“Come. Let’s get you something to drink, shall we?”
Katie led them across the room to the bar and the bartender mixed a vodka gimlet for Christian and poured a glass of Shiraz for Heather. When Katie was distracted by Richard, Rachel approached the couple.
“So, are you feeling okay about all of this?” Rachel pulled Heather aside, leaving Christian to answer Daniel’s questions about his business ventures.
Heather nodded, but her eyes hovered over Christian. “Yes, yes. I’m fine. I got a little spooked at the ceremony, is all.” Rachel followed the woman’s gaze to the vampire.
Christian caught her looking and winked. Rachel gave him a quick nod and tight smile, then turned back to Heather. For a moment, Heather stared past Rachel, fixated on Christian. Then, she shook herself and made an attempt at a pleasant smile.
“Everything okay between you two?” Rachel gestured with her head in Christian’s direction.
Heather showed more teeth, “Of course.”
She took Rachel’s arm and steered her away from the bar. The two young women put their heads together in a corner of the room with the plants.
“I’m worried about my Nan,” Rachel confessed after they covered all the casual gossip.
Heather pursed her lips. “What’s wrong? Is she okay?” She sipped her wine, her eyes darkened by a worrisome shadow.
Rachel ran her finger over the rim of her wine glass. She glanced around as if looking for someone. “This is going to come up in the next coven meeting, so I guess I can tell you now.” She pulled Heather close to whisper in her ear. “Nan got a phone call the other day from a friend ‘in the know’ at the AWA. There’s going to be an investigation.”
Heather blinked, her nose wrinkling. “The American Witches Association? What are they investigating?”
Rachel glanced around again. “Katie. And Patrick.” She sighed. “Maybe the entire coven. I’m not sure how it will go.”
Heather chewed on her lips as her eyes flowed around the banquet room. Christian’s eyes met hers from the opposite side of the ballroom as he talked to Daniel and his dark-haired girlfriend. Then, as if just realizing what Rachel had said, Heather pulled back and narrowed her eyes. “Who is Patrick? I don’t remember meeting him.”
Rachel shook her head. “He passed away not that long ago, but he was a member of the coven. Actually, an old and dear friend of my grandmother’s. He was like a grandfather to me and Loti.” Rachel blinked and rubbed at an eye as if she had something in it. “You’ll meet Loti soon. She’s my best friend.”
“So, what is this investigation about?” Heather took another sip of her wine, a wrinkle of worry above her nose.
“It’s about Patrick and his involvement with an outlaw vampire named Modore. Modore had Patrick swear under blood oath to do his bidding and in return, he would help Patrick and my grandfather, Joe, bring Katie back from another dimension.” Rachel was talking fast.
“Whoa, hold on. Patrick was in league with an outlaw vamp? Pretty serious stuff.” Heather glanced around and noticed Christian had made his way to the long dinner table and was reading the place cards.
Rachel hurried on. “Yes, it was. Patrick helped Modore kidnap Wolf and lure Loti in so Modore could bond with her and it all ended with Loti and Wolf safe, but Patrick dead. Now the authorities have some reason to believe my grandmother knew about Patrick and could have prevented all this.”
Heather wasn’t sure she was following it all. Loti. Patrick. Modore. “What did Patrick want with Loti?”
Rachel bit her lip. “Modore. Modore wants Loti.”
“Why was Patrick helping this Modore? Why would he swear a blood oath to him?
Rachel sighed and waved a hand. “It’s a long story for another day, but suffice it to say Patrick was tricked into it.” She paused, staring up at the ceiling, considering. Finally, she said, “Do you know what a Light Walker is?”
Heather sipped her wine and inclined her head. “That’s another term for a healer, right?”
Rachel’s head bobbed absently as she drained her glass. “Well, yes, it is, but there are a few very powerful healers with special abilities that are called Light Walkers, with capitals.” She hesitated. “Actually, Loti’s the only one I’ve ever met and Calisto claims the only other one he’s heard of died before he was turned. And he’s over two thousand years old.”
Heather mentally ticked off the facts: Light Walkers, blood oaths, renegade vampires, and then she blinked rapidly and shook her head at Rachel. “I’m sure there’s more to that story, but I’ll take the Cliff’s notes version for now.” She tapped the wine glass with painted nails. “But I guess the real question is why does the AWA think Katie knew what was going on?”
Rachel narrowed her eyes as a waiter walked up with a tray of hors d’oeuvres. “Canapé?” She handed him the empty wine glass and lifted a triangle with some sort of pink paste artfully piped on it and then topped with a sprig of dill. Heather inspected the tray and chose what looked like a green pinwheel. When the waiter left, they chewed in silence.
“Some unnamed source made their own report to the AWA.” Rachel crossed her arms over her chest, wishing she had the empty wine glass in her hand. “I think someone has it in for my grand-mother and gave the AWA information that forced them to do this investigation.”
Heather jerked her gaze from Christian back to Rachel. Her eyes widened. “Really? What makes you think that?”
Rachel shook her head and twisted her fingers together. “Just a hunch. The whole thing was reported and the file was closed and then suddenly they get more information? It’s as if whoever it was waited to see what the AWA would do first.” Her voice rose in pitch as she talked, “It reeks of someone else’s stink. Someone who didn’t like that it was being closed. Someone who wanted to make sure my grandmother stood trial.”
Now Heather shook her head. “Who would want to do that? Does your grandmother have enemies?”
Rachel’s face fell. “Not that I’m aware of, but I’m not naïve. Someone could have their own twisted reasons.”
Heather touched Rachel’s arm reassuringly. “She’s not going to stand trial. Even if she had suspicions that Patrick was off or could do something wrong, what did she have to report? You can’t prove a man guilty of something he hasn’t done, yet.” Heather’s fingers lightly grazed Rachel’s forearm as she reached down to squeeze Rachel’s hand. “I mean, as soon as she knew what Patrick was up to, she tried to stop him, right?”
Before Rachel could answer Christian circled an arm around Heather’s waist and the two women jerked their heads apart.
“What are you two plotting over here? You look like you have secrets.” Christian winked at Rachel over Heather’s head.
Rachel dazzled him with a broad smile. “Girl stuff. You don’t want to know.” And she hurried off to find the date she abandoned.
Christian gave Heather a quizzical look, his eyebrows pulled together. “I’ll tell you later.” She kissed his cheek and fussed with his tie. Her hands slid down the front of the starched, white shirt he’d had a fit about earlier, then she took his elbow. “Come on. I’m starving.”
Chapter Thirteen
Loti paced beside the breakfast spread across the hallway from their suite knowing she needed to eat, but her stomach revolted at the thought. Wolf was dead to the world and she covered a yawn.
“Loti, I was hoping to catch you at breakfast.” Loti turned to see Roger Wheaton strolling down the hall towards her. She studied the man’s fascinating aura, the spin of chakras and the pulse of his prana. The intersections where lines of prana crossed sparkled in a brilliant way. She had never seen an aura like his.
“A mahatma was only a text book concept for me,” she said, and then sighed at herself. “I’m so sorry. I have this tendency to speak before I think. I’m sorry.” She tried again. “Good morning.”
Roger’s face was taught with eagerness. “No need for apologies. I find it refreshing that you g
et right to the heart of matters. Too much idle chit-chat in my line of work.” He poured coffee into one of the heavy, white mugs and sipped. “Light Walkers were only text book studies for me, as well.”
Loti settled on a glass of orange juice and made an appreciative noise as she sipped. “It’s fresh squeezed.”
Roger nodded, picking a buttery croissant from the pastry tray. “But, as far as mahatmas, we are more than we appear and less, I’m afraid.” Roger smiled as if he had just received his most coveted Christmas present ever—his grin had that childlike glee. “And we are an enigma, even to ourselves.” His eyelids drooped a little. “There isn’t much to tell, I’m afraid.”
Loti chuckled as she scooped cubed cantaloupe and sliced strawberries into a bowl. “Tell me what you know.”
Roger laughed along with her. “Well, we are old souls, as the name implies. Reincarnated over and over, with what purpose, well, only the universe knows for sure.” He adjusted the knot of his grey and silver tie, smoothing the length of it down his lean torso. “But, we can make our appearance change, depending on what we feel necessary for the situation. It’s not like we picture something, but more like we acknowledge a need for a certain appearance.” He gestured towards the tall glass doors on either side of the little buffet. “Would you like to have a seat on the veranda? It’s lovely out this morning. Not too hot and a light breeze is keeping the humidity down.”
Loti bit her lip and wondered what Wolf would think of her alone out there with the director. It wasn’t likely he was going to push her off the deck or anything like that. He might be fishing for information, but she could handle that.
Loti set her empty juice glass on the side table and poured a cup of coffee. “Yes, actually. That would be nice.”
He held open the door and she stepped out into the early morning sunlight, coffee in one hand and the bowl in the other. The sun was up, but it hadn’t quite cleared the cityscape, creating dark angles between blocks of sunlight. Since D.C. didn’t allow skyscrapers, it was a unique city in that sunlight would eventually make it to all corners of the district. Roger hurried ahead of her and pulled out a wrought iron chair with a squeal of metal on stone. She sat on the edge of her seat, like she was ready to run at a moment’s notice. Setting the fruit on the table, she sipped at her coffee while Roger took the seat next to her, instead of across the table. She tilted her head and frowned.
“Oh, do you mind?” Roger half stood up, but she put out a hand to touch his arm.
“No, no. It’s fine.”
He sat back down with his eyebrows raised and her smile was self-conscious. Maybe she was being too suspicious. He had, after all, given them that file. It meant that he wanted them to know what the Ring had been up to in regards to her. Was he on their side? She sipped at her coffee and squinted at the view of Massachusetts Avenue and the Cosmos Club, annoyed with having to think those kinds of thoughts.
“It’s a lovely view,” she said.
“Do you understand what I was saying about how we change our appearance?”
She blinked the dazzle of sunshine out of her eyes as she regarded the man. “It’s about what the moment dictates and less about a conscious control of physicality.” She moved in closer to get a better look at his energy.
Roger grinned over his cup of coffee. “Precisely.” He took a sip and set it on the scroll-work table. “And we have the ability to recognize souls. Not their previous lives, but what and who they are. Their identity is not about this cycle’s name and birth for us—it’s their essence. Like you. A Light Walker is quite a sight to a mahatma, ethereal, really.” The energy in his eyes intensified, dancing like firelight behind the blue irises. “Do you see yourself the way I see you?” He rose from his chair as if in a trance.
Something in her chest ached. It was a familiar pain, but it made no sense to her in this context. She swallowed, looking up at him. “I don’t think I do.” She suddenly wanted to touch him and it was a want that she couldn’t deny, to her horror. “Maybe you could show me.” Her heart thudded in her chest and she thought she must be under some kind of spell, only she was pretty sure she wasn’t.
Roger practically leaped at her in his eagerness. “I know now why David couldn’t resist you.”
She jumped out of her seat and backed away cautiously. “David?” She glanced over her shoulder for an escape route, her eyes flitting from the beautiful soul in front of her to the tall glass door. “What do you mean?”
Roger took one step towards her and she took one away from him. He held up both hands. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered. “I promise. I just want to show you something.” She held up a hand for him to stay where he was and he lowered his hands to his side. “David Dupree was an agent for the Ring. He was assigned to keep an eye on you. That he fell for a Light Walker was a point of discontent around this office.” He waved a hand. “Before my time.”
Loti’s mouth fell open, her chin wobbling. So Modore had told the truth. How had he known?
“But there’s something else you should know.” He grabbed his mouth and chin with one hand and half bent over, the other hand braced on his hip. He took a shuddering breath, like he was feeling sick or something, then straightened and rubbed the back of his neck. “If I were you, I’d want to know this.” He searched her face with a desperate sweep of his eyes, and Loti was certain she was seeing the real Roger. He was a man fighting a hard battle and although he was far from weary, he was wearing down. “If you will permit me to show you something, first, and then I will tell you. I think it’s important that you know exactly how I see you.”
Loti hesitated, but her chest throbbed with the need to go to him. “What do I need to do?”
Loti held out her hand and Roger reached for it, flinching as she wrapped her fingers around his. “Oh, my god,” he whispered. His eyes widened and he sighed, then closed them like he tasted something wonderful. “What I wouldn’t…” his voice faded away.
Loti’s mouth slackened as his sight opened up to her, the way she could see through Wolf’s eyes when she closed hers and focused. “That’s how you see me?” Her voice rasped and the splendor of his vision dumbfounded her. “I am not that.” A single tear dripped down her cheek. There weren’t any words to explain what he saw, or what he felt when he touched her, for that matter. It was like music—simple strands of comforting sound and lyrics that spoke of loss and love, of want and deep acceptance.
“And that’s just a fraction of what your David experienced,” Roger said as he dropped her hand abruptly and straightened, walking away from her as he adjusted his tie. Loti stared after him.
“David?” The word was just above a whisper.
Roger stopped with his hands on the stone wall around the veranda. Gazing over the city with narrowed eyes, he whispered, “David,” his mouth hardened into a frown, “was a mahatma.”
Prickling warmth surged through her and every hair on her arms and on the back of her neck stood straight up. My David.
“From what I’ve read in the files, he was assigned to you because of his ability to recognize souls. He would be able to determine who was a threat to you.” He waved a hand. “Or at least tell who was what.” Loti hadn’t moved from her spot and he turned around to lean against the wall and cross his arms over his chest. “We can recognize souls and some part of us remembers what they did in previous lives, maybe even the whole cosmic dance of souls over lifetimes.” He straightened suddenly, a wildness in his eyes, “Haven’t you ever felt like you already knew someone even though you’d just met?”
But she couldn’t even think about that at the moment, if what Roger was saying was true. If David was a mahatma and he saw her the way Roger just showed her, then…
“He did love me.” Loti blurted out. He did. “It wasn’t a ruse, not ever, not from day one.” He loved her from the day he met her, just like he said. She stumbled over to the table, collapsing into the chair as she dropped her head in her hands.
&
nbsp; “Yes,” Roger murmured. The crazed look morphed into a soft reverence. “I—more than anyone—can imagine how much he must have.”
She sobbed, not ashamed or self-conscious about her tears for once as she lifted her head to look at Roger. Was it possible that she could’ve made David feel that way?
“Wait,” she croaked. “I wasn’t enlightened, then—when David was alive. He wouldn’t have felt what you just did.”
Roger gave her an indulgent smile and shook his head dismissively. “Just because you didn’t know what you were? David certainly did experience what I just did when he held your hand. He was awake to his nature.” Roger’s face became animated, his eyes wide and bright, his lips parting in wonder. “I can’t imagine what he felt when—” but he recovered and cleared his throat, averting his eyes as he took a few steps away from her. Loti understood and heat burned her cheeks against her will. Was she a beautiful soul, like David had said many, many times? Like Roger had just shown her?
Something else he would often say came back to her. “Loti, you are love personified. Don’t ever doubt how precious you are.”
He would say those words to her every single time they made love and it dawned on her in those moments that there was nothing and nobody to be afraid of or to pretend to feel or be anything for. She had been sure of it while they were sheltered in their love making and now she felt it all over again. Roger Wheaton had given her the greatest gift of her life: to see herself as she truly was and as her husband had seen her, and as Wolf saw her. She wept into her hands, her shoulders shivering. When she could breathe again, she lifted her heavy head with an effort, not bothering to wipe the tears away as she searched the veranda for Roger. He stood with his back to her with that same reflective stance, as if he were searching the city for a path to follow.
“What do you want us to do?” she asked in a clear and steady voice.
Roger inclined his head without looking at her. “Find Modore. Neutralize him.” He straightened up and rubbed his hands thoughtfully together. “Kill him, if necessary. This guy has been on the warpath for far too long. It’s time to end it.”
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