Ghost of Himself

by Pandora Pine

  “Jude!” a voice shouted out, louder than all of the rest.

  Copeland… Jude would know that voice anywhere. He hadn’t remembered seeing the psychic amongst the naked throng of worshipers. Of course, Cope wouldn’t be here in this hedonistic place. He was above this sort of melee.

  If Cope wasn’t here, then where the hell was he? Why could Jude hear him? Pushing past the men who were now becoming more aggressive in their ardor, Jude started moving toward the door. Hands, which a moment earlier were reaching out to touch and caress him, were now reaching out to grab and hold him back.

  “Jude!” Copeland shouted again.

  To Jude, it sounded more like a shriek, like Copeland was terrified. He had to get out of here. He had to break free of all of these men holding him back. Keeping him prisoner.

  “JUDE!” Cope bellowed.

  Startled awake, Jude sat upright in bed. His heart was pounding as the final vestiges of the dream faded away. Turning to look at his bare arms, Jude could see red marks. Inspecting himself closer, they looked like hands restraining him. “Jesus, Cope!” Flinging the covers off, Jude sprinted toward his bedroom door.

  Yanking it open, he ran down the hall to Cope’s room bursting through the door without bothering to knock. “Cope!”

  “Jude, thank Christ. I thought you were going to sleep the day away.”

  This wasn’t what Jude was expecting to see based on the way Cope had been bellowing for him. Copeland was lying flat on his back in bed. He wasn’t being attacked. There was no blood. He looked like he was the picture of health. “What the hell was all the shouting for? I swear to Christ, if you called me in here because you saw a fucking spider, I’ll-”

  “I’m paralyzed, Jude. I can’t move anything, except my arms and my head. I was shouting so loud because I have to piss like a racehorse and I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.”

  Jude didn’t hesitate to pull back the covers. It barely registered that Cope was naked beneath them. He scooped the man into his arms and carried him like a bride into the guest bathroom, gently depositing him onto the toilet. “Are you going to be able to keep your balance or do I need to stay here with you?”

  “I’ll be okay,” Cope muttered. “But stay close by.” His cheeks pinkened as he shut the door.

  Jude, finally noticing that he was naked as a jaybird himself, dashed back into his room to throw on a pair of boxer briefs and a black tee. He ran into Jude’s room to grab the same thing for the psychic. The thought crossed his mind that he was going to have to help the man get dressed.

  He heard the toilet flush and then Cope’s shout that he was all set. “I brought you a shirt.” Jude handed it over after he opened the door. He watched as Cope shrugged into it. “The briefs are going to be a bit more of a challenge, huh?”

  Cope rolled his eyes, which had gone glassy. “Just work them up as high you can.”

  Nodding, Jude knelt at Copeland’s feet. He did just as Cope asked, slipping the soft cotton over both feet and easing them up to his knees and partway over his thighs. “Okay, wrap your arms around my neck and hold on tight. When Cope obeyed, Jude lifted him with one arm and managed to shimmy the briefs up with his free hand. Setting Cope back down, he repeated the process, only with the other arm this time. “There we go.” Out of breath, he leaned back against the wall. “You want to explain this to me? Are you actually paralyzed or is this a psychic attack? Should I call 911?”

  “Jesus, fuck, Jude. Can you get me off the shitter first before you start playing twenty fucking questions?” Cope rolled his annoyed eyes.

  “Sure, no problem, you only weigh a goddamned ton.” Jude scooped him back up and carried him back to his room, gently setting him down in one of the armchairs in the room. He made sure, Cope was balanced so he wouldn’t tip out again. Jude sat on the ottoman across from him. “How’s that?”

  “Fucking peachy.” Cope reached up to run a hand through his messy blond hair. “Yes, this is a psychic attack. No, I’m not actually paralyzed. No, don’t call 911.”

  Jude sucked in a lungful of air. For all the talk of how skinny Cope was, he was a heavy bastard. His heart was already pounding from the word Copeland had said when he’d burst through the bedroom door, “paralyzed.” Right now, though, he was keeping his asshole mouth shut until Cope had himself back under control and was ready to talk.

  He could see the psychic was fighting to hold on to his emotions. He was blinking fiercely to keep back tears. Falling to his knees in front of the chair, Jude set his hands-on Copeland’s face. “It’s going to be all right. We’ll find a way out of this, I promise.”

  “I’m fucking paralyzed, Jude! Unless you’re Jesus Christ, there isn’t a way out of this!” Cope’s voice broke. The tears he’d been trying to hold at bay broke free and started to flow freely.

  “Come on now, don’t you know I’m better than JC?” Jude managed a chuckle. His stomach was sick over this. He’d been using all of his healing powers to help Cope, but so far nothing was working. His own skills had been enough to bring Cope around and heal him the night he’d landed on Ten and Ronan’s doorstep, but his own brand of magick wasn’t coming close to touching whatever dark magick this was.

  “You’re better than Jesus?” Cope snorted.

  “Sometimes,” Jude admitted, sheepishly. “Not today it seems.” He dropped his hands from Copeland’s face and stood up to pace around the bedroom.

  “What are you talking about?” Cope narrowed his eyes on Jude.

  “There’s stuff I haven’t told you about me. About my past.”

  “I am shocked.” Cope deadpanned. “You kept things about yourself a mystery. No.” Cope rolled his eyes.

  Jude felt himself smile. Thank Christ he had his back to Cope. Now wasn’t the time to crack up over his houseguest’s dry sense of humor. Schooling his features, Jude turned around and took a seat on the edge of the bed. “I’ll give you the short version of things rather than Jude: The Miniseries, okay?”

  “Whatever, I’m fucking paralyzed here.” Cope pointed down at his legs. “It’s not like I can get away from you.”

  “I’m half Navajo. After my father was murdered by a witch, I went to live with my grandfather on the reservation. He noticed I had healing skills, so he made sure I was trained in the Navajo way. That night that you came to Ten and Ronan’s, I was the one who healed you. That’s why you woke up so quickly and started feeling better so fast. Yes, we called Dempsey over as soon as Tennyson realized who you were and I was able to figure out what was wrong with you, but I was the one who was able to help you.”

  “I woke up with your hands on my face. I remember that now.” Cope sounded like he was in a trace. “I thought you were a dream at first. I was so out of it, in so much pain and disoriented and then there you were.”

  Jude nodded. “You were in pretty bad shape. I’ve never seen anyone in a condition like that before. Ronan got your wet clothes off and got you dressed and onto the couch while I was outside fetching your soaked luggage.”

  “Your powers didn’t heal me this time. I still can’t move my legs.” It wasn’t a condemnation on Cope’s part, just a statement of fact.

  “I know. I’m so sorry, Cope. I need to make a phone call.” Jude stood up. He was halfway to the door when Cope’s shout stopped him.

  “No!” Cope’s plea echoed loudly in the small room. “Please don’t call out the cavalry. I don’t want Tennyson and his merry band of psychics to see me like this.” Cope ducked his head.

  Seeing the devastated look on Cope’s face broke Jude’s heart. He didn’t realize he had much of a heart left to break. Surprise… He walked back to Cope, gently setting his useless hands on his face, tilting it up to meet his eyes. “I wasn’t going to call Tennyson. I was going to call my grandfather back home. If anyone knows how to help you, it will be him.” Not knowing what the hell had come over him, he pressed a gentle kiss to Copeland’s cheek.

  This time Jude made it through the door
. If his grandfather wasn’t able to give him some way to break the effects of this latest psychic attack, his next call was going to be to Onyx Kerr. It was starting to look like they were going to need his black magick hands sooner than even Jude thought might be necessary.

  19

  Copeland

  The tale of Jude Byrne just kept getting curiouser as time went on. Finding out Jude was a Navajo Hatalii was stunning. He’d sensed there was something…otherworldly, he supposed was the best word to use, about Jude, he just hadn’t been able to put his finger on it. This explained a lot, but not everything.

  There was still something else about Jude that was setting off his psychic alarm bells, but he supposed now wasn’t the time to go excavating. He had enough shit to deal with. Like not being able to walk.

  When he’d woken up this morning unable to move his legs, he’d been completely terrified. He’d remembered reading somewhere before about waking up too soon from REM sleep and having that initial feeling of being paralyzed, but he’d quickly realized that whatever this was, wasn’t passing. Cope had quickly tried to move everything else and found that he could thankfully move his arms and head. Speech was also possible.

  All things considered, this attack could have been a lot worse. He could have been paralyzed completely. He could have been killed. There was no doubt in his mind now that whoever was behind this was capable of outright murdering him.

  Once Jude was finished speaking with his grandfather, he was going to need to get in touch with Dempsey and Onyx to see if the person responsible for doing this to him could be traced. He wasn’t sure he was strong enough to withstand another attack like this. Most likely whoever was responsible for doing this knew where he was now and could very well be on their way here. Time was of the essence.

  Cope could feel himself starting to slip back into that old mindset that this situation, this life as it was now, was inescapable. “Chin up, Buttercup,” was what the redheaded spirit always used to say to him. Then she’d sing. Usually beautiful Irish lullabies. He could hear them in his head now, playing on a loop.

  The situation was different this time because he had friends to help him get through this. To help him survive. Back in Galveston, it had just been him and the four walls closing in on him. That cloying sense of desperation telling him the best thing to do was to end his own pain and suffering.

  Maybe that was all part of the attack too. Hitting him at his lowest point and trying to get him to do the one thing the attacker wasn’t yet brave enough to do himself. Kill.

  Cope had a feeling the gloves were off now. No more Mr. Nice Guy or Gal, as the case may be. Paralyzing him was just the first step in a more sinister game this time. He was going to need to be prepared for the next battle to come.

  He couldn’t help wondering if some kind of reflection spell would work in this situation. When Cope had been hiding out in Galveston, he’d refrained from using any and all magick so that Deacon couldn’t use his signature to track him down and find him again. That point was obviously moot. If he put a reflection spell on himself it would act like a shield where any magick thrown at him would not only bounce off of him, but would rebound onto the person who cast it upon him. If someone cursed him into being a frog, in theory, it would be the caster who became the slimy amphibian.

  It didn’t always work out that way with the layers of protection witches and wizards sometimes cast around themselves. Cope had a feeling though that this person was feeling so superior to him right now, that he probably had one shot to cast a reflection spell and have it work. He’d talk to Dempsey and Onyx and see what they though first.

  The spot on his left cheek where Jude had kissed him was still tingling. His lips had left a trace of magick where they’d touched his skin. Well, maybe not, but there was no reason Cope couldn’t feel that way in his mind.

  No man had ever played hero the way Jude was. If they’d known each other during the Middle Ages, he would have tied his favor to Jude’s lance before he’d ridden off to compete in the joust. Of course, Jude would have won the competition and Cope would have rewarded him with a kiss to his full, red lips.

  Cope shook his head. Shit, it wasn’t like him to be fanciful like that. He might not live to see tomorrow. His head needed to get back in the game here. Not that he had much of a choice since his dick, along with his legs, was out of commission.

  The longer Jude was gone, the edgier he was starting to get, especially since he was trapped here in this chair. He could, of course, wiggle to the floor and belly crawl to wherever he wanted to go, although navigating down the stairs could be a treacherous and possibly deadly venture. No, he’d stay right where he was until Jude came back for him.

  Having all of these friends around him gave Copeland hope for his future. If anyone could get him out of this mess and set him free to live a life of his own, it was Jude Byrne. Hands down.

  20

  Jude

  Jude’s finger hovered over the contact simply listed as “Grandfather.” Steeling his courage, he hit the button. This was becoming a matter of life and death for Copeland. He didn’t have the time for Jude to sit here wasting time over placing this call. He’d figure out what to say when his grandfather answered the phone.

  If his grandfather answered the phone.

  It had been a while since the last time they’d spoken and they hadn’t left things on the best terms. His stomach twisted itself in knots as the phone continued to ring, unanswered, in his ear. Just as he was about to hang up, there was a click.

  “Grandson. I knew this day would come,” a familiar voice purred.

  “Of course, you knew this day would come.” Jude smiled against the phone. “You predicted it, remember?”

  “I remember. It was many moons ago.” There was no judgement in his voice. Just fact.

  Jude sighed. “Many more moons than I wanted to have passed between us.” That was the God’s honest truth. He hadn’t meant to wander so far and for so long. The miles added up. Then the years. It just became easier to maintain the silence that had grown deafening between them.

  “You know the way home, grandson,” he said easily.

  “You know Navajo Nation was never my home.” It hurt to say those words. It hurt worse to live there and hear the taunts. To see the looks of condemnation on the faces of the adults. The term “half breed” still echoed loudly in his mind.

  “Being a child of two worlds is never a simple thing. You straddle both, with a foot in each.”

  Jude had lived firmly with both feet in the white world since he turned eighteen and had his high school diploma in hand. “I know. I’ve done the best I can to make my own way in this world.”

  “So, I’ve seen,” his grandfather replied.

  Jude should have guessed his grandfather would have kept an eye on him from a distance.

  “You’ve found a home. Made a family amongst the witches. You never ceased to surprise me as a child. I do not know why I expected that to change as you became a man.”

  Jude found a laugh. “I bet Salem, Massachusetts was the last place you expected to find me putting down roots and blooming.”

  “No, the reservation was the last place I expected you to blossom. Salem would have been a close second.” Jude’s grandfather laughed. “There must be something serious going on for you to reach out after all this time. I know you are well. What troubles you?”

  “Always to the point.” Jude found another smile. “There’s a friend who needs my help and my skills are powerless to heal him.”

  “Ah, the witch.” There was a definite smile in his voice.

  “Yes, grandfather, the witch.” Jude knew his grandfather would be able to read that from his mind. He had never told Ten or any of the other psychics that the only person capable of reading him was his grandfather. It was a secret he planned on keeping.

  “It fascinates me that the only time in twelve years you choose to call me is in service to another. To a witch.”


  Jude bowed his head. It seemed his grandfather had not come as far in forgiving all witches for what they had done to their family as Jude had done. “Yes, grandfather. This man has been through untold suffering at the hands of another. I was able to cure him the first time, but this second attack has left him paralyzed.”

  “I can see what has been done, grandson.”

  “Can you see why?” Jude knew it was a dicey question to ask.

  “There is much anger and betrayal, though I cannot see the reason. It seems this suffering is long-standing on the part of the spellcaster. There is much skill. Also, much venom. They are coming closer. A battle will end the suffering.”

  “I had a feeling that last part was a given. We did this to Copeland. I did this.”

  “What do you mean, you did this? You said earlier that you were trying to heal him.”

  “Another friend, a wizard, had cast a protection spell over Copeland, making it so that this person couldn’t find him to begin the psychic attacks again, but then he removed it when we realized the only hope we had of catching the person was to use his magick as a means of tracking him or her down.”

  “A blade that cuts both ways.”

  Jude was used to his grandfather speaking in platitudes like that. He didn’t need that kind of wisdom now, he needed something that could help Copeland walk again.

  “You know how to help this man, grandson. You have been gone from home for too long to remember the ways of our people, I fear.” His voice held a hint of sadness.

  For the second time today, Jude’s heart broke. This time he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to put all the pieces back together. He’d run from the reservation as far and as fast as he could without one look back, leaving the only man who’d ever loved him behind.

  “You were always meant to spread your wings and fly, little phoenix.”