by Pandora Pine
“Why do I get the impression there’s more to black magick than just saying the words?”
“There is more to it. It’s a talent like anything else.” Dempsey sighed. “Sure, there’s time and practice that goes into something like this, but there’s also dedication to the craft and intent. The blacker your soul, the blacker the magick.”
“Jesus Christ,” Jude muttered.
“I mean we all have darkness in us, Jude. Don’t even try to deny it.” Dempsey locked eyes with him. “It’s just a matter of how much we let it overtake us. Sometimes the dark can eclipse the light.”
Jude turned to see Cope staring curiously at the two of them. “What do you see in him, Dempsey? I’m not asking you because I don’t trust him. For some reason, I’ve trusted him from the moment he opened his eyes and looked at me that first day at Ronan’s. I just need to know how far he’s capable of going and what I’ll need to do to pull him back.”
Dempsey smiled, as if what Jude had just said were words he’d been waiting to hear from the cocky P.I. for a long time. “He’s all white light, Jude. I noticed that on the first day too. But don’t for one minute underestimate his ability to turn to the darkness if it means saving himself or you.”
Jude nodded. “Thank you. Keep this between us, huh?” Not waiting for an answer, he grabbed his laptop and headed back toward the dining room table where everyone had settled themselves again.
“Is everything okay?” Copeland asked.
“Peachy keen.” Jude turned to Onyx. “Do you have the flash drive?”
“I’ve got it right here, me.” Onyx stood up and pulled it out of his pocket. He passed it down the table to Jude.
Plugging it in, Jude’s mind was calm as he waited for the drive to open on his computer. There were four files saved on it. Client List. Classes. Spells. Misc. “Where do we start?” Jude turned to Copeland who’d pulled his chair up next to his own.
“Well, Client list, classes and spells are pretty self-explanatory. Click on the miscellaneous folder. I don’t remember what I stuck in there.” Cope looked like he was at a loss for words.
Jude double clicked on the folder and started scanning through the documents that were in there. They all looked to be files that had to do with Deacon. He could see that Copeland was scanning through the names of all the files along with him.
“I don’t see anything here that’s going to jump start this investigation.” Cope sighed.
“What about forwarding the client and student list to me? I can run it through the computer at work and see if any of the names pop for having a criminal record?” Ronan suggested.
“You can also send the names our way and we can see if anything pops on our end of things.” Ten grinned at Carson.
Jude raised an eyebrow at Carson. “Speaking of things popping on your end, where the hell is Bertha? Usually she’s sticking her nose all over something like this especially when there’s two new beefcakes involved.” Jude pointed between Onyx and Copeland.
“I’m honored that you think I’m beefcake.” Cope rolled his eyes.
“He will be once we put some meat on his bones. If I fucked him, my dick would go right through him.” Onyx snorted, rubbing his hands together as if he was looking forward to doing just that.
Jude growled. He was halfway out of his chair before Copeland’s hand on his arm got him to sit back down again. It took a minute for Jude to realize what the hell he’d even done. He was about to punch Onyx right in the face. “Cope’s fine just the way he is,” Jude bit out from behind gritted teeth. One more crack like that from the Cajun and Jude wasn’t going to be held responsible for his actions. Who the fuck did he think he was, saying Cope looked like shit and that he was going to fuck him? Over Jude’s dead body.
“We haven’t seen Mom in a few days now,” Carson said, turning to Tennyson.
“I’ve been thinking how odd it was too that she hasn’t been here for this especially since Cope was her…” Ten slapped a hand over his mouth.
“Cope was her what, Ten?” Jude asked. Anger was churning in his gut. He was getting sick of being the last to know information thanks to this psychic friends bullshit.
Ten exchanged a look with Carson who simply nodded in response. “Cope was her pet project, I guess you could say. When we were on the cruise to Bermuda, Bertha was going back and forth between visiting with us and helping a psychic from New Orleans.”
“She was working with a psychic who needed help,” Carson chimed in, seemingly content to end the story there.
“Tell them all of it, Carson. Enough beating around the bush.” Truman said. His tone brooked no argument.
Carson shot his husband a surprised look before turning back to Cope and Jude. “Okay. There was a man who was in dire straits. A man, who Mom said, had something to do with your future, Jude.”
Jude was taken aback by what Carson was saying. He had several questions he wanted to ask, chief among them why the fuck no one had mentioned that in the eight months that had passed since that trip. Jude was going to be patient and hold his temper until the end for Copeland’s sake.
“Bertha said that if anything happened to this man, if he didn’t make it through this crisis, it wouldn’t bode well for your future, Jude. That’s all she would tell me,” Tennyson said. His hands were twisting themselves together on top of the table. “I tried to get at the situation using my own gift, but all I was seeing was one image. It was of a flooded Bourbon Street. That’s how I knew what Bertha was working on had to do with New Orleans. It was all she was willing to admit to me. Now that we know you were in Texas at the time, she wasn’t even being truthful with us about that.”
Jude looked at Copeland with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. From what Cope had told him about the psychic attacks, none of them had come anywhere close to killing him, which meant Copeland must have been on the verge of taking his own life. It felt like a thousand daggers were stabbing him at once from every angle. Taking a deep breath felt like he was breathing through lungs filled with broken glass. With every shred of control he had left, Jude turned to Carson and Tennyson. “Find Bertha. Get her here as soon as you can. We need to speak with her. Thank you all for coming tonight. I’ll email you all what you asked for.” With that, Jude got up from the table and walked to the front door. He held it open for his stunned friends.
Never in his life had he ever done anything so rude. They were his friends, they’d either understand or they’d tell him to get bent.
“I’ll call you tomorrow.” Ronan clapped a hand on his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered.
Jude nodded. He hadn’t expected that from Ronan. A punch to the gut, maybe, but not that kind of support.
“I’ll let you know when I hear from Mom. It’s not like her to stay away like this.” Carson patted Jude’s shoulder.
“It was good meeting you.” Onyx held out his hand.
When Jude took it, the Cajun jerked him close. “Hurt him and they’ll never find your body. Dat’s a promise, bon ami.” Onyx laughed heartily before pulling away.
“Shit, I think he means that.” Dempsey grimaced. “I was thinking of taking him home with me, but not now. He’ll chew me up and spit me up. And that’s after he makes me call him Daddy.” Dempsey started to laugh. “Call me tomorrow.”
Jude nodded. He shut the door behind Dempsey and leaned back against it. All he had to do now was go talk to Copeland about his possibly having been suicidal. What else could fucking go wrong?
He moved slowly through the living room and didn’t see Cope sitting at the dining room table. What he heard was the clank of silverware against glass. Unless he missed his guess, Cope was spooning ice cream into bowls. Walking into the kitchen, he saw he was dead on. “Hey, there.”
“Thought you might be hungry after kicking all of our friends out of the house.” Cope started to laugh.
“I had reached the point in the evening where I was no longer fit for human co
mpany.” That was the understatement of the century.
“Where does that leave me?” Cope sounded a bit weary
“Scooping ice cream for the both of us apparently.” Jude grinned.
“I can tell you’re pissed.” Cope handed Jude a bowl of rocky road loaded with caramel sauce and whipped cream.
Jude shook his head. He wasn’t pissed. Well, not entirely. That’s not the overriding emotion he’d go with at the moment. When Copeland was done adding toppings to his bowl, Jude took it and carried both to the table. He heard Cope grab spoons and follow behind him.
“I’m not pissed.” Jude shrugged, dipping his spoon into the still-warm caramel. He licked over it with his tongue, giving himself a moment to gather his thoughts. “Well, I was sort of pissed at Onyx when he said that shit about you being too thin.”
“I am too thin.” Cope rolled his eyes.
Jude looked up at Cope. His blue eyes were darting all around the dining room looking everywhere but at Jude. “Was it you Bertha Craig was helping out?” He just didn’t know any other way to say it. Beating around the bush wasn’t his style.
Cope nodded. He didn’t look up from his bowl. “There was another spirit there too. Pushy redheaded woman. Kind of reminded me of the female version of Ronan. Didn’t give me her name though.”
Snorting, Jude smacked his hand down on the table. He wasn’t able to see or speak to the dead like Carson and Ten, but he had a pretty good idea who the other woman was. “I’m guessing it was Erin O’Mara. Ronan’s mother.”
“I guess that’s why she reminded me of Ronan.” Cope kept his head down.
Jude felt like this was an important crossroads in his fledgling relationship with Copeland. One wrong word could send it all crashing down around him. “Why do you think we’re integral to each other?”
Cope’s head snapped up as if that wasn’t the question he expected Jude to ask next. He studied Jude in silence for a few moments. “I’m not sure. Even though I can’t read you, I know you’re an honest man. The kind of man who would never hurt me and would defend me with your last breath.”
“That’s true, but I’m not sure how you know that if you can’t read me.”
“It’s in your vibration.” Cope managed a smile. “You vibrate at a higher frequency. If you were untrustworthy or duplicitous, your vibration would be lower. Even if I couldn’t sense your frequency, I still would have seen those things through your actions.”
“Oh yeah? How’s that?” Jude was curious now. All he’d done so far was bark and growl like a good watch dog. His behavior tonight had been pretty appalling.
“You’re my protector, Jude. You took a total stranger into your home and promised me I could stay here for as long as I needed, knowing full well that I have two possible psychopaths after me.”
Jude started to laugh. “But I gave you the bedroom at the top of the stairs. They have to go through you to get to me.”
Cope joined in. They laughed together for a few seconds before he sobered again. “I was on the verge of ending my life back in January. That’s why Bertha and Erin were with me, Jude.” Cope locked eyes with Jude.
An icy fist grabbed Jude’s heart and squeezed. He hadn’t felt this kind of pain since his father died. “Why?”
“I was feeling sorry for myself. Poor little rich boy being stuck in exile on beachfront property in Galveston. My old life was back in New Orleans and I didn’t have the balls to reclaim it or start fresh. I was depressed and drinking.” Cope shrugged. “It would have just been easier to end my own misery.”
The pain in Copeland’s blue eyes was so raw that Jude could feel it too. He wanted to get up and hug the man, but couldn’t. Not yet. “What saved you?”
“You did.” Cope flashed a brief grin. “Well the thought of you. I guess.”
“Me? How is that possible? I thought you were terrible at reading yourself.”
“I am, but Bertha mentioned there was something coming in my future that I didn’t want to miss. I figured it was a bullshit line. You know, something to give me hope. Something to hold on to.”
Fear of missing out, more like, Jude couldn’t help but thinking. Whatever it was that changed Copeland’s mind, Jude was grateful for it. “You’re done thinking like that, right?”
“I’m in this fight to win it now.” Copeland’s voice was filled with determination.
Jude nodded. He dipped his spoon back into his bowl. “Jeopardy’s on Netflix now. You in the mood to get your ass kicked?”
“In your dreams. All I did while I was in exile was read and do crossword puzzles.” Cope grinned. “You’re the one who’s going down.”
So long as they were in this fight together, Jude could live with getting his ass handed to him. Just this once.
17
Copeland
Sweet mother of Jesus, Copeland felt like he’d been put through the ringer tonight. He should have been able to anticipate Onyx would have found some way to bring up their past together and stake his claim like a gold prospector. What he hadn’t expected was the possessive way Jude stood up, literally, to let Onyx know to back the fuck off. That had been interesting. To put it mildly.
Then there was Carson and Tennyson explaining Bertha Craig’s place in keeping him safe during that little bit of time where he’d lost his will to live. Not only was that his lowest point in the battle against what had happened to him with Deacon and what he knew now was the beginning of the psychic attacks, all of his new friends were aware of his weakness too. He’d never been more ashamed in his life.
Talking with Jude about that lowest point after he kicked everyone out of the house had somehow managed to soothe him. The P.I. had listened to everything he’d had to say and instead of being judgmental, he’d been understanding and had even found a gentle way to ask if he was past thinking like his life wasn’t worth living.
Cope had so much to live for. Bertha helped him see that. He would have seen that even if she hadn’t mentioned a fiery-eyed man in Salem who was going to need him as much as Cope would need that man in return. She never mentioned anything about the two of them being soul mates or anything of the sort, just that the two of them would be there for each other to lean on in times of trouble.
This certainly counted as a time of trouble. Cope still wasn’t feeling any signs of a renewed psychic attack twenty-four hours after Dempsey took the protective charm off him, but he knew he was living on borrowed time.
After they’d finished eating their ice cream, Cope had cleaned the dishes and Jude had pulled up Jeopardy on Netflix. He had a feeling Jude had wanted to watch the quiz show as a way of spending time with him without the messy option of having to discuss the night that was. Cope kicked his ass left, right and sideways. Jude took it like a champ, always clicking on to the next episode without asking him if he wanted to keep playing. That went on until midnight.
Sitting alone in his room now, here in the witching hour, Cope grabbed the printout of his client list. Since he didn’t have a computer, Jude had printed the list out for him. He’d done the same thing with his class lists.
Spreading the sheets of paper out to cover the queen-sized mattress of his bed, Cope took a minute to center himself. He drew on every reserve of power he had before reaching out with his gift. That old, familiar thrum of power vibrated through his entire body, lighting up all of his senses, before flowing out through his fingertips. He directed it over the names, friends, and clients, laid out in black and white, before him.
In his mind’s eye, he could see a riot of colors swirling and dipping as they moved over each name. The colors stayed bright and pristine as they moved through the sheets of paper, through all of the names that had made his life and career the magnificent gift it had been back in The Big Easy. As Cope reached the final name on the list, the colors winked out and disappeared. Nothing.
His eyes opened with a few sleepy blinks. No one on these sheets of paper was the one targeting him in these attacks. He was alm
ost disappointed. Now he was back at square one.
The one thing he appreciated about Jude was that he believed in Cope’s powers whole-heartedly. From the stories he’d heard over the last few days about Ronan O’Mara, that hadn’t been the case when he first started working with Tennyson Grimm.
It would save a lot of valuable time in the morning for Cope to be able to tell Jude that the attacker wasn’t a former client or student and for Jude to just believe him. He hadn’t even gotten a hint that this person might be somehow affiliated with anyone on the list.
As Cope picked up the lists, he tried reaching out to his own spirit guides. It had been so long since he’d done that. It didn’t come as a surprise to him that none of them responded. Maybe he’d be able to reestablish contact in the morning. This had been an exhausting day for him.
He knew that no matter what else tomorrow brought him, he was going to have to read through all the files he’d stored under MISC. Only God knew what he’d thrown in that folder. Whatever was in there was important enough for him to save and hand over to Onyx for safekeeping.
Climbing into bed, Copeland whispered a silent prayer thanking the universe for bringing him and Jude together.
18
Jude
Jude was surrounded by hot young studs all vying for his attention. All of them were naked. Aroused. Ready to satisfy his every desire. As he walked through the crowd. None of them were catching his eye or holding his attention. They were too short. Too needy. Too…something.
He turned around at the end of the bar, intent on making a second pass through the eager crowd when a noise caught his attention. It sounded like someone was calling his name. Well, of course someone was calling his name, every man in the place wanted to spend the night with him. All of these desperate men wanted to be down on their knees sucking his cock. Or better still, bent over the bar, being fucked by it.
Oddly enough, that thought didn’t even bring a smile to Jude’s face. Looking down, he realized he was fully dressed and his own soldier wasn’t standing at attention. How the fuck was that possible? In a room full of gorgeous, naked, and fully aroused men, how was he dressed and completely uninterested?