Rian and Father O'Brien trailed behind me. I didn't open the door so much as walk toward it. Like every other time I'd approached, it swung open on its hinges, and the room beyond seemed to let out a deep breath, like it had been scared I wouldn't be back. Since reassuring a room would have put me closer to the crazy category then I was willing to be, I compromised by running my fingers down the length of the door before stepping inside.
I was halfway across the massive room before I realized two of the three were still on the threshold. I turned around, crossed my arms, and waited for them to get their butts in gear. I was still waiting five minutes later. Finally, I asked, "Okay, what's the deal? It's a door, you walk through it. I know you can, because I've seen you do it all night."
"Never have I seen the door open without being touched." Father O'Brien took a tentative step forward, almost as if he was afraid the room was going to boot him out. I wasn't the only one who gave inanimate objects and open spaces a personality.
"Great-grandmother Lisette said the same when Gillian told us how the door unsealed itself at the mere touch of your fingers." Theo waited by the door, studying it. When he narrowed his eyes, I had to bite my tongue to keep from giggling. First, considering the level of intensity in this conversation, it would have been inappropriate,. And second, if you laugh because a man makes a cute face, it starts the potentially fatal shift out of the friend zone.
Rian didn't seem to have either of the hang-ups of the other two. It might have been sheer bravado, but I was betting after a lifetime of drug use and violent visions, something like a door opening was small stuff. He walked the path of the outermost circle, whistling some song that tugged at my memory but couldn't place. After completing one circuit, he turned to me, his face breaking into a grin.
"You'll develop a real love for this room in a couple of weeks. Just be sure to lock the door behind you."
Before I could ask him what the hell he meant, Theo stepped into the room. There was a brief pulse in the air, then it settled again. I wondered if I was the only one who noticed it, but a quick look at everyone's face told me they'd felt it too. Father O'Brien tapped his chin with one finger, muttering to himself. Rian's grin spread wider, if possible.
My face probably looked like Theo's. Confused.
"Well, well. Interesting, but something to be dealt with later." Father O'Brien clapped his hands together, and I jumped, one of those involuntary reactions around priests. It made going to Mass something of an adventure. "I think we would all benefit with a little talk, without the usual disturbances."
"Ooh, a secret meeting. Are we going to use code names?" I was being flippant, but not really. Even an idiot could tell there were factions within the Council, some overlapping with others, but none really working together. Part of me knew I shouldn't take sides. But another part felt it was too late for unifying these people. The Council wasn't going to survive this war, and I already knew there were some people I didn't want on the chopping block, figuratively or literally.
"Not necessary. Everyone plots against everyone, so it's assumed no one's to be trusted." Rian lounged on the fainting couch in the study area of the room, stretching until his joints popped. My mental levees seemed to be holding up just fine. He was practically wallowing in sensation. He hadn't even flinched when he'd gotten whatever vision showed him the activities in the room in a few weeks.
Score one for the good guys.
"What Rian's trying to say is that...." Theo trailed off, drumming his fingers on the chair closest to the fireplace. We'd all gravitated toward the only soft furniture in the room. "Well, just what he said. There are as many alliances as there are members, a few times over."
"Do I need to worry about any of you running off and playing Telephone?"
Father O'Brien rested his elbows on his chair arms, folding his hands together over his middle. "No, Jude. Some may doubt, and some may believe but be resentful. Others may simply have no opinion. But I speak for all of us here now when I say that we follow you and your decisions."
"But why?" I needed to know. "Until a few days ago, I had no idea where I came from, what I was capable of. I don't know how to fight a war. I don't know how to begin, how to lead. I'm stumbling around in the dark."
"You're wrong. You do know how to lead." Rian sat up, turning his arms until his palms faced up. "Even though it caused you discomfort and was unnecessary, you took away my pain, because it was the right thing to do."
"And when you could have backed down and gone the way of the majority of the Council, you made the decision to fight. Because what you said was true -- unless Hart is destroyed, the war will never end. There will never be peace." Father O'Brien unclasped his hands to finger his rosary, a gesture done more out of habit than true desire to pray.
"Part of leading is not knowing." I turned to listen to Theo, slouched in the wingback chair. The furniture was soft, but not comfortable. I had a tendency to slouch the same way. "The Council has stalled any growth in the Covenant for fear of exposure. Like we'd be burned at the stake, in today's society. You've said to hell with what might happen."
I took all this in, all this faith. Utter belief that I could do this thing a group of more experienced people had been unable to do. Confidence I would steer all of us through this course, and come out fine in the end.
It scared me shitless.
Seeing I had no response, they all stood and as one gave a stiff bow from the waist. Something about the gesture, about the solemnity and formality of it, had tears stinging the back of my eyes. Not the best reaction after people pledge themselves to you.
To keep myself from crying even one tear, I closed my eyes and gave a sharp nod to acknowledge their gesture. The sound of footsteps and murmurs drifted back to me as they left, until there was nothing but silence in the room again.
"Council meetings eventually get easier."
My eyes flew open, and I had to pound on my chest for a moment to get my heart to start again. "Jesus, Theo, give a little warning. Between you and Williams I'm going to go gray before I turn thirty."
"Well, at least you're predicting you'll reach thirty. That shows both a streak of stubbornness and a sense of optimism."
Instead of leaving with Rian and Father O'Brien, Theo had retaken his seat next to mine. His cheek rested in his hand, elbow propped on the armchair. He looked utterly at ease, but when you're as tall as we both are it's impossible to get comfortable in these chairs.
"Wow, super stealthy and full of humor. I've hit the jackpot in you, haven't I?" And just as quick, I realized I'd done it. I'd shifted him from the friend zone to the probably zone. Less than three hours, and he'd made the jump. Crap.
"I like to think that I offer a wide range of services. Although the charge for sarcasm steadily increases as wittier statements are required." A smile teased around the edges of his mouth, a smile that let me know I'd never been in the friend zone for him. I'd gone straight to the probably zone after his great-grandmother's foghorn of a voice knocked me on my ass. That's a great story to tell people when they ask you how the pair of you met.
Double crap. So not supposed to be having thoughts about telling the how-we-met story.
"What about jokes? Flat rate or sliding scale, depending on the smut factor?" Oh. My. God. My mouth would not stop working independent of my brain. Theo's smile was full-blown, and it was a doozy. You could melt ice with that smile.
"Sliding scale, absolutely. I'd tell you the one about the priest, the nun, and the confessional, but I'm not sure you're willing to pay those rates yet." I jolted a little when he reached out across the brief space between our chairs and took my hand. After a second, I relaxed, letting myself enjoy the contact. His hand was as warm as when he'd pulled me up, and I made a mental note to ask about his gift.
"Probably not. Any jokes involving the Catholic Church usually have pretty hefty costs." Flirting with Theo was easier than flirting with Williams. More comfortable. So it made me a little disappointed when he raised my hand to his lips, kissing the tips of my fingers before letting them go and standing.
"Another time then. If I don't see to Great-grandmother Lisette, she'll try and steal your china." With a brief run of his fingers over my limp hand and a wistful smile, he headed toward the door. Rather than watch him leave, I turned my head to study the shelves of books flanking the fireplace. Alone, in a library of magic books. Might be a good time to study.
"You seem to have acquired another admirer, Jude Magdalyn."
Or maybe not.
"Didn't we just have a conversation yesterday where you said you'd work on not sneaking up on people?" I was getting used to being scared out of my skin. Too used to anything is a bad thing, especially when it involved deadly predator type people.
"I said I would do my best. Perhaps if you hadn't been occupied, you would have heard me when I came into the room." Williams' voice was getting louder, either because he was getting closer or he was just getting louder. Since I'd yet to hear him raise his voice, I assumed he was getting closer. When I felt soft fabric brush my hand, still hanging over the arm of the chair, I knew I was right.
I opened my eyes to find Williams sitting where Theo had been only a few moments before. He was wearing his usual brown and cream combination, the usual expression of boredom on his face.
Something lurked behind his eyes, at odds with the casualness of his movement and the nonchalance of his voice. I wasn't overly worried, but it puzzled me. Williams in general puzzled me most of the time, but this was like an extra little something to try and wrap my mind around. Oh, joy.
"Either we were talking quite a bit louder than I thought, the acoustics are worse, or you were still walking very quietly." When he made no response, a thought popped in my head. "Or maybe you were listening outside the door."
"I do have exceptional hearing."
"You're not even going to deny it."
"Jude Magdalyn, you are many things, none of which is stupid. Denying the truth when you and I know what it is comes perilously close to calling you stupid." Williams tapped his fingers rapidly against the fabric of the chair, probably the first even semi-nervous gesture I'd ever seen him make. Something told me it wasn't nerves that had him so rattled.
"So maybe you'd care to tell me why you were listening to what most people would consider a private conversation?" Annoyance crept into my voice, despite my best efforts to prevent it. I was trying to be civil.
"No, not really."
I waited, sure he was joking. When I glanced at his face, I realized he wasn't. "So first you're rude enough to listen in on private conversations, and then you don't even have the decency to say why?"
"That sums it up nicely." Williams exhaled audibly, a nifty trick since I'd learned he didn't really need to breathe. "Moments like this make me wish it were still possible to consume alcohol."
"Well, that was helpful in explaining everything. Thanks a lot." Disgusted with Williams for not telling and myself for being so frickin' curious, I pushed up from the chair. Instead of studying books, I'd go find Gillian and see about some hands on training. I had one element down, kind of. Best to get to work on the other three.
I'd taken a few steps in the direction of the door when I felt a hand on my elbow, whirling me around. I crashed into Williams, wincing since it was a little like running into a brick wall. I was prepared to be irate -- I'm not big on being grabbed, although since I'd been spending a lot of time around so many touchy-feely people I was getting better -- but his mouth on mine stopped that. It's hard to be irate when you're being kissed deaf, dumb, and blind.
Before I could process that we were kissing, he'd pushed me away from him. This time it was easy to read the look on his face -- disapproval. His hand dropped from my elbow like it had burned him.
"I can smell him on you."
With that absolutely weird statement, he strode past me, leaving me standing alone in the cavernous room. Placing my hands on my hips, I counted to ten, very, very slowly. Then for good measure I counted to ten again. I was on my third count when a voice had me whirling around.
"Now that the Council has left, we can start our training for the evening." Gillian looked up from the book she was reading as she crossed the room. Tilting her head to one side, she asked, "Problem, Jude?"
"Men." Gesturing at the walls of books to my right, I asked, "Anything in one of those to help explain them?"
"Only if you'd like the explanation for how to turn one into an ass." Gillian's lips twitched for a moment, fighting the smile that erupted across her face after a split second. "A literal ass. They usually know how to make a figurative ass of themselves without any metaphysical help at all."
"I don't think truer words have ever been spoken." Sighing, I pulled my hair into a ponytail, shaking a few of the kinks from sitting in the chair out of my body. "So, what kind of fun forms of teaching torture are we exploring tonight?"
"We'll begin work on fire." Gillian paused, looking around the room. "I wonder if the fire extinguisher is still down here, and if it still works."
"Everybody's a fucking comedian tonight, aren't they?"
"Really, Jude, I think it's time we took a break. You've been practicing for close to two hours. Your hand is redder than the fire extinguisher." Gillian gave a little pitty-pat to her heart, probably trying to get me to chuckle. It didn't work. "And honestly, my nerves are starting to fray a little."
"Yeah, and if I buy that, are you going to sell me some ocean-front property in Kansas?" My snort would have done a pig proud. "Your nerves fray as easily as a man tells the truth."
"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were one of those man-hating women." Gillian held her hands up palms out when I opened my eyes enough to glare at her. "Not that there's anything wrong with that, but to me it always made as much sense as all those woman-hating men."
"What makes no sense is to treat every conversation like it's an episode of that pyramid show." When Gillian looked at me blankly, I threw my hands in the air. "You know, the one where you have to get the other person to guess the word without using it, and if you get them all you get a boat-load of money?"
Realization dawned after a moment. "Ah. The sixty-four thousand dollar pyramid. Or something like that. I know the show now." Gillian brushed her hair behind her shoulders, still a perfect straight line even after being up for hours, and dealing with my way-off fire throwing skills. "That was a rather annoying game show."
"Exactly!" Thankful she not only got my point but agreed with it, I yanked my own hair out of its ponytail, wincing when the rough texture of the rubber band scraped my reddened palm. Gillian was right about my hands, they looked like I'd stuck them on a hot burner and left them there for five minutes. If I was lucky, they wouldn't blister. If not, time to bust out the salve Gillian was always talking about.
"Either say what you mean, or just don't say anything at all. I mean, it makes perfect sense to me." I whirled around when I reached the edge of the largest circle, pacing back towards the center. I'd been standing in essentially the same place for the last two hours; the only reason I'd stayed standing was I'd remembered to not lock my knees, thank you very much Sister Agnes and four hour long choir practices. When I reached the opposite edge of the outer circle and whirled to pace back the way I came, Gillian was standing in the center, smiling at me.
"I may be wrong -- which I doubt -- but I would guess that we're not talking about men in general, but about one man specifically. And have been all evening."
Crossing my arms under my breasts, I stomped my foot. "He can smell him on me? What kind of bullshit statement is that?"
To her credit, Gillian didn't ask me to explain. "Williams didn't take kindly to Theo displaying an interest in you?"
My mouth dropped, and I blubbered for a moment before managing a semi-intelligent sentence. "It was a few jokes. I don't think it qualifies as 'displaying an interest'."
"You mean to say that you, a healthy, mostly normal, adult female, and Theo, a healthy, mostly normal, adult male, merely sat and exchanged a few witty words?" Gillian raised an eyebrow at me, a gesture I could appreciate for its sarcasm since I tended to do it quite often. "Jude, like my grandmother used to say, I was born in the dark, but it wasn't last night."
"More clever colloquialisms," I muttered, stung. "Are you saying that it's impossible for a man and a woman to be just friends?"
"I said no such thing. You won't be putting words in my mouth, Jude Magdalyn Henries." Uh-oh. The full name always meant trouble. Gillian crossed her arms, mirroring my stance, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "What I'm saying is that there is no way that you can be 'just friends' with Theo. Williams knows it. He's trying to stake a claim, so you have no option but to merely work with Theo."
"Okay, cut the crap. Staking a claim?" When she didn't laugh, I felt my eyes grow wide. "You're serious. What am I, a piece of undiscovered land?"
"Take this in the spirit it's offered, but I don't think you've been undiscovered for a long time." Ouch. That one had a bite to it, but since Gillian was far from wrong, I couldn't really call her on it. "If you were engaged in a relationship of any seriousness with one man, would you still act like an unattached woman with an interested man?"
"Define relationship and seriousness. And unattached. And interested." Again, no laughter. If this Prophecy thing didn't work, I apparently wasn't going to go into stand-up comedy. "I don't know. Maybe. I don't have the best moral compass in the world, Gillian."
"You don't give yourself enough credit. Williams, and most likely Theo, know you better than you know yourself, and after mere moments alone with you." Her voice grew softer, and her eyes glazed over, like she was seeing things that weren't there. "Your father knew your mother the same way. Like he'd known her all her life."
My curiosity got the better of me. I know, it killed the cat and all, but I was willing to take a few risks. "So it was love at first sight, like the kind you read about?"
Gillian didn't look at me, but I knew she'd heard me. After a moment, she answered. "More like love at first breath. There was never a man before your father for Martha, and your mother was the only woman that really mattered to Luc."
"True love." It was almost a whisper, but I knew it would echo around me. I was starting to learn certain words carried a power, a weight. When you spoke them, the air resonated.
"Yes. They lived in the dark for twenty-five years, and only a few months in the light." A tear slid down Gillian's cheek. I'm not sure she even noticed. It made things the more unreal, to watch this amazing woman cry without any sound at all. "I think they would do it all again, without changing a thing, if given the chance. They loved so deeply in the short time they had."
The faint tickle on my face made me realize I was crying as well. For them, for me. For everything that might have been, if only things had been a little different. For all my life, my parents had been nothing but a blank space, nothing there to fill it. Now there was something, and as much as I devoured every piece of history I was given, it made my heart ache to realize just how much had been lost.
"Suzanne said love waited for me. All I had to do was take it. She made it sound like there was only one option."
Gillian rubbed her face over her hand, a brisk motion, breaking the little bubble of calm we'd wrapped ourselves in. "Go back to Suzanne. The future changes with every second. One of the things that makes it so hard to predict."
I digested that, and it raised a few questions. "So Rian's abilities are imprecise?"
"Surprisingly, no. Rian has proven to be the exception to the rule." Gillian's voice was back to its normal volume and cadence, almost like the previous conversation had never happened. "If Rian says it's to occur, the probability of whatever he sees is between ninety-eight and ninety-nine percent."
"Because people are notorious for changing their minds at the last minute, even when they've been stuck on a course for years." I nodded, understanding. Even the Church preached about free-will, and deathbed conversions weren't called that because the person had lived like a saint their whole life.
"Yes, exactly. But enough of this." Gillian unfolded her arms, letting them hang loose by her sides. "You'll make a decision at some point, and I have little doubt that it will be the best decision possible. For now, we need to work on you throwing fire without taking out innocent bystanders."
"Maybe if I did a little more work on calling air first? Just to get the energy levels back up, so to speak?" I shrugged my shoulders when she looked at me blankly. "Maybe there's like a progression or something, at least at first."
"I find myself wondering if these bouts of inspiration come to you because of your life on the streets, or if they just randomly pop into your head without any precursors whatsoever."
"I guess thank you isn't really the best thing to say in response to that." I moved to the center of the circle, closing my eyes, centering myself. I thought of a storm, and this time it was much easier to bring it towards me, those outer bands. When the wind was blowing hard enough to have the furniture rattle and lift from the floor, I began pushing the storm away. I kept it hovering at the very edge of my consciousness, so far out you really couldn't feel any wind. I knew it was still there, waiting to be called back to do some real damage.
Turning my palms up, I exhaled, using the moment to recenter myself and think. Storms don't produce just wind. There's rain, and lightning. There it was, a light bulb dinged in my head. Or really, more like a V8 moment. Thankfully, nobody was there to slap my forehead.
I could feel Gillian waiting, somewhere between the outer circle and the middle circle. I could feel from her the same thing I'd felt from the men earlier. Absolute faith I would figure this out, one more thing I had tucked under my belt. It would be great if I was able to accept their faith, and not feel positively petrified by it.
One thing at a time.
It sounds silly, no more than thinking of a huge storm to call air, but whatever. I imagined balls of lightning in my hands. I could feel the energy begin to center, and grow. One spark, then another, until my hands were tingling with electric shocks. Taking a deep breath, I opened my eyes, concentrating on not losing the mental picture of balls of energy. Focusing on one of the straw dummies Gillian had pulled out of an apparently bottomless cabinet, I pictured the ball of energy shooting out of my left hand like a bolt of lightning. Yes, I know lightning really travels in two directions, and blah, blah, blah. This was metaphysics, not regular science. I was betting it was just right enough to work.
I felt my palm begin to burn, like the lightning was stuck, if it was possible for such a thing to happen. Breathing deep, I switched focus for a moment, bringing the storm a little closer. A little more energy, a little bit of a boost. Maybe that was all I needed to get this to work.
I could feel it pinpricks of wind. It burned my hands, raw and red and tingling with energy. I moved from wind back to fire, thinking once more about lightning. My blood screamed in my veins, making my head pound, my throat dry.
I was going to do this. If it took the rest of the night, I was going to do this.
Maybe it was the sheer determination raging through me, or the universe was taking mercy on me. I felt the skin of my right palm split open, except it didn't. There was no blood, no pain. Just a flash of light, a crack of sound, and the straw dummy exploded in a small tower of fire.
Gillian jumped forward, dousing it with the fire extinguisher. It was the first time the dummy had been hit all night. It wasn't the first time the fire extinguisher had been used. She stepped back - making sure to be way out of the line of fire, just in case the bull's-eye had been a fluke - and I turned my attention to the second dummy in the long row of them. If I could do it once, I could do it again.
Another deep breath. A focused thought. My left hand jerking slightly. A flash of light, a crack of sound, and there was a second burning dummy.
Right, left. Right, left. Down the row I went, until it was a wall of flames. The heat they gave off was intense. I could feel it six feet away from where I stood in the center of the circle. A few marshmallows, some chocolate, graham crackers-I could have myself a s'more or two. Gillian went down the line, putting out my army of dummies, until nothing was left but a smoldering flank of straw. I could still feel the energy swirling in my palms, waiting for me to decide what to do with it. If it had been air, I would have pushed it back the way it came. But how do you undo sheer energy?
Without options and the energy starting to shift and jerk, I decided to try and work it like I would air. No harm in trying. The best that could happen would be it would work. The worst, well... Gillian seemed to set a lot of store by her salve.
It was harder than pushing back my imaginary storm, but, hell, everything about working with fire had been harder than air. Maybe there really was a progression of elements. If so, I was royally screwed when I started working with the other two. The energy pushed back up my arms, growing fainter as it moved away from my hands. It made my arms tingle and shake but I bit my lip and kept pushing.
When it felt safe enough, I began pushing the air back as well. Finally, with my shirt sticking to my back from sweat, my arms screaming in protest at being raised for so long, I felt the last edge of the storm die away, and the energy lingering near my shoulders flicker out.
Exhausted, my knees buckled, I was probably going to have at least one bruise from hitting the stone floor as hard as I did. I stretched out on my back, breathing, well, like I'd been setting things on fire. There wasn't a way to describe how overworked my lungs felt at the moment. I held my hands in front of my face, blinking.
"Shit." I could hear the shock in my voice, almost hollow. Too shocky. I was about to crash, I could feel it coming. I wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing that I was getting good at predicting when the fainting was about to happen.
"What? What's wrong?" Gillian's voice had a faint edge of panic to it, and it made me feel a little warm and fuzzy inside. Aww.... She was worried about me.
"My hands. They're not burned, or blistered. They're normal."
I almost moaned, closing my eyes when I felt the cool towel on my forehead. Even with them closed, I could see true black eating at the edges of my vision. Gillian's voice sounded like it was coming from far away when she answered.
"That's good. You controlled the power, not the other way around." Her voice was almost a whisper, and I sighed as the darkness slipped over me. "Your mother would be proud."
It was a nice thought to pass out to.
Late afternoon sun shone through my window when I woke. I blinked to bring the numbers on the bedside clock into focus. Seven fifteen. Still another hour or so till sunset when most of the house would start to stir and I'd have a million obligations.
It took me only fifteen minutes to get up and dressed and out of the house. I had a craving for possibly the best sandwich ever, a po'boy. Someone had been kind enough to hang my keys next to the door. I cupped them in my hand to keep them from making any jangling sounds, and eased the door open.
Thank you for caretakers who keep hinges well-oiled. I needed food and heaven help anyone who tried to get in my way.
I doubted anyone would actually try and open the front door unless they had a reason to, I locked it behind me. Old habits die hard. I kept to my side of Royal until I was past St. Germaine's house. I squashed the urge to cross myself as I went past.
If a sudden need arose, I'd break out my rosary and crucifix anytime I walked by his house. For now I'd try and not be overly paranoid.
Pulling my sweater closer around me, I made the turn on Toulouse towards Chartres. Mid-August meant I shouldn't have needed one, but when I'd dressed my hand kept reaching for the thin white sweater draped over the back of a chair. I'd forgotten it, but whoever orchestrated the move of my things to the Crossroads a few days ago had moved everything. Instead of trying to figure out why some part of me was determined to wear long-sleeves at the end of summer, I pulled it on over my purple tank top and slipped on jeans and flip-flops.
Thirty minutes after I woke up, I sat in the tiny two person alcove in the front dining room of Napoleon House working on a Caesar salad while waiting for my sandwich. The kitchen at the house was fabulous, but nothing beat one of their po'boys.
If I had to request one last meal, it would be a tie between a po'boy and an omelet from Camellia Grill. I didn't think Hart would give me an option if I ran into him without any backup.
I dropped a more generous tip than the server deserved on the table as the dour thought crept through my mind. Service at Napoleon varied, and had definitely missed today. Still, what was the point in suddenly rolling in cash if you couldn't spread a little bit of it around before you died?
Stepping on the street, I turned towards Jackson Square. Half hour or so of sunlight remained, more than enough time to find Suzanne and speak with her. I didn't want to be on the streets alone when night fell. I hadn't lied when I'd said Hart would do whatever it took to win, and if taking out innocent bystanders got rid of me, I didn't have a single doubt he'd do it and without blinking.
No need to get civilians involved. Not yet.
Whether my thoughts or the gusts of wind coming off the river caused the shiver running down my spine, I was chilled enough to be grateful for the thin sweater. The area around the Square crowded more than usual with readers and street artists. The weather brings out more tourists, and more opportunities for business. Suzanne sat in her usual spot, though. It would take more than a few extra "psychics" to move her.
I waited until she finished with a chubby, sweating, red-faced man in complete tourist garb. He even had a fanny pack, which wasn't the best fashion move when it was in fashion. Suzanne acted like there was nothing wrong with how he looked. When I worked the Square, I would have taken one look at him and cracked up laughing. I wouldn't have been able to pretend to read him to get the cash.
Suzanne is much, much better at her profession than I'd ever been.
Her blonde hair blew gently in the wind, little wisps rising and falling. Her eyes were as serene as the rest of her face. I'd always found you could tell more about what a person felt by looking at their eyes than anywhere else. Something about the serenity, so close to absolute faith everyone threw at me, was just too much.
For the first time in a long time, I sat down, laid my head on the tiny table, and wept. Oh, I'd cried for Izzy, and for my parents. But since this whole thing had started, I hadn't cried for myself. Life was too hard, and I was tired, and I just couldn't hold it in one moment longer. Tears are like everything else on the streets. A luxury you can't really afford. You learn to lock it away until there isn't any other place to let it but out. I'd finally reached that point.
Suzanne didn't ask what was wrong, or if I needed anything. She didn't do anything but let me cry it all out. It was relatively short as far as crying jags go, but it wore me out. All I wanted to do now was go back to bed and sleep for a few more hours, maybe let the pounding behind my eyes ease back. Since that wasn't going to happen, I'd do what I came here to do.
"You won't work here again, will you?" It was a statement, not a question, so I didn't answer. "You've bigger, more important things now." She frowned, her forehead wrinkling with the gesture. "The Covenant is in desperate need of your guidance."
"You know about the Covenant?" Why wouldn't she? Even if she hadn't known before, because I know, she'd know. She blinked, her forehead smoothing out into its normal lines.
"Yes. They're very select. Restricted almost entirely to the descendants of the founding families." Before I could digest the information, she continued. "But you didn't come here for this, Jude. You've a bigger question."
"There's something bigger than leading a group of hundreds?" I tried to make a joke out of her incredible insight, and failed. The gaze she leveled on me made me squirm just as neatly as one from Gillian would.
"Your heart, Jude, is more important than anything. You guard it so fiercely, it's a wonder you have any worries about it at all." Taking my hand, she traced a line on my palm, the frown returning to her face. "I was mistaken before."
A chill shot through me. "Mistaken?"
"Not one love. Two." Suzanne tapped a spot on my palm gently with one finger, keeping a firm grip even when I started to tug away. "Your line is broken. The first one short, the second longer."
"Which means what?"
"Two chances at love, Jude." Her gaze captured mine as securely as her hands had done. "Two chances, separated by grief. You can try to change the course. What I see is too unclear to show whether it's even possible to do so."
This wasn't the type of news to make me feel better. If I was prone to panic attacks, this would be the point I started having one. "Suzanne, you're starting to scare me."
"The truth is often frightening, until we accept it." She let my hand go, and I pulled it away, letting it drop into my lap. Suzanne was good, but she scared me right now. What she said hit too close to what Gillian had hinted at earlier. Bad enough dealing with one man, I couldn't begin to imagine how much of a headache two would be.
Except one would die at some point. Probably. How do you tell someone that fate, the universe, and destiny are all rooting for you to get together, but the chances they were going to die at some point in the relationship looked good? Call me crazy, but it doesn't strike me as the sort of thing you can casually work into conversation.
I tried to pay Suzanne, but she refused. I couldn't even force it on her. "It is an honor to read for the leader of the Covenant. For the Prophecy." When she said those words, I gave up. I left her in the Square, a man and a woman sliding into my seat almost before I'd fully left it.
I crossed Decatur and walked toward the river. The wind blew cooler now, almost cold, and I found myself huddling in my sweater. It was almost never this cool in August. Something skittered along my nerves, but I ignored it.
There were a few stray people on the Riverwalk, a testament to the cold being real. As I walked toward Canal, a bicyclist whirled past me in the opposite direction, the whisper of chains fading into the night. One of the steamers sounded the horn, and it echoed across the water for a moment before all quieted again.
I noticed the quiet first. I'd never been in a quiet so heavy and thick you could cut it like butter. I slowed, stopping completely. A minute stretched into five, then ten. And then it hit me.
The sun had set.
My heart stuttered for a moment, and I turned on the spot to head back toward the Crossroads. Small problem. A band of not so merry men -- and Hart, blocked the way.
I was fucked. Absolutely fucked.
"You guys are quick. Sun's been down for, what, three minutes." I forced a sneer, and it hurt to twist my frozen muscles into it. "They have meds for guys who are a little fast off the mark."
One of the smaller vampires snorted a laugh, and immediately fell to his knees after Hart's hand lashed out, chopping into his throat. An impressive move, but also let me know how much shit I landed myself in.
"You're a clever girl, Jude. A clever girl would understand that antagonizing the man who can solve her problems is not the best move." Hart's face was as washed out as the first night I'd met him, but now I could see the fineness in the bone structure, even if it ran a little too much on the prissy side for my tastes. His clothes were as precisely tailored as Williams' tended to be. I could see how spending two centuries or so together had rubbed off on them.
"Hart, the only problem I have right now is I'm pretty sure you're trying to kill me. Which is something I'm not a big fan of, to be completely honest with you." I was doing my best to try and send a mental message to whoever the hell might be listening, but since I'd never really done it, I was pretty sure that wasn't going to work either.
"I could tell you that death is not the horrible experience you think it would be, but...." Hart trailed off, his thin lips tilting up at the corners in a smirk eerily reminiscent of Williams' smile. "But, if you choose to not take the alternative I plan to offer you, then your death will most likely be as painful as you fear."
"You know, I'm just going to go with no as my answer for that alternative. Just a feeling I have. I'm not going to like whatever it is you're trying to sell." The wind gusted behind me, and I didn't have to turn to know there was a train coming. The river to my right, a train to my left, and a posse of vampires in front of me. Perfect.
"Jude. At least hear me out." Hart's smile grew wider, and the men around him began to spread out. I didn't move because they were going to get me anyway. I stood still and worked on calling a little power. Call a little fire, have a little chat. Totally doable.
"Give me Williams. Allow me to dispose of him. Put the city under my power." For a moment, his smile was the sort poets wrote about, like angels smiling. But not. "The Covenant's members unharmed. No need for a messy war you'll lose anyway, at the expense of so many lives."
It should have been tempting. He was right; an easy out for my problem. Hell, I'd even get to live. It was about as tempting as week old sushi.
"Like I said, gonna have to pass." I could feel tingling little balls of energy surging to my palms. Instead of being scared, of trying to approach the problem logically, I went on instinct. I welcomed the burn in my hand, the rush of my blood down my arm.
I refused to die. Not here, not now.
"Not out of loyalty. You owe Williams, the Covenant, all of them, nothing. Where were they when you left the orphanage? Couldn't they have taken you in then, nurtured you?" They were circling now like a pack of wolves, only Hart and I stood stationary.
"Maybe. Maybe I would have just laughed at them, told them to kiss my ass." A few moments more and I could let loose. A sweep of the arm, take out at least half before they even knew what happened. My pulse was up, my breathing fast, my brain icy cold.
Hart sighed, shoving his hands in his pocket. Time was up. "Such a disappointment, Jude. We could have worked so well together." At the shake of his head, the group moved forward as one, with one goal. To kill me.
I whipped my hands out of my pocket, barely clearing the fabric before letting loose with a short burst of lightning from my left. I hit one of them, even though I hadn't really been aiming. They were close and there were so many of them it was impossible to miss. My right hand let out an echoing shot and I tuned out the screams and wails.
Short staccato flashes sparked from my hand as I flung my left arm in a half circle, and the screams grew louder. The flashes of light did as much for my vision as strobe-lights do -- that is to say, it completely fucked my sight up. If I was counting right, I'd hit four, maybe five. Based on my earlier quick count, there were another half dozen. I couldn't see to aim at this point, and had to trust when I swept my right arm across the air in front of me that I hit at least two.
And then like being sandwiched between two brick walls, one of the vamps I hadn't been able to hit body-slammed me to the ground. My head bounced on the concrete hard enough to see stars, a nifty trick when I could barely see at all thanks to the lightning flashes. My right hand ended up tucked between our bodies, and as I brought my knee up between his legs, I sent a shot of lightning directly against his chest. Rolling out from under the ashing figure, I pushed to my hands and knees, still trying to catch my breath.
The sharp kick to my left ribs crumpled me to the sidewalk. My breath whistled out through clenched teeth as I did my best not to scream. The second, then third kicks knocked it free. By the fourth, I didn't have any air to do more than whimper. I lost even that when someone jerked me to my feet and the pressure on my left arm popped my shoulder out of joint. The pain took away the little bit of breath I'd been able to catch and the stars in my head exploded.
"Little witch. If you'd only been willing to compromise, this could have been avoided. Just like your parents, more trouble than you're worth."
He didn't give me time to process before shoving me down the wooden steps leading to the river. My elbow banged painfully against the old wood, and my sweater snagged on a splinter. The momentum behind the shove was too great to stop, and the cold of the Mississippi slapped into me. My head bounced against the bottom step, one final injury before I slipped under the muddy water.
I couldn't breathe, and I couldn't fight my way back to the surface. My shoulder screamed in protest as I tried feebly to swim upwards, even as my lungs burned at being so long without air. I hung there, suspended between life and death, the white of my sweater the only light in the darkness of the water.
Then, everything began to fade, leaving nothing but the blackness.
My first thought was I don't wear white. Nothing spells trouble and cash down the drain like Jude in an all-white outfit. Then I realized the hands I saw were too small to belong to anyone but a baby.
Shit -- the Church was wrong and reincarnation did happen?
A frail, tinny wail spilled from my lips. My body cried and jerked for a few seconds before another realization hit me. If I'd been reincarnated, how could I still think like myself?
Something in the land of Denmark stank.
A face swam into view above me as the Shakespearian thought rattled in my supposed infant head. By now, I'd seen enough pictures and heard enough history to know the blurry face over me belonged to my father. Instead of broken and beaten, his face looked whole, unmarked.
"She has your nose, Martha. Thank God, as I recall what a trial I had all during school with mine."
A second face appeared, chin resting on Luc's -- my father's -- shoulder. "Well, at least she got your coloring. I don't think we could have done a better job of blending ourselves together if we'd picked it all from a catalog."
"Not just our looks, Martha. She's as strong as the two of us together and much more determined. I argued with you about the orphanage, but I can see you made the right decision." His hand reached down and made a minute adjustment to my blanket, lingering for a moment.
"Maybe. Time will tell. Already she's accomplished so much more than either of us would have thought possible." Sliding around my father to kneel beside my bassinet, my mother propped her chin on the edge, nut-brown hair spilling over to pool like a blanket over me. This close, I noted tears running down her cheeks.
"We're so proud of you, Jude. Never forget or doubt."
The light faded, gray drifting into black, until nothing remained but the memory of their faces.
"She's coming around, Gillian. She's muttering something under her breath." Theo's voice was low and quiet and I tried to hold on to it, to fight my way out of the dark. The slight pressure of a hand smelling of chamomile and jasmine touched my forehead. Sweat dampened my skin, my palm slick when I reached out blindly for something, anything, to hold onto. I didn't want to sleep anymore. I was tired of the dark.
The ridges and calluses of the hand told me it was Theo's and I twisted my fingers until our fingers laced together. The pressure on my forehead pushed the black closer despite my struggles. With an angry murmur I slipped into sleep and back into dreams.
The uptown cemetery on Washington, Lafayette No.1 rose up around me, those strange tombs you really only see in New Orleans. A city within a city, its houses falling to ruins in spite of the efforts of others.
The ground was cold under my knees. The rain had soaked the ground for days, puddles and rivers forming in the little city. An icy wind blew and some part of me knew meteorologists would have a field day trying to explain the temperature drop at the height of August heat. Lightning flashed in the distance and close enough the sharp burn of ozone blew to me with the wind.
It was all secondary compared to the numbness at my core. My body could feel, and it did. Possibly the only reason I was on my knees and not laid out across the muddy ground. My soul felt nothing.
I watched my hand trace the edges of the tomb, like it belonged to someone else. Over and over, I traced the square, as if I'd somehow forgotten how, or had a reason, to do anything else.
Hands gripped my shoulders lightly, but the inexorable heaviness held firm. They would press me down into the earth if we -- myself and the person behind me -- would only agree to do it. Even though my heart lurched in welcome at the thought, to be away from this nothingness and with him again, I knew it wouldn't happen.
"It's been three days, Jude. You'll flood the city if you don't stop."
The thought of the storm taking the city didn't induce me to stop. A fierce spark of joy ate at the numbness. I hurt. So would they.
"If I could change things -- if I could have died, instead of him, I would have done so, Jude."
"I wish you had died. I wish it was you."
The hands dropped away and though no words were said, I knew I was alone again with him and the storm, the night swallowing us up until I felt nothing at all.
"You've slept long enough, Jude. You'll wake, now."
I squeezed my eyes tight against the voice, lovely with its Irish lilt but firm as concrete. Concrete. Sidewalk. Hart. Shit.
My eyes flew open as I sat up, causing a gasp of pain and pinpricks of light to go off in my head. The fireworks in my brain should have convinced me to lie back down, but I wasn't called hard-headed for no reason. I fought against the hands trying to push me down to the bed.
"Jude Magdalyn Henries, if you don't cease your behavior right this moment, I'll use a ruler across your ass, no matter how hurt you are."
Stunned, I did as instructed; laid back against the pillows, head propped up enough to see the room and those in it. My new position also meant I could gape at Gillian where she perched on the end of the bed.
"I didn't even think you knew how to yell, or used words like ass like the rest of us do."
"Good to know while the entire Covenant has been worried about your health, while Bridget has used all her energies to heal your injuries, while Theo has not moved from your bedside for over two days, you've been contemplating my vocabulary."
"Enough, Gillian. Give the girl a moment to breathe." A woman roughly Gillian's age with long hair the color of fresh snow and eyes the color of grass fussed with the edges of the sheets, smoothing them over me. The hint of a smile played around her mouth and she winked at me, her face turned away from Gillian. "Truth be told, I didn't think you knew some of the words you've used the past couple of days, either."
She brushed my hair back from my face, studying me intently. Whatever she saw made her smile and pat my cheek. "Well, seems we've gotten it all straightened out finally. You did use a lot of my energy, dear, although there's not a more worthy person to spend so much time on. You'll want to rest some more in a moment, but a bit of food on your stomach will do you just as much good."
She mentioned food and I realized I was hungry. Before I could speak, a tray slid over my lap, very slowly and carefully. I looked up into Rian's face, tired but surprisingly peaceful. "Soup, until your system is completely healed. Well, gumbo, but that's close enough to soup."
Since I couldn't agree more, I picked up the spoon and dug it into the bowl, scooping up shrimp and okra and rice. The mix burned my mouth and throat but tasted like heaven and I barely swallowed the mouthful before shoveling in another.
"If you eat too fast, you'll regret it." Theo's spoke from my left and I slid my gaze in his direction. Gillian had mentioned he hadn't left my side for over two days and the poor man looked it -- although he pulled off a five o'clock shadow with incredible grace.
I swallowed another mouthful, pausing long enough before shoving the next one in to ask, "Who's she? And what's happened?"
"Try for a little dignity, Jude, instead of eating like a pig at the trough." Gillian's exasperated voice, made me roll my eyes, but I went from eating like a pig to someone who had missed a few meals. "She is Bridget, and she is now your personal healer."
Another swallow, another question. "I thought you said I'm a healer."
"You are, but the same powers that make you able to heal others leave you unable to heal yourself." Bridget paused in her near-constant smoothing of the sheets to tilt her head and smile at me. "You can heal some things like most people -- a cold, or a blister -- but major injuries, whether physical or metaphysical, require outside healing."
"Well, that sucks." Gillian sighed and shook her head, I scowled. "It does. What's been happening? You said I've been out for two days."
"Nearly three. Hart was thorough in his effort to kill you, if unsuccessful. Rian heard your call. If you hadn't freed him to be able to see without pain, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now." Gillian squeezed and released her fingers, a steady rhythm indicating just how pissed she really was. It added to the healthy respect I'd begun to foster for Gillian's anger.
"Williams went in pursuit of Hart, tracking him down, but unable to bind him in any way." Not just anger, but disappointment. I bet Williams felt a lot of the same. "Theo pulled you out of the river."
I turned my head fully to look at Theo. I could see now the nicks and scratches around his face, probably from the river debris. Setting my spoon down, I reached out my right hand to lightly touch the one closest to his left eye. "You're going to have a scar."
His laugh sounded as tired as his face but his smile was genuine as he raised our hands to his lips, brushing them over the bruises on my knuckles. "My face was too pretty anyway. I needed something to mean it up."
I smiled back at him, floating in the warmth he seemed to give off all the time. "Thank you."
"It helped that you were wearing white. Something to remember for future swims in the river."
A laugh tickled the back of my throat and I swallowed to keep it there. Gillian would not appreciate laughter. "I'll do my best. Although I'm going to guess my sweater has seen it's last of the mighty Mississippi."
The throat clearing at the end of the bed reminded me we weren't alone. Gillian didn't look displeased, just impatient. "It took both Lies and Guile to convince the crowd what they had seen had merely been rehearsal for a movie soon to be shot." I'd have to send them a fruit basket. I would also have to stop punching them. "You managed to dispose of nine vampires. Your injuries were... grievous."
"You died, Jude." I was going to get whiplash twisting back and forth between Gillian and Theo. Pain edged his eyes. "When I pulled you out, you weren't breathing. Your heart had stopped. I had to do mouth to mouth before we could even move you back to the Crossroads."
"Bringing you back to life was the easy part. Keeping you with us was much more difficult. You had extensive bleeding in your brain, from hitting the sidewalk and the stairs. Four broken ribs, a punctured lung, a dislocated shoulder and then you developed an infection from swallowing the river water." Bridget shook her head, a tiny smile on her lips. "We really should have lost you, a few times. The fever was absolutely horrible, nearly as bad as the head wound."
I nodded as bits and pieces of my dreams floated through my head. How much was real and how much had my mind made up while it lay dying? Did I really want to know?
Suddenly tired again, I sagged against the pillows, pushing the gumbo away. I hadn't eaten much but my full stomach turned slightly queasy. Although that might have come as a result of being told I'd died once, and almost died a few more times.
Bridget instantly jumped to action, shooing Gillian and Rian out. Theo sat beside me and Bridget didn't make any effort to have him leave the room with the others. She told him to get some sleep as well. When he bent in the chair until he could lay his head on the bed next to me, she shook her head and sighed before laying her hand on my forehead, chamomile and jasmine flowing over me. I shut my eyes and slid back into sleep.
I drifted up from sleep without any dramatic instant awareness. Reasonably sure opening my eyes wouldn't do any damage to the headache still tingling at the very back of my head, I opened them slowly, exhaling deeply when the throbbing failed to increase. As the rest of me continued waking up, I realized a hand gripped my left, and I felt the tiny wisp of movement indicating someone very, very close.
Risking it, I turned my head to the left, and found Theo's rumpled head still lying on the bed next to our joined hands. I had a twinge of guilt -- he'd have a hell of a crick in his neck later -- but it felt nice to have someone there when I woke up. I'd woken up plenty of times alone.
"He never left your side. Not even when Bridget and Gillian threatened him with bodily harm. Eventually they gave up trying to make him leave."
For the first time in the week I'd known him, he didn't look pressed to within an inch of his life. His clothes looked like he'd slept in them, or whatever vampires do when the sun is up and they can't go outside. He should have looked less man-candy-ish but he didn't. When you're never going to be the hotter one around a guy it's seriously annoying.
"You don't look surprised." Williams crossed his arms over his chest, and even from where he stood next to the armoire across the room, I could see the faint ripple of muscle. Before the river dip, I would have licked my lips at the sight, but Theo had pulled me out of the river. Not Williams. Knowing you're not the most important thing to a man who wants to sleep with you tends to kill some, if not all, of the lust buzz.
"No, I'm not surprised Theo was here." I paused, chewing on my lower lip. I wasn't going to ask the question I wanted to. I waited a minute. Hell. "Where were you?"
"Surely Gillian told you I was hunting Hart."
"That you hunted Hart, but you couldn't contain him, or destroy him, or whatever." It took an effort, because the tingle of headache moved up to a dull throb, but I met his eyes anyway. "It didn't take three days. Where were you?"
"You may be the Prophecy and the reason for the alliance, which I and those who follow me thank you for, but I owe you no explanation for my actions."
"You always make a big deal out of being attracted to me, of wanting something huge from me. I think it makes me entitled to something in return."
I thought for a moment he would leave. He started to, was halfway to the door before he turned and stalked back toward the bed. He stood at the foot, leaning down to brace his arms against the mattress, his head hanging while he struggled to control his breathing or temper or both. When he raised his head, his eyes were full of more pain than any person should be forced to hold inside.
"You don't think I didn't want to be here? That I wouldn't have given my soul, what's left of it, to have been the one to stay by your side while they worked to save your life?" His voice sounded as raw as his eyes, almost like the words scratched his throat as he forced them out. "Hart taunted me with images of your broken body. Broken because you stood by your word, refused to give over the Covenant, refused to give over me."
"I gave my word. I don't give it often or lightly, so when I do I stick by it." His pain hurt me but at the same time I felt detached, almost like someone else hearing his confession. Warmth spread up my arm and I knew despite appearances Theo wasn't asleep. Something told me he kept me from feeling as much as I should.
"And your heart? Do you hold onto it with the same fierceness or does it only require a few flirtatious remarks and hand holding to win you over?"
"You said you owe me no explanations. If you think that, believe it, then you have no more right to question my actions than I have to question yours. You're upset, for a number of reasons, some of which I guess I'm never going to know."
I took a deep breath, surprised when the throbbing eased back down to dull. A fine sheen of sweat broke out over my skin, but what was a little sweat compared to not having a massive headache? As I saw it, the payoff outweighed the price.
"But you don't get to imply I'm a whore or a slut or anything remotely like that. We've made no promises, we have no obligations to each other, so you don't get to be angry if someone wants to take an interest in me and maybe I want to take an interest in them."
"Do you? Want to take an interest in Theo?" Those eyes almost did me in. Those tortured, burnt chocolate eyes, like I could see straight into his soul. He had one. He just needed to believe it, which would never happen.
I had enough baggage of my own. I didn't need another two hundred years' worth.
"Yes, I do."
"I'll leave you then." He straightened suddenly, the movement a blur, and then he stood at the door. He wrapped calm around him again, closing everything off. I don't know what frustrated me more, the calm or the outpour of feeling.
I closed my eyes as he slipped from the room and shut the door gently behind him. A few deep breaths were needed now and maybe a shot of whiskey.
"Should I apologize for eavesdropping, even though I really wouldn't mean it?"
"Apologizing when you don't mean it is kind of like lying."
I felt Theo lift his head from the bed and sit up straight, my lips twitching at his muffled groan and curse. "In that case, I won't apologize. I'm trying to stay away from lying for the sake of lying. Keep some part of my life simple." He lifted my hand and brushed my knuckles over his rough cheek. "I like simple, all things considered."
"This thing we have, it's simple?" I opened my eyes, alarmed when I found myself staring straight into Theo's. The pillow-top mattress and his chair gave us one of those little moments when you were able to look eye to eye with a person without it being uncomfortable.
"It could be. It should be."
"I've never heard someone say something should be simple," I replied.
"You just haven't been in the South long enough, sugar. Give it time, and you'll understand that simple is pretty much the way we like things down here."
"I've been in New Orleans so long, I'm practically a native."
"Well, then you're just out of practice." His full blown smile did wonders for his face, changed handsome into something extraordinary. It made him glow, from the sheer joy of the moment.
What would it be like to spend a lifetime with someone who glowed just from teasing?
I scratched the thought. There would be no talk of spending lifetimes with people, at least not until we took care of the whole 'a group of vampires wants you dead' thing. That's how my agenda was going to work.
Theo seemed to have a different plan. He held tight to my hand and where something like that would have freaked me out before, now it comforted me to know someone would be there when I woke up. The smile toned down slightly, but the glow held. "I was thinking about kissing you just now."
"Generally speaking, you don't announce such things. You just, you know, do them."
"Well, like I said, I was thinking about it. Then I had the other thought that since you are still, technically, on your death bed -- although there's no way you're dying at the moment -- it would be a little morbid and easy." The smile grew again, just a hair below the full sunshine of before. "And when I kiss you, I'm kind of hoping you'll be an active participant."
"How egalitarian of you."
"Well, I try." Theo stood, dropping my hand back to the sheet. I was disappointed, and more than a little shocked that I was. A good near death experience and unspoken proclamations of intentions made me as emotionally gooey as the next girl.
"Gillian's been waiting rather impatiently for you to wake up. If she isn't on her way now, she will be shortly and if she finds me still here...." He ran his hand through his hair, mussing it further in the process. "Well, she may tell my Great-grandmother, and I'll be in quite a bit of trouble. So I'll make my exit, and leave you to Gillian's tender care."
"Gillian? Tender care? I thought you gave up lying." My voice rose as he drew closer to the door, but he turned to flash one more smile, and I warmth pulse through me.
"I said I was trying. Didn't say how well it was going."
I laughed until Gillian opened the door two minutes later. Her scowl took the smile right off my face.
Thirty minutes later, I had yet to get a word in. It looked like it was going to take me at least another thirty, if I didn't fall asleep first. I wouldn't really be asleep, but it would handily end the tirade.
"Don't even think about trying to fall asleep, Jude Magdalyn. There's no way you could possibly be tired, seeing as how you've been asleep for the better part of four days."
"Would you let me say something, anything? You've been ranting the entire time, without once allowing me to explain." I kicked the covers off before checking to make sure I was clothed. Whoever dressed me had chosen the rattiest pajamas I owned to do the job. They were going to get a severe dressing down when I found them out.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, toes curling up when they met the cold wood. Pressing them down, I pushed to a standing position, for a moment. Then the muscles in my legs screamed in protest at their sudden usage and I sat back down on the bed.
"If nothing else, you're still as stubborn as you were before your swim in the river." Gillian, suddenly beside me, made me wonder how long the moment had actually been. "Part of the healing process involves getting your muscles to work again. As I've said numerous times, you've been asleep for nearly four days, meaning your muscles aren't working as well as they normally would."
"I would have figured that out." Eventually. "I'm not a complete idiot, Gillian. Only a partial one."
"I needed no confirmation on that, Jude. Your little stroll through the Quarter proved it beyond any shadow of a doubt." The hand soothing me a moment before now pressed almost painfully on my shoulder. "What on earth could you have been thinking, wandering around the streets alone?"
"I thought we already established that I wasn't thinking." I really didn't want to have this conversation right now. Actually, I didn't want to ever have it.
"Why weren't you thinking? There are hundreds of people relying on you now, not just within the Covenant, but amongst Williams and his followers." Her painful grip on my chin dragged my face around until we were almost nose to nose. "You must think of all the others before you make any decision, any decision at all."
"Maybe sometimes it gets to be too much, Gillian. It's not like this is something I've known about all my life and I've just been ignoring. This is so beyond new as to have a completely different meaning." Wrenching my chin away, I made another attempt to stand, pushing Gillian's hands away when they would have pulled me back to the bed. The muscle spasms were down to twitches and if I concentrated, I could manage to semi-pace around the edges of the bed.
"I'm doing everything you ask me to do, all of you. Doing more, just because it's the right thing to do. Could you try for a little understanding? A little, I don't know, sympathy, or something?"
"If you want sympathy, it's in the dictionary under the letter S." A hint of amusement colored her tone. "Jude, I'm not entirely unsympathetic, but if you're having uncertainties, we need to address them sooner rather than later."
I leaned against the window sill, looking down onto the street below. A faint glimmer of sunlight against the window panes across the way confirmed the early hour. Williams would no doubt be waiting impatiently for the sun to finish sinking below the horizon, eager to continue his quest to find Hart. Theo was somewhere in the house, no doubt showering off the feeling of four days of death watch, just waiting for my word to do whatever needed to be done.
Everyone was doing what they were supposed to, exactly as everything was supposed to be done. Everybody except for me.
"It's like being hit by a freight train, Gillian. You don't just get hit, you get dragged. And about the time you get used to the surface, some bump throws you off again. You... there's just a point where you get tired of it all, but you don't know what to do to stop it."
"A poor analogy, but I think I understand what you're driving at." Gillian's voice sounded like she sat in the same position I left her, perched on the edge of the bed. "You just needed some room to breathe."
"Yes, exactly. And I went to see Suzanne."
"Ahh. Perhaps that had something to do with your absent-mindedness." I turned around, careful to stay braced against the window sill. Being stubborn didn't mean being stupid and I knew if I tried to stand on my own for too long I'd hit the floor. Gillian turned on the bed until she could face me, and we stared at each other across the span of half of the room.
"What did Suzanne have to say?"
"Oh, you know the usual. I'll be loved, but I'll also have my heart and soul smashed to smithereens." Another thought, completely un-man related popped into my head. "And that the Covenant only takes members based on bloodlines, or ancestry, or something."
"Since you're obviously not ready or willing to talk about her main message, we'll focus on the second, shall we?" Just like that, we neatly skirted conversation I'd been trying to avoid. Maybe Gillian was as skittish about discussing my love life as me.
"Your Suzanne is correct. During the whole of its existence the Covenant's members have descended from the original twelve founding families."
I waited, but the one sentence seemed to be all I'd get without any pushing. "What, you guys aren't scared of inbreeding, producing children who breathe fire or something?"
"Don't be silly, Jude."
"I'm serious. Why would you want to limit yourselves, your, what do you call it, skill set, or whatever, by not letting outsiders in?" Even leaning against the window taxed my little bit of strength and I walked slowly back to the bed. Gillian watched as I eased myself down and I made a conscious effort to not let any of the pain show on my face.
"It's not a matter of limiting ourselves so much as protecting ourselves." Gillian rose to pace in front of me, she kept it slow enough that watching her didn't make my brain hurt. "Secrecy is paramount to the survival of our kind, even in such enlightened times as we live in now."
"So all the members of the Covenant are the descendants of twelve families who just all happened to get together a hundred years or so ago and make up their own religion?" I stared. "Seriously, Gillian? What, the kids were forbidden to look outside the ranks for love? If that's true, what about my parents, how'd that happen?"
"There are times, Jude when I could cheerfully smack you upside the head." Gillian stopped in her pacing to scowl at me. "For quite a while, close to one hundred fifty years, it was highly discouraged to seek a mate outside the membership of the Covenant. The last half century saw a loosening of those restrictions, although more than a few still chose to marry magic to magic."
In story-telling mode, I let Gillian talk. Better her talking than yelling at me. I wouldn't entirely discount the possibility of a tirade later though. "Some, not wanting to live like their parents and their parents before them married non-magic, and how I hate that word, hoping their gifts would simply pass their own children by. Sometimes it did. Sometimes it came back in a stronger form, much to the chagrin of those former Covenant members."
"So how did my family line end up being the leaders of the Covenant? I mean, no one even really questioned that I was the leader, despite the fact I clearly don't know what I'm doing."
"Your many-great grandmother came to the group unmarried and pregnant. No one ever knew the father of her daughter, he was never mentioned and she wasn't the type of woman to encourage such questions." Gillian paused, some memory making her chuckle. "She foretold that many, many years in the future, a daughter of her line would bind the group together for all time, making them more powerful than any could imagine. The first mention of the Prophecy."
"And people just believed her?"
"Sometimes, Jude, all you can do is believe."
I laughed, the bitter sound echoing. "I don't know what to believe in anymore."
Her left hand cupped my cheek, and I realized then the tears I'd thought kept at bay were sliding down my face. "You will, Jude Magdalyn. My promise to you."
A brief pat of her hand and then she stood, gliding in the direction of the door. I stared out the window, night pressing against the glass.
"You'll need to change quickly, Jude. The Covenant, what remains of it, will be here shortly."
"I can't go in there. Tell them all that I'm still sleeping, or recovering, or whatever."
"Jude. You have to do this at some point. Best to do it while you look a little shaky." Gillian smoothed some little bit of hair down, her hands busy around my face. "One, it will keep the meeting short, and two, it will keep some of your powers in reserve for later."
"Like the secret ingredient in dessert?"
"I'll buy you the biggest chocolate bar I can find once this is over." Theo's hand burned on low at the small of my back, and helped to suppress the shakes. I held tight to his right arm like a life preserver, partly because my legs were wobbly from being on my deathbed, but mostly due to my unwillingness to move forward.
I'd assumed when Gillian told me the remainder of the Covenant was downstairs, she meant in the kitchen or dining room. Nope. She meant everyone and they were all in the R.R.
Woo-hoo.
"So this is like a mixer, right? A meet and greet, hey, how you doing, kind of deal?" I babbled, but since it kept my mind from actually dealing with the upcoming event, I couldn't bring myself to stop. Besides, even if I'd wanted to, I'm pretty sure I couldn't stop.
"The sooner you enter the room, the sooner it will all be over." Gillian finished smoothing my hair to her satisfaction, a smile playing around the corners of her mouth. "And the sooner Theo will buy you your chocolate."
"Great. Great. So, we're going in." After a moment, I flexed my fingers on Theo's arm. "You guys are going to make me walk in, not just sort of lead me in, aren't you?"
"You are the Prophecy, Jude. Some show of strength is necessary." The smile broke fully over Gillian's face. "I have every confidence, however, that if you feel even the slightest bit weak, Theo will prevent you from falling."
"I never pass up the chance to fondle a pretty girl," Theo joked. His hand nudged me forward, and I heaved a sigh, I wasn't getting out of this.
"You'd better get me the most amazing chocolate bar the world has ever seen." Squaring my shoulders, I moved forward, my fingertips barely brushing the door before it swung open on its hinges. Gillian shook her head while Theo chuckled and I took my first step into the room.
My initial thought was my brain was still putting itself back together and I was seeing double or triple. The low murmuring I'd heard upon entering dropped off instantly and left my ragged breathing the only sound in the massive room.
White, black, mulatto, Asian, Hispanic. Men, women, children. Old, young, middle-aged. The only visible thing they had in common were their bowed heads.
The crowd parted seamlessly as I walked slowly into the room, the men bowing and the women dropping into a slight curtsy. The quiet held, my bare feet making no noise on the stone floor. I'd crossed a quarter of the room before anything happened.
One second I stood in the Ritual Room, the next I was walking down the center aisle of St. Louis Cathedral. I was in the moment long enough to know I wore a wedding dress and carried flowers before being catapulted back to the present.
When I returned to the present I realized I'd acquired extra weight on my right leg. Looking down, I blinked at possibly the most adorable looking little girl ever. She had the Shirley Temple thing going on, right down to the dimples. Normally, perfect people annoy me, but something about her made someone even as jaded as me soften. I bet she got everything she wanted simply by flashing her adorable dimples.
"Celia!" The little girl and I turned our heads in the direction of the frantic voice. A female roughly the same age as the Ice T's, but a lot more human, tried her best to push her way through the crowd. With the room packed almost to the gills, her efforts met with failure. She looked enough like the child attached to my leg I knew them as relatives of some sort.
The young woman managed to push through the last line of people between her and my little entourage. Dropping to one knee, she grabbed the child's hand and tugging on it, she whispered, "Celia, you can't go around grabbing people. We've talked about this. And you really, really cannot grab her."
"But why?"
"Because she's the new leader of the Covenant, Celia. Come here." Celia didn't move an inch.
"But why?"
I could tell the older girl was used to getting asked "why" for everything. "Because you're holding up the gathering, Celia, which is very, very rude."
"But why?"
I bit my lip to keep from laughing and decided if I didn't do something we'd be playing Twenty Questions all night. I knelt, forcing Celia to let go of my leg, and marveling at the dimple, put my face close to hers. "Because, Celia, I was hurt a little bit ago by a bad man, and even though I'm mostly better, I still get tired and have to take naps."
Her pouting face, complete with lower lip stuck out, made me wish for a camera. "I don't like naps. Elizabeth makes me take them anyway."
"You missed yours today, it is past your bedtime, and those are the only reasons I'm not absolutely furious at you, Celia." Elizabeth lifted her head to scowl at Celia. "Seriously, Celia, you know how to act in public. I left you with Rian, so I really want to know how you managed to get through all these people, without touching any of them, to get all the way over here and launch yourself at the most important person in the room."
"Is it such a big deal that she didn't touch anybody?" I looked around, shaking my head. "Aside from the fact there's no room in here?"
"Celia's physically blind. When she touches someone, they frequently get shifted to the future for a moment." Elizabeth bit her lip. "People tend to get upset. Celia thinks it's fun."
"It is fun, Elizabeth. I get to be in the wedding and my dress is really, really pretty." Celia patted my cheek with her hand, drawing my attention back to her. I realized then how her eyes, the same hazel-blue as Elizabeth's, were clouded and filmed over.
"I like pink better, though. Can my dress be pink instead?"
Tongue in cheek, I replied, "We'll have to see. Maybe they won't have any pink ones whenever it's time to get the dress." It didn't surprise me when I stood and Celia lifted her arms and stomped her foot lightly.
"Up, please."
"At least she remembered to say please," Elizabeth muttered under her breath. Standing as well, she moved to pick up Celia, who twisted away and pointed a delicate finger at me. "No, Celia, the Prophecy is not going to pick you up."
"Up, please."
"Again, while it's good you remembered to say please, the answer is still no." When Celia started to sniffle, Elizabeth scowled again. Even though Celia couldn't actually see her face, she apparently recognized the change in Elizabeth's tone. "You do not want to start that right now, Celia. You will not like what happens one bit."
Behind me, Theo moved forward a step. "Would it be alright if I carried her? You said yourself, she's not had a nap and it's past her bedtime. Maybe she'll go to sleep if someone holds her for a bit."
"This is Celia, remember?" Elizabeth shook her head, shrugged her shoulders. "If you want, you're more than welcome to take her. Don't complain when she talks your ear off."
The arrangement seemed to work for Celia, who calmly allowed Theo to pick her up and prop her on his hip. When Elizabeth made to move back into the crowd, I shook my head "If Celia gets to play with the big kids, you do too." I didn't have to look back to know Gillian gave a nod of approval. Elizabeth hesitated, until Celia said, "Come on, Lizzie. I want to see the sparkles."
None of us knew what she meant, but it seemed to be our cue to continue moving through the crowd of people, Theo and Celia to my left, Elizabeth to my right, with Gillian slightly behind us. The bowing continued, although as soon as we passed a low murmur started up. More to take my mind off whatever crazy spectacle I would soon be part of than anything else, I asked Elizabeth where their parents were.
"Our mother died giving birth to Celia five years ago, soon after I turned thirteen. Our father had never been part of the Covenant. Our mother was at one time, but didn't want her children to have to worry about powers, and visions, and so on."
"So where's your father?" I asked.
Celia jumped in Theo's arms at the bitter sound Elizabeth's laugh made. "He started drinking himself to death when our mother died and finally finished last year. Celia doesn't know much about him, because between the blindness, the visions, and our mother dying in childbirth, he pretty much avoided her. The whole plan to dilute the powers in the blood backfired. Celia's a better seer than anybody, even Rian."
Theo spoke up from my other side. "She's right, Jude. Celia is just a lot more touchy-feely than Rian."
"You said the plan backfired. How so for you?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "Maybe it would have been better to say it backfired for Celia. I get feelings sometimes, hunches, but that's about the extent of my powers. My purpose is to take care of Celia, which is more than a full time job."
"I can bet," I murmured under my breath. Inspiration struck, and I bit my tongue for a moment before following my instincts. "I need a personal assistant. Or so Gillian tells me. The Crossroads is plenty big enough for you and Celia."
I heard Gillian's quick intake of breath behind me, and a similar sound from Elizabeth. Celia was a little more vocal. "Ooh, ooh, say yes, Lizzie. We won't have to live with Wily anymore. I don't like her."
"Hell, based on the name alone, I insist you move in to the Crossroads, even if you don't come as my personal assistant. I wouldn't wish a name like that on my worst enemy." I shook my head, chuckling. "On second thought, maybe Hart would surrender peacefully after a week of living with a name so weird."
"Not nice, Jude," Theo muttered under his breath. Celia giggled and I leaned in to whisper to her. "He lectures me more than Elizabeth lectures you."
"Now you're just lying." I couldn't help laughing at the comical look of affront on Theo's face. Even Elizabeth laughed, albeit reluctantly. "I wouldn't dream of lecturing you, mostly because you would do your crazy fire throwing thing." He went nose to nose with Celia, almost breathless with giggles. "Remember that before you wake her up in the morning."
"It seems to be a done deal, so how can I argue?" Elizabeth stopped when we reached the outer line of the circle. From our current position, I could see one of the reasons the room was jammed full. The circles were almost empty of people. Only the Council stood within, and none stood inside the second circle.
"I've learned to develop a similar attitude about some things. It gets easier with time." Taking a deep breath, I looked back at Gillian. "So, we've met and greeted. What's next?"
"I would be interested in seeing a circle cast." Since they'd helped cover up the mess by the river, I wouldn't smack whichever Ice-T had spoken. I could think about it, though. "I don't think it's too much to ask the Prophecy to cast a circle."
"Not at all," Gillian answered smoothly from behind me. I would have bet anything she'd expected something like this. If only she'd shared her anticipation with me. "If the holders of the elements would move into position and the Council members move back a fraction. It is Jude's first circle, after all."
I watched Theo move toward the southern part of the circle, and Gillian toward the northern. As one, Lies and Guile moved east, and a guy about their age -- Christophe, I remembered, moved west. Gillian motioned me forward, and I stood in the very center of them, alone. Celia squirmed down from Theo's arms and skipped across the floor to latch back onto me, relieving my solitary status.
"For heaven's sake," one of the twins muttered. I shot them a dirty look and they shut up. Until something happened which made it necessary for Celia to be outside the circle, she could stay where she was.
I looked to Gillian for guidance, and she gestured to Father O'Brien who stepped forward with five candles, all of a different color. He walked around the circle, handing a green one to Gillian, a yellow one to Lies and Guile, a red one to Theo, and a blue one to Christophe. He called Celia to him, handing her a purple candle and pointing at me, which meant the purple one was mine.
"Go first to your east, and call air to you." Nodding at Gillian's instructions, I walked to stand in front of the twins and took a deep breath. Talk about stage fright. Bullets of apprehension skimmed my skin. I could use a breeze to cool me down at the moment.
No sooner did I have the thought, a light wind kicked up around the room, the candle held by the twins flickering to life. I did my best to tune out the murmurs from the crowd, although I couldn't stop the small smirk on my face at the twins' matching scowls. Not the most harmonious moment, sure, but none of us sniped at each other.
"Theo, and fire." Turning to my right, I walked to Theo, wondering how I would call fire without burning someone. Theo shook his head and laughed, the thought must have shown on my face.
"There's more than one type of fire, Jude." I blushed at his hint. Whether it was my fiery cheeks or the semi-dirty thoughts he put in my head, the wick of his candle lit up, shooting high before dwindling to a safer height.
"The smaller fires burn the longest." What his comment meant I'd have to figure out later because Christophe, obviously impatient, cleared his throat. I rolled my eyes and Theo laughed as I moved right, and west. Christophe held his blue candle out, waiting for it to light like the previous ones. I waited too, thinking of the Mississippi and how it washes away everything in its path. We all waited.
Nothing.
After a moment, I felt a lighter pressed into my hand. I looked down at Celia, who pointed to Father O'Brien. She whispered loud enough for the first few rows of people around the outer circle to hear. "Light the candle with this."
Annoyed with my less than stellar performance, I moved to light Christophe's candle. Before the flame touched the wick, the candle slipped from his hand. He picked it up, and I tried again.
The candle shot out of his hand across the room. We all turned to follow its progress. The wax cylinder lay where none expected.... At Rian's feet.
A long, awkward silence ensued as we all tried to decide what to do. Finally, Rian reached down and picked up the blue candle. The moment his fingers closed around the pillar, the wick burst into flame violent enough to make us all jump. He laughed nervously. "I guess there's been a change in the team line-up."
Christophe stepped back into the space the Council members occupied, his eyes lowered, but not before I saw the flash of hurt and anger. Rian walked across the room to take Christophe's place, his fingers clenching and unclenching on the candle. I laid my hand over his and squeezed, letting him know we'd figure out what the change meant later.
There were two candles left unlit, and I turned to my right again to light Gillian's. She stood straight and proud, as solid as the earth she obviously represented. I wondered if I would have to use the lighter after all, but I took a deep breath and clasped my hands around hers. She arched an eyebrow, as if to ask what I was waiting for, and I snorted out a laugh as the candle flamed to life.
"You over think the simple things sometimes, Jude. One last element. You'll know how to bring it to us."
Turning to the center of the circle, I saw Celia holding the purple candle. I flicked my gaze in Elizabeth's direction, not surprised to find her shaking her head in exasperation. Bending down until we were level, I looked at the film over Celia's eyes, which might have clouded her vision but not her spirit. After a moment's thought, I raised my voice to carry. "Elizabeth, would you come here, please?"
"No one can enter the circle once the four elements are cast," one of the twins informed me, with only the slightest bit of waspishness in their voice. I shook my head and my hair slid across my back.
"Elizabeth, would you come here, please?"
She stepped forward nervously, walking past a few Council members whose names I couldn't remember. When she reached the second circle, she flicked a glance in Rian's direction, only moving forward again when he gave her a small nod of encouragement. As she stepped to the etched line of the inner circle, Celia reached out one hand to grab her and pull her in.
"Hurry up, Lizzie. I want to see the sparkles."
Elizabeth and I shared a confused glance. Wetting my lips, I spoke, "We're going to blow the flame to life. All of us." When Elizabeth's eyes widened, I continued, "It needs all of us."
Closing her eyes and screwing up her face, Celia began to blow in short, energetic puffs. I watched Elizabeth grip her sister's hand tighter before closing her eyes and letting out a soft exhale of breath over the candle. Satisfied I wouldn't have to explain how I knew it would work -- I just knew -- I leaned forward and let my long exhale mingle with theirs over the wick of the candle.
The room seemed to draw a breath of its own for a long moment. Time froze like it had in the hall with Williams. I looked around the circle and saw only the members of the circle itself were still of the moment, not merely in it. I observed Rian watching Elizabeth, and wondered. I noticed how Guile leaned away from her sister in Christophe's direction, and how Lies eyed both of them nervously, and wondered. I scrutinized how Gillian scanned the room, always on the lookout for trouble.
Finally, I looked at Theo, his gaze never wavering from me since the beginning. I felt his gaze as hot on me as the fire he represented. My eyes went back to Theo's, and I wondered if his mouth would be as hot.
Power blew out from the purple candle like a shock wave, sparks rising high into the air.
Time caught back up as the members of the Covenant gasped, cheered and applauded. Elizabeth opened her eyes, letting out a whooshing laugh as Celia clapped and cried, "Again, again!"
A voice boomed out over the celebration, echoing off the walls. Even before the crowd shifted and parted for me to could see clear to the door, I knew the voice belonged to Williams. His warriors knelt on the ground behind him, heads down. He knelt as well, but kept his head up to see me, and allow me to see him.
"Perhaps the Prophecy could take a small breather before more fireworks are set off."
Someone near the door screamed, and though it was muffled fairly quickly, the sound served to break whatever spell held the room. After a general shuffling and rearranging, a large clear area spread Williams.
He took the reaction in stride, as if it happened quite often. He stood, arms crossed over his chest. He wore a lot of hardware at a mixer not involving frat boys and kegs. You could never have too much ammo at those parties.
"Not that I don't find it an entertaining sight, but you can understand the apprehension one would feel when entering a room containing what could only be called magical fireworks." In other words, the vamps weren't comfortable being in a room with someone who might accidentally set them on fire. I saw his point of view, but it stung to have my ineptness made so public.
"Right, right, got ya." I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "So Gillian, any thoughts on the next best step?"
"Just uncast the circle, girl. And do it quick. I don't like being in the same room as those bloodsuckers, and I don't mind saying it." Only Great-grandmother Lisette would have the balls to make such a statement and get away with it. No one tried to hush her.
Once she said to uncast the circle, a light went on in my head. Working quickly, I released the elements in backward order of how I called them to the circle. The crowd immediately pressed in, only to be stopped short by a raised hand from Gillian.
With Theo on my left, Gillian on my right, and Rian and the others behind me, I crossed the room again, trying not to freak at the hands reaching out to brush me as I walked past. These people were entirely too touchy-feely.
His party having backed out of the room, Williams stood in front of the door. It was an effort, but I kept my gaze on his. I even managed a smirk.
"Jude."
I could do terse as well as the next person. "Williams."
"Gillian."
"Williams."
"Theo."
I tried to hold back a giggle and failed. "Ok, seriously, this is like a bad B-movie. Let's just go upstairs into one of the fifty parlors and talk things over."
"You only have five parlors, Jude. There's no need to exaggerate." Gillian sighed heavily. "However, I see your point. Theo, do you need to see to Lisette or do the twins have her?"
"The twins will be fine with her." Theo caught the look on my face. "The twins and I are distantly related, but close enough we share some family responsibilities."
"Well, that's a definite negative on your side," I muttered underneath my breath. Williams heard me. I saw his lips quirk before settling back into a stern line. "To the Lab, then."
I flushed when heads turned curiously in my direction. "I like watching Jimmy Neutron."
Out of the fifty -- excuse me, five -- parlors the Crossroads contained, the smallest one tucked behind the library was my favorite. I'd stumbled on it by sheer dumb luck and immediately claimed the room for my own personal space. The paint and paper were faded and the furniture showed its age. Decades of use softened any sharp edges or rough fabric and made the space more comfortable. As soon as Elizabeth set her down, Celia crawled up in one of the chairs and fell asleep in under two minutes.
When Elizabeth moved to sit on the floor beside the chair, Rian stopped her. He took her hand and led her to one of the loveseats flanking the fireplace. Elizabeth answered the unasked question the frown on my face indicated.
"Wily's family is somewhat old-fashioned. Anyone without power sits below those with power."
"Which usually means on the floor." Theo shook his head, clearly embarrassed at his relatives. He flushed at the look of disgust on my face. "Some traditions die hard, Jude."
"We've come to give the Covenant an update. We'd like to make it brief, so we can continue our work." Williams shifted, clearly in a hurry.
I collapsed into the loveseat opposite Elizabeth. "Please, be my guest." I aimed for flippant, but apparently hit closer to sarcasm, since Gillian came to stand behind me and twisted my ear.
"Ow, ow, ow. Geez, what is it with you people and trying to break off body parts?"
"You'd compare Gillian to the likes of Hart and his cronies?" Father O'Brien's outrage rang clear in his words. I rolled my eyes, not surprised when Gillian smacked the back of my head, even though I knew she couldn't have seen me. The punishment relaxed Elizabeth's mouth a hint of a smile and made the head bop worth it.
"I've been abused more by more magical people of every variety than by anyone on the street. I feel like I should be carrying around a really big stick or something."
"Funny you should mention that---." Rian broke off as he sat on the loveseat with Elizabeth, his arm casually stretching across the back. Whether from Gillian's look or Williams' huff of impatience, Rian smiled. "Some other time, then."
"I'll make this brief. Since losing him minutes before sunrise two days ago, we've been searching for Hart in all of his usual spots. We haven't had any luck, missing him by a matter of minutes, which as you all know is essentially the same thing as missing him by hours." Williams ran a hand through his hair, the movement causing the sword to lift and bump against him. He readjusted it in a routine, almost innate way.
"He's been staying away from his previous hunting grounds, so we can only assume he's either found new ones, or has a reserve of sorts somewhere."
"By reserve, you mean he's got a dozen or so humans stashed away somewhere like cows." The thought made me sick to my stomach, and I pressed a hand to my belly. Gillian's hand on my shoulder and Theo's presence to my left settled me, but the idea of people being kept caged somewhere waiting to die sickened me.
"To be blunt, yes. We've been monitoring the media, and since there's been no mention of bodies being discovered fully drained, we can also assume Hart and his followers are burning the bodies when they're finished. The taken are most likely homeless and runaways."
"Is there any way possible to feel the people being kept hostage? Some magical, or vampire way?" I couldn't do anything about the people already gone, but I could damn well try and do something about those still alive. My heart pounded hard in my chest. If they told me something could be done at this particular moment, then by God, I was willing to do it.
Maybe my insistence for action or my willingness to act caused the shift. Whatever the reason, one second I sat in my parlor, the next I wasn't entirely sure where I was, at least at first. I took in the people, crammed and crowded into a tiny space behind a set of crude bars under lock and key. A tray of bread, already starting to mold, sat on the floor and a bucket of water with filth skimming the top occupied one corner.
Most of them sat silently, eyes glazed over with fatigue and fear. Some were already gone. You could tell by the looks on their faces, whatever mind had been there was broken completely. One desperate soul sat in the corner clutching some sort of medallion, rocked back and forth while praying.
He prayed to Saint Jude.
I don't know why they couldn't see me, because I existed solidly in their midst. Solid enough to dart across the room and test the lock on the heavy oak door. Solid enough to jimmy open the window set high off the ground. I had to believe these people could squeeze through the average basement window. Murmurs started behind me as the window flew open, and I said my own prayers these people would be quiet long enough to get out.
They might not have seen me, but they believed something lived among them. I could almost smell the hope as it grew, a wild, sweet smell stronger than anything in this horrible room. With another look at the door, I crossed to the cage, my mind working frantically at how to get the lock open.
I almost ignored the tingling in my left hand. Almost. Then inspiration hit, and I gripped the ancient looking padlock in my hand, holding tight. My thoughts focused not on shooting fire but on melting the lock, I bit my lip to keep from letting out a victory shout as I felt the metal heat to burning. One swift jerk and I held the softened clasp in my hand. Pulling the gate open, I moved back, watching the people surge to their feet.
The young helped the old. The men helped the women and the few teenagers there. Those who'd seen too much to be whole again were taken care of, instead of left behind. Sometimes tragedy makes animals of us. And sometimes it makes us more human than anybody could believe possible.
No sooner had the last person been hoisted from the room than I drew a breath, and found myself back in the parlor. The exhale whistled through my teeth and I bent forward to put my head down, hoping the dizziness would pass. The only sound in the room the crackle of the fireplace. Straightening up, I met Williams' eyes.
Opening my hand, I let the melted lock drop to the floor.
"You just upped your chocolate bar to dinner and drinks." Theo bent down, picking the lock up and turning the melted mass over in his hands. His look -- causal, interested. "All of them?"
"A few dozen." My voice came out as causal and calm as his. Like we were discussing the latest movie, and not whatever hiccup in time had just occurred. "Looked like the room service sucked."
"One second you were asking what could be done and the next you froze. You stopped breathing. The next breath you took, the lock was there, in your hand." Elizabeth didn't sound freaked out at all, something definitely in her favor. If she was going to be my personal assistant, I had a feeling she'd be seeing things like this more often than taking memos.
"Time stopped here, so you could take care of what needed to be done elsewhere." Gillian's hand rubbed at the tension knot at the base of my neck, the movement just shy of heavenly. "Again, your powers are growing at an astonishing rate. There can be no doubt among the members of the Covenant you are truly the Prophecy once news of this is heard."
"I don't think we should tell anybody." Gillian's hand paused for a moment in working at the knot, and I wet my lips nervously. "Just not right now. In a little bit, maybe." Especially because I didn't have a clue if I could do it on command.
"I agree with Jude." Williams' voice dropped into the silence of the room, and I studied his face. I couldn't see any signs of sarcasm, but I already knew he could do blank face like nobody's business. "Her feelings for the most part have been accurate. I see no purpose to begin ignoring them at this time."
"Well, that's great." I didn't realize I'd taken his hand at some point until I felt Theo squeeze my fingers. I thought about releasing the comforting grip because of Williams' presence, but dismissed the thought just as quickly. He'd said there were no obligations, no strings on him, so as far as it concerned Theo the same applied to me -- whether Williams liked it or not. "Not that being able to do whatever the heck it was I did---."
"Astral projection, most likely." Elizabeth's face flushed when we all turned to stare at her. "I have to read a lot with Celia. I'm good at remembering things."
"I'll keep your skill in mind the next time I need random bits of information. Seriously. But like I was trying to say, it might be a good idea to know exactly how I did what I did, so I can do it again in the future."
"That's amazing." I turned to look at Theo. The knot at the base of my neck a vague memory now thanks to Gillian's nimble fingers. "Not only did I follow everything you said, it made absolute sense."
"We'll continue tracking Hart, as best as we can. I'd advise all members of the Covenant, not just the Council or Jude, to be extremely careful." Williams crossed his arms over his chest, looking like a Civil War vet and Goth club bouncer hybrid. "Hart will be furious at his loss and will automatically assume you are responsible."
"So Hart knows more about the possibility of my powers than I do?" I shook my head, disgusted at the whole situation. "So are there any more surprises I should be on the lookout for?"
"You should have discovered by now everything is a surprise as far as you're concerned, Jude." With that, Williams gave a short bow from the waist, his gaze sliding over mine and Theo's joined hands. Turning on his heel, he strode from the room, gone almost before his leaving fully registered.
"I can see being your personal assistant will be highly entertaining." Elizabeth drew her legs up so she hugged her knees. Her hair, a darker, richer blonde than Celia's, almost honey colored, reflected the firelight in such a way her features seem a little older, but in a good way.
It explained why Rian couldn't seem to look anywhere else for longer than two seconds.
"Normally the show comes with dinner, but things are a little out of order tonight." Standing, I stretched my arms high, wincing only slightly at the burn in my muscles. I'd been hurting earlier, but it seemed the more I stayed up and moving -- and the more power I used -- the better I felt. One more thing to tuck into crowded my mind and think on later.
"And speaking of dinner, I believe I owe you one." Theo pushed off the loveseat, and I became aware again of how similar in height we were. There's some comfort in being able to look someone directly in the eye, especially when those eyes are such a lovely shade of brown. "Although at this hour, I'm not sure what's open and decent."
"Clover Grill." Rian's fingers just barely touched the edges of Elizabeth's hair where it lay on the back of the couch, in a seemingly casual gesture. I wagered he knew exactly where his fingers were. "Clover Grill is way better than decent."
Theo raised his eyebrows in question. "Up for burgers and drag queens?"
I smiled, the last of my tension melting away. "Is there any better combo?"
Clover Grill, as usual after about ten, was packed. They advertise they're there to make you feel more beautiful than you are, so it would stand to reason people love the place whether they're drunk or sober. In addition to having a hilarious staff, the food is to-die for -- no pun intended, at least not this time.
Halfway through my amazing burger it hit me -- although technically this could be called a first date, Theo and I were way past that marker. The man had pulled me from the Mississippi, kept a vigil at my bedside, and helped me face a room full of total strangers. Most guys would be expecting lots and lots of sex before even one of those things happened. Hell, I would be expecting great sex, not just mediocre or even good, before anything along those lines happened.
"So, I take it my story about accidentally burning my mother's favorite parlor chair when I was fourteen is not nearly as funny as other people have led me to believe." I blinked, trying to replay the last few minutes of conversation in my mind and failing completely. Sometimes I'm a great multi-tasker, others I'm not. This was obviously one of those times I wasn't.
"Sorry. Just thinking. Things."
"Right, things. They're absolutely horrifying, those things. Especially when all you can really call them is things." Theo took a bite of his burger, nonchalantly wiping away the juice dripping down his chin. After swallowing, he continued, "I've always found that some things, when you ignore them, turn out to be not things at all but merely doo-dads. Which are not nearly as bad as things."
I stared at him, torn between asking what the hell he meant and laughing. Finally, I shook my head and laughed. "Theo, you have possibly the most interesting way of putting things I've heard in a long time. And I've heard lots of interesting things."
"Growing up on the streets and such." Theo's eyebrows drew together in concentration and he put his burger down to nab a fry from the basket we shared. "Or did you mean growing up with the nuns? I've always wanted to ask Father O'Brien about the sordid escapades of the Catholic Church, but I'm afraid he would damn me to Purgatory just for having the thought."
My instantaneous laugh had more than one person looking over in our direction. "I don't think priests can actually damn someone to Purgatory. I think you have to earn that trip all on your own."
"Good to know. Remind me to actually ask him those questions the next time I see him then." He went back to his burger, as unconcerned with the ending of whatever conversation we'd been having as he would have been to find out the sky was really blue. Since I wasn't entirely sure of the point of the conversation we'd been having I willingly let it go.
We ate the rest of the meal in relative silence, with the occasional comment about the Saints, or some new movie playing. Theo picked up the check without any comment, and I sat awkwardly, not sure what to do. We were on a date, but not really, and I wasn't even a really good dater to begin with, for lack of a better word.
We stood on the sidewalk for a moment while he looked up, then down, Bourbon apparently having some internal debate. Finally, he took my hand and turned us in the direction of Esplanade Avenue. "I promised you dinner and drinks, and I never fail to deliver." The way he wiggled his eyebrows made me laugh again and I pictured of how the two of us looked. Theo's dark, tanned and casual in jeans and a button-down look. I stood beside him with my hair down, dress blowing in the breeze -- so normal.
He led us to Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop, one of those places loved by locals and tourists alike. The oldest established bar in the U.S. -- how could you not love a place like that? Candles, haunted history and a MegaTouch. It really didn't get any better, as far as bars went.
I bit my tongue to keep from laughing when he deposited me at a table with a clear view of all the doors and a stern warning to stay put until he got back. I'm not sure if he was really concerned or if Gillian had issued some dire threat before letting him take me outside the house. I stayed put anyway. It took him a few minutes to bring back drinks, but after one sip I deemed it worth the wait.
"If I say good choice, will you be offended?"
"Not really. It takes quite a bit to offend me." Theo took a sip of what looked like straight whiskey, swirling it around on his tongue before swallowing. "After all, I'm related to Lies and Guile. And Great-grandmother Lisette. Since their tongues could strip the hide off a shark, I'm pretty mellow."
"I'm trying to not say bad things about the twins, so let's find a new topic of conversation." When his eyes began to lighten mischievously, I hastened to add, "No Williams, or Gillian, or magic. Just normal things."
"Okay. Since we can't talk about any of those things, I guess we can talk about sex." His face might have been innocent and his voice straightforward, but unmistakable heat filled his eyes. You could have been blind and able to see the heated way he looked at me.
"There are other normal things to talk about besides sex, Theo."
"True, but none nearly as interesting. I'm going to guess you never got to play one of the most amusing of drinking games. Never-Have-I-Ever." Theo still looked innocent, but I he didn't fool me. "Very fun game. Simple rules."
"Don't you usually have to have more than two people to play a drinking game?" I traced the rim of my drink with my finger. It was one of those flirting with danger moments. The man's eyes were lethal, meant in the best way possible.
"Usually, but since this is more for information than for kicks and giggles, I think two is a good number." Half done with his drink, Theo raised a hand to signal one of the bargirls over. After she left, he continued, "I mean, it's better than one. One is the loneliest number of all."
"Okay, when you break out cheap song lyrics to make a point, I have to cave. It makes me wonder what else you'll quote unless I agree." Leaning back in my chair, I crossed my arms over my chest, swinging the leg I had crossed over my knee. "So what are the rules for this game that's not really a game?"
"Like I said, simple ones. You say something you've never done, and if the other person has, they drink. If they haven't, they don't." The bargirl brought our drinks back, and Theo turned a serious face toward me. "It always helps to have a full drink when you start the game."
"I can imagine," I answered dryly. "Since I'm the newbie, I get to ask the first question."
"I was going to say ladies first, but we'll go with your reasoning. Either way, ask away." Theo sat back, mimicking my pose. "I'm an open book."
"Yeah, in what language." His snort of laughter indicated he'd heard my mutter. I thought for a moment, fingers tapping on my arm. "Alright. Never have I ever kissed a person of the same sex."
"If you wanted to make sure I wasn't gay, you could have asked for a demonstration." Theo didn't touch his drink. "But it's good to see you getting into the spirit of the game. My turn. Never have I ever had sex with more than one person at the same time."
If he was waiting for me to pick up my drink, he'd be waiting for a long time. "That was never something I did, even when times were really desperate. Never have I ever had sex in the same building as a family member."
"That's low." Theo took a sip and smiled. "Although I was getting thirsty. And before you ask, it was in my parent's house, when I was sixteen. I snuck LoriAnn Manne through my window once."
"With a name like that, I'm surprised it was even once. Poor girl."
"Actually, she's a guy now." Theo threw back his head and laughed at the expression on my face. "I guess she-he, felt he had to live up to his name."
"So many crude comments in my head right now, so many." I shook my head, uncrossing my arms and leaning forward to place them on the table. "Your turn."
"Alright. Never have I ever had sex with more than one person in a night."
Nonchalantly, I picked up my drink, and took a long sip. My gaze leveled with his when I answered the unspoken question. "I didn't enjoy doing it, but everybody had to pull their weight. If that meant more than one turn a night, well, what could you do?"
"How were you able to stop, get off the streets?" Theo's hand covered mine, squeezing once. A week ago, I would have pulled away. A lot had changed in a week.
"I put in my portion, but I saved the rest. Boosted a couple of cars, took them to chop shops. When I was eighteen, I got a legal job, held it for a little bit." I smiled ruefully, thinking about the life I'd lived. "I'm not exactly a people person, so working with others on a regular basis for hours on end didn't really work out for me."
"So you were on the streets for two years? You always make it seem so much longer."
"A year on the streets is like seven in the civilized world. I may be younger than you, Theo, but I'm a lot older at the same time." I took another sip of my drink, not sure of the rules and not really caring. "Although come to think of it, I don't know how old you are."
"I'll be twenty-nine in a few months." He placed a hand over his heart, striking a pseudo-tragic pose. "Almost thirty, and never been in love."
"Well, there goes a possible question."
"Maybe I should clarify. Never have I ever been in love until about five days ago." His eyes were serious now, the intensity of his emotions darkening the color to almost black. My heart gave a sharp lurch, trying to drop into my stomach. Luckily, my ribcage prevented the fall.
"If I'm not mistaken, I fell on my ass the first time I met you."
"Which I found charming. No, seriously." He tightened his hand over mine when I tried to pull away, aware for the first time of just how physically powerful he could be. Williams put all his strength out there simply by standing in a room. Theo kept the possibilities of what he could do under much tighter wraps. "All it took was one look, Jude. One look."
I opened my mouth, shut it. Opened again, shut again. What the hell could I say? "You have no idea who I am."
"I know that even though you don't like people, you're shouldering the responsibility of a great number of them. You don't like to see people in pain, and you'll do almost anything to make it stop. You don't like crowds or tequila, and you like your burgers with nothing but mayo and salt."
Theo placed his right hand over my left, forming a circle with our arms on the table. "I know you wear your hair down because you don't want the trouble of putting it up, but you don't know what to do with it down, either. You raise your left eyebrow when you're thinking about a problem, and you tuck your tongue in your cheek right before you say something very smartass."
He brought our hands together, then raised mine to his face, eyes closing, inhaling deeply. "I know your skin feels like living silk, and you smell like roses and chocolate." He placed my outstretched hand over his heart, opening those dark, intense eyes. "And I know that short of dying, there's not a thing in this lifetime or any other that could make me not love you."
My mouth went dry, and despite the physical impossibilities, my heart fell into my stomach. I had no idea whether I was secretly happy or scared to death. Maybe a little of both. Or a lot of one and a little of another.
"I can probably assume you're freaking out more than a little. That's okay. I was more than a little freaked out myself when the thought first hit me, which was sometime while you were eating dinner with the Council that first night." He let go of my hands and I drew them slowly back across the table. They say when people are acting crazy you don't make sudden movements around them. Or maybe the sentiment related to wild animals. Either way it seemed like good advice to follow.
"Theo, it's impossible for you to fall in love with someone you don't really know all too well in less time than it took God to create the earth. Whether you go the creation route or intelligent design." I really, really needed to believe my own words. I took another long sip, noticing the plastic cup was almost empty. More alcohol. I really, really, needed more alcohol.
"A week ago you would have said it was impossible for you to throw lightning bolts or astral project." Theo drained his drink, looking around for the bargirl. Since I needed at least one more round, I hoped he found her fast. "Time is relative. Hell, sometimes reality is relative, since our reality is different from the reality of probably every other person in this room. But what I know, with every ounce of being, is not relative. It's absolute."
How do you look in the face of utter certainty and entertain the beginnings of doubt? It's also apparently impossible to entertain censoring your thoughts, because mine came spilling out of my mouth before I even knew they were there. "Theo, people like you don't fall in love with people like me. You deserve some Garden District princess whose family wouldn't even know kids lived on the streets."
"And what about you, what do you deserve?"
"Nothing. I deserve nothing." I realized even though I was saying it, I didn't really want to believe it. I didn't want to believe no one waited out there for me. I could accept it, but I didn't want to believe it.
"I don't believe that. Neither do you." Theo's smile lit up his entire face and made you see just how attractive he really was. "You're just saying it because you're scared."
"Scared? Me?" I scoffed, even though I knew he spoke the truth. Screw scared, a step away from flat out terrified described me better. "I play with vampires now, mister. You underestimate me greatly if you believe that."
"Alright, then. If you're not scared, you won't have a problem with me kissing you." He slid around the table until he sat next to me. He kept his hands above the table, away from my legs, even though my dress rode high enough to expose a decent amount of thigh. Points for him.
"You're daring me to kiss you? What, are we back in middle school or something?"
"Whatever gets the job done. Besides, think of it as playing spin-the-bottle without actually spinning the bottle and possibly landing on someone like that robust gentlemen over there."
I glanced over my shoulder to see who Theo nodding toward and choked back laughter at the sight of a man who could have been Ms. Talanger's brother, down to the overabundance of surgical enhancements. As I turned back to say something on the slick side, Theo slid his hands up my neck and cupped my face.
"Don't worry, sugar. It's only a kiss," he murmured, his lips close enough I felt the words against mine. His eyes were almost black again, and I felt my breath hitch. He eased forward a teeny, tiny bit, pressing his lips more firmly against mine, and my eyes opened wide.
I'd expected Williams to be cold and he'd been warm. I expected Theo to be warm and he burned against me. Like all the emotion he felt concentrated in those amazing lips and he poured them into this kiss. Williams had skill, because he's over two hundred years old, and he even had feeling, but Theo.... I've always thought the phrase, "make an angel weep" overused and overrated, but I'll recant now. There were angels weeping in jealousy at not being able to experience what I did at the moment.
I'm betting a few of the other people in the bar were jealous, because at least one called out for us to get a room. Their reaction might have something to do with the fact that after my initial shock, I did my best to crawl into his lap. I wasn't being too subtle about it either. My breath burned in my lungs when I pulled back and fell back into my chair. I scooted a few inches away, trying to put a little more distance between temptation and myself. I'm usually strong willed, but I didn't trust myself at this point.
On the plus side, Theo didn't look any better than me. We sat silent until I could draw a deep breath and let it out slowly. Finally, I felt calm enough to say something. I tried for something profound, but came up blank.
"Well."
"Yeah, that's all I had, too. Nice to know once in a while that smart mouth of yours is out of gas."
I narrowed my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest again. "Oh, and you don't have a smart mouth of your own, right?"
"Not at all. I'm just overly charming." Theo laughed at the look of disbelief on my face. After a moment I broke down and laughed with him. The tiny bit of tension clinging to the air cleared and normalcy returned. As normal as it got around me lately anyway.
"Since you're so overly charming and we're on a date and all, I guess this means you're picking up the tab here, too?"
"If that was your subtle way of hinting we should leave -- you need to work on your subtlety. But to answer your question, of course. I'm many things, but I was raised to be a gentleman." When the bargirl made her way back over to us, Theo handed her a bill and told her to keep the change. I bet he ranked as a favorite among the wait staff wherever he went.
Bourbon was still hopping when we headed back down it, with the drunks beginning to spill out of the bars. Some were heading back to their houses or hotels. Others were heading to the next bar. The neon lights made it almost impossible for there to be a dark corner, and the music blaring made it more than difficult to think. Theo's hand warmed mine, his usual warm, not the crazy concentrated heat his kiss had been. The wind blew in from the river, thick and warm and tinged with the unique smell of the Mississippi.
"This is what we're fighting for." I didn't realize I'd spoken aloud until Theo leaned closer to speak in my ear.
"We're fighting for drunks, tourists, grifters, thieves, and other people of ill-repute?"
"Don't be a wise-ass right now, I'm having a moment." I punched him in the arm, a friendly buss, and he exaggerated a wince.
"I get what you mean, Jude. We're fighting to be able to have the illusion of normalcy and for everybody who doesn't have a clue there really are monsters waiting in the dark." He took my hand again. By now the gesture held the hint of normalcy we were chasing. "We're fighting for something bigger than the greater good. We're fighting for the greater."
I mulled the phrase over in my mind and smiled after a moment. "Fighting for the greater. Because God knows not all our methods are going to be good."
"Sometimes the ends more than justify the means." I felt him still next to me, and knew the normalcy we'd been pretending had come to an end. "Rian heard you the last time you psychically called for help."
I didn't turn to see whatever he saw, because I knew for his voice to go flat and empty it wasn't something I wanted to see. "We're seven blocks away. They'll never make it in time."
"All they have to do is have a circle ready to cast. When I run, you run."
The jazz music spilled out of doorways like a distant dream, my heart pounding so loud it echoed in my head. Time slowed down until I could almost feel a moment, even one breath taking an eternity. I slid my eyes to my right, and at the very edge of my vision saw the blonde woman who kept company with Hart. The breath caught in my throat, almost choking me.
"Run."
We didn't run so much as move. I've done enough running in the past and try to avoid doing so as much as possible. There's nothing like having people bound and determined to kill you nipping at your heels to make you shake the lead out.
Our movement was faster than running and yet so much easier. People cleared out of the way like we were invisible. I tried to look behind us, but Theo jerked harder on our linked hands and I faced forward.
I sent out a thought to Rian, then another, and a third, hoping at least one would reach him. I had no idea what Theo planned, but I knew if we got inside the house we'd be safe. No vampire could cross the threshold without the permission of someone who lived there, and only Williams and his followers had authorization to cross.
A block separated us from the Crossroads. A few people roamed the streets, looking in gallery and shop windows. None of them paid any attention to us, even though I knew we looked like something out of a movie: a man and woman, clothes and hair flying, running from a pack of almost monsters. If even one bystander bothered to lift a camera and snap a shot, they'd make the cover of a cheesy tabloid.
Half a block to go and I spotted Rian standing on the sidewalk, looking as if he waited on a taxi. I wanted to yell for him to get inside but between the run and sheer terror, I could barely draw an even breath. Almost every time Hart and I met, he tried to kill me. I had good reason to not want to sit down and have a little chat with him.
With a second to spare, Rian stepped off the sidewalk, stretching a hand out for Theo to grasp. At the same time, I heard Gillian's voice in my head, telling me to think the circle into existence. With no choice but to trust someone who knew what they were doing more than me, I followed her instructions. Theo and Rian swung me around to face back down Royal, and I gasped as the circle snapped into place, power singing through every pore of my body.
Blondie and the great hulking mass of muscle running with her apparently hadn't felt the power surge. They couldn't see the transparent gold film I could, because they ran smack into it. Their impact made the circle shiver, and I had the crazy feeling of being inside a great big Jell-O mold, a somewhat true impression as the pair bounced back from the invisible shield and hit the sidewalk on their asses.
The blonde howled with rage. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and goose bumps popped up on my skin. Muscle boy didn't say anything, but his burning red eyes got the point across.
"Enough, Evangeline. Theatrics are uncalled for, especially when for the benefit of such common people." Hart had learned from Evangeline and stood a good ten feet away. He was closer to St. Germaine's house than mine, but didn't appear worried about his position. Always nice to know you're scarier than a homicidal mad man.
Hart didn't move closer. He waited for them to pick themselves up and move back to where he stood. A few men remained in a forward position, ready to hurl themselves into the wall of protection at a word from Hart. They were either: very loyal, very stupid, or very scared. I guessed all three.
"You win this time, Jude. You've made your point, if that was your purpose." His smile dripped with malice. "We'll leave the humans out of this, for now."
"How good-natured of you." My throat might have been painfully dry, but my voice held steady.
"I'm willing to compromise, Jude, as I've shown in the past. It never seems to work out in a way which would truly benefit both of us." A scuffle sounded behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder, his smile tinged with joy. Whenever the bad guys look happy, you know something bad is about to happen.
"When we discovered your Alcatraz-like escape, we were in the middle of dinner. We decided to take our meal to-go." Hart laughed at his own joke, and Blondie giggled. Bad guys don't giggle. Cackle, yes, mwahahaha, yes, but giggle -- the sound didn't sit right with me.
"In the spirit of compromise, we'll stop feeding from captive humans. We will need you to take care of this last bit of trash for us." Hart stepped aside as someone behind him pushed a bundle forward so hard it flew past the front guard and rolled to a stop at the edge of the circle.
I'll admit to being more than a little slow on the uptake. Rian took one look and turned away, dropping to his knees and vomiting viciously. Theo stood, his hand in mine, skin chilled slightly, as if whatever they saw and I didn't sucked away some of his ever present heat. I looked and became more confused and disturbed because what I saw made no sense.
The bundle was a rolled carpet, and I thought maybe it contained some sort of disgusting vampire gift. A moan followed by movement, and the picture snapped into focus. Only a person can produce a sound so pitiful and horrible it raises the hair all over your body.
"She's not dead. Yet. Such a light, sweet taste that, even though only a sip or two would have sufficed, we got quite carried away." Hart sauntered forward, hands pulled from his pockets. He knelt and ran his fingers over her face, making her jump and moan at the unexpected contact.
She belonged on a date with the captain of the high school football team, picking out a prom dress, or hell, getting her nose pierced with a fake ID. Anywhere but where she'd landed. I made a sound in the back of my throat when Hart bent his head, eyes locked with mine. He should have looked submissive as hell, kneeling on the ground in front of me as I stood behind a powerful magic circle.
Instead, he resembled a nightmare brought to life.
He smiled at me in the second before he reared back and sank sharp fangs into her neck.
She screamed, or tried to. Hart used one hand to squeeze her throat, cutting off what little air she drew. Evangeline giggled again, and I made a vow -- before Hart died, whatever it took, I'd make sure she never made the sound again.
It ended soon after, almost too soon. Hart finished bleeding her dry, dabbing at his lips with a handkerchief as he stood and brushed the wrinkles from his clothes. I was glad she didn't suffer more and yet felt, if you were going to steal someone's life and innocence, the action shouldn't be rushed.
I stood and watched, rooted inactive by the display Hart put on for my benefit.
"Well, since that's done, please do keep your end of the bargain up and take the trash out." Hart nudged the body with his foot, careful not to get any blood on his shiny shoes. He smiled, and this time the expression reached his washed out eyes. "One wouldn't want things to start to smell, would they?"
If a fate worse than death existed, I'd find it and make sure Hart received it before I left this earth.
"What could you possibly have done, Jude?" Gillian's voice remained patient but thin at the edges. I'd used my patience up an hour ago.
"Anything other than stand and watch her die." The skirt of my dress lifted briefly as I spun on my heel, floating back down as I stalked back the opposite direction. Pacing isn't my favorite way to pass the time, but drinking or sex weren't options at the moment. Without those two fallbacks, I had two outlets left: pacing and complaining.
"Hart would have snapped your neck like a twig, and neither Rian nor Theo could have prevented the action." I didn't have to like Gillian being right. Nor did I need to hide the fact I didn't like her being right.
"Every time the two of us meet, I back down and let him do whatever he came to do. How the blessed heck am I supposed to defeat the bastard if all I ever do is run and hide behind walls?"
Disgusted with the situation, and absolutely bored out of my mind with pacing, I flung myself onto the sofa next to Theo. Well, not quite next to him-just because I'd decided I wasn't going to have sex with him didn't mean I wouldn't change my mind if too stressed or tempted. And I was definitely stressed.
"Gillian, perhaps it might be a good idea to tell Jude about the Rising." Rian sat in one of the pair of wingback chairs flanking the sofa, fingers tapping out some internal rhythm on the arm. I hadn't seen Elizabeth or Celia since our return, and assumed Elizabeth had finally gotten the little one back to sleep after our wild magic had woken her up. I didn't envy her the job in the least. Rian smiled, but it seemed forced.
A real glutton for punishment. As if I didn't have enough problems with my love life, I had to take an interest in somebody else's.
"The Covenant. The Prophecy. The Rising. Do you guys have a little cheat sheet you hand out to help people keep the terms straight, or am I the only one who gets confused?" I pulled my legs up to sit cross-legged on the couch, only to have Gillian scowl at me and look pointedly at my un-ladylike position. Rolling my eyes, I shifted around until my knees twisted up underneath me, trying not to show too much leg. Something told me Gillian would consider the gesture un-ladylike as well.
"Some things aren't spoken of, except by a very few. And no, they don't need a cheat sheet to help keep things straight." Gillian folded her arms over her chest, the crackling fireplace providing a dramatic backdrop. After a good five minutes, she sighed.
"The Rising is our most powerful weapon, the only one to hold a piece of every magic we contain within us. Indeed, it's the Covenant's only real weapon, aside from our magic. In the past some had their own weaponry made, and passed from generation to generation." Gillian sighed again, rubbing her throat, and her age suddenly dawned on me. She might be able to go toe to toe with me, gangs of vampires and the annoying twins without messing her hair up, but she qualified for Social Security.
I wondered if all the magical bull crap she'd spent her life dealing with had exhausted her or if she'd grown used to it.
"The only way the Rising can really be described is as a sword, because that is the form the weapon most often takes, at least when first called." Gillian paused, and I got impatient -- as usual -- and opened my mouth without thinking.
"First called? Is this like another circle type thing, another ritual?" I would have asked more questions, but Theo reached over and squeezed my knee, silently telling me to stop talking. Gillian raised her eyes to the heavens like she asked for help. I decided being quiet might be a good idea.
"After the Rising was forged the weapon was bewitched into the astral plane. Only the leader of the Covenant can call the weapon forth, and only in times of true need." She shook her head, lost in her thoughts. "The Rising has been called often, but not by every leader of the Covenant. None now living can remember its last use, not even Theo's great-grandmother."
"So if no one remembers the last time this thing was called, how am I supposed to learn to call it?" I wanted an instruction manual, a big, fat one, with diagrams and step-by-step directions.
"You don't." This came from Rian, who'd thankfully stopped his finger drumming and reclined in the chair, looking for the world like a big, contented cat. You'd have thought he'd just eaten the canary and the bottle of milk. "Not everything can be learned, Jude. But now that you know the Rising is an option, the next time you find yourself in a dangerous situation---."
"Which shouldn't take too long," I muttered under my breath, turning to glare at Theo when he squeezed my knee again. He smiled. Rian continued as if I'd never spoken -- guess he'd been taking lessons from Gillian.
"Concentrate your thoughts on the Rising. Visualize what you need, in that moment, for that moment only." Rian rolled his head to look at me, a very slight smile crossing his face. "When the hilt forms in your hand, everything you need to know to use the Rising will be given to you."
"Exactly. You cannot have the Rising to use in training, but I think you would agree you should be instructed in some basic hand-to-hand combat." Gillian smiled for the first time since we'd entered the parlor. "I'd think you'd enjoy some punishing physical activity, especially if you happen to injure somebody."
"You know me too well," I replied dryly. Gillian was right. It would be a good idea to learn how to use some weapons. Especially since Hart and his cronies possessed the strength to tear my arm off and beat me to death with the limb. Having a knife or two would make the possibility of such an event more difficult.
A thought struck me, and I opened my mouth to speak. Then shut it again, giving my head a little shake. Theo poked my knee, annoying but not as much as being squeezed whenever I got mouthy. If I didn't like him so much, I'd have given some serious thought to smacking him.
"I know you're thinking something, Jude. You have that little wrinkle in your forehead you get when you're thinking too hard."
I shot Theo another glare. "Williams used a crossbow the night this started in front of St. Louis. Arrow through the heart and forehead and down goes the vampire. Is it safe to say a bow and arrow, the old fashioned kind, would do the same trick?"
"Well, an arrow is still an arrow, Jude." Gillian's eyes widened at the implication of what I'd asked. "You'll learn to use knives faster than you would the art of archery."
"I already know how to use a bow and arrow," I shot back, annoyed enough to brush Theo's hand off my knee when he started to squeeze. "I had six years of archery with the nuns, thank you very much. I'm a little out of practice, but it's like riding a bicycle. Once you learn, you're set."
"The idea has possibilities, Gillian. Especially if she can channel fire while she's shooting." Rian rolled his head back in Gillian's direction, the movement creeping me out a little. It looked like he had no bones in his neck, just really, really loose muscles. "Fire tipped arrows have proven effective in a number of historical battles."
Gillian threw her hands in the air, and I knew I'd won. "Fine, then. We'll see what can be done about procuring a bow and a quiver of arrows. If you're as good as you say you are, you'll instruct others, so we have the beginnings of a true army."
"That's fine, but I'm telling you now, don't leave me alone with the twins if I have a weapon." I looked at Theo, my eyes narrowing. "They may be your relatives, and they may be Council, but they have a pair of mouths on them slicker than mine and they push my buttons on purpose. I'd hate to kill them because they didn't have the sense to shut the hell up."
"I'll be sure to pass the news along. They probably won't listen, but at least if you do kill them, they'll have brought it on themselves." I couldn't tell if Theo's statement was serious or not, and whether he'd be upset if I did kill them or shrug the entire thing off. I stared at him, trying to figure it out, but gave up after a moment.
"Try and restrain yourself, Jude. At the moment we don't have time to deal with finding two replacements, not to mention Hart would enjoy knowing you were killing your people off."
Frustrated, I threw my hands in the air. "Fine, fine. I won't kill them, but not because I adore their snide remarks and backhanded compliments."
"Much appreciated, Jude." Rian stood, stretching and making a number of popping sounds. At my raised eyebrows, he replied, "Cracking my back. Enjoy your youth."
"Seriously, you're like, what, six years older than she is, if that?" Theo shook his head, his hand creeping back up to rest on my knee. The constant touching made my vow of celibacy even more unappealing. As the ever-present warmth spread out from his hand, I upgraded the vow to very, very unappealing.
"Ah, but what a difference a few years can make, especially when you throw in alcohol and drug use." Rian popped his knuckles then his elbows, working his way up to his shoulders. "Really, enjoy your youth. You only get it once. And some of those things you enjoy doing won't be comfortable when you don't contort as easily."
With that, Rian strolled out whistling, hands shoved in his pockets. Gillian refrained from commenting on my open mouth. She merely followed Rian out, leaving Theo and I alone. A long moment of silence stretched between us, interrupted only by the crackling of the fireplace. Finally, Theo spoke, although it wasn't what I'd expected him to say.
"So, was he talking about your crazy contortion moves, or mine?"
The door opened a crack and I jerked my head up. Sliding the book off my lap, I tiptoed to stand behind the door. After a pause, the person on the other side poked their head in and looked right and left before speaking.
"Jude, if you're in here---."
Recognizing Theo's voice, I reached around the door, grasping his wrist and yanked him into the dim room. I shut the door behind him, careful not to slam it and put my finger over my lips to shush him when he opened his mouth to speak. He shut it, but not before looking at me like I'd lost my mind. Since psychosis would be my eventual state, I didn't take offense.
I've always thought people were stupid to be offended by the truth.
Moving past him I sat back down on the sofa, curling my legs up under me kindergarten fashion. Difficult to achieve in a dress, but I accomplished it. I'd been wearing mostly dresses and skirts since my dip in the river, and I had the sneaking suspicion someone bought me more clothes and kept sliding them in my closet when I wasn't looking. I had to be careful not to flash the room when I wasn't sitting like a lady.
I pulled the book back into my lap and Theo eased down beside me. For a few minutes only the sound of our breathing and the rustle of pages existed between us. Then he whispered, "Why are we being quiet?"
I flipped another page before answering him, my voice hushed. "Whispers carry further than low voices."
I tucked my tongue in my cheek to keep from laughing when he heaved an exaggerated sigh. Mimicking my tone, he asked, "So why are we being kinda quiet?"
I flipped another page, pausing to study the writing. It might be useful against Hart, then again, maybe not. Dog-earing the page, I answered, "Because I'm hiding."
Theo let the news digest for a moment, and I flipped another page. Love spells and, based on the handwriting; she'd been in her late teens. How well any of them worked was debatable, especially if she'd invented them herself, but the attempt showed a nice diversity. I wouldn't be using any of them -- my life contained enough complications without throwing in love spells. Part of those complications sat next to me, knee-patting routine in full swing.
"And why, exactly, are we hiding?"
"I'm hiding, not you. And I'm hiding because if I have to explain how to sight the arrow one more time, I'll scream or punch someone." The next two pages gave me pause and my heart lurched painfully in my chest. I should have expected something like this, but still a shock.
"Since I'm here with you, that means we're hiding. And what has you so absorbed?" Theo tugged on the corner of the book, bending his head, and I let him pull the book over a few inches to sit between us. I studied the slight curl of his hair at the nape of his neck, and clenched my fist to keep from running my fingers through the thick mass.
Fighting temptation is way, way difficult.
"Gillian gave you your mother's Book of Shadows? Whenever the former leader of the Covenant passes on, their Book of Shadows is locked away. I've never known of any being brought back out." Theo glanced up at me for a second, his face lit with humor. "Nice to see you're going to have a textbook of sorts to study, in addition to practical lessons."
"Yeah, because bookwork was always on my list of favorite things to do back with the nuns," I shot back, pulling at the book. "Besides, I haven't really been able to get anything of use from it, not really. A lot of what she wrote I've either already figured out, or Gillian has told me. Or is something Gillian can do eyes closed with one hand tied behind her back."
"Yeah, you've got a top notch teacher in Gillian. Gossip puts her in the top five of Covenant members, power wise." Theo tugged the book back, flipped a page and made me scowl. "Even if it's not magically useful, at the very least you get some more memories of your parents."
"What about yours? Where are they?" Our situation felt strangely intimate, talking in hushed tones in a dark, secret room. Like being a kid again, tucked up in a tree house or in a makeshift fort; or those few moments after sex, before things get complicated again, and all the world has narrowed down to just the bed and the two of you. Not a good idea to think about beds around Theo. Probably a very bad idea.
"They died a few years ago. Drunk driver on the bridge, their car went into Lake Pontchartrain." Theo slid the book closer so I could take a look at the writing on the page. "The police said it was probable my dad would have survived, but he wouldn't leave my mother -- her seatbelt jammed in the crash. Now and then, I'll wake up in the morning, thinking my mom is downstairs making breakfast."
I gave in, running my fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. "People say if you give it enough time, things like that stop."
He turned his head, a sad, wistful smile on his lips. "I hope they don't. It's nice to have some part of them with me, even though they're gone." He turned another page, stopping. His smile changed, became lighter, more like his normal smile. "Nice for you, too, that your mother liked to sketch as much as she liked to do spell work."
Curious, I pulled the book closer, my fingers still working through his hair. I gasped, and then covered my mouth with my hand at the noise. All my sniping at Theo, and I'd be the one to give us up. Hard not to make some sort of noise when I suddenly had two pages of sketches of my parents fall into my lap.
"I don't think I'll ever get over how young they were. They'd just be fifty or so if they'd lived."
"Rian was even younger. He was about five." Theo winced, and I apologized, unclenching my fingers and going back to stroking. Involuntary reactions can be a bitch sometimes.
"He got those marks on his back when he was five? Jesus Christ, he's lucky to have lived."
"One of the last things your mother did was to focus her energy to heal him." Theo's hand rested over mine, squeezing it for a moment. "She wasn't a very good healer, according to my mom, but she did that one last thing before leaving the city."
"It's strange, hearing the stories, seeing all these things that were hers. They make her more real, but still, she's just..." I trailed off, because I couldn't think of how to say what I meant. I should have known Theo would understand anyway.
"She's just the person who gave birth to you. Just like he's only the man your mother loved."
"Loved more than me." I didn't realize the words were in my head until they were out of my mouth. Hell, I didn't even know I felt that way until I said it.
Theo didn't say anything for a moment, and I began to feel nervous. Me and my stupid mouth. When he spoke, I jumped, because it seemed to boom in the quiet of the room. "I'd love to say you were silly, but I can understand why you'd feel that way."
"You can?"
"Yeah, I can. Your parents are supposed to love you more than anything, to want what's best for you at all costs. Your mom just gave up, at a time when you really, really needed her, because she didn't think life worth living without your dad." Theo turned the page, and we were back to spells. "I'd probably be a little pissed off, too."
"Are you angry with your parents for dying?" I studied his face, watching for any change in expression.
His eyes went distant a second before he closed them. "Yeah, now and then, when I have a really bad day -- or a really good one -- I want to tell them about and I can't. Around Mardi Gras, when I wake up and there's nobody to start the day with pancakes. I get angry, and wonder why they were on the bridge, or why my dad didn't at least try to live." He opened his eyes, and the look in them had tears stinging the corners of mine. "Yeah, I get mad sometimes."
I slid my hand from his hair to drape my arm around his shoulder, leaning into him. I laid my head down on his shoulder, sighing deeply. "We're horrible children, aren't we, Theo?"
He laughed, and I felt the tension ease out of him. He leaned back into the sofa, and I shifted around until I curled up against him, my mother's book settled comfortably in our laps. "Absolutely. We'd break our mother's hearts a million times if they'd lived."
"Me, definitely. You, I don't know." I shook my head, and my hair tickled my arm. "I keep waiting for the shoe to drop. For me to say or do something that's going to make you step back and go 'Oh, hell no.'"
"I told you once, Jude. Nothing short of death will make me not love you." I felt the brief press of lips against the top of my head, and I had to concentrate on not crying the tears I'd been so sure were dried up. "Eventually, you'll get used to the idea. It's kind of like the weather."
"Love is kind of like the weather? Theo, the weather's always changing, especially here. One day it's hot as hell, the next you need a boat, and the day after that you need a parka."
"Jude, I'm not talking about the various facets of weather. Yes, they change, but weather itself always is." Theo bent his head level with mine. "Am I reading what I think I'm reading?"
"Sex spells."
Theo tilted his head to one side, and I knew even before he opened his mouth he would say something slick. "Do you really think it's possible to do some of these things?"
"You're asking me? I've always been one of those people who thought oysters being aphrodisiacs was a load of crap." Now that he'd mentioned the possibility of reality, I couldn't help but actually read one or two of them. I was glad for the dimness of the room, because even with my skin color he'd have noticed my blushing. If it's weird to think about your parents having sex, and even weirder to have confirmation -- other than you -- they have sex, it's another league of weird to find out about their fantasies.
"Oysters as aphrodisiacs make no sense. Chocolate, I get. But oysters? I'm with you." Theo's pointer finger slid down the page, tapping on it for a moment. "I think this one is feasible. And I know we have all the materials needed. Come on, let's go."
"Oh, no. No, no, no." I yanked the book back and slammed it shut, coughing when dust mites flew up into my face. "We are not going to try and work a sex spell out of my dead mother's Book of Shadows."
"You're not curious at all." Theo's voice was calm, his face set in his normal placid lines. One look at his eyes told me exactly what went on behind them, and a peek down told me it was a very happy thought indeed.
"Absolutely not." Liar. "Besides, I'm not having sex with you."
"Oh, really." Probably not the best thing to say. Theo shifted around until his back pressed against the side of the sofa, facing me. I slid the book onto the floor, turning to face him squarely. Since the movement also put a little more space between us, I thought it strategic.
It would have been until Theo's hand flashed out, wrapping around my wrist and pulling me to lie across him. Struggling would have been undignified and raised my dress more than a little, so I sprawled on his lap, trying to think of how to extricate myself from the tangle I'd gotten into.
Lesson learned. Never tell a man you're not going to have sex with him when you've already sucked on his tongue in public. Nothing says challenge like a definite no.
"Perhaps you'd be kind enough to tell me why you're not going to have sex with me." Theo's voice might sound reasonable, but I wasn't stupid enough to think he wasn't a little annoyed with me. Despite the fact I once again occupied his lap, he didn't feel as happy to have me there as he would have a few minutes ago.
The knowledge stung, but I'm nothing if not temperamental.
"Not just you. I'm not planning on having sex with anyone, anytime soon. My life is complicated enough at the moment, and sex would make it worse."
"Jude, you make your life too complicated." One hand threaded through my hair at the nape of my neck, tugging just hard enough to trip my pulse into double-time. The other worked some sort of magic, of the purely chemical sort, on the spot behind my ear. It took every bit of self-control to not agree with whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.
Another lesson. Never sit in a darkened room with a man you're attracted to when you both really, really want to jump each other's bones unless you plan on following through.
Which I wasn't going to do. Really.
His mouth held the same crazy heat from our previous kiss, and I couldn't help but sigh as it moved over my jaw line. He burned everywhere he touched and the dirty thought of him being hot in other places had me pushing closer. Our clothes were still on. Sex stayed off the radar; Or, on the very, very outer edges.
There's something illicit about making out with a guy in a darkened room, trying to convince yourself you're not going to have sex. Like being back in high school again, you know what you want to do and what you shouldn't, and the two are completely opposite of one another. I thought so, anyway. I'd never made out with guys in high school.
"You what?"
Damn my totally inactive filter. My voice sounded hoarse and shaky, from desire and shame. Theo knew about my time on the streets, so I couldn't understand why the fact shamed me. "I never kissed a single person until after I left the orphanage. Until I was on the streets."
Theo's mouth stilled next to my ear, and some part of me I hadn't been aware of tensed up. This would be the thing to make him duck and run. "You were a virgin when you ran away?"
"For about a week. Then I had the choice of either selling drugs or selling me." Somehow my head had settled against his chest, and I couldn't help but hide my face in his neck. "I didn't have the money or the stomach to sling drugs. Not at first."
The hand playing with my ear slid down my back, then back up. It took a long moment to realize he tried to soothe me for things beyond his control. Not condemning, or questioning, or brushing it under the rug. Just accepting the truth, and doing what he could for me.
If I had to pinpoint one moment, just one, I think it would have been there, in the darkened room, with death and sex and survival swirling in the air.
I seriously started to fall for Theo in that moment.
"Again, Jude. It's important you learn how to master as many skills as possible before the final battle."
"Oh, we've set a date, then? We've marked the day on the calendar and all that jazz?" Maybe I was a little more sarcastic than usual but God was I tired. My little interlude with Theo consisted of the only time in the past twenty-four hours I'd done anything other than eat, sleep, or train.
Gillian glared at me, and I felt my tongue burn for a split second before I sputtered and spit. When I no longer felt like hot cheese stuck to my tongue, I rasped out, "Not nice, Gillian."
"Much like your attitude. Since even I am forced to admit you have a way with sarcasm which outstrips almost any person alive, more physical means are necessary to put you in your place." Gillian strode across the room to where I sprawled in a chair, yanking me to my feet. "Time grows short, Jude. No pretense, no bullshit. We don't have much time left, and still so much to accomplish." She sighed, eyes dropping as she turned away. "I greatly fear we simply do not have enough time to do what needs to be done."
I've never been the scared type. I didn't like the feeling on the streets, didn't like it off them, and I had really learned to hate fear in every form in the past couple of weeks. But nothing scared me like Gillian almost admitting defeat. Gillian was invincible -- the thought of her giving up, something I couldn't comprehend.
"Do you know something I don't know? Seriously, has Rian or Celia seen something and you're just not telling me because you're worried I might freak out or something?"
"No, Jude. There has been no vision." Gillian turned back toward me, and her age struck me again. Once all this ended, I'd use some of the huge trust fund I'd come into and send her on a vacation. Maybe on a cruise or Vegas. "Only the feeling in my bones that my time grows short."
"What am I supposed to do without you, Gillian? Who's going to teach me all the crap I have to know to win this war?" My stomach clenched. I did not need more emotional trauma in my life.
"Whatever we don't learn together, you'll discover on your own. No need to worry about that little bit future at the moment. For now, you need to concentrate on making these vines grow as you will."
I nodded numbly, silently agreeing to table the conversation. This particular lesson proved hard enough without other thoughts swirling in my head. I moved past Gillian, shoulders squared, facing my nemesis -- a pair of potted plants.
I'd discovered the tactic I used for calling air and fire useless when it came to earth. I couldn't force the earth to do anything. The key, I discovered, coaxing it to action. Given my general track record with patience, one can only guess how well the lesson turned out.
I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. I thought about the warmth of summer sun on my skin, a crisp breeze blowing off the river, and tried to push those thoughts into the plants. Something inside me sparked for the briefest of seconds before the window or door slammed shut.
"Hell."
"Your technique is solid, your execution misguided." Gillian's voice murmured softly in my ear, and I felt my muscles relax in response. "The vines do not grow on their own. They grow from the earth. Try again."
Rolling my neck and popping my joints, I closed my eyes. I thought again of summer sun, warm breezes, and misty rain. I pictured the black potting soil taking in all the elements, using them to grow and thrive. The meditative picture lulled me into relaxing, and I jumped more than a little when I heard Elizabeth's voice. Hell if I knew when she walked into the room. "Holy crap."
"Language, Elizabeth." Amusement and pride colored Gillian's voice. "Open your eyes, Jude. See what a little patience can accomplish."
I opened my eyes, blinking in surprise. "That's a little patience? What if I'd had a lot of patience?"
"We might have finally replanted the flower beds in the courtyard." Elizabeth's voice held a mixture of humor and awe. The two potted plants had overgrown their containers, vines trailing over the floor for at least three feet. I didn't recognize the delicate blossom dotted among the vines, but Elizabeth did.
"Honeysuckle. Nice choice, although I'm pretty sure that's not what the plants were originally." Elizabeth moved forward cautiously, kneeling down and breathing in deeply. "Fragrant, and useful in more than one magical concoction. A multi-purpose flower."
"Well, I do aim to please." No longer concentrating on making the plant grow, fatigue hit me like a silk covered hammer. I couldn't think of a polite way to plant my butt on the ground without disclosing how weak I felt.
I sat down, no explanations. I didn't fool Gillian.
"Out of all the elements, Earth is the hardest one to use as a weapon. The element is more defensive than offensive. If capture of yourself or your compound is imminent, you can use Earth to shore up your defenses." Gillian's hand on my shoulder pushed me until I laid flat and I didn't put up any fight at all. Jesus, I was tired.
"So, note to self, hire a gardener. Don't attempt to work on the garden by myself. Check" The floor wasn't the most comfortable place to try and take a nap, but I overlooked the fault. Or I would if Gillian hadn't started talking again.
"You should never attempt to draw life from the earth. Strength or power because they can be replenished. Life cannot."
"You wouldn't by chance have all of this written down anywhere, would you? Some secret book which actually has really useful information, and not just love and sex spells?"
"Sex spells?" I don't know if Elizabeth was intrigued or embarrassed, but I would go with intrigued. I'm pretty sure an almost eighteen-year-old girl with the overwhelming responsibility of raising a five year old with evil ass relatives, would be pretty intrigued by sex spells. Hell, if my life were slightly less screwed up, I might have shown interest in them.
"If there is indeed a book which can be used by you, in the event I am no longer around to assist you, you can rest assured a way will be found for you to access it." With the disturbing statement hanging between us, Gillian brushed any talk about sex spells and magical books to the side, and turned back to the true matter at hand. More instruction, followed by more instruction, followed by more instruction.
Two hours passed before I realized Elizabeth had yet to tell us she'd come down to the R.R.. "Did something need my attention, Elizabeth?" Something, anything. Muscles screamed, my head pounded, and I wanted to be anywhere but there at the moment.
"Some people requesting an audience with you, Jude. Well, they were a few hours ago. They might still be around."
"Oh, shit. You waited two hours to tell me this?" I pushed out of the chair I'd collapsed into after another round of potted plant practice, swaying only slightly at the sudden change in elevation. Woohoo for sheer determination.
"You were slightly busy and it would take more than visitors to have me interrupt one of Gillian's lessons." Nice to know Elizabeth possessed a spine. I'd had a hunch. Nice to find out I wasn't wrong.
Gillian smiled, like she knew the real reason the people upstairs concerned me. She folded her hands at her waist and inclined her head in the direction of the door. "We'll continue at a later time, Jude. You and Elizabeth run off and see to your visitors. Have Bridget give you something for your head before the ache gets any worse."
"She has archery training with the Silent Ones at three this morning." Elizabeth knew my schedule better than I did. Good, because I had forgotten completely about training. Bad, because I really didn't want to attend the session now I'd been reminded of it.
"Hmm. In that case, have Bridget put a mild tranquilizer in with the herbal she gives you."
"Nice to know everybody can maintain their sense of humor while I'm being forced to walk the plank. Come on, Elizabeth. Let's go see if my mystery visitors turned to stone while waiting or if they simply gave up and left." The room spun, but I managed to stay upright. Elizabeth gave me her arm to lean on, which let me know I looked as bad as I felt.
Gillian stayed behind, either to tidy up or prune the fifty feet or so of vine rambling across the floor. Elizabeth and I made it up the first two flights of stairs before I needed to sit down. Since I had the choice of either sitting or falling and two flights was a long way down. I went with sitting.
"Maybe I should go get Theo, or Rian. I may haul Celia around, but I'm pretty sure I'm not going to have a chance in hell at picking you up."
"I would have to agree with your assistant, Jude Magdalyn. But as I am here at the moment, perhaps I might offer my services in assisting you up to the main floor."
And in two seconds flat, the night went from screwed up to fucked up. I hadn't seen hide or hair of Williams since he'd left two nights ago. Since I still wasn't allowed outside the house without a guard -- scratch that, if I got outside at all -- I assumed he hadn't been able to track Hart down and finish him off.
I couldn't argue, Williams carry me up the stairs would be a lot quicker than struggling up them. I nodded reluctantly, and Elizabeth moved up a few stairs to keep from crowding Williams. He lifted me like I weighed nothing, but when you're super frickin' strong, a lot of things must seem like they weigh nothing. His arms supported me, and he kept his hands away from anything too personal.
After a flight of stairs, Williams shifted me in his grip, and I couldn't help a groan when the movement set off a fire alarm in my head. The really loud kind, not the nice electronic tone. Williams sighed, his breath ruffling my hair. "Elizabeth, why don't you run along and see if you can locate Bridget. The last I saw of her she was in the storeroom off the kitchen. Jude Magdalyn would seem to be in need of a restorative aid."
I'll give Elizabeth credit. She hesitated for a long moment, only turning and hurrying up the stairs when I nodded my head. Williams followed, albeit at a slower pace. Whether to jostle me less or because he wanted a little quiet time, I wasn't sure. Either way, we were alone.
Something that'd always worked out so well in the past.
"You've acquired another admirer in young Elizabeth."
"Elizabeth helps keep me organized. And Celia's a trip. Can't be in a room with her for more than five minutes before she does something absolutely hilarious." We could have a normal adult conversation while reenacting Gone With the Wind.
"Theo seems to be quite attached to you as well. One would go so far as to say utterly devoted."
"Williams, if you have something in particular you want to say, I'm guessing now would be the time. I'm not seeing anybody around but the two of us."
"Nothing that hasn't already been said. You appear to have made your choice." Back to being cryptic as hell. I really wasn't in the mood and I did my best to ignore him. Not easy, since he carried me, but I tried.
Neither of us said anything until we reached the main floor and the hallway which ran next to the kitchen. He set me down gently, supporting my lower back with his hand until I stood steady. I wouldn't have let him carry me for everyone to see how crappy I felt, and I appreciated not having to tell him.
Not second too soon, Bridget and Elizabeth stepped out of the storeroom. Bridget held a cup filled with steaming liquid, and Elizabeth held another cold compress. Sighing, I stepped forward, taking the cup from Bridget. I wrinkled my nose at the smell, shuddering at the thought of the taste.
I blew on the liquid, trying to cool it off. "Well, bottoms up," I muttered. The tea burned going down, but wasn't nearly as disgusting as imagined. Whatever it contained was nothing short of a miracle. Before the heat in my chest began to ease every other part of me relaxed.
"Alright, now that I look like I'm only one level below living and not five, I guess I should go meet whoever, if they're still here." I might have been exhausted, but I could still notice when people exchanged nervous glances around me. "Okay, what gives?"
"These visitors might require Gillian's presence as well. Just to ensure things stay on an even note." Williams' voice remained as calm as usual but, since very little threw him into a tizzy, I didn't look to him as a weather vane. I raised my eyebrows, hoping someone would take the hint and clue me in.
"It's a group of parents. Some of their children are among those planning to fight in the final battle. All would prefer their children not fight." Bridget resembled Gillian in that very few things ruffled her feathers. I guess the parents weren't happy about having to wait for so long, because she looked pretty frazzled.
"What the hell am I supposed to say to a group of angry parents? I mean, do I even remotely remind you of a school principal?"
"I imagine you could start by telling them whatever they need to hear, Jude Magdalyn."
"Thanks, smartass. Nice to know I can count on you for in-depth advice." I squared my shoulders, pulled my hair up and twisting it into a bun. "Alright. Time to go beard the lions in the den."
I was pretty sure the good guy won out in that Bible story. Pretty sure.
They lied. These parents were furious. I hadn't seen adults this angry since the time Tessa Moore and I snuck pages of Catcher in the Rye into the sixth grade reading primers. The sixth graders learned some interesting vocabulary. Tessa and I got six months' worth of daily detention. I skipped out before I was halfway through, and I'd always wondered if the nuns gave Tessa the rest of my detention in addition to hers.
I would have turned on my heel and walked out of the parlor, but Williams and Elizabeth were directly behind me. I pushed my shoulders back, sucked in a deep breath, and strode to the center of the room. Might as well try for a little self-assurance.
The parents moved out of the way and did the whole head bowing thing. I didn't see any change to the looks of ire, outrage, and on some faces, sheer dislike. Some parents are apparently interested in their children's wellbeing before anything else, no matter their youngsters' age. Lucky kids.
"Gabrielle is ten years old. Ten, and she asks me why she can't join the fight."
"Jonas was up half the night researching protective spells, and the other half practicing damn archery."
"Michael does nothing but mix potions and talk online to outsiders about more potions."
They were surprisingly vocal. The other night you could have heard a pin drop with close to a thousand people in the room. Now with a little over two dozen, I could hardly hear myself think. I tried a few 'excuse me's', but they were too worked up to listen to anything but the sound of their own voices. Finally, I stuck two fingers in my mouth and whistled.
The whistle shut them up. All of them, all the way. I swallowed against the lump in my throat. "Now that I can actually hear everybody, why don't you all take a seat and we'll discuss your concerns."
Polite. Diplomatic. I should have known someone would screw it up.
"We would have discussed these concerns with you nearly two hours ago, if you hadn't been otherwise...occupied." I didn't need to be a psychic of any flavor to know the tall, cold blonde woman with the perfect Uptown accent belonged to Lies and Guile. Even if they'd been her polar opposite in looks, they all possessed the same better than you, snotty bitch attitude that instantly made me want to knock a tooth or ten out. Ignoring the ice sculpture, I turned my attention to the woman in the room who seemed like she might be calm under the upset. "I'm sorry. I don't know everybody's names, or their relatives, yet. It'll take me a bit, or note cards. Why don't you tell me why you're so concerned?"
The woman, who barely looked out of her teens, stood and stepped forward. Color me shocked when she grasped my hand and knelt at my feet. "Prophecy---."
"Jude. I always feel like I'm in a weird situation when people call me the Prophecy."
"Jude. You've called for volunteers to help aid in the fight against Hart and most of us would gladly give our own time and skills."
"Not as many as you'd think," muttered Stone Cold Mama, which earned her a glare from the woman at my feet. Always good to know where tensions and loyalties lay.
"Quiet, Wily. You might have let your daughters loose to set their own paths, but until I no longer walk this earth I will watch the interests of Christophe." One mystery solved.
Before Wily could get out whatever nasty thought she had, I stepped in. "You're right, I did call for volunteers. You're also right in that almost all of them are kids."
"My son is only a year younger than you."
I turned my head to follow the voice, and found it belonged to a man that could only politely be called fat. He was the only parent who'd stayed standing, probably more because none of the furniture would hold him comfortably than out of respect.
"I'm sorry. I don't know who your son is without having his name."
"Samuel. He says you've named him as one of the best of your archers."
With a name, I had a face. It was a good face, strong boned, deep blue eyes, and red hair. "He's right. For someone with no training, he's already remarkably accomplished after only two days. If you say he's only a year younger than me, I believe you. But I can almost bet he's never huddled in an alley and prayed nobody found his hiding spot. As far as I'm concerned, that makes him a lot more than a year younger."
I turned back to Christophe's mother, still kneeling patiently at my feet. "Your children, all of them, are giving of themselves freely. Which, unless I've missed some information, is more than can be said for every person in this room."
"It's not enough you use our children, you'd have us take up arms in a war that is essentially none of our concern?" Yeah, Wily was going to get on my nerves, just like her girls. Like mother, like daughters. Oh, joy.
"As far as I'm concerned, anything which can change the balance of good and evil is something of concern. Especially when some of the parties involved have already made it clear they don't care who they hurt or kill, as long as they get what they want."
"But they're children. Children." Christophe's mother gripped my hand harder, the pressure making me wince. I could have pushed the fact that some of them weren't children, but I got the point.
"If we lose, Hart won't give a damn if they're children or adults. He will systematically kill every person associated with the Covenant." It was harsh and definitely worst case scenario, but sometimes you have to be brutal to get the point across. Since I heard more than one gasp, I knew they understood this time.
"Your children are phenomenal. You've given them the most amazing range of skill sets, and even the ones who aren't great at archery are still better than some people who've had years of practice." I knelt down until I was eye level with Christophe's silently crying mother. "We can't win this war without what they can bring to the table. And we can't win unless you accept the fact that any possibility of peace is going to be bought with blood and tears."
"Jude Magdalyn is correct." Williams spoke for the first time since entering the room. "Hart does not believe in taking prisoners. He kills, eats, or turns. Out of those, you would prefer your children to die at his hands than spend eternity anchored to him."
"And we should let you, a monster such as Hart, and a street whore lead us into a battle where we're more likely to lose than to win." I tried to be the leader Gillian and Theo and Rian and others believed me to be and didn't go with my first instinct to throw a bolt of lightning at Wily.
Because that wouldn't have been nice, at all.
"You wonder what we're fighting for, what's worth dying for. It's the chance to pretend wars like this are never fought, to pretend you'll never worry about your children this way again." I scanned the faces around me. "We're fighting for your children, and their children, and their children, to have a chance at a world where they don't have to be afraid to go out after dark, or to leave a window open."
"You're fighting for the greater good."
I started shaking my head before Williams finished speaking. "No, we're fighting for something bigger than the greater good. The good is so limited, and this is bigger than that. This is for the bad, the lost, and the misguided. It's for everyone." I thought about what Theo said the other night, and the truth in it. "We're fighting for the greater."
Christophe's mother stood, giving me her hand again. "What you say is true. I'll give of my time and skills as I can, and Christophe will continue as you see fit."
One by one the other parents in the room stood, making their own pledges. Finally only Wily remained, her face set in stubborn lines. We stared at each other until finally she moved forward, bowing over my hand.
"You should know, Jude, that even if we win, there will be some who will make it their mission to see you replaced."
I raised an eyebrow, smirking. I'd been threatened with much worse on a much more regular basis, especially recently. "If that's the best you can do, Wily, you're way out of your league. I'll take your help -- for now."
They filed out of the room, leaving slips of scrap paper with Elizabeth. Phone numbers or hours of availability or pizza topping preferences, I had no idea, but she smiled and thanked each person for coming like we'd just finished afternoon tea.
I sank into the chair closest to the fire, leaned my head back and closed my eyes. Blessed quiet at last. Possibly the most perfect moment of the day.
"I'm sorry, Jude, but the Silent Ones are waiting for you."
Ruined. Damn it.
The kids, who ranged from ten to their mid-twenties, were just like their parents in their need for everything to have some sort of crazy ass name. They'd voted on theirs, saying it made sense because their arrows would be silent killers. I hadn't the heart to stand in front of all their youthful enthusiasm and tell them arrows, especially if there were a great number of them, did make a noise.
I hadn't lied when I'd said Samuel ranked among the best, but truthfully, they were all rockstars. I was pretty damn good, but more than one of them had natural talent. You would think they'd been born with a bow and arrow in their hand. Since I couldn't be everywhere at once, after a few more lessons I planned on leaving the really kick-ass archers in charge of lessons, and move on to another avenue of attack.
"Alright, I can do another hour or so of torture. Not like I didn't almost die or anything." I pushed up from the chair, giving a little woohoo inside when there wasn't any dizziness. Bridget really was as good as Gillian kept saying.
Whatever Elizabeth would have responded, I'd never know. Theo and Rian burst into the room, the crashing door echoing like a gunshot in the almost empty room. It took a moment to register Theo supported the other man, and that Rian bled from a gaping hole in his neck.
Quicker than I could have moved, Williams took Rian's other side and helped Theo lower him to the floor. Gillian will beat us all if he bleeds on the rug.
Elizabeth looked ghost white, but hadn't passed out. Points for her. I wouldn't have blamed her if she did. Secretly, I wanted a little pass-out time myself.
Wetting my lips, I knelt as a tingling began in my hands. They hadn't felt this way the last time I'd healed someone, but maybe the energy differed because this was external as well as internal. Eyes closed, I moved my hands over the wound in his throat, envisioning the tendons and muscles and veins reforming, the hole closing.
It took longer than I would have thought which made me reevaluate the wound's severity. When Rian finally gasped for breath, I was sweating like I'd run five miles and my hands shook violently. I opened my eyes and saw Elizabeth had pulled Rian's head into her lap. Theo wiped the remaining blood away from Rian's now healed throat.
Rian drew a shaky breath, opening his mouth to speak but let out a hacking cough instead. Elizabeth brushed the hair back from his forehead, shaking her head. "Don't try and talk right now. Give it a few minutes."
He shook his head and swallowed. He managed to rasp out one word. "Celia."
"Williams will go get her." He was already turning toward the door when Rian shook his head again, more violently this time. He coughed again, a harsh, dry sound.
"Hart. He took Celia."
"I'm going. That's final, Jude. Either I walk in with you or I sneak in after you but I'm going."
I shook my head before she finished her declaration. "No, Elizabeth, you're not. You'd be distracted, which is bad enough, but you have no weapons training, no way to protect yourself. I can't risk getting Celia back just to lose you."
I turned to leave the room when she grabbed my arm, forcing me back around. She had a hell of a grip -- I'd have a bitch of a bruise by morning. Her eyes, normally calm and collected, were slightly wild, determined.
"She's my sister and the only real family I have left. I can't stay here, wondering if she's hurt or scared, or...." Elizabeth trailed off, and I knew what she didn't say. It's what none of us said, even if we thought it. It was the white elephant in the room.
I hate elephants.
"Look, I can't begin to understand how you're feeling. That doesn't change the fact you have no training. Hell, you don't even have a weapon." My eyes widened when she pulled a gun from underneath her jacket. "What the crap?"
"It's a martini glass. What does it look like, Jude?"
"Alright, stupid question. Maybe I should have said what the crap is a seventeen year old doing with a revolver?"
"It's a Glock .26, a 9 mm semi-automatic, not a revolver. And I'll be eighteen on Halloween." Elizabeth flushed a pale pink, probably owing to the fact I looked at her like she'd grown a second head. "It belonged to our father, and when he died, I sort of...."
"You stole a gun."
"No, I just made sure my relatives didn't put it somewhere I couldn't get it if I needed it."
"Do I want to know what kind of home life requires access to a gun?"
"No, you don't." Elizabeth slid the gun back underneath her jacket, and I admitted unless you knew what to look for you'd never suspect. In the few seconds she'd had the gun out she'd handled it like she knew what to do, which raised a few more questions.
"Can you actually shoot, or is this just show?"
"Celia has dance class twice a week. I go to the shooting range over near Poydras. It's only a little bit away from the studio."
"You carry a gun on the streetcar?"
"Don't be silly. Theo drives us." With my head reeling from information overload, Elizabeth grabbed both of my hands. "Please, Jude. I know how Celia thinks. If she's hiding somewhere, I'll know where to find her. Please. I have to go."
"Jude." I looked over my shoulder to meet Gillian's gaze. I don't know how long she'd been standing in the doorway listening to us but I'd bet long enough. "Let the girl go. It's her family. Whatever the outcome of tonight, she'll regret not being present."
I knew when I was outgunned -- no pun intended. I shook my head. "I don't like this, but fine. You can come. Just do me a favor?"
"Anything."
"Don't die on me. My nerves are stretched a little thin right now."
Elizabeth smiled slightly. "I'm pretty sure I can manage that."
I turned to leave, this time for real. "Try for damn sure. Now, let's go get your sister."
"Everybody had their tetanus shots?"
"Now is not the time for humor, Jude Magdalyn."
"I'm serious. This building is a landmine of potential diseases." Williams and his guard had tracked Celia to a house in the 9th Ward, one of hundreds abandoned after Katrina flooded the city. Entire blocks stood empty, ghost towns eerily reminiscent of the cemeteries.
Thinking about cemeteries made me think about dead people. Not the best thought when you were on a rescue mission.
"We'll worry about diseases later. Williams, how many does Hart keep around him?" Trust Gillian to cut to the heart of the matter.
"Two dozen stay with him constantly. Most of the members of our former clan are in hiding, waiting until a winner emerges before showing themselves." Williams ran his eyes over our number. "If he chooses to fight, this has the potential to go badly."
"Everything has the potential to go badly." This from Theo, who had shocked the hell out of me by strapping on a sword, easily four feet from tip to hilt. It was also shocking that the implied danger made him a little bit sexier. Okay, a whole lot sexier.
God, celibacy was going to kill me.
I shook my head sharply, clearing my thoughts. Focus. Must focus right now. Distraction would do nothing but get someone killed.
Gillian, Williams, and Theo talked in hushed tones. Actually, they argued, that's what happens when you put too many head cheerleaders on the same squad. Nothing gets done, just talked about. Beside me, Elizabeth vibrated with tension, rapidly reaching the point where she'd take matters into her own hands.
I placed my hand on Elizabeth's arm, raised a finger to my lips. I gave the huddle behind us one more look before I crouched down and pulled Elizabeth with me. Using one of the dozens of rust covered cars for cover I eased my way into the deserted street, careful to make as little noise as possible.
Enough abandoned vehicles and general debris remained uncleared after almost two years that it made keeping to the shadows easy. Elizabeth was better than I'd given her credit for. Living in a house with Wily, Lies, and Guile had probably made keeping to the shadows a genuine survival technique.
The fence around the house had bent under the flood water weight, almost touching the ground. Knee high grass covered both yards, and my feet squelched in the mud created by the evening's earlier rain. Holding the fence down to minimize any noise, I widened my eyes at Elizabeth, jerking my head in the direction of the house. She took two huge steps, one directly in the center of the rusting fence, crossing over in complete silence. Kneeling, she held the top of the fence down, and I followed her lead. Two giant steps, and we were both in the yard.
Still crouched, I took Elizabeth's hand and headed toward the back of the house. Quickly and quietly, we made our way around to the back, keeping to the shadow of the house. I remembered to breathe as we turned the corner completely hidden from the sight of everybody across the street. Elizabeth let out a low, shaky laugh.
"Part one accomplished. Now things get interesting."
My knees were starting to ache but I ignored the pain. Turning, I looked at our options for entry. The tiny porch had a door and four windows about waist high from the ground. I rose slightly, shifting until I could peer in the window closest to us to get a glance at what lay inside.
Debris. Rotted floorboards. Moth-eaten sheets. No vampires.
Motioning to Elizabeth, I waited for her to stand before beginning to push the window up. Worried it wouldn't open, and scared it would squeak and squeal if it did, I held my breath. Together, we pushed the glass high enough to squeeze through. Elizabeth knelt and helped boost me up through the gap without jumping.
Inside, I scanned the room, checking to make sure we hadn't missed anything. I grabbed Elizabeth's elbows, and helped pull her in. We left the window open, although if this went as badly as it had the potential to, I didn't think we'd be going out the way we came in.
Treading carefully, concerned not only with squealing floorboards but falling through them, we crossed the room. Elizabeth stayed close behind to my right. I'd discovered my left hand was my go-to hand for throwing fire, something Elizabeth knew.
When we got to the door I pressed my ear against the wood, listening for any sounds. At first it sounded like the house was empty and I panicked, sure Williams had screwed up. Then I heard a rustle and a high-pitched giggle, which could only belong to one person. They were here and just down the hall.
I eased the door open, stopping when we had enough space to slide through. It wasn't easy, what with having breasts and all, but I managed. Elizabeth slid through a little easier, but not much. I kept to the wall. Walking on the balls of my feet, I eased in the direction of the annoying, manic giggle, pausing every few feet to listen.
We were close to the front of the house when I could finally make out voices. Relief flooded through my system as I recognized Celia's. Amusement followed relief as I listened to her words.
"I don't want to and you can't make me."
A crash, followed by cursing in French. "You will do as I say you little brat or you'll face my wrath."
I didn't have to be in the room to see Celia cross her arms and stick her lower lip out. "I don't have to see things if I don't want to, Elizabeth said so."
"But your lovely sister isn't here, cherie, and we are. You don't want to disappoint us, now do you?" Evangeline's voice was silky smooth. Celia wasn't impressed.
"I don't want to, and I don't have to."
A crash came from outside, the opposite direction of where Elizabeth and I had entered. Sounded like the rest of the rescue group had finally noticed we weren't around. Inside the room, Hart apparently thought the troops were coming in after him, yelling for various people to go and deal with the problem.
I heard the sound of rushing feet, and worried they'd come out and discover us. Through divine intervention or dumb luck, they didn't. I took a deep breath and eased across the hallway, Elizabeth at my heels. The door to Hart's room stood slightly ajar and I nudged it open slowly, to get a line of sight.
They'd placed Celia in the center of the room, her feet swung back and forth, kicking the chair. Her arms were folded over her chest, and I'd been right -- her lower lip stuck out far enough to be comical. An agitated Hart paced back and forth behind her. Clearly, he'd never had to deal with a stubborn five year old before.
Evangeline seemed to be doing somewhat better. She murmured to Celia, low enough I couldn't make out anything but the sound of her voice. I would guess she wasn't whispering sweet nothings in her ear.
I took a step back, and whispered to Elizabeth, "You take Hart. I'll take Evangeline. On three."
With a deep breath, I began pushing power through my veins. "One."
Elizabeth pulled her gun out, clicking the safety off. "Two."
I sent a quick prayer to any saint I could think of, including my namesakes. "Three."
I slammed the door open, ducking low, fire blasting from my hand almost before I had time to aim. Jerking slightly to the right, I caught Evangeline full in the face. Above me, Elizabeth fired six or seven times before I lost count. I only noticed when the thundering booms stopped.
At first I thought the room had gone quiet, and then I realized I couldn't hear because the gunshots had momentarily deafened me. Sound began to seep back in. The raggedness of my breath came first, then Hart's cursing and Evangeline's shrieks. Something thudded on the floor next to me. I looked up to see Elizabeth ejecting the clip and slamming another one in.
Hart lay on the clapboard floor, writhing in pain and cursing in French and English. As for Evangeline, I don't know if being burnt alive qualified as a fate worse than death, but it sure as hell didn't look pleasant. I'd sworn I'd make sure she stopped giggling, but part of me wondered if I might have found a cleaner way.
Celia hopped off the chair, skipped across the room and wrapped her arms around Elizabeth's waist. "I knew you'd come and get me, Lizzie." She turned and squeezed my leg. "And you, Jude."
"And here we are. Let Elizabeth carry you, so we can get out of here." Elizabeth hoisted Celia up, switching the gun to her right hand. I stood and gave Hart and what had been Evangeline one last look before pushing Elizabeth out the door.
A crash sounded behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Hart using the chair to pull himself to his feet. You'd think a full clip would have kept him down longer. Another crash as a door across the room slammed open and more bad guys swarmed in.
"Run. Now."
I pushed Elizabeth toward the front door. Behind me I could already hear the sounds of pursuit, and I knew we weren't going to make it. Not all of us.
Keeping my eyes on Hart's door, I pushed the girls ahead of me. Elizabeth cursed, ramming her shoulder into the door once, twice, before the wood gave. The timing was fortunate for her because the hallway suddenly flooded with bad vamps. I poured fire from my hand, less concerned with hitting anyone in particular than with just hitting anyone.
I kept pouring fire as I stumbled backward onto the porch and my hand jerking up caught the roof on fire. Two more steps and I fell down the stairs, the grass catching fire around me. Someone hoisted me up by the elbows, and I craned my neck back to see Theo above me.
"You're going to be the death of me, Jude, I swear to God."
"Just like your mother was to your father." I jerked my head forward to stare in shock as Hart walked through the flames. After what he'd witnessed happen to his little blonde cupcake you'd expect some concern, but no. He strolled as nonchalantly as if he was taking a walk down Canal.
"Your mother was the more powerful of the two. And yet all it took was a simple knock on the head to put her under." Hart smiled, looking like Satan himself emerging from the flames of hell. "The accident was harder to arrange than actually killing them." He directed the next smile toward me. "But then, you'd have found that out with your little friend. Izzy, correct?"
I felt Theo falter behind me and pushed him back. Hart kept walking toward us. I couldn't seem to move, like the horror of his last few sentences had frozen me and Theo in place. He stood within arm's reach when I felt the ground rumble beneath me, and even though we were in Louisiana, my first thought was still earthquake.
Hart stumbled back and Gillian suddenly appeared, her hair flying in the air. I wanted to step forward, to help, to do something, and couldn't. A wall of magic like the one I'd thrown up the other night kept me out.
I beat my hands against the invisible shield, battered them until my fists went numb. I called her name, again and again, until I screamed it while Theo tried to pull me back. Gillian and Hart remained locked in some intricate battle, so tangled together you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.
Gillian drew blood, but didn't call fire, when I knew she could. Hart snarled, but didn't bite. They were playing games with each other while the world around them burned. When Gillian punched Hart viciously enough to have his neck snapping back, I saw the look in his eyes change. Playtime was over.
I felt another set of hands on me, and recognized Williams' smell as he and Theo fought to pull me away. I kicked and screamed, but it's impossible to fight against two grown men, one of whom can lift a car.
I watched as Hart finally subdued Gillian enough to twist her around to face us, his face contorted with anger, hers eerily serene. I watched as Hart reared back, sinking his fangs deep into the bend of Gillian's neck. I watched while Gillian opened and closed her left hand, the earth beneath us began to tremble and shake in earnest.
The ground in front of me split apart even as it continued to shake. Inside the circle, pieces of soggy grass lifted up and buckled. The house began to fall down in earnest, from the fire and the collapsing ground. Through everything, Hart drained Gillian, and Gillian kept her eyes locked on mine.
Until the last, Gillian raised both arms high over her head, clenching her hands into fists. With a final wave, she brought both arms down and the circle imploded.
The force knocked the three of us into the street. The night sky exploded in sparks and flames, and as the dust began to clear, I could see where a plot of land had been. Nothing remained but a gaping hole.
"Gillian." I whispered her name, certain my eyes were wrong.
"She's gone. Jude, she's gone." Theo pulled me to my feet, and I felt him shaking. "The circle broke. She's gone."
"No. You're lying." I couldn't accept the truth.
"No, Jude Magdalyn. Gillian has fallen." Williams' face held less color than usual. "We have to go. The city's emergency services will be here, if only to contain the destruction."
"They can't explain this away."
"A sinkhole opened up, Jude Magdalyn. A sinkhole in land which used to be nothing but swamp." Williams' eyes were huge and dark in his face. "Our being here will cause nothing but problems."
"We can't leave her body here." My voice broke, the beginnings of grief taking over. "We have to find her body."
"My men will find her, quicker than you could." Williams looked over my head, and I knew he was silently asking Theo for help. Theo took my arm, pulling me down the block to where we'd left our vehicles. "Go, Jude Magdalyn. We will bring Gillian back to you."
Theo pulled harder and I turned, walking faster, then running, breath burning in my lungs and my feet slapping against the pavement. Theo ran beside me, and the further we ran the quieter everything became until all the sound in the world was our running and the unbearable quiet. The wind raced over my skin, cooling the hot tears sliding down my cheeks and dripping off my jaw.
The only car remaining was Theo's, the engine already running. Rian sat in the driver's seat, Elizabeth and Celia huddled together in the passenger seat. Theo reached the car first, flung open the driver's side rear door, all but pushed me in and crawled in after me. "Go, Rian. Hurry."
Rian looked over his shoulder into the backseat, apprehension creeping over his features. "Where's Gillian?"
Tears thickened my voice. "We lost her."
Oh, God. What was going to happen to us now?
The mug burned my hands, but after half a bottle of whiskey I felt no pain and didn't care. Less than two weeks ago, I'd sat in my pseudo-kitchen and sipped coffee from the same mug while telling Gillian she didn't know anything about me. I knew who I was, nobody else.
Now Gillian was gone and I had no clue who I was supposed to be anymore.
Members of the Covenant began arriving at the house before we were even back, like they'd somehow known the night had turned unbelievably tragic. My mind wouldn't wrap around the fact Gillian wasn't walking through the parlor door any moment, demanding to know why I was sitting on my ass instead of downstairs practicing.
God. Practice sessions. I didn't even know how I breathed from one moment to the next.
Lies had stepped up to control the flow of visitors, pushing out the ones who wanted to stay overly long. Couldn't they understand I didn't want to see anyone, for any amount of time?
More than one person bowed or knelt at my feet. I couldn't understand why. What kind of leader couldn't save the woman who'd shown me what I was capable of? How could I ask these people to trust me, when I'd let one of the most powerful among us sacrifice herself while I stood and did nothing?
Some part of me knew my thoughts weren't the entire truth, not even partially. The larger part of me, the one I couldn't make shut up and leave me alone, kept repeating the same words.
It's your fault. You'll fail again. It's your fault. You'll fail again. It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault.
God forgive me, I believed.
I raised my gaze from the black pool of coffee in my hands as the door opened. My heart tripped for one moment, the voice quiet long enough for another one to speak. Theo. Please, be Theo. Then the door pushed open, and Williams stood framed in the doorway.
The insistent voice started up again.
"I'm sorry, Jude Magdalyn. A decision must be made concerning... Gillian." I don't know what he would have said instead of her name, but it tore at me nonetheless. Another pair of those seemingly endless tears slid down my face, and I closed my eyes, drawing a deep breath.
"Send them in, Williams. The sooner, the better."
Whoever waited to consult with me must have been right behind Williams because when I opened my eyes two new men stood in front of me. I blinked a few times to make sure my brain wasn't so overwhelmed I saw double. Everything about them was identical, down to the shine on their black leather shoes.
"Our condolences, Ms. Henries."
Even their voices were identical. "Jude. Thank you. What do you need to know?"
"Gillian was very specific about her plans. Her instructions included a traditional Irish wake before her interment at Lafayette No. 1, Uptown." Two pairs of hands smoothed over lapels, checked the straightness of ties. The exactness was unnerving. "You are, of course, free to alter these plans, as Gillian noted in the most recent addendum."
I shook my head, guilt and grief slamming into me. She'd trusted me with her last wishes, and I'd gotten her killed. "No, no. Whatever Gillian wanted, make sure it's done."
They nodded simultaneously, turning on their heels and exiting in unison. Williams made to close the door, to leave me alone but I couldn't stand the quiet anymore. It screamed of my failure. "Where's Theo?"
Williams paused, and a look I couldn't interpret flashed across his face. "He has gone to his parents' home. The additional information he received tonight about their deaths has... disturbed him."
More guilt, of course. Bad enough to have thought their death an accident, a twist of fate. To find out it had been carefully orchestrated and with painstaking attention to detail would have to be even worse. I nodded, my heart sinking. "Did anyone go with him?"
"Rian, young Elizabeth, and Celia." Williams stepped further into the room, easing the door shut behind him. "Is there anything I can get for you, Jude Magdalyn?"
I laughed, not surprised to see Williams' slight jolt. Even I could hear the thin edge of hysteria. "Can you turn back the last few hours? Give me a chance to not kill Gillian?"
"You did not kill Gillian. She made her decision and if she knew you doubted her, she would not hesitate to strip the skin from your bones with a few good words."
I shook my head, rising to my feet and sloshed coffee onto my hand. Cursing, I hurled the mug into the fireplace, the sound of smashing porcelain painfully loud in the quiet of the room. "We'll never know, will we? In three days we'll be sliding her into a tomb Uptown."
"This guilt accomplishes nothing, Jude Magdalyn, and only weakens you at the very time that you need to be strong." His hands were heavy on my shoulders, but I shrugged them off, moving to stand in front of the window. Already the sidewalks were lined with candles whose lights would only go out once we laid Gillian fully to rest.
"I don't want to do this anymore. Give it to someone else, the twins and their mother, or Lisette. Give it to someone who knows what they hell they're doing. I don't, and I'm tired of people dying because I'm a failure."
"War always contains casualties, Jude Magdalyn."
"Don't call Gillian a casualty, like her death was expected. She wouldn't have died if I hadn't been so fucking impatient, if I'd just waited a few minutes."
"And would Celia have died if you'd waited? Whose death would you have rather have on your conscience?"
"No one's." I shouted, tears pouring down my face. "I don't want to worry about people dying because I'm a screw up, because I don't know what to do." I pressed my hands over my chest, like the pressure would help the aching and burning. "What am I supposed to do without Gillian? What am I supposed to do?"
I wasn't aware Williams had crossed the room until suddenly his arms closed around me, pulling me close to him. I couldn't keep the crying under control anymore and my knees buckled. Williams slid to the ground with me, whispering words in a language I couldn't understand.
It seemed like forever and yet not nearly long enough before my sobs quieted down to whimpers. I became aware of Williams' holding me very, very close. His hand moved slowly up and down my back. My face pressed close to his neck, and I took a deep breath, inhaling his mixture of expensive cologne and otherness. His hand slid under my shirt on its trip up my back and I tensed, muscles knotting faster than an expert seaman.
I should have pulled away. Instead, I drew him closer.
"Jude." His breath ruffled my hair, sent shivers down my spine. "You're drunk." He started to draw back and I tightened my grip, dug my fingers into his hips. "Jude."
"Don't. Don't go. I don't want to be alone right now." I laid my lips over where his pulse would have been and kissed softly. "Stay with me. Please."
His hands slid over my back, came up to fist in my hair. He jerked my head back until I could see his face and he could see mine. "You would tempt a saint. And I am no saint, Jude Magdalyn."
His mouth was as decadent as I remembered, more so, as if the events of the night had changed us both so much that every flavor, every touch was deeper, richer. My fingers shook as they gripped his shirt. My skin warmed where his hands touched my stomach and tangled with the button of my jeans.
He bit my lip. I jumped, moaning, my hands fisting in his hair. His tongue swept into my open mouth, swirling, coaxing. Thoughts of Theo slapped at me, quickly pushed away when Williams sucked on my tongue. I was vaguely aware when he opened my jeans, but not fully until his hand slid into them. Inside and down, teasing over the most sensitive part of me before pulling gently.
I came, instantly, powerfully, so intensely my head reeled for a moment and I could only gasp breath in and out. He didn't give me time to recover. Moving his clever fingers down further Williams slid them into me, my hips arching to drive them deeper. His mouth moved down my neck, licking a path down my chest. I don't know when he did it or how, but the front clasp on my bra opened and he shifted his head, sucking a nipple deep into his mouth.
I came again, harder this time, the tension in my muscles bringing tears to my eyes. I felt his fangs, just the slightest pressure, against my breast, and the implied danger had me pulling his head closer with one hand, even as my other struggled to push my jeans the rest of the way off. His fingers slid in and out, and mine clutched convulsively in his hair, the only reaction I could truly manage.
He pulled out, and I whimpered in protest, more so when he raised his head from my breast and pushed to his knees. Williams' shirt was lifted off and tossed in much the same way mine had been. Unable to help myself, I pushed to a sitting position, leaning forward to run my mouth over the smooth muscle of his chest. He shuddered again, sliding my bra the rest of the way off before pushing me back to the carpet. His pants were off faster than I could see and I raised my hips when his hands tugged at the denim caught on the carpet.
When he settled between my legs, I felt him hard and ready. He leaned over me, bracing his weight on his hands, his mouth inches from mine.
He thrust into me, crushing his mouth to mine. Settling his hips firmly against mine, he did something I'd never expect someone with hundreds of years of experience to do. He fucked me.
There was nothing gentle or romantic or seductive in what we did. There was nothing but need and want and underneath everything grief trying to push out. I held on and let him use me, used him. I concentrated only on what I physically felt and let sensation wash over me, the emotional storm trying to push its way through.
The orgasm caught me surprise and I gasped, nicking my tongue on one of his fangs. The tiny taste of blood was too much for Williams. Between the blood on his tongue and the clenching of my muscles, his body let go. Pushing into me one final time, he held for a long moment before sliding down to lay his head between my breasts.
Reality began to creep back in. It took longer than I expected and yet not nearly long enough. I pushed on his shoulder and he obliged me by rolling off to lie next to me. I sat up, shook my hair back. "I'm sorry."
"Jude---."
"We shouldn't have done this." Theo's face swam into my mind. "I'm sorry. This was a mistake. A stupid, drunk mistake that will never happen again."
He lay there for a few minutes longer and then I felt him stand, heard him rustling around for his clothes. "I'll leave you alone, then. Unless you require anything else of me?"
I pushed to my feet, keeping my back to him, and began pulling on my own clothes. "No. Just leave. Please." I turned around to face him, hugging myself.
His eyes were like black diamonds in his face, hard and cold. Then he dropped his gaze, shaking his head. When he looked up, he was almost back to normal. "As the lady wishes."
I rubbed my arms, growing even colder. I walked past him, keeping him in my line of sight, suddenly wary. I laid my hand on the door, letting it rest on the wood for a moment. "I assume you'll attend services at the cemetery."
"As you wish."
"I'll make sure the service starts later in the day, so the sun will have set by the time we arrive at the cemetery." I opened the door, ignoring the guards outside. What did it matter if they'd had a soundtrack of the events in the room? One more fuckup tonight would hardly make a difference.
I dodged the people popping out of every room and corner, shaking my head as I made my way to the stairs. They clustered at the bottom calling questions but I ignored them. I was done for the night. I didn't have any more left in me to give.
Gillian would have twisted my ear and dragged me back down the stairs.
Turning the corner, I leaned against the wall, fist pressed to my chest, the hard ball of tears burning a hole under my breastbone. Taking a deep breath, I pushed off from the wall, making my way down the hall to my room. Every step was a struggle to place one foot in front of the other and not drop to my knees and weep in the center of the hall.
Finally, I reached my door and pushed it open. Closing it, I leaned back and turned the lock. Someone had turned a lamp on, the light glow casting the room in shadows. Crossing to the windows, I closed the shutters, drew the sheers, and then the blinds.
I pulled the covers over my head, my face burrowed in the pillow. I prayed for sleep, or unconsciousness. Anything but awake and remembering I'd gotten Gillian killed. I'd been with Williams. Theo would never want me now.
God was merciful. I took only a few shuddering breaths before sleep swamped over me.
No matter how fast I ran I couldn't lose them. They dogged my every turn, every twist like they knew my direction before I did. Bars, nightclubs, restaurants, strip clubs, all flew past in a blur, no one taking notice of the pursuit down Bourbon. No one looked up. No one called out. No one helped.
No one cared.
I was alone and they were closing in.
I fell, landing hard on my hands and knees. Scrambling back up, I wasted precious seconds glancing over my shoulder. Only arm's reach away. I ran faster, desperate. I screamed when a hand gripped my shoulder hard.
"Jude. You're having a nightmare. Wake up, Jude."
I swung out, connected with something. Someone cursed and the hand fell away. Another grabbed hold and I swung out again. This time they caught and pinned my hand. I struggled harder, screaming again and again.
The sharp slap across my face hurt. The pain startled me. A scream caught in my lungs and my eyes flashed open. Theo had me pinned to the bed with no way of breaking his hold. I stopped struggling, although my heart still pounded painfully and breathing hurt.
Slowly, watching me carefully, Theo eased his grip. When he was certain I wouldn't try and deck someone again, he pulled me to a sitting position and brushed the hair back from my face. "A nightmare, Jude. Just a bad dream."
How could I let him look at me with all that love and grief tinged eyes after what I did last night? I should have pushed him away, told him to get out. Instead, I let him shift to sit on the edge of the bed. I allowed him to pull me into his lap and wrap the covers around us.
There wasn't a spot in hell wretched enough for me.
"It's not the first black eye Rian's ever had, although maybe the first given to him by a girl." I chuckled despite myself, the sound weak and watery. The tears started again for Gillian, for me and for what I'd ruined.
"Should have remembered she's got a mean right hook. She did take Guile down with just one shot." Rian leaned against the footboard, arms folded over his chest. His left eye was red and puffy but showed no other signs of bruising. The door opened behind him and Elizabeth peeked in.
Seeing I was awake, she bustled in carrying a tray loaded down with what seemed like every breakfast food imaginable. She set the wicker on the side of the bed not occupied by Theo and me. Elizabeth fussed for a moment before straightening up. When she noticed Rian I couldn't help but smile at her gasp.
"I leave you alone for fifteen minutes, and look what happens. I swear you're worse than Celia sometimes." Elizabeth scowled at him before marching off to the bathroom. I heard the sound of running water, then a towel being wrung out. She marched back in, still scowling.
"Am I going to need to watch you all the time, Rian, to make sure you don't get into any trouble?" She was busy dabbing at his eye with the wet towel and she missed what flashed through his good eye. I didn't, and would bet neither did Theo.
"If I were to say yes, what would you tell me?" The casual tone fit perfectly with the playful smile, or would have if I hadn't seen his eyes a moment before. Elizabeth pressed the towel firmly to his left socket and smiled back at him. God help us all, she was either a total idiot or completely innocent. I already knew she wasn't an idiot.
"I'd tell you to move the rest of your stuff in here, there's plenty of rooms." Elizabeth lowered the towel when Rian stepped back, confusion spreading across her face. "What's the matter now?"
"I need to check on things downstairs. Make sure you and Celia are both dressed shortly." Elizabeth wasn't the only one who blinked in surprise at his harsh tone. Rian nodded his head in my direction and gave Elizabeth a stiff bow. "Thank you for your ministrations, Ms. Malley." He turned on his heel and strode from the room, the door snapping closed behind him.
"So, your last name is Malley?"
"We dropped the 'O' a few generations back," Elizabeth answered absently while staring at the door. After a moment, she shook her head. "You'll make sure she eats, Theo? I need to see to Celia before Mr. Flannery has another fit."
I waited a moment after she left to see if Theo would say anything. When there was nothing but silence, I asked, "So, Rian's last name is Flannery? You guys are big on the ethnic naming, aren't you? Got some French, Irish and Creole going on."
"Count your blessings we're not Russian. Looking at some of those names can give you a headache." Theo eased me back onto the bed and I instantly regretted the loss of his warmth. Reaching over, he pulled the tray closer and whistled as he got a view of the contents. "I think Elizabeth is trying to fatten you up, Jude."
"Food like this, won't take long." If I ate everything on the tray I wouldn't get out of bed, let alone eat, the rest of the day. I gave Theo the fork and kept the spoon. "Here, help me."
Crawling further onto the bed, he slid around until he sat across from me with the tray between us. We ate in silence but not the uncomfortable kind I'd been living in since last night. For once, it was just quiet, and I felt steadier for a moment.
Then I remembered what I'd done and the French toast stuck in my throat. I swallowed painfully and took a sip of tea to wash the lump down. Theo noticed anyway.
"What's wrong, Jude?"
Instead of answering, I asked him a question. "How are you? They told me you went to your parents' house last night. That couldn't have been easy."
"No. No, it wasn't." Theo put his fork down, as if he couldn't eat while grief swirled in his mind. "I've spent the last five years being angry and hurt they'd died. Now I find out there was nothing anybody could have done." He shook his head and I pressed my fingers to my lips at the look in his eyes. "Do you think they knew how I felt all this time, Jude? That they knew how mad I've been over something not their fault?"
I hesitated. "I think if they knew they didn't blame you. They blamed Hart for giving you a lie, a believable one. And maybe they blamed themselves, because they couldn't tell you the truth."
"Really?" There was such hope, such desperation, in that one word I couldn't help but lean over to cup his cheek with one hand. I nodded, rubbing my thumb back and forth over his cheek.
"Yes, really."
He placed his hand over mine, turning his face to press his lips against my palm. My eyes stung with tears and I had to swallow hard again. I'd ruined all this. Once he knew the truth he'd never look at me the same way again. Guilt , burned hot inside me. I couldn't be near him and not tell Theo the truth.
"Williams fucked me last night."
He went still under my hand and I waited. The seemingly perpetual ball of guilt churned painfully and I had a moment to hope I wouldn't embarrass myself further by throwing up. The silence spun out and I held my breath, waiting for the ranting to begin. The name-calling. The hate.
"And what did you do?"
I frowned, shaking my head sharply. "What?"
"You're getting that line between your eyes again. If you're not careful, you'll end up with wrinkles there." Theo sat up, and my hand fell down to lie limp in his lap. "You said he fucked you. Not you fucked each other. So I'm wondering what you were doing."
I wasn't frowning now. I was staring at him like he was crazy. Or deaf. "Semantics, Theo. We had sex. Together. Me and Williams."
"Did you ask him to fuck you? Did you enjoy the experience?" I cocked my head still not sure he comprehended the situation.
"I guess. I mean, we both got off, so if that's what you call enjoyable, then yeah." I tilted my head to the other side, studying him, sure I was missing something. "Theo, do you understand what I'm saying?"
"Absolutely. Are you going to finish your French Toast? If not, I am."
My jaw dropped. I stared at him, mouth agape, before shaking my head. I beat my hands against the side of my head briefly before Theo grabbed them and forced them down in his lap. "Easy there, kiddo. You really don't want a headache right now."
"Theo, I had sex with Williams. He fucked the hell out of me on the parlor carpet. I came three times." I spoke slowly, clearly. He sure as hell wasn't acting like a normal person.
"Now you're just bragging. I bet I can beat three with the proper motivation." Theo picked up a piece of bacon and crunched delicately. "After breakfast, though. We're going to need our strength."
"You're crazy. Why aren't you angry, throwing things, calling me every horrible name in the book?"
"That's a lot of questions. Let me see if I can answer them all." Theo looked up at the ceiling, pretending to think. Smartass. "I'm not throwing things because Elizabeth will yell at me for making a mess. And since you've taken her under your wing, she's pretty feisty."
He picked up another piece of bacon, studied the slice before popping it in his mouth. "I'm not calling you horrible names because despite what you think, you don't deserve them. You've apparently already beat the hell out of yourself."
A sip of orange juice and those eyes pierced so deep my breath caught. He sounded calm, but his eyes told the lie. "As for being angry, I am. Only a little with you, because everybody makes me mistakes. I won't tell you about who I slept with the night my parents died -- were murdered. Or the night after. Or the night after that."
"I get the picture."
Theo kept speaking, ignoring me. "I'm angry with myself, for leaving you alone when we both needed to be around people. I knew better. Not to say you didn't know better either, but I've never been someone to place all the blame on one party.
Mostly, I'm angry with Williams for using your moment of weakness to push his own agenda. Although why I expected something better from anything as amoral as a vampire, I don't know." A sip of milk, but the white mustache didn't make him seem silly. Nothing could at this moment. "I would gladly run him through with a stake if I saw him at this moment. And probably for a few more."
I shook my head, shocked speechless. Almost. "I don't know how to deal with you, Theo. You're driving me crazy." The glow in his eyes put my nerves slightly on edge. If I were Williams, I'd be on the first ferry out of the city.
"You'll have fifty or so years to get used to the idea. It may be enough time." With that humdinger of a statement he leaned over and brushed a kiss over my lips. "Now, as much as I enjoy ogling those naked shoulders of yours, there is a house full of people. Might I suggest getting up and dressed?"
"What time is it?" I glanced instinctively toward the windows before remembering I'd covered them completely last night.
"A little after ten in the morning," Theo chuckled at my shocked intake. "Lies says you came up about one, so you should have gotten more than a few hours of sleep."
"You mean I can go out in the daylight? Like actual, real daylight?" Sweet Mother Moses. I hadn't been outside in the sun since my dip in the Mississippi over a week ago.
"Yes, Jude. Real daylight." Theo stood, brushing the wrinkles out of his clothes. For the first time, I noticed he was dressed in the style people call business casual. He looked very yummy in pinstripes and a tailored button-down. "Some things must be done during business hours, even if you spend the majority of your life playing in the dark."
"Right. Arrangements." I slid from under the covers, careful not to tumble the breakfast tray. No time to do laundry. I stood naked with my hands on my hips for a moment before I heard Theo clear his throat behind me.
Turning to glance over my shoulder, I raised an eyebrow in question. I was familiar with the look in his eyes, one which lit an answering flame low in my belly. "A house full of people might put me off my game, Jude, but if you stand there for much longer like that, we may need to test the theory."
"Anything in particular I should wear?"
"Besides clothes?" Theo thought for a moment, and I took the time to cross to the bureau and pull on underwear and a bra. I could at least be partially clothed while Theo was in the room.
"I would say something reflecting your position. To be honest, I have no idea if you own anything that formal, or enough things to carry you the next few days."
"Only one way to find out," I muttered, opened the closet and stepped inside. I paused, tilting my head. "Huh."
I heard Theo behind me followed by seeping warmth before he even placed his hand on my shoulder. "What, exactly, does huh mean?"
"In this case, it means the closet fairy has struck again. No comments about closets or fairies." I moved forward, pulling the note pinned to the group of hangers. I read the neatly printed words aloud while Theo peered over my shoulder.
Jude,
It will disturb you to find these here, but I also know you will follow my wishes accordingly. I will not have you waking me or attending my Funeral Mass without being properly clothed, whenever the time comes. Do us both, and anyone attending you, a favor -- and don't argue.
Gillian
Tears pricked my eyes, and I couldn't help but smile. The note was short and pithy. I could almost hear Gillian's voice as I read the words. Theo chuckled behind me, the sound watery, like he held back tears as well. "Might as well see what she left for you to wear, Jude."
I pulled out the garment marked day one, morning -- arrangements. Trust Gillian to detail what I would wear right down to the time of the day. The suit was simple, and a shocking shade of red. Another note pinned to the fabric, read simply, Don't argue.
"She knew you entirely too well." Theo slid his arms around my waist, and rested his chin on my shoulder. We stood there in silence and shared grief. Together. Not alone.
I sighed, my shoulders rising and falling with the motion. Theo dropped a kiss on one shoulder before lifting his head. "Problem, Jude?"
I scanned the closet floor before answering. "Do you think she bought shoes, too?"
They say funerals and memorials are for the living; to give them a chance to grieve before moving on. All of which may be true, but it's also a way for the dead to get one last say in other people's lives. And Gillian had a lot to say.
I hadn't known what Gillian requesting a full Irish Wake entailed. Most of the arrangements were taken care of, but there were some things she simply couldn't do. Things which, in any other city would be absolutely crazy and impossible to pull off, but this is New Orleans, and nothing is truly impossible here.
Like informing the mayor, the chief of police, and a half dozen other civil bodies you needed to close off between twenty and thirty blocks of a major throughway in the middle of five o'clock traffic on a Friday.
We received not a single complaint from any of them. Funerals are apparently very, very important.
The priest at St. Louis Cathedral proved a bit more difficult. Father O'Brien appeared, and between him and Theo, everything was squared away. I stood to the side and let the men handle things. Sixteen years with the nuns had taught me a woman's position according to the church. It didn't include telling the head priest of any church how to perform a Funeral Mass.
Theo and I returned to the house to find the entire lower floor jammed full of people. The wailing coming from the smaller parlor stood the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck on end, despite Theo's murmur about the significance of the keening in my ear. Every time one person tapered off another would pick up the cry in a never-ending lament.
The mirrors were covered with white cloth and the clock frozen. Again, Theo explained to me how the custom was done out of respect for the dead. The older generations believed the soul of the departed could be trapped inside a mirror unless properly covered. Both traditions scared me with the fact people still followed the old traditions, and the probability of such things happening in the world.
Gillian had chosen her own coffin and clothes years before, much like she'd chosen mine. When I'd asked Theo if she'd picked his out too, he'd grinned before answering. "Not entirely. She just told me I should always make sure my wardrobe contained clothes for all occasions. Then she took me to a menswear store."
She was laid out in white, a shocking contrast to the brilliant sapphire blue of the silk lining. Gillian had never worn a color even close, and I wondered if she'd chosen it for that reason. Someone had threaded her rosary through her fingers. The beads, worn smooth from years of handling, shone under the muted lights. A crucifix laid on her chest, clasped in her other hand. Her hair fanned out around her face, popping against the blue.
Flowers of every variety, all the same shade of shocking blue, filled the parlor. They gathered around the dark wood of the coffin, flowed over the glossy wood tables, even competed for space in front of the empty fireplace. Everywhere you looked a field of blooms colored the darkened room.
The only light came from candles placed at Gillian's feet and head. Tall, short, skinny, fat, all white. The candles never melted or burnt out. I asked Theo, and he gave a half smile, shadowed with grief. "It was the least I could do. She taught me how to throw fire, because no one else in my family knew how."
I nodded, slipping my hand into his. Covenant members flowed in and out of the room, pressing a kiss to Gillian's cheek. Almost all took a moment to say a rosary. Children were lifted to press soft lips against cold flesh. The endless procession of people was there to say goodbye to Gillian.
A murmur and shift in the crowd announced Williams and his guard's entrance. His eyes shot to me briefly. I gripped Theo's hand tighter. Theo shifted slightly, and I realized he'd placed himself just in front of me. I jostled him, forced him to move until I stood next to him again. I'd face my mistakes, even if doing it burned a lead hole in my gut.
The murmur grew louder, and the crowd began to move restlessly. Williams took a step in our direction, opening his mouth as if to say something. Theo took an answering step and Williams faltered. I knew, without looking, the awful fury on Theo's face.
"Don't. You. Dare."
Everybody held their breath, me included. The candles flickered, jumping higher, and I squeezed Theo's hand. For a second I thought he would ignore me, but as I watched the candles simmered back down and I let my breath out.
Williams nodded sharply and turned back toward Gillian's coffin. He couldn't hold a rosary, couldn't lean into the coffin to kiss her cheek as the others had done. Instead, he bowed his head and his followers dropped to their knees. After a long moment, he lifted his head again and looked skyward. I could have sworn I saw him mouth the word amen.
Williams turned and the crowd moved aside to give him a clear path. Theo stepped forward again, and this time I did tug on his arm. "There are things that need to be said, Jude."
I sighed, resigned to the fact nothing would change his mind. "Then we'll go together." He opened his mouth to argue and I shook my head, shutting him up before he could say one word. "No, Theo. We're in this together. All the way together."
He searched my face and whatever he saw must have satisfied him. "Fine. Together, then."
"I suppose I should feel honored you believe such a show of force is necessary for a simple conversation." If Williams was worried it didn't show. Then again, he had a little bit of experience at deadpan.
Theo smiled and my heart picked up speed. In an oh, fuck kind of way. "Simple conversation." Theo shook his head, still smiling, but I stood close enough to see him clench and unclench his fists in his pockets. Not good. "You've got a real talent for understatement there, Williams."
Williams gave a little bow. You didn't need to be an expert at reading body language to see the mockery. "One talent among many. Wouldn't you agree, Jude Magdalyn?"
My cue to get pissed off. I'd never missed one before -- be a shame to start now. "Your expertise is unquestionable, even if your execution is... lacking, at times."
"I don't recall hearing any complaints about my execution last night."
The gloves were off, without question.
"I'm guessing you also didn't hear anything remotely close to a conscience, either." Theo's accent came out more when he was angry. If he got as angry as I expected, I might not be able to understand him by the end of this little debacle.
Williams grew colder and more formal. "I did nothing without permission. Perhaps Jude Magdalyn should have consulted with her conscience."
"Jiminy Cricket drowned in a bottle of Jack Daniels. My bad. Where'd your own little voice of reason go?"
"Out the window, the second you decided to shove your tongue down my throat. If my 'little voice' didn't shut up then, he sure as hell did when you helped me rip your pants off and get my hand between your thighs."
Theo moved so fast I didn't see him move. One second he stood beside me, and the next he had Williams by the throat, doing a damn good impression of trying to push him through the wall. I was so shocked even if I'd seen it coming I don't know if I would have been able to stop it.
"What, exactly, did you think you were doing, you son of a bitch?" The drawl unique to New Orleans remained, but sounded completely at odds with the strained harshness of Theo's voice. "She was alone. I'll take the blame for that. Alone, traumatized, grieving. If you cared for her even a fraction of what you claim to, you would have put her to sleep and walked away. We trusted you, all of us, to be better than the people we're fighting against. Instead you showed us how much of a monster you are."
I moved forward hesitantly, keeping an arm's length away from Theo. My fingertips grazed his shoulder, and his head jerked around. I had to swallow the lump into my throat and force myself to not step back. Williams' eyes might have held a flame of anger. Theo's contained an inferno.
"Theo. It's done. It's over, it's done." I kept my voice calm and my expression level. "Let him go. Let it go."
The crazed look slowly lifted from Theo's eyes, and I could see him again. He was still angry, but Theo again. He unclenched his hand and Williams sucked in a breath. "Thank you, Jude Magdalyn. How shocking for you to be the voice of reason in this room."
"I didn't do it for you. I did it for me, and Theo." I pulled Theo back, putting a few feet between the two of us and Williams. I found his hand with mine and linked our fingers. A natural unit. "I still need you to fight against Hart, and Jiminy wouldn't like it if Theo snuffed you out."
"Last night you said you'd had enough."
"I said and did a lot of things last night."
The quiet stretched out, and I wanted to look away from Williams' eyes, but didn't. "I gave my word to people I would follow this through."
"After last night, your word carries very little weight for me, Jude Magdalyn."
I didn't think, I reacted. I slapped Williams once, twice, his head whipping back and forth. "We made a mistake. Accept it. Move on." I took a deep breath and forced myself to calm down. Losing my temper wouldn't do any good.
"My apologies. To both of you." The words were empty, lacking meaning, but we were all getting used to saying things we didn't entirely mean. A knock came at the door, and without waiting, Elizabeth opened it.
"You're needed, all of you, in the library." For the first time since the world imploded, grief showed on Elizabeth's face. "Gillian's lawyer says her will needs to be read. Now."
Gillian's lawyer looked like they all do. Buttoned down, starched up, like their orders are delivered direct from God. Although in this case it was pretty darn close.
I worried about the lawyer. I mean, seriously worried about his health. He looked near dead, like one long winded brief too many would do him in. His folded hands on top of the paper were knurled, twisted with age and dusted with liver spots. His hair, still surprisingly thick even if a bright pewter gray, gleamed over eyes the color of bottled glass. He seemed on the verge of joining Gillian.
The thought of my mentor stung the back of my eyes with tears, and I took a few deep breaths. Theo squeezed my hand and the moment passed. I opened my eyes and nodded. "Alright. You can start."
The lawyer cleared his throat, and the phlegmy sound cemented my assumptions until he spoke in a deep, rich and beautiful baritone. "This is the reading of the last will and testament of Gillian Henries." He stopped to clear his throat again, which would have been a great time for me to jump in and ask what the hell was going on if I hadn't been utterly shell shocked. Almost every person in the room looked the same, some more than others. Only two didn't. Lisette.
And Williams.
"Henries? You're sure?" Rian's voice shook, but at least he could speak. One better than me. "Henries, not Sullivan?"
The lawyer frowned, coughing harshly before continuing. "Sullivan? No, Sullivan was her maiden name. Although she may have used it for some purposes, her legal name has always been Henries."
"This is the latest version, updated only three days ago or two days before her death." Acting like he didn't notice the state of those in the room, he continued talking, some of his words running together like the slurred speech of an alcoholic. "It was witnessed by Mr. Williams and myself, and duly signed and notarized. Any questions as to its authentic nature can be put to rest.
Gillian had a number of bequests, and the smaller ones have been dealt with. Her liaisons with the mayor's office and the local law enforcement agencies will each receive ten thousand dollars, and Gillian's requested you to continue in the same regard for Jude.
To Elizabeth and Celia Malley, the amount of two hundred fifty thousand dollars, to be held in trust by a specified third party until Elizabeth reaches eighteen. At that time, the trust will be managed by Elizabeth with Celia gaining access on her eighteenth birthday and the amount in the trust split in half."
I don't think Celia understood what happened, but Elizabeth did. Her whispered, "Holy Mary, Mother of God," rippled throughout the room.
"In addition, Gillian left the suggestion a thirteenth seat be added to the Council, to be held by Elizabeth and Celia. To quote directly from the document, 'Jude needs people around her she can trust, and if Celia doesn't have something to distract her, she'll drive Elizabeth crazy.'" The lawyer cleared his throat again, and this time somebody did jump in-Lisette. Oh, joy.
"Gillian goes too far. She wasn't Council, and she can't dictate how it runs after she's in the ground."
"Quiet, Great-grandmother." Theo sounded tired, like all the energy had been drained with the anger. "Just this once, will you please be quiet."
Miracle of miracles, she did like he asked, but someone always had to screw things up.
"Grandmother Lisette is right. Gillian goes too far. Bad enough we are left with no choice but to let this street urchin lead us into hell. I'll not stand for another pair, one of whom hasn't an ounce of magic in her, to have a say in the decisions of the Council." Wily stood, anger brightening her cheeks with two bright red spots. Guile looked as angry and appalled as her mother, as well as Christophe. Lies looked embarrassed.
"You really, sincerely, do not want to push me right now." Wily took me at my word and sat down. The lawyer waited a moment, making sure the histrionics were over before continuing.
"To Rian, Gillian left an equal amount and the statement that now he had nothing standing in the way of his one true wish." The lawyer raised his eyes from the papers to eye Rian. "I'll trust you know what she means, young man, and act accordingly.
To Williams, she left numerous paintings and books, given the impression you had no use for them, Jude, and Williams has always been particularly fond of them." He passed me a list which I handed wordlessly to Williams. "She also expressed the wish that when the time comes you let someone else finish the business remaining between you and your brother."
"Your what?" The most horrible thought passed through my mind and my stomach heaved. "Please, tell me I heard wrong."
Williams said nothing and, dodging Theo's grasp, I surged to my feet. For the third time of the night my palm connected with his face, and this time I felt the sting race up my arm.
"Please, do not tell me Hart is your brother. Not because the same man turned you, but because you share real, actual blood."
Williams said nothing.
I would have slugged him and damned the consequences if Theo hadn't grabbed me and hauled me back. Every muscle quivered and I wanted to beat the hell out of something, anything, so bad it physically hurt to not do so. "Your brother killed Gillian."
"Hart killed Gillian."
"Your brother killed Gillian." The urge to lash out tapered off, sliding away under a cooling layer of shock. The damn lawyer didn't let us stay calm for long.
"'And finally, to Theo and Jude, who both deserve some kind of happy ending, I leave the remainder of my estate. The damn lawyer will tell you how much it is, or the damn accountant, because I don't have any idea. Jude, I expect you to be better than you think you are, and at least as good as I know you are. Theo, I expect you to take care of my granddaughter a great deal better than her family ever did.'"
"Her what?" Theo's grip on my arms slackened and that alone let me know he'd been as clueless as me. "Her what?"
"Her granddaughter, Jude Magdalyn." I snapped my face back toward Williams, pushing the lawyer out of my mind. Williams' gave me calm, collected face. "Gillian was your grandmother."
"You knew." I knew, absolutely. "You knew, and you didn't tell me."
"I gave her my word I would let her tell you, in her own time."
"You fucked me, but you couldn't tell me my grandmother was dead." The lawyer's earlier statement came back to hit me between the eyes.
"Your brother killed my grandmother." Tremendous nausea, almost overwhelming, brought with it a headache that burned the back of my eyes. "You fucked me, knowing that." I wrenched my arm from Theo's grasp and this time I did punch him with every ounce of strength I had in the swing. "Your brother killed my grandmother."
"And my parents." Theo's voice remained calm, but I could hear the undercurrents of rage and grief. "You need to leave, now. Get out."
I shook my head, while hysteria danced a jig through my system. "No, not just leave. I rescind your invitation, Williams. You're not welcome here ever again."
He blinked slowly, shocked, like he couldn't understand the need for such extremes. "As you wish." And he vanished into thin air.
Theo held me and I resisted the urge to let him take all my weight. If I did, we'd wind up on the floor for sure. "I had a grandmother. Gillian was my grandmother."
"She left you a letter." The lawyer's voice came as shock in the otherwise quiet room. His aged hands shook slightly as they held out an envelope, sealed with red wax. Theo shifted me around until I could reach out and take it in my trembling hands. Theo's hand closed over mine, and I turned my head to look up and back at him.
"We'll read it. Together."
We sat in my private parlor, with only the fireplace for light. Elizabeth, Rian, and, surprisingly enough, Lies, had taken it upon themselves to deal with the never ceasing flow of people. I was touched everyone thought Gillian deserved such respect.
But, God. I was so tired.
Changed from the red suit into night clothes before going back down, I hadn't been surprised to find Theo changed as well. I'd scrubbed myself almost raw in my effort to peel off the day's layers. Like I could erase any trace of Williams from me.
He'd known. All this time, and he hadn't said anything.
It hurt worse somehow because of Gillian's death. I might have been able to move past it, to forgive him if Gillian hadn't died. She had, and the blame lay with us. Me and Williams' sibling.
His brother. One more another reason to lock Williams and whatever might have been in a tiny box and shut it away where it would never see the light of day again. Knowing we were fighting his brother -- a sibling doing his damnedest to try and kill me -- seemed like something he needed to mention while trying to seduce me.
It proved Gillian had been right. Nothing good could come of anything personal with Williams. Business, and nothing else, remained between us. The majority of which involved seeing his brother pay for every crime he had ever committed, and burned in hell for all eternity for what he did to my family.
"Are you sure you want to do this tonight, Jude?" Theo looked as tired as I felt but he was still here. I'd tried and failed to convince him to go to sleep. He'd stared at me and I'd given up.
I nodded and took a deep breath before sinking down to sit cross legged on the carpet in front of the fireplace. "Do you really think Gillian would want me to wait until later?"
Theo laughed, stretching out to lie on his back between me and the fire. I scooted my feet over so they weren't right next to his head and braced my back against the loveseat. Taking another deep breath, I slid my finger under the lip of the envelope to break the wax seal. Little slivers of red fell in my lap and I brushed them off absently before pulling the paper free. I glanced down as something more substantial fell into my lap. Setting Gillian's letter down on the floor next to me, I retrieved the object.
"It's a key," Theo murmured, his face curious as I held the metal up, trying to get a better look in the dim light. After a moment's study, I put it back on the table behind me. I probably wouldn't lose the key.
I picked Gillian's letter up again, unfolding the thick sheets of paper. They weren't normal paper, but creamy, soft. I took a deep breath, and began to read aloud.
Jude, and most likely Theo.
If you're reading this, then I'm dead. Most likely because Hart, or one of his baboons, has killed me. No point in prettying up the truth. By now you'll know my wishes for my laying out and interment, and I expect you to follow them to the letter. Theo, if Jude starts to cause too many problems, you are to step in and take care of things. You're a great deal less likely to rub people the wrong way than my granddaughter, even when she's not trying to be a pill.
By now you'll also know the truth about your family, Jude. The whole truth, and not the version I've been forced to live with since your father's death. I failed in my duties as both the leader of the Covenant and as a mother. My guilt for denying Martha her father caused me to demand less of Martha in a number of areas that ultimately led to her downfall.
The Council decreed since I had failed in both of those duties, I would not be allowed to interfere in any way in your development, unless or until it became a matter of life and death. Your magical development. I would have no say in your non-magical development, even when you were forced to take to the streets. The few times I was able to send you money, those who delivered it were never seen again. The Council prior to this one was a great deal more stringent in everything.
So stringent, they decreed from the moment Martha left the city, she and her child were dead to me. My failure with Martha would not be visited on the next generation. Most have either died or simply vanished, either moving away or becoming victims in some way. But Lisette remains and she has enough power to ensure I not go against the prior Council's wishes.
Williams and Hart. You'll know the truth about them now, and hopefully understand some if not all of my concerns. Concerns which lessened when you fell on your ass in front of Theo, but still remain. I must believe you'll choose the safest path, and realize safe is not dull. Williams is a good man, but he is not the man you need on your path.
The greatest thing to come from your parents was you. I've no doubt I could've done a better job with Martha, both as her mother and as her mentor. But I wonder if I had, would you be as magnificent as you are, and will be?
I regret we lost so much time with each other, and what time we had was overshadowed by the urgency of the situation. I regret you were forced to live a harsh, unforgiving life, and that I've left you at a time when you desperately need all the help you can gather.
I do not regret the person you are, and will no doubt become.
Do not let my death stop you from your destiny. You were meant to lead the Covenant. To end this war. To protect this city.
And dammit, you were meant to give me great-grandchildren, one of which should bear my name.
My voice died off, the only sound the crackle of logs in the fireplace. I turned and twisted, putting the letter on the table behind me with the key. I didn't really own a memento box, or a drawer to put special items in. I'd never really had anything absolutely necessary to save.
Now I did.
"It's weird."
I frowned. "You want to narrow your statement down a little? Because it's not like we don't have a lot to choose from here."
"It's weird, knowing my great-grandmother is an evil, heinous bitch, and your dead grandmother is doing her damnedest to make sure we hook up." Theo didn't seem concerned he'd committed a few venial sins. He looked absolutely relaxed. Not tired anymore, just relaxed.
"Okay, I'll give you that one. It's really, really weird." I shifted around until I could lie beside him, curling up and welcoming his warmth.
His heart beat slow and steady under my ear and I began to drift off. The light trail of Theo's fingernails up and down my back had me snuggling closer.
"Go ahead and sleep, Jude. I'll be here when you wake up."
Either I believed him, or was really frickin' tired, because I didn't take more than a few breaths to conk me out. The embarrassing kind of out, where you can't really remember what you dreamed or even if you did. I call it embarrassing because you usually woke up next to a puddle of drool, someone shook you to stop the snoring, or you're talking to yourself.
I woke while Theo carried me up the back staircase. I opened my eyes and looked around blearily. "Wheiremall?"
"English please, Jude. Although, to be honest, I'm not sure what language you were speaking." Theo carried me like I weighed next to nothing, but I'd had more than one occasion to get up close and personal before tonight, so I knew the boy had muscles to spare. I swallowed hard, trying to clear my mind, which remained more than a little sleep fogged. Being so close to Theo didn't help matters. "I asked why we were at the mall. I thought we were on an escalator."
Theo paused for a moment when we got to the top of the stairs and gave me a curious look. "You have really odd dreams, don't you?"
"Define odd." The likelihood of anyone being on our floor at the moment was low, but I whispered anyway. Something about Theo always stirred up innocent schoolgirl longings deep inside.
"That's alright. I always get the urge to play the big, bad wolf around you, so I guess we're even."
One day, my mouth would learn to work with my brain instead of without. "I'm not wearing a red riding hood."
"No, you're wearing an absurdly sexy pair of pajamas. I've never really had an attraction to frogs before, so I'll admit to being slightly weirded out." Theo pushed open the door to my room and used his back to shut it. He carried me the final few steps to the bed and stopped, as if deciding something. Finally he let me down, easing me out of his grip. "I'd planned to let you drop and bounce, since you're wearing those frogs, but decided not to."
He turned to leave and I grabbed his hand. I shifted around until I knelt on the bed, facing him. My move put his mouth right at eyelevel, which did funny things to my stomach.
My mind cleared for the first time since Gillian's death. Crystal clear.
"In fairytales, when you kiss a frog, you get a princess."
"Close. It's a prince, but I get what you're saying. Maybe." His hands were rough, the calluses made my skin tingle where they brushed against my face. My breathing picked up. His mouth met mine -- soft, hesitant, unsure.
Theo drew back, and his exaggerated frown made me bite my lip to keep from giggling. "You're still very froggy." He kissed me again, less hesitant this time, but still soft and sweet like a fairytale kiss would be.
My hands rested lightly on his hips and I felt his heat through the thin cotton of his t-shirt. I tilted my head, sighing when Theo's mouth grazed over my jaw, down my neck. Back and forth across my shoulder his scruff whispered over my skin and made me shiver.
"Maybe it only works if you believe in fairytales." Theo's voice rumbled and made things low inside me tighten. This slow, lazy approach all but melted my bones away. I swayed lightly and Theo's hands steadied me.
"Maybe I do. Maybe you make me believe in fairytales."
He drew back and my eyes were steady as they met his full of questions gaze. "Theo. I'm saying yes."
"Jude...."
"I'm saying yes."
Theo's warm hand rested against my back, in the stretch of bare skin between top and bottom. "'If I profane with my unworthiest hand,'" his voice trailed off, mouth pressing soft kisses against my neck and shoulder.
I might not have gotten all of Shakespeare's tragedies, but I'd got this one. "'Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hands too much. For saints have hands that pilgrim's hands do touch.'"
We were moving backward, a tiny bit of distance apart, and then Theo covered me. I sighed at his warmth pressing down on my body. His breath blew in my ear, and I shuddered. His whisper seemed to flow through me. "'Have not saints lips?'"
I moved restlessly under him, unsure what I wanted, but sure I wanted something. "'Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.'" I bit back a moan when he nipped my shoulder, a thrill of pleasure shooting through me. His voice sounded as rough as mine though his hands remained whisper soft, trailing back and forth across the jumping and twitching muscles of my stomach.
"'Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.'" He gave me another longer, more drugging kiss until every part of me turned soft and liquid. "'Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.'"
Thank God there were only a few lines to go. I didn't have any brain cells left. My hands trembled where they stroked the small curls at the nape of his neck. "'Then have my lips the sin that they have took.'" I pulled him closer, until every breath he let out, I breathed back in. It was heady, intoxicating.
Sheer heaven flavored with Theo.
"'Sin from thy lips? Oh, trespass sweetly urged.'" My fingers slid up to clench tighter in his hair. Only one more line left. Thank you, Mary, Jesus and Joseph. My heart thudded double time, nerves on edge.
"'Give me my sin again.'" He kissed me hard, forcefully, claiming. Theo's hand trembled slightly while sliding the thin bright green camisole strap down my shoulder. His mouth followed the path of his fingers and I shifted under him, my restlessness growing.
"You'll stay with me, then?"
"Always, Jude. Always." His tongue slid under the loosened edge of my top to trace over my breast, teeth nipping lightly at the delicate flesh. Whether from the sudden change of gentle to not -- because it was Theo or just because -- my muscles tensed, then relaxed until I lay boneless beneath him.
"Sweet Christ, Jude." Desire harshened Theo's voice. "I had a mind to take my time, but not when you do that." His hands were a wonderful combination of gentle and rough. Shaking slightly, they pulled the clothes from my body. I tried to help, making a move to raise my hips, but my knees shook and made such a simple thing virtually impossible.
"I think you did it." My voice matched the rest of me, slow and slurred, like I had taken some amazing drug. Maybe I had. "I want you, Theo."
"Well, thank the Lord and all the saints." Humor, even now, and it made everything so uniquely Theo. My fingers brushed bare skin when they touched him. Somehow he'd gotten rid of my clothes and his and I'd barely moved a muscle. His body pressed against mine, blazing hot, and melted away the last lingering bit of cold inside of me. Not only physically, but every other way.
"I love you."
Theo froze in the instant before he slid inside. I opened my eyes, and found him staring at me with almost frightening intensity. "Do you mean it, Jude? Don't say the words if you don't mean them."
I fisted my hands in his hair, bringing his face within an inch of mine. "I love you, Theophile Michael Rossiere."
I gasped, eyes wide, when he pushed inside. I definitely needed to pay more attention when people got undressed around me. I rode the edge of pain, where the feeling changed if you weren't careful.
"Christ Jesus, Jude." Apparently I wasn't the only one questioning the fit here. He lowered his forehead to rest against mine, and I pressed my lips lightly to his cheeks. He lifted his face and all the hunger he'd kept tamped down lay bare for me to see. "I don't want to hurt you, and I'm not sure...."
"I trust you." And I did. I had no doubts about Theo. "I trust you."
Taking my mouth again, he began to move slowly and excruciatingly thorough. I tried to hold back, but he wouldn't let me.
"Go over," he murmured in my ear, never changing his pace. "Go over for me." How could I resist when he asked? Not long after I came for him, Theo moved quicker, deeper. Not much, but just enough to feel myself building again, so soon after the last orgasm.
I turned my face to find his mouth with mine. My hands slid off his slick back to clutch at the sweat dampened sheets. I opened my eyes to find him watching me, fingers tangled in my hair spread across the pillows. He raised his mouth from mine, breath shuddering in and out, our pulses pounding almost in unison.
"Say it again, Jude."
No hesitation. "I love you."
He sighed and gave one final thrust, deeper than any before. It shocked my system, jolted me completely, and through the crash of my own body I recognized the shudders which ran through his. He slid down to rest his head in the curve between neck and shoulder, his breathing as labored as mine.
"I love you, Jude. Now and forever." After long moments he chuckled.
"What?"
"Do you think that if Gillian had known what reading her letter would lead to, she'd have delivered it sooner?"
It didn't rain, despite forecasts to the contrary. Theo said not even the elements would mess with Gillian's final resting plans. Given her temper, I'd agreed with him. I could see Gillian raising hell if things didn't go the way she'd planned.
Now I knew where I got my stubborn streak from.
I don't know how much sleep Theo got, but I slept most of the day. Elizabeth didn't even come in to wake me until around one. I'd taken a single glance at her face and decided to do whatever she wanted. It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize she and Rian hadn't made up from their argument. I was going to do my best to be the target of as little anger as possible.
Gillian had picked out my clothes for the day, with another little note reminding me not to argue. It was so little to ask considering all we'd lost. Even if Gillian had picked the ugliest thing in the world I'd still have worn it. But Gillian knew me better than I'd ever know her, and she'd chosen another snazzy little suit, this one a purple dark it looked almost black.
"Gillian always said you wore too much black. With your hair, you resemble the original Goth pretender." Elizabeth's voice broke into my thoughts, and I glanced up as I pulled the zipper shut on my boots. She flushed and probably would have apologized if I hadn't spoken.
"Izzy always said I wore too much black, too." I brushed my hair back from my face, turning my head side to side. "I could always go blonde."
"Only if you want a serious fight on your hands." Elizabeth planted her hands on her hips at my snort of disbelief. "Jude, I'll beat you myself if you show up with blonde hair. Not to mention what Theo would do."
"What I'd do about what?" I looked in the mirror to find Theo leaning against the door frame, as comfortable in his black suit as in jeans, or nothing at all.
"Jude made mention of bleaching her hair." Elizabeth sounded disgusted. I'd thought out loud, nothing more. Something I would apparently not do again in the future.
"Jude's hair is her own." Theo had his easy smile in place when he crossed the room to stand behind me and rested his hands on my shoulders. He ran his fingers through my hair, twirling pieces until the strands seemed to float down my back and over my breasts. "Although why she would want to change something which makes her unique, I have no idea."
"Clever," I murmured, catching one of his hands with mine. "I suppose if I said something about cutting it, a real battle would break out." He stood me up, straightening the suit jacket. Elizabeth watched in silence, although I caught her biting her lip out of the corner of my eye.
"Smart woman. If you get tired of brushing it, I'll take over the chore." Theo took a deep breath, and I admired the way the suit moved with every little movement. "It's nearly three. We need to leave."
"Shouldn't I pull my hair up? Aren't you supposed to be formal at a funeral?"
Elizabeth spoke up, sure of herself once more. "Gillian never wore her hair up. Not once that I can remember."
Theo nodded, and I smiled slightly. "Well then, I don't see why anyone has a reason to complain."
I heard Elizabeth muttering as she left the room ahead of us. It sounded suspiciously like, "And that's ever stopped anyone before?"
St. Louis Cathedral is always beautiful, even when the day is absolute crap, and it's huge, which was a really good thing. Even in such an immense space, Gillian's Funeral Mass was standing room only. There were a few murmurs and whispers when Theo, Rian, Elizabeth and Celia accompanied me into the pew set aside for family. I stood in the center aisle, scanned the entire chapel and the crowd settled down.
I'd always wanted the ability to silence a room with little effort. Too bad Gillian had to die for me to get it.
Backed up in both directions as far as the eye could see, brake lights glowed in the late afternoon gloom along Canal. Royal had been shut down completely. The only traffic on the street was the funeral procession making its way slowly Uptown.
Rian carried Celia, under protest from Elizabeth. When she snapped at him about being perfectly capable of carrying her sister, Rian ignored her. Celia advised Elizabeth -- unless she was nicer, Celia never get to wear the yellow dress. Elizabeth responded by telling her sister neither one of them had yellow dresses; Celia smirked, and responded, "Not yet."
It's hard to argue with a five year old who knows more about the future than you do.
The wind started to pick up and I glanced at the sky. Dark clouds had rolled in, and I heard the rumblings of thunder in the distance. "It'll rain before this is over."
"Have faith, Jude." Theo smiled at me when I raised his hand to my lips to copy the gesture he was so fond of.
"In you, yes. In the weather, no. This is New Orleans, Theo. If one thing is constant, it's the weather will change at the drop of a hat."
"Maybe." Theo's smile grew at my snort. "Just keep the clouds at bay a little while longer, Jude. Consider it one more of Gillian's lessons."
You're not supposed to laugh when you're walking in a funeral procession. Anyone who had a problem could stuff it.
I'd always liked the cemetery Uptown, and saw why the Covenant chose Lafayette No. 1 as their burial ground. The tourists go there, but they're respectful and it's a quiet, more residential neighborhood. You don't need to worry about people trying to contact voodoo queens in the same place you buried your family.
It's the little things to keep in mind whenever you think about where you'll spend the remainder of eternity.
Theo told me the area of Lafayette in which we stood contained former members of the Covenant, which explained the engravings on some of the tombs. You don't find a picture of a roaring inferno on most tombs. It's usually weeping angels and things along those lines.
Lies told me Gillian's crypt housed all the former leaders of the Covenant, with the exception of my mother. In a sense this was my family plot. In two weeks I'd gone from having no family to speak of to a whole history. Most people would have drunk themselves under the table by now.
I wasn't sure if I should envy or pity them. Probably a little bit of both.
Father O'Brien led the service but other than offering condolences and hope for a better tomorrow I have no idea what he said. I scanned the Council members, right at the forefront of the Covenant. Weighing. Measuring. Who could be trusted? Who couldn't? I met Great-grandmother Lisette's eyes and knew the answer to some questions.
The bigger question was how far did the betrayal go? Did I not trust her because of what she'd helped do to my family? Or a more clear and present reason?
Clinging to my leg, Celia patted it nervously. I looked down, startled at the tears on her face. I hadn't once seen her cry, not even after the few hours she'd been left alone with Hart and company. She lifted her arms and I picked her up, shifting my stance to take her weight on my hip.
"You won't let them die, will you?"
I didn't ask who, because I didn't want to know. I didn't want to worry any more than I already did whenever people left my sight. I opened my mouth to say of course not, but I couldn't.
"Of course she won't, Celia." Theo moved and we supported Celia between us, a bright light against our darker hair and skin. Elizabeth looked at me and I shook my head. I don't think any of us needed to know what Celia saw.
We had enough death to deal with at present.
"Do you think Gillian would have worked with her for two weeks if she thought Jude wouldn't win?" Color me shocked, amazed, and every other shade of dumbfounded. Lies must have changed her diet, found God, or gotten laid, because I couldn't think of a single damn reason why she'd be saying positive things about me.
Apparently her sister didn't either. Guile scowled at her sister and muttered something under her breath while grabbing her arm. Lies jerked away, her face reddened, and moved to stand on the other side of me beside Elizabeth. Elizabeth looked at me and mouthed What the fuck, but I didn't have a clue either. Lies had been nicer the past couple of days, but a complete one-eighty personality shift?
I made a mental note to check the liquor cabinet when I got home. Find out if someone had been dipping in on the sly.
Father O'Brien bowed his head and crossed himself and I followed out of habit. After a brief moment of silence a tiny wave of sound began to sweep through the crowd. By the time those closest to me parted and Williams and his followers came into view the wave had turned into a wall of angry murmurs.
Somebody at the reading of Gillian's will had talked out of school.
Williams' face held its usual blankness, like he didn't hear the rosaries being prayed and the sarcastic requests for a lighter. More than a few of his followers looked uncomfortable.
"Thank you for allowing me to come and pay my respects."
"Gillian trusted you, in a professional sense." My voice was cool, almost clipped. "Whatever my personal feelings, I trust Gillian's judgment. She would be upset if we allowed our disagreement to prevent you from being here, and working together in the future."
Williams stepped forward until he was so close our clothes touched. I felt Theo bristle beside me, but with Celia between us there wasn't a great deal he could do. The fact we were in front of my grandmother's crypt probably put a slight damper on the inclination to beat the crap out of him.
"I told you before this was over you would hate me."
It was surprising how calm I felt. Like whatever feelings I might have had for him had shriveled until I could tuck them down inside me and lock them away. I wouldn't forget them, but whatever might have been between me and Williams wasn't something which touched me anymore.
"Congratulations, Williams. You win. What's the grand prize?"
For barely a second regret flashed through his eyes. Williams stepped away and motioned one of his followers forward. I recognized him as one of the men I'd seen the first night, the one who'd be twenty for all eternity. I hope he lied on his license and claimed to be at least twenty-one.
The boy held a carved wooden box, its surface dark and glossy from years of being handled. He passed the box to Williams, who held it for a moment before speaking. "Gillian gave this to me before we left to retrieve Celia. She told me to make sure you received it when the time was right." He looked over his shoulder at the open slot, waiting for Gillian's coffin to be slid inside. "I can't imagine when a better time would be."
I nodded, and Elizabeth stepped forward to take the box from Williams. She stepped back and out of the corner of my eye I caught Rian drawing her further back to put more distance between her and Williams. A little overprotective, but if his nerves were anything like mine, I couldn't fault the gesture.
"We'll be in touch." I held my tongue, because there really wasn't anything left to say. Williams nodded and gave one of his short, stiff bows. He waited for a moment, as if expecting me to reciprocate in some way.
I was the leader of the Covenant. Gillian's granddaughter. I didn't bow to anyone.
Williams nodded again, as if he understood what I wasn't saying. "We'll be waiting." Between one heartbeat and the next he vanished and I sucked in a relieved breath.
"There's a lock built into the box, Jude." Rian's voice was quiet, almost reverent. "I don't suppose you have an idea of where the key is?"
"In my parlor, on the side table, under Gillian's letter." I rested my check on Celia's head, rubbing against the silky curls. "This is Gillian. She made sure I had clothes to wear to this show. Do you really think she would've locked something away and not given me a key?"
"Point taken." Rian took the box from Elizabeth without a single word of protest from her. Since Elizabeth was used to carting Celia around, I knew whatever was in the box had to be pretty heavy. I craned my neck over to look at the designs etched on the top, not shocked to find a pentagram and a trinity knot. If the box was as old as it seemed, it must have been passed down for a few hundred years. Something Theo said earlier popped into my head.
Whenever the former leader of the Covenant passes on, their Book of Shadows is locked away.
"It's Gillian's Book of Shadows." A murmur rose from the crowd behind me and I turned to glare at them. "I don't give a damn about your rules before now. I'll take whatever help I can get. I'm tired of people dying, and on top of that, she was my grandmother. If she wants to leave me a book, she can leave me a fucking book."
"The former Council rescinded her rights as your grandmother." Of course someone had to be a bitch. What a shock, it was Great-grandmother Lisette.
"The former Council can go fuck themselves." I smiled sweetly while Theo clapped his hands over Celia's ears. Great-grandmother Lisette's sightless eyes went big with shock. "Last time I checked, I was the leader of the Covenant and if I want to claim Gillian as my grandmother I damn well will, and anyone who doesn't like my decision can go fuck their self."
"You're repeating yourself, Jude. You usually have more imagination." Theo sounded amused. I noticed he didn't tell me to stop cursing at his great-grandmother.
"You'll have me mind my language, but not the common slut next to you?"
"Language, Great-grandmother Lisette. Children are present." He didn't say it outright, but in a way he did. Theo chose his side.
He chose me.
Great-grandmother Lisette harrumphed to herself. Turning around to push through the crowd, Guile, Christophe and a few others followed her. The rest of the Covenant remained, watching, waiting, wondering what I would say or do to shock them next, but I didn't say anything. Celia did.
"Lizzy, Great-grandmother Lisette is such a bitch." If Theo hadn't been helping hold her, I would've dropped Celia right then and there. I waited for Elizabeth to correct her. And waited. And waited. I turned my head to stare at her, and she shrugged.
"I've always told her the truth is the most important thing."
"You open it."
"No, Jude. It was your grandmother's book." Theo pushed the tome back across the table toward me but I was already shaking my head with my hands thrust out in front of me.
"No, you. Knowing me, I'll get the key stuck in the lock." I pushed the book back hard enough in his direction to have it almost fly off the table. Too bad we weren't playing paper football.
Rian slammed his coffee cup down, making everyone in the room jump. "Give me the damn box and key and I'll do it." Rian stepped around the kitchen island, sliding the box down to the end of the table and dropping in a chair. He held out a hand, and I silently gave him the key.
"Really, Rian. You can't be any more tired and out of sorts than anybody else." Elizabeth stopped, like something had suddenly occurred to her. Her eyes narrowed, and I scooted my chair away from the table. This was one line of fire I had no desire to be in. "Unless you've been having visions and not saying anything about them?"
"No, Mother."
"Mother, my ass. I'll remember your crack the next time you want me to rub your temples because a vision gave you a headache."
Rian opened his mouth, probably to snarl some smartass comment, but I'd had enough. I raised my hand and both of them shut up. Neither seemed happy about following the instruction. I started to tell Rian to open the damn box when the potted plant in the far corner of the kitchen exploded.
The plant didn't really burst. The pot shattered, sending shards of clay everywhere. Potting soil scattered across the floor and roots snaked their way over the hardwood. I ducked under the table but the explosion ended before it began. I eased back up to find Theo and Rian staring at me. My eyes went wide and I shook my head.
"Oh, no. Not me. If something had caught on fire, you could blame me, but not this. I'm not too good at harnessing earth."
"Lizzy did it." Celia's voice was bright and chipper after only a few hours of sleep. No doubt thanks to her crazy metabolism. My brain finished catching up and I did a quick head shake.
"What? Celia, go back to sleep. You're dreaming." She had to be and the chipper voice was just a lie. Elizabeth didn't possess any powers.
"I'm not going back to sleep, and I'm not dreaming." Celia uncurled from the padded bench along the wall and marched over to stand next to Elizabeth. She should have looked ridiculous in her footed pajamas with Disney princesses all over them. Instead, she reminded me of a disgruntled little old woman. "Tell them, Lizzy. You made the plant grow because Rian made you angry."
"Elizabeth." Theo's voice held a question, one taking shape in my own mind. "Is Celia right?"
Elizabeth flushed clear to her hair. The heat in her cheeks made her look like the victim of a bad sunburn. She kept her eyes on her hands where they tangled together on the table top. "I don't know. Maybe."
"You said you don't have any powers, only hunches."
"I don't! I mean, I didn't. I mean...." Elizabeth's voice trailed off in a groan and she dropped her face on top of her hands. Her next words were muffled, but audible. "I don't know."
"Yes, you do, Lizzy." Celia planted her fists on her hips and stomped her foot, the sound muffled by the pajamas. "Rian made you mad and then you made the plant grow."
"Which would explain the increased health of the houseplants over the past couple of days." Rian's voice was amazingly droll, considering the situation. If I made someone so mad a plant exploded, I'd be a little sorry. Maybe apologize or something, but not crack a joke.
Elizabeth raised her head up to rest her chin on her hands, and I thought about ducking back under the table at the look in her eyes. Theo must have thought along the same lines, because he eased his chair back a few inches.
"Lizzy! You're doing it again!" Celia patted at Elizabeth's knee, pointing in the direction of the plant. I turned to stare and sure enough the damn plant grew more. Not as much as before, but roots extended and new leaves unfurled.
"Elizabeth. It would seem Gillian willed you more than just a place on the Council." How Theo could sound so calm I have no clue, but I gave him props. "I've heard of this happening, but not for a very long time. Since before Lisette's birth."
I noticed he'd dropped the title before Lisette's name. "Just another of the little bennies of being the Prophecy, right?"
"So it would seem." Rian's voice was still droll, but more amused. Glad somebody saw humor in the situation. "Trust Gillian to make sure her power went to someone close to you, and invested in your wellbeing."
Trust Gillian to think of everything. I shifted my gaze from the now still plant to Elizabeth. Her color returned to normal and she no longer looked like she wanted to run Rian through with a sword. Celia leaned against her, patting her knee.
"Elizabeth." Her eyes shifted to me and they were wary, almost frightened. Like I'd rip her up and down for something she couldn't control. I kept my voice calm, almost bland. "Remind me to either get a bigger pot for the plant or move it outside. I hope you know where the broom and mop are."
She looked bewildered for a moment before smiling. "Not a single clue, but you can always hire a cleaning service. I can find the number for the one Wily uses."
"Of course you do." Scooting back up to the table, relatively certain the storm had passed, I glanced in Rian's direction. "Now that the entertainment portion of the evening is over, maybe we can do a little work." I took the key from Gillian's letter out of my pocket and handed it to him.
Rian took the key, turning the small piece over in his hand before sliding it into the lock. A click, followed by the creak of old hinges as the lid cracked open slightly. He lifted the top and the smell of wildflowers and clover wafted through the kitchen. The book he hefted out had a soft leather cover and even from where I sat I could see the pages were yellowed, some of them tattered.
Rian looked at me in question, and I shook my head. I wanted to be able to absorb Gillian's words as much as possible, something I couldn't do if I read aloud. He took a deep breath, and flipped to a page at random.
May 3, 1982
I received news today of Jude's birth, and Martha's death. The phone call from the investigator was short, although a full report was promised. I've no doubt I'll receive news of the investigator's death before I receive his report. The Council seems determined to enforce their decree, no matter how many people must die in doing so.
The orphanage where Jude was born is run by the Church so she'll be provided for, at least in the most basic sense. I've done what I can to ensure she'll not be thrown out on charges of being a witch. The Council would say I'm crippling her in the same way I crippled Martha, but I don't think so. They've forgotten what the rest of the world is like, the world which doesn't believe in real magic, and things that go bump in the night. I can't see to her upbringing or wellbeing, but at least she'll have a chance at a normal life.
They buried Martha on Church grounds, although under protest. The investigator helped grease the wheels with an outrageous sum. I'll not stand for my flesh and blood sunk into an unmarked grave with other vermin. Her only sin was in loving someone too flawed. I'll take blame in her sin, because all I saw was a chance for Martha to be happy.
I should have run Luc off the first time he came around Martha. I knew what a wastrel he'd been though he changed for Martha. I'll never say he brought his own demise on himself, but part of me wonders if it might have been avoided if he hadn't sold his talents to Hart and his cronies.
He gave me a granddaughter, but he cost me both her and my daughter.
Rian paused, smoothing the page down before looking up. "Gillian apparently didn't approve of your father much."
Shocker. Now I understood her concerns about Williams a little more. Talk about someone with serious flaws.
Rian took a sip of water from the glass Theo pushed toward him. He flipped to another page, this one further into the book.
July 19, 1998
Most of the Council is gone. Only a few remain. Enough to ensure I can offer Jude no help. All my money, all my resources, and my granddaughter is forced to live on the streets.
The investigator's report was thorough. Depressingly so. Sixteen, and forced to sell herself. Not often, but often enough. Jude, it would seem, is an excellent thief, and makes most of her money picking pockets. But once, possibly twice a week, she takes money for sex.
If I thought the Covenant would survive, I would wipe the Council from the face of the earth.
The investigator's assistant, in the guise of a client, approached Jude and inquired about her fee. Jude answered it depended on how much he had. Not what he wanted, but how much he had. The assistant stated Jude was surprised when, after following her down the alley, he simply handed her an envelope of cash and walked away.
The investigator also included a copy of the police report of the assistant's death. Arsenic poisoning.
My hand shook as I wiped my face. "I remember the man. Boy, really. He probably couldn't even buy a beer yet. He told me someone wanted me to have the money, so I could sleep someplace at night."
"How much did Gillian give you?" Impersonal questions. Good job, Elizabeth. Let's not focus on the fact people were dying left and right just because they talked to me. Or a group of people planning on me saving their future generations thought it was fine to let me work the streets at sixteen.
"Five thousand. I didn't need to go back to the streets for about six months." My voice wanted to shake, but I clamped down on it. "Hotel and food for me and a few others."
"And Lisette knew." My voice might have been calm. Theo's was livid, his thick accent back again. "Our families thought it right for you to live such a way and then expect you to welcome the responsibility of us whole-heartedly."
"It's done, Theo. We can't change the past." I reached across the table and placed my hand over his clenched fist. I waited until he met my gaze before continuing. "I'm here now, and whole. It's done."
His fist slowly flattened out and then he turned his hand up to link fingers with me. His smile came slowly, but it came. "Do you think we can throw darts at their pictures later?"
I snorted, and then laughed. "You find the pictures, I'll find the darts." I shot a glance at Elizabeth, not surprised to find Celia in her lap, paying full attention. Elizabeth cried silently. I turned in Rian's direction, his face somber. "Whenever you're ready, Rian."
August 5, 2007
And so it begins. I hoped for more time once the bindings on her powers were released, but a great deal I've hoped for hasn't come to pass.
I would have preferred for Williams to make first contact, but Hart beat him to it. Granted, Jude didn't know at the time who Hart was, but she's a smart girl. She knew something wasn't right about the job and acted accordingly.
As much as I hate to admit it, her years of struggle have given her acute survival skills. Better than Martha's, even Luc's, ever were.
She's strong, stubborn, and mouthy. I see a great deal more of me in her than of Martha. She would shock Martha, and most likely Luc, to hell and back. She would have been sneaking out her bedroom window at fifteen. Dancing on top of Bourbon Street bars before graduating from college.
Definitely more of me than of Martha.
She doubts us now. Most likely thinks we're crazy as hell. I wish we were.
If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.
Well, I guess that explained why I'd never had any flash of power before. Gillian had bound them, something I'd heard whispered in corners or as a parental threat to a child. She'd done everything she'd could for me from birth. Maybe some hadn't turned out too great, but looking at where I was and what I'd ended up with it was hard to find fault in her efforts.
Rian paused only long enough to take a sip of water before flipping to the final page. His voice broke slightly but he didn't hesitate.
August 22, 2007
By the time you read this, Jude, I'll be dead and buried. I hope you'll be able to understand why things turned out the way they did, and what your role must now be.
I'm writing this while plans to go rescue Celia are finalized. I didn't expect Hart to move so quickly -- I thought another week, at least. A little longer to work with and prepare you for the trials ahead. Hart has forced my hand, and there are some instances where fate cannot be changed, no matter how you would try.
If you still entertain any belief you are the reason I'll be buried while you read this, I expect you to stop right now. I knew full well when we left I would not be coming back. To tell you would cause you unnecessary worry and seriously imped your rescue of Celia. Hart and his minions may fell me tonight, but I'll take a few of them with me, by God.
This book, my Book of Shadows, is not just a collection of spells, potions, and other workings. These are my thoughts and feelings and actions for the whole of my time in the Covenant, from the moment I became aware of my powers and the resulting expectations. My history and your mother's lies within these pages, and while I know not how much information this book will provide, it is here for the taking.
Never doubt who you are, or who you were meant to be, Jude Magdalyn. Every day of your life, I have been proud of you, and wherever death takes me, I will watch over you. All you need do is ask, and ask properly, and I will give you all the aid I can. All I ask is you fulfill your destiny, and live your life to the fullest.
And give me great-grandchildren.
"Gillian was really serious about you having kids, wasn't she?" Theo's voice broke the silence and I jumped slightly, my hand instinctively tightening over his. He grinned at me, wiggling his eyebrows. "In case you weren't sure, I'll do everything possible to make sure she gets her wish."
"I'm sure you will," I answered dryly, rolling my eyes and making Elizabeth giggle. Rian shut the book and placed it back into the box. He placed the key inside as well, one way to make sure I didn't lose it. Leaning back, he placed his hands behind his head and gazed off into space.
I waited a moment before prodding him. "What are you studying, Rian?"
"What makes you think I'm looking at anything besides the ornamentation on the ceiling?"
"Because she knows that look on your face by now, and even if she doesn't, I do." Elizabeth's eyes narrowed and I flicked my gaze to the plant in the corner. Any bigger, and we'd own a prop from the Little Shop of Horrors. "What did you see?"
I thought the damn plant would grow legs and walk when Rian answered.
"That's for me to know and you to find out."
I concentrated, took a deep breath in and filled my lungs to capacity. I snapped my finger off the bowstring and watched the arrow fly across the practice field. It hit exactly where I aimed a hundred feet away. A solid bulls-eye.
Not nearly good enough.
Around me, the Silent Ones continued practicing without paying any attention to me. They'd picked up the habit quickly, a good thing because I'm not the most patient teacher. The ones with natural talent tutored the others.
It wasn't their skill or mine which had me tapping my foot in frustration. It just wasn't enough.
I called Lies over, still somewhat shocked when she moved without question. Her sister and Christophe continued to look at me like I was demon spawn. They held whispered conversations in corners which I pretended to ignore. Lies, however, kept her head down and did whatever anyone asked of her.
The about-face in her behavior creeped me out.
Lies dropped a slight curtsey, something she'd started doing yesterday at the cemetery. I wanted to blame it on lack of sleep, but she'd done it when I wasn't dog tired. "Yes, Jude?"
She used my name, in a nice tone of voice. She must be sick. "Sight your arrow and draw for me. I want to try something."
Without questioning my intentions, Lies fell into position. I'd noticed her left handedness, her sister right handed. Lies' right hand gripped the bow, knuckles white with tension and I made a mental note to tell her to ease up a little. Too tight a grip would cramp up her hand. Her left hand shook slightly as she notched the arrow.
"Is everything alright, Lies?"
She bit her lip and I noticed her watching Guile and Christophe while they watched us. "Yes. Whenever you're ready."
I wouldn't call her a liar to her face. I'd wait until we were alone. I didn't want to be a bully, but her nerves couldn't break in the middle of battle and her arrow wind up impaling one of the good guys. "Whenever you're ready, Lies."
Lies took a deep breath and her shoulders relaxed. The bow made the smallest of sounds when she released the arrow before singing across the room. With a flick of my left wrist, I concentrated on the tip of the arrow, imagined flames bursting.
And by God they did. I heard more than one gasp of shock when the flaming arrow connected with the target and instantly set the paper aflame. Nice to know some things were consistent around the house these days.
I took a step back, raising my voice to the room. "Now, everyone together. Let's see how many vamps we can take down at one time."
I waited a moment for everyone to get into position, taking notes on who still needed to work on form. Bad form could backfire as much as nerves. I whistled, and the excited murmurs tapered down. "At the ready."
Only a few sessions and already they moved as a unit. Two dozen arrows notched. "Aim." Two dozen bows raised and sighted. "Fire."
It took a little more effort this time. A flick of my wrist and two dozen arrows burst into flames. A cheer went up and down the line but I cut them short with another whistle.
"Again. This time, don't stop shooting until your quiver is empty."
By the time we finished, the targets across the room were in ashes. I dripped with sweat; a little from effort, but mostly from the damn fire. A few of the older boys used the ever-present fire extinguishers to put the flames out before I called everyone around me.
I struggled to find the right words. I'm not good at pep talks. Finally, I huffed and went with whatever came out of my mouth.
"You guys did well. We'll practice again tomorrow. Keep in mind, what we did just now is essentially what we'll be doing when the real event occurs. We'll be doing it for a lot longer, so it's probably a better idea for twelve to shoot a quiver, then the second twelve. Alternate, I guess, so everyone doesn't tire at the same time.
Now, it's still early. Late." I shook my head. One day, or night, or something, I'd get my clock straightened out again. "You guys can either hang out upstairs until your parents get here, or you can crash here tonight. Just don't mess up the kitchen or you'll make Elizabeth angry." They so did not want to make her angry.
I was pretty sure we'd never get the cleaning company back if every pot on the main floor exploded.
"Hey, that means you clean up down here too." There were some groans, but the few who'd headed toward the door turned back around. They joked among themselves, and more than one flirtation blossomed. It meant something, at least to me, how some things continued while the world prepared to end.
Some might say we were whistling in the dark. I preferred to think we were flipping fate the middle finger.
The kids drifted up the stairs in twos and threes, until the only person left below was Lies. I pretended to ignore her presence in the relative certainty she'd speak when ready. If she had even a little bit of teenage girl in her, she wouldn't keep quiet for long.
The silence stretched on for a good fifteen minutes. I put my energy into pulling out the equipment I'd need for the potion making I planned on doing. Theo, Rian, Elizabeth and I had gone over Gillian's Book of Shadows with a fine toothed comb, culling potions and spells, adding, modifying and making our own playbook. We'd decided I should be the one to stir the potions. By us, I mean the other three decided and I gave in rather than argue.
Lies eventually broke the silence. "Do you need help with anything?"
I paused in pulling out a mortar and pestle, staring at her for a moment before shaking my head. "Seriously? Lies, you're not being nice, normal and helpful just because. If you want to talk, that's fine. But don't think I can't notice something's up."
I went back to taking out equipment and piling up wooden bowls on the counter. I stooped to heft up the large bag of salt kept in the kitchen island. I grunted and rose, remembering at the last second to use my legs instead of my back. Pulling a muscle would not be good right now.
Thinking about pulling muscles combined with using my leg muscles made me think about the hour or so before I finally fell asleep which turned me ten shades of red. I'd only gotten five hours of sleep, but I'd been in bed more than five hours. Those extra hours were put to good use, and I don't think Theo would argue with me.
Lies hadn't moved when I finally wrestled the bag onto the counter. Panting slightly, I wiped the sweat from my face before bracing my hands on the counter. I raised my eyebrows and gave a little headshake, telling her to spit it out or buzz off. I had things to do, lives to change, people to screw. All right, the last one was only important to me.
"If you have to choose between what your family thinks is right and what you know is right, what do you do?"
Not quite the question I anticipated. I started separating the equipment into various piles, trying to go about my preparations in as organized a way as possible. I would still be looking for things halfway through every damn potion we made.
"Well, Lies, I think you need to ask yourself which you can live with. Your family's disappointment in you or your disappointment in yourself." I pulled out the list of ingredients I needed and winced. "I can live with other people being disappointed in me, because they're not going to keep me up at night trying to decide who I really am."
Lies stared at me and I felt a little tingle deep inside. Her sister still dressed like an ice princess but Lies had been dressing more like a regular teenager the past few days. Well, like a slutty teenager, with super-tight jeans and camisoles without the benefit of a bra underneath, but still pretty normal. Up until Gillian died, the twins were inseparable and totally identical.
Considering the fact Gillian hadn't been too fond of the twins at least by everything I'd seen, heard, and read, I really couldn't figure out what the hell was going on. I was damn sure it wasn't good.
"Don't trust Guile, or Christophe. They'll try and trick you because they still don't think you're the right leader for the Covenant." Lies paused again, chewing on her lower lip. The gesture made her seem younger than her age and tugged at my heartstrings. Not a big one, but a tug nonetheless.
"Just, please, if you don't have to kill Guile, don't. I don't care about Christophe, but try not to kill my sister."
I tucked my tongue in my cheek, nodding slightly. "And if I have to?"
Lies closed her eyes and sighed. She opened her eyes, the look in them tired and old. I bet mine looked like that on some days. "If you have to, you have to."
I nodded and went back to the list in my hand, trying to figure out the best way to get everything here. Lies cleared her throat and asked, "Can I help you with anything?" You could have knocked me over with a feather.
After a moment, I handed her the list. "I need to get all of that from the storeroom to here. Any suggestions?"
She looked over the list, her eyes growing wide. "Do you have a wheelbarrow down here somewhere?"
I groaned and pulled a pillow over my head, trying to block out the noise in the room. "I don't want to wake up. Come back in a few hours."
"Not an option, Jude. Get out of bed or I'm letting Celia in the room and she won't care if you're bare ass naked when she bounces on top of you."
I lifted the pillow from my face to glare at Elizabeth. "You've gotten very nasty the last couple of days. Is it that time of the month, or are you just in a really bad mood?"
"Boys are so fucking stupid." Elizabeth yanked off the sheets and threw a robe at me before turning away. I thought about ignoring her not so subtle hint to get my ass out of bed, but considered her mood and decided against it. The door opened as I slid my arms into the sleeves and Theo stepped inside.
"Really, don't get dressed on my account. I'm willing to strip down so you don't feel underdressed." Theo hadn't pulled his shirt an inch over his head before Elizabeth popped out of the closet. He dropped his shirt back into place after one look at her face. "Or maybe you should get dressed."
"I told you. Boys are stupid." Elizabeth tossed what looked like a pair of jeans and a tank top on the bed before dropping down into a chair. She crossed her arms over her chest, one leg over the other, and scowled. I understood Celia's amazingly good behavior. At times Elizabeth scared me more than the nuns did.
"If you're talking about Rian, technically, he's a man." Theo flopped down on the bed, running the silk sash of my robe through his fingers. He risked a glance at Elizabeth's face and quickly changed his tune. "But if you say he's a boy, I completely agree. My mother said never to argue with an angry woman."
I elbowed Theo in the ribs. "What Theo meant to say was, what has Rian done now? Because I'm going to agree with Theo that whatever's got you so pissed off, is probably got something to do with Rian?"
Elizabeth stewed in silence for a few more minutes, which I spent trying to stop Theo from getting me naked. Not like I didn't want to get naked on a bed with Theo, but no way in hell was it happening with Elizabeth in the room. "Jackson and I were just talking in a room full of other people." Elizabeth uncrossed her legs and surged up, apparently too angry to sit still. Since I'd seen her sit still for hours on end, she was pretty pissed. "I mean, you'd think I did a bump and grind on his lap the way Rian reacted."
Theo started to laugh, but another elbow to the ribs switched it to a gasping cough. I smiled at Elizabeth, pretending nothing about this conversation was weird at all. "Elizabeth, sweetie, were you laughing with Jackson?"
She gave me a strange look but answered the question. "He's a funny guy."
I nodded and considered elbowing Theo again just to make sure he got the message. "Did you smile, and maybe touch his arm, or stand a little close?"
Elizabeth gave me another look. Planting her hands on her hips, she tapped her foot. "Am I missing the point here?"
I cocked my head to look at Theo, who raised his eyes to the ceiling feigning total innocence. Yeah, right. "This, Theo, is why children should go to school with other children."
"New Orleans is lousy with Catholic schools. Although we should start narrowing our choices down, so we can get on a waiting list." Theo rolled out of the way of my elbow and I fell over on the bed. I remembered to keep the robe closed, although Theo still did his damnedest to get inside.
"Hello, can we focus here?" Elizabeth threw her hands in the air. I struggled to sit back up and put a few inches between me and Theo's wandering hands. "What's the big deal?"
I pursed my lips, screwing my face up in concentration. "How best to say this?" Theo finally decided to join the conversation, and chose that moment to say something appropriate.
"Elizabeth, Jackson's flirting with you. You, not knowing any better, were flirting back. Rian got a little pissy and handled it, although apparently not in the best way."
"So, Rian's allowed to get pissy if I flirt with someone, but if he looks down Margot's shirt, I'm supposed to smile and ask if he wants another cup of tea?"
"Well, I wouldn't say that exactly." If Theo was smart, he wouldn't say anything even close, but he'd probably keep talking and stick his foot in his mouth. "I would say perhaps you and Rian should sit down and talk things out."
Yep, he went there. I would have felt bad for him, but he should've known better.
"Right, because he's been so reasonable the past few days. Never mind everybody else is under a tremendous amount of stress as well, or I can't have a mood change without wondering if I'm going to be cleaning up potting soil." Elizabeth probably would have ranted for a good half hour or so if I hadn't stood up and started getting dressed, and talking.
"Elizabeth, don't listen to Theo. He's a great guy, but he's a guy." I looked over my shoulder at him where he lay sprawled on the bed. "Sorry, but it's true."
"Thanks for pointing out the obvious, do continue."
"Anyway, Elizabeth, you can be angry at Rian for being a controlling ass, which is pretty much what he's being. Or...." I trailed off, flopping back down on the bed next to Theo. "You can get even."
"Get even?" You could see her mind working, trying to puzzle out my suggestion. "I'm not sure I know what you mean."
"Rian is going out of his way to make you angry. You do the same thing." I paused. "What makes him angry?"
Comprehension dawned. "Apparently, me talking to Jackson."
"I'd bet you talking to any guy makes Rian angry." Theo shrugged and I bit my cheek to keep from laughing. "There are a few guys around this place, last time I looked."
"Right." Elizabeth stared off into space for a moment. I would have felt sorry for Rian, except I'm a girl, and girls need to stick together. She smiled, with a hint of devilishness. Rian was in so much trouble. "I'm leaving now."
"Okay."
"Don't go back to bed, or sleep, and don't think I don't know the difference." Her mind was already someplace else as she left the room, and it wasn't a happy place for Rian.
"Do you really think she doesn't realize Rian's in love with her?" I turned to look at Theo, slid off the bed, and crossed the room to lock the door. I thought about his words for a moment, taking the time to pull my shirt off. I slid the jeans over my hips and down my legs, leaving them puddled on the floor.
"It's possible. Kind of like she doesn't realize she's going to be so caught up in making Rian miserable, she's really not going to wonder why we're not downstairs for another half hour or so."
Theo grinned, sat and pulled his own shirt off. "She's a smart girl. She may realize it." I slid into his lap, pushing my fingers through his hair. He sighed and I shifted closer.
"Right about the time she realizes Rian's in love with her." I shrieked when Theo suddenly rolled, and I found myself pinned to the bed.
"Well, in that case, we've got plenty of time."
Deep breaths in, deep breaths out. After twenty something years breathing should be something I'd figured out how to do, but the smallest things can throw even the most basic of instincts off. Small things like having the spirit of your dead mother pop up in the room with you.
She looked identical to the pictures downstairs. Like she'd been frozen in time, and stepped out of the frame.
"You summoned me, Jude?"
I swallowed a few times. Even though I'd been expecting her, I really hadn't. I'd been much more prepared to fail than succeed when I'd found the spell in Gillian's book. "Yes, I did. Gillian didn't get to tell me a lot of things, and I thought maybe you might lend a helping hand."
"Gillian was far more active in your education than in mine, Jude. I would be willing to lay odds you're already a great deal more progressed after two weeks than I was after ten years."
"Maybe, maybe not -- either way, there must be things you know and I don't. If you've been watching me, you'd know what those things are." I would keep trying until I either got what I wanted, or I got a good reason why I couldn't have what I wanted. I really needed to get what I wanted, but I'd take the good reason if I had to.
"Gillian left you everything you need to finish this battle. I see no reason to go against whatever information she's provided you." Oh, definite tension. I could deal with tension, usually because I helped instigate it.
As long as she didn't do some crazy ghost thing and I ended up walking around with my head doing three-sixties the rest of my life.
"Are you really going to tell me there's no way you can help?" I didn't pretend to be disgusted and annoyed. "You owe me that much."
Anger sparked in her eyes. "I gave you life."
"And then gave up. I wasn't the most important thing for you and I should have been." I dropped into an arm chair, pretending disinterest at an invisible breeze whipping Martha's hair and dress around. As long as she kept the wind to a minimum, we'd be good.
"I wasn't strong enough to raise you by myself, and the Council forbade Gillian be involved." The tears running down her face were silvery, almost transparent. "I needed to be with your father."
"You wanted to be with my father. There's a difference." Maybe I was being cruel but found I didn't really care. "You were old enough to understand you don't always get what you want."
"No, you would have been old enough. The only thing I ever wanted was love." Her voice sounded slightly calmer, the invisible wind slackening off. She had better control of her emotions than I did.
Which might be a result of the whole being dead thing.
"If you tell me Gillian didn't love you, I'll break all those speaking ill of the dead rules and call you a liar." I crossed my arms over my chest and waited. "Really? That's what I thought, too."
"You're very mouthy. I would think the nuns took care of such things."
"I would think my mother, Gillian's daughter, would have a little more flippin' spine to her."
"We'll never see eye to eye, Jude. My death made sure of that."
"Well, whose fault is that, I wonder?" Yeah, I was getting angry. The sarcasm ramped up right along with my temper.
"Hart's, for killing your father."
"Really? I would say yours, for dying." I leaned forward, my forearms braced against the chair arms. "It was a selfish choice, and nothing you can say will change my mind. If I'm ever in the same situation, I can promise I will do things differently."
"I hope you never have to test your resolve." Martha rolled her shoulders like she had a knot between them. "Now, because it seems to be the only way to make you happy, ask your questions. I'll answer what I can."
I pulled out the sheet of paper I'd tucked between the pages of Gillian's book. "This will take a while."
"Jude, I have all the time in the world."
"You contacted your dead mother."
"This is the reason I didn't tell you. I knew you would flip out." I looked up from stirring the potion and winced at the look on Theo's face. "That look is what I was trying to avoid."
"You contacted your dead mother."
I risked another look at his face and saw an angry flush creeping up his neck. "We had a really nice question and answer session after we got bitchy with each other for a moment."
Theo closed his eyes and it didn't take a genius to guess he was silently counting to ten, or twenty. His eyes were closed a really long time. "You are aware of all of the number of things which might have gone wrong?"
"Probably better than you, Theo. Remember, I used to run the psychic con, so I had a list of things that could 'potentially' go wrong. A disclaimer, of sorts, for whenever someone wanted to try a séance. Usually all you had to do was bring up the Exorcist and people changed their minds." I turned the burner on the stove off and moved the pot so the potion would cool slightly before I started the bottling process. If I'd done things right, you tossed a bottle on someone and they went up in flames.
"Jude." Theo took another deep breath, the flush on his cheeks dying away. His voice grew calmer, although unsteady. "Jude, in the future, let someone know what you're doing. It would be appreciated."
I waited, sure he had more to say. After a minute, I made the come on gesture. Might as well go ahead and get the beat down over with. "Well? Go on, get it out."
"That's it. Just let someone know so we have an idea of when to get worried." Theo eyed the steam wafting up from the pot and leaned over to sniff. "Smells good. Must be deadly."
"That's all you're going to say? Two minutes ago you looked like you were going to blow a vein, and now you're commenting on the aroma of my weapons?"
"I knew this stuff had to be deadly. The stuff that's good for you always smells bad and the bad stuff always smells good." Theo picked up a filled bottle, hefting it in his hand to test the weight. "Kind of like broccoli. Smells disgusting while cooking, but is really high in vitamins."
I shook my head. "You're crazy, aren't you? I'm going to wake up one day and realize you've gone completely around the bend and it took me a while to notice."
"Well, as long as you take fifty or sixty years, I'm good. When you lock me up, please make sure the padded room is a color other than white. White is so institutional."
"I'll make sure Elizabeth takes down that little memo." I picked up a ladle and funnel and started filling bottles. Theo picked up another funnel and ladle, working the side of the counter opposite me.
"Elizabeth is loyal to you, but she's a smart cookie. She won't tell you not to do something, but she'll make sure all the bases are covered in case something goes wrong."
"In other words, she's a junior politician." Between the two of us, this wasn't going to take as long as I'd anticipated. Which meant, either I could go upstairs and take a nap with Theo, or I could round up the kids and get some practice time in. I knew which one I was going to do.
Theo chuckled, filling bottles quickly and efficiently. "I prefer to think of it as the mother to a teenage daughter. I don't think she'll have any problems keeping Celia in line when she gets older."
"Well, if she ever gets a clue, she'll have Rian to help out with things." I paused for a moment, wondering. "Do you think we should give things a little push or let time and nature take their courses?"
"Let's give it a few months. If she's still clueless, you can sit her down and give her a talk about the birds and bees."
"Right, because I'm going to look forward to that with all the enthusiasm of a kid on Christmas morning."
"Are we talking a Catholic kid or a Baptist kid? Catholics have to throw some guilt in with all the happiness."
"Of course, otherwise they wouldn't be Catholic." I started corking bottles, being careful to not thump them too hard. I didn't want to test one on myself. "So, what were your plans for the rest of the night?"
Theo walked around the counter to place the pot in the sink and filled it with water. "Well, what did you have in mind?" I heard the water cut off behind me, and then Theo slid his arms around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder. His little exhales gave me the tingles, in a really good way.
"Well, I thought about taking a nap." Theo's chuckle reverberated through his chest, and I smiled. Yeah, he knew what kind of nap I meant.
"I'm a little tired. How about I head on upstairs and you join me when you're done here?" Without waiting for an answer, he kissed the top of my head and headed for the door.
I corked the last few bottles then gave the counter a quick wipe down, eager to follow him. I didn't bother to lock the door behind me. We'd found out, unless I was with them the door wouldn't open for anyone. Got to love a built in security system.
I turned one of the dozen or so corners before I got to the stairs, and let out a shriek. Clapping a hand over my chest, I gasped, "Jesus, Lies. You can't just stand around basements and not make any noise. You scared the crap out of me."
"Sorry." Lies shuffled her feet, eyes trained on the floor. She wore another one of the clothes combinations I liked to call S.I.T.-slut in training. "Did you need help doing anything?"
"No, I'm just heading upstairs." She brushed the hair out of her face with her right hand. Not her left. Crap.
A rustle sounded behind me but before I did more than register the sound, someone grabbed me and pinned my arms against my sides. I struggled furiously when a cloth was pressed against my nose, and I gagged, breathing in a sickly sweet smell.
Then nothing but darkness.
An odd part of me wanted to wake up and the rest of me wanted to stay asleep. The oddness came from the part of me wanting to wake up. I don't have one. There's usually just the part wanting to stay asleep. The wake up part was remarkably loud, and annoying.
"Wake up, you stupid bitch!" Okay, not an internal thought. Before I could process anything else, something knocked the wind out of me completely, or rather, kicked the wind out of me. I already knew what the pain in my ribs meant.
"Hart won't be happy if you hurt her to the point where she's useless." Nice, a somewhat saner person. I noticed whoever spoke didn't say to stop hurting me. Just to make sure I could still be of some use when the punishment ended.
Little bits and pieces of memory floated back, helped along by the pain radiating out from my ribs. I don't think whoever kicked me broke anything but I wouldn't be running marathons anytime soon. I'd been making potions. Theo had scolded me. I'd headed upstairs.
Stairs. Basement. Guile. Fuck.
I opened my eyes and sure enough there sat the ice princess. She'd changed back into her normal demure debutante clothes, but no way would you mistake her for normal if you got a look at her eyes. I knew she'd hated me but I hadn't realized how deep the feeling went.
Or how crazy it made her.
I moved to sit up and pain burst through me again, bringing tears to my eyes. The little bitch kicked like a mule. Someone moved to my left and I risked doing more damage to my ribs with a quick turn. Christophe's face was an inch from mine, kissable close.
Except I didn't want to kiss him. I wanted to punch his aristocratic nose.
"Allow me to help you sit up, Prophecy." He eased me up, shifting me until my back braced against the wall. It hurt to sit and put a little extra strain on my breathing.
"Don't call her that, Christophe. She's nothing but a common whore. Great-grandmother Lisette said so."
Christophe ignored her, an incredibly brave, or stupid, thing to do. I voted for stupid. "Can I do anything else to make you more comfortable while we wait, Prophecy?"
I stared at him like he'd grown a second head, or lost a few thousand brain cells. "Christophe. What makes you think we're all going to sit down and have a nice little chat over tea about our ideological differences?"
You could almost see the wheels turning in his head. I'm not sure how functional those wheels were, but I would guess not very. "Guile and I were asked to bring you here, so you and Hart can discuss things. Work out an accord without further bloodshed."
"Christophe, I've met your mother. She seems very normal. So please, tell me what the hell you're smoking to make you think all Hart wants to do with me is talk?"
"But, Prophecy, I swear---."
"Shut up, Christophe! I will never understand what possessed me to fuck you!" My jaw dropped open in shock at Guile's raised voice and I saw Christophe flinch like he'd been slapped.
"No wonder you no longer hold the power of water. How can you purify anything when you don't even know you're being played for a fool?" Guile dropped into a wooden chair, the only furniture in the room apart from a barrack-style cot. The walls were dark stone, hard and cold against my back, with a smell of mildew strong enough to make me gag.
"So, Guile. How long have you been in league with Hart?"
She smiled, and I had a creepy Village of the Damned moment. "Long enough. Tell me Jude, how can you go back to sleeping with a human after you've been with a vampire?"
Ick. Seriously. Christophe gagged, although probably not for the same reason I did earlier. "I take that to mean you've been taking sex education lessons with Hart. How... interesting."
"I prefer the term exhilarating." Guile stretched, her arms over her head, legs in front of her, the long stretch of a contented cat.
"Guile. Tell me you're lying." Christophe looked heartbroken. Guile looked annoyed, and bored.
"Really, Christophe. Did you think I enjoyed your juvenile attempts at pleasuring me?" She laughed, low and rich like honey -- or quicksand. I almost felt sorry for Christophe, especially if she laughed like that often. "How could I, after I spent the last year enjoying the attentions of a master?"
"Okay, really. You've broken the kid's heart, no need to rub it in."
"Oh, but there is. I consider it my reward for letting him put his filthy hands on me. I did what Hart asked me to, but I didn't enjoy the act in the least."
"Considering the fact you're a fucking psycho, I'm not too surprised." No way was I going to take this level of crap from a snotty, bratty teenager.
"Go ahead, Jude. Insult me all you want. After Hart drains you, I'll be the one laughing."
"What did you do?" Christophe surged to his feet and Guile followed suite. He grabbed her arms and shook hard enough her head snapped back and forth. "What in the name of everything holy have you done?"
"Let. Me. Go." Her voice was still low and thick, but with a feral edge to it now. Like she'd rip your throat out with her teeth and smile while you bled to death.
He shook her again, harder. I don't have a damn clue how he didn't feel the power building in the room when the pressure made my ears hurt like hell. "What did you do, Guile?"
"Let. Me. Go!" Guile's voice rose to a shout and she pushed him. Not with her hands, with air. Christophe might have lost his power, but Guile hadn't. She threw it all at him, sending him crashing against the wall. Even over the roar of the wind I heard his head crack against the stone, a sickening sound that churned my stomach.
I scrambled over on my hands and knees as he slid to the floor, head lolling to one side. Guile chucked as the wind died down. Not laughed or giggled, but chuckled like she'd played some sort of practical joke.
The bitch was seriously psycho. Seriously.
I lifted his head, planning to cradle it in my lap while I did my best to heal him. My fingers slipped and I didn't need to look to know they were covered in blood. Christophe's eyes fluttered open and he moved his mouth to speak. Blood flowed from his ears, and began to trickle from his nose.
I couldn't fix this.
He moved his lips again and I bent closer, ignoring the shooting pain in my ribs. I had to press my ear right next to his mouth to hear him.
"Please. Forgive me." I nodded, thinking he was through, but he made to speak again and as I bent over I heard the low rattle in his chest confirming what I already knew.
"Don't. Blame. My mother." He drew a short, shallow breath and part of me wanted to tell him to stop talking, to save his strength. "She. Didn't know."
I nodded again and straightened. He drew one final breath, let it out slowly.
"Well, that's one less loose end to tie up." I jerked my head to look in Guile's direction, sure I hadn't heard her correctly. She stretched out on the cot, one elbow propped up to hold her head and back to looking bored.
"Did your mother drop you on your head as a child? You are seriously fucked up."
She sat up, sliding off the bed to slink across the floor. She knelt in front of me, and I couldn't help but shrink back slightly. I could deal with evil. Crazy was something else entirely.
"No, my mother didn't really have time for me or Lies. Her interests weren't really maternal." She leaned closer, pressing her mouth to my ear. "They were more along the lines of arranging the death of Theo's parents, or stripping the skin from your father's back."
Before my mind wrapped around her words, Guile reared back, smashed her fist into the side of my head, knocking me out completely.
"I was very clear in my instructions, Guile, and here she's brought to me with bruised ribs and a concussion." Why did everyone need to carry on conversations in the same room where I was sleeping? I mean, common fucking courtesy.
"She annoyed me." Such whiny voices. Like teenagers.
Teenagers. Guile. Fuck.
I opened my eyes and tried to sit up. Halfway through the motion, nausea swamped me and I had to either lie back down or throw up. Since the latter would only make the pounding in my head worse, I decided to lie down but kept my eyes open.
"Well, at least she's awake." As if having a concussion wasn't bad enough, I had to wake up to Hart and Guile. There should be a cap on the number of sociopaths allowed in a geographic area. Like one, or none. None would be optimal.
Hart's face came into my field of vision and I tried to turn my head. Childish, but it seemed to be the only thing I could do at the moment. Hart grabbed my chin, forcing my head still. "Can you sit up?"
"Not without some help, and not without moving very slowly." No point in lying. It would only make the situation worse.
Hart gestured to someone and moved aside. Two sets of hands shifted and moved me to a sitting position. I closed my eyes and bit my tongue, concentrating on not throwing up. I couldn't call power of any variety right now to save my life.
Call me paranoid, but I would bet my life was in definite need of being saved.
Taking a few deep breaths, I pushed the nausea down. I waited until I was absolutely sure I wasn't going to throw up before I opened them. Hart had retreated across the room, arranging himself in a chair resembling a stylized throne. Guile perched on his knee, and bile rose as I watched his hand stroke up and down her thigh.
Seriously. Fucked. Up.
"So nice of you to join us, Jude. I'd like to apologize for the hospitality you've received up to this point. My little Guile can be a tad overzealous in carrying out her task." Oh, sure. Be polite after you beat the crap out of and before you kill me.
This is the South, after all. Manners are everything.
Guile pouted, snuggling closer like he was her favorite teddy bear. "I'm sorry, Hart. She made me so angry, I couldn't help myself."
"Yes, well now we have one more body to dispose of, don't we, my sweet?" His long fingers stroked down her cheek, and she made a cooing sound. "You know we planned to use that foolish boy for an appetizer."
Her pout grew and she patted her fingertips against his thin lips. "But he was so annoying and he wanted to touch me while we waited."
"Hmm, I understand how that would annoy you." Hart's hand slid under Guile's dress and I swallowed to keep the vomit down. "But you know how upset I get when you disobey orders, my sweet."
Guile leaned forward, raining little butterfly kisses over his face. "I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise."
"Of course you will, my sweet."
I closed my eyes, turning my head quickly when he reared his head back. Guile's short scream told me he'd found his mark. The sound cut off quickly and I knew he squeezed her throat with his hand to keep her quiet. I didn't want to watch. I didn't like Guile, but she didn't deserve to be a snack.
I had few illusions as to who Hart planned to have as the main meal. Lucky me.
I heard him swallowing from across the room. Finally, there came a dull thud. He'd pushed Guile off his lap, like she was nothing more than a piece of trash.
The sound of shoes moving across the carpet crept closer and I kept my eyes closed, my head turned away. No way was I looking at anything in this room of my own free will.
I heard him kneel next to me followed by the rustle of fabric. Straightening his pants crease, no doubt. A bruising grip on my chin turned my face forward.
"Now, Jude. I've apologized and dealt with the problem. There's no need to be petulant. Open your eyes, let's have a little chat."
I knew without a doubt he would hurt me even worse if I didn't do as he asked. Slowly, I opened my eyes, swallowing hard against nausea and panic. He could break my neck with a flick of his wrist. Having his fingers on my chin scared the living daylights out of me.
Knowing he and Williams were brothers, I finally noted the similarities. Not in coloring so much as in bone structure. The line of their noses. The shape of their jaw. Obvious, once pointed out.
"I'm listening."
"I need you to do something for me. One little thing, and then all this will be cleared up." Like we'd somehow been given the wrong tickets at the opera. Just switch a few things around, and everything's better.
"I need you to tell me where the will is."
I blinked slowly. Not in an effort to buy time, but because my body was just moving slowly. "How?"
"By seeing it, of course." Hart chuckled, like I'd said something amusing. Silly me.
"I don't see things."
Hart's eyes roamed over my face, judging the truth in my statement. His fingers tightened on my chin and I knew they were leaving marks. "Of course you can. Your father was the best little psychic pet I had before he fell in with your mother."
"I don't see things." Good thing I already knew about my father's prior involvement with Hart. My brain was too battered to handle more surprises.
Hart barked something in French at one of the guards and they scurried out of the room. I concentrated on my breathing. Keeping my breathing steady helped with the headache and nausea. He didn't say anything while we waited, which was good. Anytime he talked, bad things happened.
A door opened, followed by the shuffling of feet. Hart glanced over his shoulder briefly before returning to my face. "You swore she could see. That she would tell me where the will is."
"The little bitch should be able to. Her father saw something every time he closed his eyes."
There was no mistaking that foghorn of a voice. I shifted my eyes to look over Hart's shoulder, watched her make her slow progress across the room. "You've got to be kidding me."
"Did you really think Hart would know to use Guile without a little friendly advice?" This had to be the most fucked up family, ever. I seriously hoped Theo's branch had gotten rid of the crazy gene. "Now, tell him where the will is."
I wet my lips, shaking my head as much as possible considering the fact Hart had an iron grip on it. "I don't know."
Hart must have believed me because he let go of my face and shoved me away from him. The sudden movement proved too much and I turned my head, vomiting all over the carpet, and Hart.
"These are two thousand dollar shoes, you bitch!" Another blow to the side of my head and I welcomed the accompanying darkness.
"Wake up, you stupid bitch. Wake up." I must be dreaming. No way was this happening again. Another blow to my side, but not the same one Guile had kicked me on.
Ok, not a dream, or déjà vu. People just wanted to beat the crap out of me today. Lucky me.
I surfaced very, very slowly. I tasted blood and sour in my mouth and remembered vaguely biting my own tongue when Hart tried to punch a hole in my head. I probably had really bad breath right now.
They'd propped me up against something. At least this time there wouldn't be the struggle to sit up. If I'd thought my head hurt before, it was nothing compared to now. I don't think Hart was going to get a chance to kill me. I was going to die because my brain was bleeding. I didn't have the trickle effect Christophe had shown, but some instinctive, animal part of me knew.
I opened my eyes and there sat Lisette. The chair was high enough up off the ground that only the very tips of her toes touched the floor but she'd shown her true colors. No way in hell would I fall for the little old woman routine again.
"It's a pity the nuns didn't drown you at birth, like a mongrel cat and spare all this trouble."
A loud crash sounded in the distance, answered with a thundering boom. Other sounds began to filter in -- the roaring of the wind as it whipped around the corner of a building, the strange whooshing sound a flash fire makes. I felt a low rumble through my bones.
Above it all, the keening, high-pitched sound of screams.
"I don't suppose you care your family is out there. Dying."
Lisette snorted, her feet swinging slightly. "Weak, pitiful fools, all of them. You've blinded Theo with your whorish charms, and tricked Lies into thinking she can be different from her sister, but I know the truth."
"You wouldn't know the truth if it crawled up and bit your bony ass."
"The truth, you wretched girl, is I should have been the leader of the Covenant, not your grandmother or your sniveling, whiny mother." She cackled, taking my silence for shock. And she'd be right.
"Before your ancestor showed up, the woman who gave birth to my family line was the leader of the joined families. Then your pregnant, whorish ancestor appeared, spouting her foolish talk about a Prophecy and my ancestor was removed from power." Lisette leaned forward, her sightless eyes intense and evil. "For all my life, I've swallowed that insult. I watched as Gillian coddled your mother, made her weak and useless, and I knew it was time."
"You gave my father to Hart." It might have been the sheer gravity of all the injuries, but I couldn't even work up enough disgust to feel sick. Just scared.
"Myself and Wily -- after we had a little fun. We made sure no one would ever suspect us." She smiled and my skin crawled. "And they haven't."
"You did a good job." I swallowed hard, the fear all but choking me. All the things to be scared of and I was afraid of an old woman I had a good foot on.
Hart might kill me. Lisette would peel the skin from my bones and laugh while she did it.
"Of course I did. I made sure the former Council knew every time Gillian tried to contact you. I ordered the disposal of more than one of her agents myself." She tapped my ribs with her cane and I bit my lip to keep from whimpering. "If Hart hadn't been so damn focused on the will, he'd have taken care of you that first night."
Her lip curled in distaste and I hoped Hart had a clue what kind of crazy he was in bed with. "Stupid man. Just like his maker. Never believing a woman can be as deadly as a man."
A sick, twisted thought began to form, swirling around in my mind. "You planned everything. The missing will, the war." Bile rose in my throat and I gagged before continuing. "Gillian's death."
"I'm ninety-seven years old. I've had plenty of time to contemplate the downfall of your family." Her smile grew and I gagged again, praying I wouldn't throw up. "It's been my fondest dream for a number of years now."
"What about the Covenant? Who's going to lead them once you've disposed of me?" Maybe if I kept her talking, I could come up with some sort of plan. A quick and dirty one, but as long as I got the hell out of this room, I didn't give a damn.
"Me, of course. Then Wily, and then Lies. She'll come around, once she's no longer under the disgusting influence of you and your group of misfits."
I took a deep breath, concentrating on letting the air in and out of my lungs. I'd never thrown fire at a human, only vamps, so I didn't know if she'd actually go up in flames, but it was the closest thing I had to a sure-fire weapon. I'd be damned if I would die sitting on my ass without some kind of fight.
"You're wrong, Lisette."
She frowned, the gesture marring her facial features. "No, I've thought this all through. I've planned this for years."
I surged forward, knocking her cane away, gripping her arm with my other hand. There was a moment where fear showed in her eyes before she sneered at me. "You're too weak."
I thought of all the lives she'd ruined out of a misplaced sense of pride. Gillian's. My parents'. Theo and his parents'. "Think again."
She didn't burst into flames like the vamps did. More like watching someone struck by lightning without seeing the lightning flash. Her skin blackened and charred and the smell of burning flesh rose from her body. She shook, little spasms at first, gradually increasing until she looked like she was caught in the throes of a seizure. Her eyes rolled in their sockets and her tongue danced over her lips, twitching and jerking.
I held on, even though I wanted to stand up and run. I could rationalize a vampire bursting into flames, because they were already dead. Burning Lisette from the inside out, frying her organs, boiling her blood, made me sick to my core.
Finally, she stopped moving, stopped breathing. I watched the life fade from her eyes, the same as Christophe's, and I felt relieved. Sick, tired, but relieved. So much death because of something long ago. It wasn't the fault of anyone living, but we continued to pay.
We'd paid enough.
I used the edge of the chair to push to my feet, not surprised when I swayed and almost fell over. My head didn't hurt nearly as bad as it should, but I didn't feeling like dancing, either. The sounds of the battle echoed in the distance.
Lisette might have been the core of the evil but it was well and truly alive.
I leaned against the door when I finally reached it, my breath coming hard and fast. I pushed the door open and took a moment to look up and down the hallway. No one. This was either really good or really bad. The way the night was going, I cast my vote for really bad.
I stumbled down the hallway, one a hand on the wall to keep my balance. I hoped someone had thought to bring Bridget, because there was something seriously wrong with me. It would be like me to die right when I got my life straightened out.
I managed to make it to the end of the hall without falling, getting hit in the ribs, or walloped upside the head. I slid around the corner, pausing for a moment to catch my breath.
"There you are. Let's see if you're really willing to die for these damn animals."
I turned in the direction of Hart's voice, ducking at the last second. His fist went through the wall with a sickening thud and my stomach turned over at what that would have done to my head. I slipped under his arm, pushing up from the floor to run in the direction of the war.
If he wanted to kill me, that was fine. Nothing new, but the bastard had to catch me first.
I ran blindly, turning, then turning again. I scrambled up stairs, chased by Hart's screaming. I needed to be going down and the only direction I could find was up.
Of fucking course.
I slammed through the first unlocked door I found and into the middle of hell.
The wind knocked me to the ground and I lay there stunned for a moment. Arrows fell in a constant, burning rain around me. One of Hart's men took an arrow and burst into flames. I covered my ears, trying to block out the screams.
They were louder than anything else going on.
Someone grabbed and wrenched my arm upward, snapping my shoulder out of joint. Pain came so fast and brilliant I could barely breathe, never mind scream. Hart's face twisted into a mask of fury and hate as he spun me around to face him, pushing me toward the edge of the building.
I heard a voice below call for the archers to hold their fire and the rain of arrows stopped. My hair whipped around my face, the wind scraping my skin raw. Hart leaned in close and even then he had to scream to be heard over the wind.
"Let's see how well you fly, witch."
I gripped his shirt with my one good hand and leaned backward. In any other situation, the look of disbelief on his face would have been priceless. "Let's see."
And we fell.
It was like jumping out of an airplane. At least how I've always imagined jumping out of an airplane would feel. You expected the wind to keep you up, even though you knew gravity pushed you down.
Hart tried to twist out of my grasp but I held firm. The fall might not kill him -- it was only four stories, but if it didn't, he sure as hell wasn't walking away. Which meant someone would have the time they needed to take his head.
God, I hoped it wasn't Theo. He was already having a bad night.
The screams grew in intensity as the ground rushed up to hit us. I waited for the moment when it would and everything snapped to black. I prayed. For me. For Theo. For Rian, Elizabeth, Celia, and Lies. For every person who'd trusted me to end this.
This wasn't the way I would have chosen, but sometimes fate chooses for us.
It hurt. I thought the impact would kill me instantly but the only thing instant was the pain. Christ Jesus, there was a lot of it. My teeth hurt. Hell, my hair hurt.
Then I realized -- I was breathing.
I rolled over, coughing and hacking, the movement made worse thanks to the damage already done to my ribs. I turned my head to the left and spotted Hart. The bastard moved, unfortunately. Not a lot, but enough to tell me he'd survived the fall, too. I turned my head to the right and my heart stuttered.
The Rising.
I tried to crawl toward the sword but the second I put my weight onto my left side my shoulder screamed in protest and down I went. My face scraped against the pavement and I bit my lip to keep from crying out. I shifted to my right side, using my one good arm to crawl.
Behind me, Hart grabbed my leg, trying to pull me back. I kicked out, connected with something and heard the crunch of cartilage. Hart screamed, a high pitched sound that sent my nerves skittering. I crawled forward a few more inches, fingertips grazing the hilt of the sword.
I heard a muffled thud and jerked my head left. Nine feet away, Theo beat against air. His mouth moved, but I couldn't hear anything. I paused, confused, forgetting Hart was mere inches behind me.
The wind blew wildly where Theo stood. I could see it whipping his clothes, buffeting him back and forth, but there was no wind where I lay. I looked to my right and saw Lies kneeling, yelling at the sky.
Ahead of me, I could make out the faint, glowing neon lights of Bourbon Street. I looked up and saw where the quiet ended and insanity began.
Somehow, I'd cast a circle while I fell. No one could get in or out.
It was just me and Hart.
I closed my fingers over the cold metal of the hilt, dragging it toward me. It was going to hurt and I didn't know what kind of range of motion my left shoulder had. I pushed to my feet, pulling the sword up with me, using it like a cane to gain my balance.
Hart's swearing and cursing alerted me that he was gaining his feet as well and I swung around to face him. I hefted the sword with my right hand, testing the weight. It grew lighter, easier to manage in my grasp, and I gave a light swing. Steel whistled on the air and I watched Hart's eyes narrow.
"So you can fly. Let's see if you can fight."
He darted forward and I danced away, moving with nothing but my instinct as guide. Where the hell he'd hid a sword on him, I have no clue. I watched him slice through the air and knew I was in a whole lot of trouble. He raised his sword again, preparing to strike.
A downswing. The Rising flew up. Parried. Clashed.
Gillian told me the Rising would be the weapon I needed, and it was. My mind emptied of everything but the clash of steel against steel. We circled, lunged. Swung again and again.
My arm went numb and still continued to move, independent of the rest of me. I felt myself slow down, saw Hart doing the same. He would last longer than me, I knew.
The Rising flashed out and met with flesh instead of steel. I watched the bright red of fresh blood spread across Hart's middle, his hand going to his stomach in shock. His sword dropped and he raised the other hand to watch the blood drip from his fingers.
The Rising flashed again and scarlet bloomed across his chest. Again, and his sword hand went limp, the tendons in his wrist cut clean through. Breath burned in my lungs. The Rising swung again and Hart dropped to his knees, both hands clutching his gaping middle.
The wind returned, fluttering Hart's shirt, splashing drops of blood on the street. I'd thought, when this moment came, I would feel panicked or relieved or even dismayed.
I didn't feel anything other than empty.
I lifted the Rising one final time, the sword turning smoothly in my hand until the flat of the blade rested under Hart's chin. No sneer on his face or fear in his eyes.
I swung my arm back, the blade whistling in the light breeze.
"Jude. Please."
I didn't drop the sword or take my eyes from Hart's face. "What are you doing here, Williams?"
"Jude. He's my brother." Williams glided over the blood splattered pavement, sliding between us. I shifted so I could keep my eyes, and the sword, on Hart.
"What are you doing here, Williams?" Theo couldn't get in, but Williams could. Strange.
"Your circle kept the living out." Simple explanation covered all the bases. "He's the only thing remotely close to a family I have left."
"Keep your pity, brother." Hart's voice was still smoothly cultured, though strained.
"He killed my grandmother. The only family I had left." I slid my eyes from Hart for a moment, just a moment. "Get out of my circle."
"Jude." Williams grabbed my left shoulder and I gasped in pain, my right hand dropping reflexively. One second with my guard down. One second.
Hart pushed to his feet and rushed past me, knocking over Elizabeth as he fled the circle. Cries rose from the crowd of people gathered and more than one scream tore through the night air.
"Goddamn you, Williams!" I wrenched out of his grasp, holding fast to the Rising with my good hand. I turned and ran, power snapping as the circle broke. People cowered on the ground, their heads covered, raising them as I flew past.
I could make out the top of his head, just barely, over the crowds as he tried to blend into the melee of Bourbon. The screams grew more frequent the faster I ran and part of me realized people here had no idea what was going on less than five blocks away. A bruised, bloodied woman grasping a sword running after a man in even worse condition didn't factor on the sight-seeing list of most tourists.
I glimpsed Hart as he turned suddenly left, a group of female tourists screaming and dropping their geaux cups. Left, toward the river. The crowd broke and I pushed through, praying I wouldn't slice anyone open with the sword, as I ducked and slid around people, always moving, never stopping or slowing.
The weight in my right hand changed and I risked a glance down. The Rising shrank to a dagger, easily able to fit in the palm of my hand. I closed my fist around it, ignoring the sharp sting as the blade bit into my palm, and ran faster.
If the people hadn't been observant before, they were now. Screams rose as we flew down St. Peter Street, becoming shriller the closer we got to the river. Hart didn't pause in his sprint across Decatur and neither did I. A cab stopped right before running over my toes and I slid across the hood, hitting the ground hard on my hands and knees, the Rising slicing deeper.
By the time I raced up the incline and sprinted across the train tracks, I was fighting another crowd, this one running away from the river. I pushed through them, homeless, tourists and locals out taking the night air. I skidded to a halt on the Moonwalk, my lungs on fire, my muscles shaking.
Where was he?
The shove from behind knocked me to my knees and I rolled, half second before Hart slammed his fist down where my face had been. I grabbed his shirt and kept rolling, moving us toward the river. I kept my elbow in his throat, his face away from mine. I winced when rocks dug into my back and took a deep breath.
We plunged into the river.
It stung, the cool slap, even in August. I kicked hard, dragging us down and away from the bank, until my lungs protested and I had no choice but to rise. Our heads broke the surface together and I gasped in a breath, choking as water splashed into my mouth. Hart's sneer returned, and my right hand convulsed where it clung to his shirt.
"You can't drown me, you fool. I'm already dead."
I treaded water, pulling him closer. My nose nearly touched his and I knew the instant he realized what else was in my hand besides his shirt. I relaxed my fingers, and the Rising pressed delicately into his left breast.
"There are some things worse than death." I thrust the blade home.
He screamed and pushed me away while trying frantically to draw the dagger out but it was like the weapon had teeth and clung to his insides no matter how hard he pulled. His screams grew until I threw my hands up over my ears to drown the sound out. I didn't know what the Rising was doing to him, but I knew what I planned to do.
Gillian never showed me how to call water -- we hadn't had enough time, but it was do or die. The circle I cast while Hart screamed and thrashed drained, the water within shifting out.
The cold, thick and muddy slush of the river bed slid through my bloody fingers. I looked up at the ceiling and walls of water around us and the man in front of me on his back writhing in pain. I crawled over, straddled him and yanked the dagger out. I pressed on his shoulders and the ground opened up to draw him in.
"You can't leave me here. I'll burn."
I moved backward as the ground took over, pulled him deeper and swallowed him up. "You're under ground, under nearly two hundred feet of water." I crawled further away, not wanting to touch any part of him, scared of being sucked in myself. "Let's see you swim, you bastard."
The mud cut off his screams and I pushed myself to my feet. I looked up again, the walls of water shivered and jerked. I didn't know how to undo what I'd done. I took a deep breath. Closed my eyes, uncast the circle.
The water collapsed on me with a quiet whoosh and everything went black.
The bright light hurt my eyes so I kept them closed. Slowly, they adjusted and I squinted. Everything was bright white, almost blinding. The walls, the chairs, the floor.
Gillian.
I blinked, opening my eyes wide and sat up. I leaned back, weight braced on my hands and noticed my left shoulder no longer hurt. My right hand no longer bled. I tilted my head. No headache, no nausea. This meant one thing.
"Am I dead?"
Gillian smiled, chuckling slightly, like she always did when I asked what she considered a question with an obvious answer. "Well, do you want to be?"
"I'm pretty sure God doesn't give you that kind of option."
"To saints, and to martyrs."
I snorted and pushed to my feet, stretching my muscles. If I was dead, I felt surprisingly good. "Well, since I'm neither, I guess that answers the question."
Gillian shook her head, still chuckling. Her hair made the same sliding motion it always had and a lump formed in my throat. "But you are."
I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest. "Has being dead fried your brain cells? I am so not a saint or a martyr."
"Oh, so then you didn't stop a homicidal megalomaniac by entombing him and dropping millions of gallons of water on him, and yourself in the process? That wasn't you?"
"Apparently, being dead hasn't made you any less of a smartass."
Gillian shook a finger at me, making a tut-tut sound. "Language, Jude. Do you kiss your grandmother with that mouth?"
I crossed the room to kneel in front of her. I placed a kiss on each cheek before sighing and laying my head in her lap. "Well, now I do."
Her hand slid over my hair, smoothing down some piece. "I wanted to tell you, Jude. Each and every day, but Lisette---."
I laughed, sitting up, resting my chin on her knee. "Is so no longer a problem. To go back to the original question -- am I dead?"
"Again, do you want to be?"
I laid my head back in her lap, sighing heavily. "But it's not what I want that matters, right? It's what's best for everyone, for the Covenant. That's what matters."
Her hand in my hair was lulling me back to sleep or whatever I'd been doing before I woke in this room. "And if your death was for the best?"
I thought of Theo, going to bed and waking up with him. Rian and his cheesy cryptic remarks. Elizabeth and her emerging bad-assness. Celia and her stubbornness. I sighed again, my heart heavy.
"Well, then I'm petitioning to skip Purgatory. After sixteen years with the nuns, I think I should get a pass there. I'll tell Peter myself."
Gillian moved above me and I turned to look up at her. Tears streaked down her cheeks. "You do make me proud, Jude. More so every day. Keep a close eye on Elizabeth. She'll land herself in hot water without even meaning to."
I waited a beat. "So, seriously, am I dead?"
Gillian smiled, drawing me up to kiss my face. "Not anymore."
"She's coming around! She needs space, give us some space!"
I coughed, choking, and someone rolled me to my side as water poured from my mouth. My lungs burned and the most God awful taste coated my tongue.
But the sky rose above me, covered liberally with stars. I could feel Theo's warmth where his hand gripped mine.
I turned in his direction, grateful when my head didn't explode. Apparently I got to stay healed. Woo-hoo. "Hey."
His eyes were red, but he smiled at me. "I'm pretty sure I told you to wear white if you were going swimming in the Mississippi."
I choked out a laugh, wheezing at the fire in my lungs. "Yeah, silly me. Forgot about that."
"You took about five and a half years off my life." Arm under my back he helped me sit up. A circle of faces surrounded me and more than one looked like they'd been crying. Nice to know people will miss you when you're gone.
I kept moving, standing up, although Theo stayed close. "Guess we'll need to really enjoy the remaining forty four years and some change. Make up for lost time."
"Not to interrupt, but I don't think people will believe this was all a movie shoot." Lies sounded remarkably calm. I searched her face, wondering if she knew about her sister. She caught my look and nodded. "I knew when it happened. Something snapped inside. Maybe she'll find whatever she's looking for now."
"My followers and I will ensure what needs to be known is spread about." Williams spoke from behind me. Theo and I turned as one. There were more vampires behind him now than I'd ever seen and I wondered cynically how long some had waited before throwing in their lot with the winner.
My people, Theo and I turned to head back toward the Quarter. Theo kept a hand under my elbow. Williams stepped forward and rested a hand on my forearm. I stopped, staring, reminded sharply of the first night I'd met Hart. I stared at his hand for a long moment before lifting my gaze to his face. I lifted my eyebrows, waiting, until he removed it and stepped back.
"Let us know if you need any help clearing out the debris."
Williams nodded and we started walking back toward Decatur, and the Quarter. Theo slid his arm around my waist and I snuggled close. He didn't seem to mind the smell of the river that would take three hours to wash off me "Let's go home."
I opened my mouth to agree and then the smell of frying dough wafted over. "Can we get some beignets to go? I'm starving."
"Dying will do that to you," Rian drawled, falling into step on the other side of Theo. He motioned to someone and Lies came forward hesitantly. One more lost person to take into the Crossroads.
I shook my head and laughed. "Whatever. Let's go home."
Two weeks later
One line. Two lines. Which did I want?
I was pretty good living the one line life. I got to drink whenever I wanted. Have sex whenever I wanted. Sleep whenever I wanted. Have sex whenever I wanted.
Maybe I focused too much on the sex. Not possible.
On the other hand, something about two lines made me warm and fuzzy inside.
I blew out a breath and sat on the edge of the tub. Crossed my legs. Uncrossed my legs. Stood up. Paced to the door. Back to the tub. Sat down on the edge.
I had no idea three minutes took so long. I'd had sex in less time. Not recently, thank you, Theo, but in the past.
Ninety seconds. I was going to die.
One line. Two lines. One line. Two lines. Which did Theo want, one or two? We hadn't talked about it. Joked, but not seriously discussed. Probably two lines. Maybe.
What if he wanted one line? Not all the time, but right now. What if he wanted a walk down the aisle first? Hand fasting, and how did that even work, really?
The timer went off and I jumped, nearly falling into the bathtub. I stood, surprised to find myself shaking a little. Taking a deep breath I picked up the test.
Oh. My. God.
Two lines.
A sneak peek at the next Jude Magdalyn novel, due out in winter 2012:
Shades of Desire
If Deiadre MacKee knew she'd die in the early hours of October 22, she might have let Bryant Phips go all the way on Saturday night.
Then again, maybe not. Deiadre's reputation was worse than being known as a fast girl.
Deiadre was the good girl.
She'd carefully built her reputation over her teenage years and now at nineteen was one of the Covenant's most respected youths. She always blushed and demurred when mothers pointed her out. Told their daughters to be more like Deiadre.
Inside, she always giggled. It was ridiculously easy to fool people if you showed them what they wanted to see.
As she made her way up Dumaine and turned left onto Bourbon, she couldn't help but chuckle. Dinner at the Crossroads had been exceptionally entertaining, even if it failed to live up to the hype surrounding the weekly gathering. Deiadre was still convinced these dinners were rooted in Jude's desire to learn who held power in the Covenant. She'd patiently waited for her invitation. After all, she was the most powerful vodoun in the Covenant.
Nobody knew her true level of power, of course-she'd underplayed her power for years. She'd be surprised if anybody had even a clue about the strength of her magic, even Jude, despite the strange looks she'd given Diadre over the course of the evening. But the looks might have been in shock at her manners. Or approval at her attire - Sunday dinner clothes and not the same trash Lies wore.
The cupid-bow of her mouth quirked up at the edges and she chuckled again, shook her head, peach colored curls bouncing around her face. Her eyes were doe brown, big and innocent, and she'd batted her lashes at Samuel over the course of dinner. Not out of any interest in him but because doing so obviously annoyed Lies. A task she hadn't accomplished in regards to Elizabeth.
Deiadre winced as she passed the Cat's Meow, somebody on stage butchering the hell out of Celine Dion. Her little smile slid into a pout and she crossed her arms over her chest, annoyed all over again. None of her flirtations with Jackson raised even an eyebrow from Elizabeth. She could have given Jackson a lap dance -- like she'd do something so disgusting -- and Elizabeth wouldn't have blinked an eye. Only Margot's appearance next to Rian had caused any reaction at all---and both Jude and Theo simply shook their heads at the exploding pot in the corner.
Deiadre shivered with both delight and disgust. Disgust, because, seriously, Rian? He might have fooled the rest of the Covenant, but not her -- once a druggie, always a druggie. Her mouth smoothed out to a prissy line. What Elizabeth saw in him, she had no idea.
But Theo. Theo was some kind of gorgeous. Too bad Jude nabbed him, although they did make a cute couple. Deiadre had been pulling on her coat when she'd caught something out of the corner of her eye. Peering into the shadows, she'd saw Jude and Theo making out like a couple of teenagers. Her exaggerated cough had them pulling apart, but not apologizing.
Jude simply smiled and thanked her for coming while Theo held the door for her on her way out. When she'd turned around to wave one final time, they'd been standing in the door, Jude pressing one hand to her belly where the tiniest of bumps showed. The flash of jealousy died when she remembered child birth meant lots of pain.
She stepped into the center of Bourbon, hugged her jacket tight around her as she drew closer to Conti. Her frown thinned her lips, made her soft features harsh. She hated this part of Bourbon but it was the safest route back home. As long as she stayed in the street, she wouldn't have to worry about any of the bouncers for the so-called gentlemen's clubs trying to pull her in.
She turned onto Conti, the noise dropping almost immediately. Only four more blocks and she'd be home in the little house her parents bought her before flying off to Paris. Or Rome. Deiadre's features smoothed out in puzzlement as she tried to recall just where they'd flown off to, although it didn't matter. They'd flown off constantly and then one time they didn't come back. Her au pair at the time stayed for a few more months until she turned eighteen before leaving as well.
Not that she needed adult supervision. She'd spent her first summer alone taking classes at Loyola, aced the next two semesters. More summer school, and she was already in her junior year. Nothing compared to how far she'd advanced in her voodoo and... other magics.
Three more blocks. She tugged her jacket tighter, some of the October cold seeping in through the fabric. New Orleans didn't get too cold this time of year but the air had a bite. She paused for a moment to button up, keep some of the warmth in.
And heard footsteps behind her.
Shaking her head, sure she'd imagined the noise, she started walking again. Over the very faint music of Bourbon, the sound came again, the slap of footsteps.
Speeding up, she kept her head down, clenched her keys, slid them between her fingers. One quick jab and then she could run. God, I hope I don't break a heel. It's so hard to find kitten heels in my size.
At the last minute, she turned right onto Burgundy, away from her house. Didn't want to lead the pervert there. The footsteps were closer now. Fear crept in and she risked a peek over her shoulder.
The hooded figure grunted and Deiadre whipped her head around, squealed as she broke into a run. There was a corner market only a few blocks up, always open. She'd duck inside, call the police.
She stopped, confused, when another figure stepped out from around the corner at St. Louis. Turning around, she squealed again when the first figure grabbed her arms, gripped them tight. As the second figure walked closer, her eyes widened, her mouth opening and closing in shock.
"But, but...why? Why?"
His low chuckle made her tremble, knees buckling. "I desire to live forever."
About the Author: L.M. Pruitt has been reading and writing for as long as she can remember. A native of Florida with a love of New Orleans, she has the uncanny ability to find humor in most things and would probably kill a plastic plant. She is the author of Shades of Gray and Shades of Desire, the first two books in the Jude Magdalyn series as well as New Moon Rising, a new series featuring Cari Gravier. She resides in Florida with one stupid cat and one smart one.
Connect with her at: http://www.lmpruitt.blogspot.com

