Serendipity: A Bayou Magic Novel
Page 10
“Okay. At least tell the others, Daph. They need to know.”
“Yeah. I will. See you later.”
I climb back into the car, relieved that the photo is gone. The drive to my shop takes longer than normal in traffic, and by the time I park in my spot and walk into Reflections, I’m in a very surly mood.
“Hey,” Jack says with a grin but then sobers when he catches sight of me. “What happened?”
“I need to change,” I reply and march straight into my office where I have a spare outfit waiting—just for times like this.
He follows me and doesn’t turn away as I start to strip out of my soiled clothes.
He swallows hard when I’m down to my bra and panties.
He’s been staying with me, sleeping with me for several days, but aside from some stolen kisses, there hasn’t been any sex.
We’re both exhausted, physically and emotionally, by the time we fall into bed.
But I can see by the light in his eyes that he’d like to change that very soon.
“Tell me what happened,” he says.
“I got coffee at Witches Brew,” I reply. “Went to see Mallory, picked up some fun things. We’re going to Inn Boudreaux for a thing next week, by the way.”
“A thing.”
“That’s right, a thing.” My voice is snappy now, but I don’t care. “Then I went back to my car, and there was a creepy-ass photo staring at me through the windshield. I’m getting really sick and tired of these photos, Jack. People missing their eyes is just…wrong.”
“I won’t argue that. Where’s the picture?”
“I took it to Cash.” I walk past him to the little kitchenette I have for coffee emergencies and start to make a cup.
“Without showing the rest of us?”
I scowl and wait impatiently for my coffee to brew.
“It’s just like the others. Well, except he’s not going to kill this one until tomorrow.”
“Shit,” he mutters and stalks around the kitchenette. “Male or female?”
“A woman.” My voice is softer now. “She’s pretty. And he’s going to kill her. And, frankly, I’m sick to death of being scared. And worried. And drinking potions in my fucking coffee.”
I pour cream into the brew, give it a quick stir, and take a sip.
“I’m tired of this, Jack. Of feeling like I’m walking on eggshells. Hell, I can’t even walk through the French Quarter to buy some damn soap without him scaring the shit out of me. I dropped my coffee all over myself, and it was just awful. Millie insists I drink her potions, but I just want coffee. That’s it. Just caffeine and angel tears in a cup.”
“Okay.”
He wraps his arms around me and cradles my head against his chest, clearly aware that I’m in the middle of a mental breakdown.
Jackson always did give the best hugs around.
“I’m sorry.” He rocks me back and forth. “You’re right. It’s all bullshit. I hate that you’re scared and being tormented. I want to hunt the bastard down and kill him all over again, just for that alone. It’s not right.”
“He ruined my morning.” I sniff against him. “I was having a great day.”
“You still will,” he says and kisses my hair. “Especially when I tell you I sold that blue chair over there for the full asking price.”
My eyes follow his hand, and I nod. “Yeah, that’s good news. And I heard from the builder for Mama’s house when I was on my way to Millie’s earlier. They can start pouring the foundation next week.”
“See? It’s still a good day. Letting him mess everything up every time he does something like this is only making him happy,” he reminds me. “Let’s not give him that satisfaction.”
“It might make him escalate,” I warn him. “He tends to throw tantrums.”
“I don’t care about his tantrums. I care about you and your mental well-being.”
“Which means I need coffee,” I add and reach for the mug, taking a sip. “You know, Cash brought up a good point when I saw him. I told him I left the photo under the windshield wiper because I didn’t want to touch it.”
“Christ, you had to look at that while you drove?”
“Yeah, it sucked. Anyway, I don’t see anything when I touch the photos. I feel the heartbeat and heat, which is so damn creepy I don’t even want to think about it, but I don’t have visions of anything like I do when I touch other things. Is he blocking me?”
“He might be,” Jack says, thinking it over. “He might have cast some kind of spell on them so you can’t see anything. He wouldn’t want to be caught too soon.”
“I’m going to have to touch the body,” I say and set my mug aside. “When they find this new girl, I’m going to have to touch her.”
“Why?” He brushes my hair away from my face, sending shivers through me.
The good kind.
“Because he’s blocked me on the photos. But if I touch her, I might be able to see him. Or at least get a handle on some things. It helped when I touched one of the victims when he was still alive.”
“I think that’s too much, sweets,” he says, shaking his head slowly. “It’s too much to ask of you.”
“No, it’s not.” I take his hand in mine. “Jack, if I can make this end, it’s not too much at all. I’ll do anything to get rid of him for good.”
“I didn’t think you could read people,” he says with a scowl.
“I didn’t think I could either,” I say softly. “But nothing about this has been normal. Brielle saw full apparitions. Millie discovered all of her past lives with Lucien. It’s all been anything but normal.”
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers and pulls me against him. Those strong arms wrap around me once more. “I think we need an evening that doesn’t revolve around a paranormal serial killer.”
“Oh, do tell.”
I feel him smile against my hair.
“I’m going to make you dinner. And we’re going to watch a movie, something light that will make you laugh. And then I’m going to draw you a hot bath to soak in.”
“Well, that sounds pretty great.” I sigh and sink into him. “Can I have bubbles in my bath?”
“You can have anything you want, sweets.”
Chapter Twelve
Jackson
“Maybe we should close the shop now and get started on the bubble bath early,” Daphne suggests and hugs me closer, making me laugh.
“It’s been steady in here this morning,” I reply and kiss her head, then let her pull away from me. If I could, I’d keep my arms around her all the time. At least then, I’d know she’s safe. “But if you want to play hooky, I’m always up for it.”
“You, Jackson Pruitt, are a bad influence.”
I grin and cross my arms over my chest. “I never claimed otherwise.”
She giggles, and suddenly, the edges of my vision grow fuzzy. Gray.
“Just stay in bed,” she coos and reaches for me with those talented hands as I slip out from under the covers. She falls facedown on the mattress when she misses me.
“You need coffee,” I remind her. “And I know what your wrath feels like when you’re deprived of caffeine first thing in the morning.”
“Well, yeah. Of course, I need coffee. But I could use something else first.” She waggles her eyebrows and lets the blanket fall to reveal her plump, full breasts.
The breasts I enjoyed all night long.
I crawl back onto the mattress and sink into her plump lips, enjoying how she gives herself to me so completely and without qualms.
I’m about to say fuck the coffee and have her one more time when she suddenly pushes me back, her eyes wide, and hurries from the bed. She wraps her robe around herself and runs through the apartment.
“What’s going on?” I demand, but she doesn’t stop until she reaches the front door.
She pulls it open and then lets out a strangled gasp.
“Jack?”
I shake myself out of the vision. “What
?”
“Your phone’s ringing.” Daphne scowls at me. “What did you see?”
I shake my head again and answer the phone. “Hello?”
“Hi there, Jackson. I know you’re busy, and I don’t want to interrupt anything important, but I wanted to talk to you for a minute about Oliver.”
I frown at Miss Annabelle’s statement. “You’re never interrupting. What’s wrong with Oliver?”
Daphne steps closer so she can hear the other end of the conversation.
“Well, he just doesn’t look good, Jack. I asked him how he’s feeling, and I can tell that it isn’t great, but he’s just too darn stubborn to go to the doctor. I was hoping you’d have a little time today to come and talk some sense into him.”
“I’m on my way,” I promise as Daphne immediately flips the Open sign to Closed. “We’ll be there in just a little while. What’s he doing now?”
“He’s napping.” I can hear tears in her voice. “I’m really worried about him.”
“We’ll get to the bottom of this. Daphne and I are on our way.”
I end the call and send Daphne a grim look. “I’m sorry about this.”
“Why on Earth are you sorry?” she asks and fetches her purse. “Oliver is your family. Let’s go take care of it.”
We rush out to my car, and I drive faster than I likely should through New Orleans, but the urgency to get to Oliver is a driving force in my gut.
Daphne reaches over and takes my hand in hers.
“He’s going to be fine,” she says with bright confidence. “We’ll talk him into going to the doctor and get it all figured out.”
I nod, turn into Oliver’s driveway, and barely get the car parked and shut off before I’m rushing to the door of the house.
“Thank you for coming,” Miss Annabelle says as she opens the door. “He’s still asleep. He’s been sleeping most of the morning.”
“In the bedroom?” I ask.
“That’s right. Go on in. It’s okay.”
I hurry to the back of the house and into the bedroom. Oliver is in bed, lying on his back. His breathing is shallow, and for a man with such dark skin, he’s damn pale.
I sit on the edge of the bed and take his hand in mine. “Hey, Ollie. I need you to wake up for me.”
His eyes flutter open, then close again as if he just can’t fight against the sleep.
“Ollie, we need to get you to a doctor.”
“I’m fine,” he whispers through chapped lips.
“I don’t think you are. We’re all worried about you, and it’ll make us feel a lot better if you get checked out. Miss Annabelle is worried sick. You don’t want to make her fuss, do you?”
“Always fusses,” he whispers. “Just tired.”
I look up at Daphne, who hovers nearby. “Call an ambulance. It’ll be safer.”
“On it.”
She pulls her phone out of her bag and calls emergency services as I watch Oliver slip back into a deep sleep.
“He’s been like this all day,” Miss Annabelle says as she takes his other hand and kisses his knuckles. “I couldn’t get him to eat or drink anything at all.”
“They’re on their way. Five minutes,” Daphne says. “I’m going to wait for them outside.”
“Thank you,” I reply.
“I’ll go with you,” Miss Annabelle says and hurries out of the room with Daphne.
“Too much fussin’,” Oliver says, catching my attention. “Can’t a man just sleep?”
“Not like this,” I reply. “This isn’t normal for you. I need to get you all checked out to make sure it’s nothing serious. I’ve already lost two parents. I refuse to lose you, too.”
A frown creases the area between his eyebrows, and then he just sighs.
“Fair enough, then.”
It’s not long before the ladies escort the EMTs into the room, and they immediately start asking questions.
How long has he been like this?
Is he on any medications?
Is he allergic to anything?
They load him onto a stretcher and take him out to the waiting ambulance. Miss Annabelle rides with them, and Daph and I follow closely behind.
“I’ve never seen him like that,” I say and wipe my hand over my mouth in agitation. “Jesus, Daph, he looked half-dead.”
“He looks exhausted,” she corrects me. “Maybe it was something he ate or a medication he took too much of. It could literally be anything, Jack. Let’s not freak out until we speak to the doctor.”
I just nod and pull into the emergency room parking lot. We hurry inside, but the nurses tell us that we can’t go back to his room until they get him settled.
I pace the waiting room.
Daphne calls her sisters.
Finally, close to an hour after we arrive, we’re shown back to Oliver’s room.
He’s in a hospital gown with an IV in his arm, wires attached to his chest, and oxygen in his nose. The strong man I’ve known for all my life looks small and sick in that bed.
And everything in me goes stone-cold with fear.
“It looks worse than it is,” Miss Annabelle is quick to say as she reaches for my hand. “They’re running a few tests, but the doctor thinks he’s just dehydrated and exhausted. Oliver’s been working quite a lot and stays up late to read and research so he can try to help you two. He’s worried.”
“Lots of visitors.”
We turn at the sound of the doctor’s voice. She opens her laptop and smiles at all of us.
“I’m glad you brought Mr. Oliver in to see us today.” She turns to the patient. “The blood tests show a little inflammation in your body. You’re certainly dehydrated, which is dangerous by itself. I don’t like the shallow breathing, but according to the chest x-ray, you don’t have any pneumonia, so that’s a good sign.”
“Can I go home now?” Oliver asks.
“No way, José,” the doctor says with a grin. “You’re going to hang out here for a day or two so I can keep an eye on you. We’ll keep pumping some fluids into you, get you to eat some of our delicious food, and get your strength up.”
“I can do that at home.”
“Not yet,” the doctor says, just as stubborn as Oliver. “Don’t worry, it’s not so bad. Miss Annabelle can stay with you as long as she likes. We’ll just get you up to a regular room and get you all settled in.”
I shake my head when it looks as if Oliver might argue.
“You’re staying put,” I inform him. “If I have to stay with you and make sure you don’t do anything stupid, I will.”
Oliver doesn’t slap back at me for that, which tells me he really doesn’t feel well and is exactly where he needs to be.
“Fine.” Oliver shifts in the bed. “I’ll stay.”
“Great,” the doctor says. “I’ll be back to check on you in a while. And after they take you upstairs, I’ll look in on you up there, too.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I say to her. “I know that’s not usual.”
“I like him,” is all she says before leaving the room.
“Already charming the hospital staff,” Daphne says with a wink for Miss Annabelle. “What can we bring you?”
“Oh, I think I’m fine for now, thank you.” Miss Annabelle leaves Oliver’s side long enough to give me a big hug. “You’re a good boy.”
I laugh and kiss her cheek. “I’ve got you fooled.”
“You can’t fool me,” she says and pats my cheek. “Now, you two go back to doing whatever I interrupted. We’ll be just fine here. I have my cross-stitch, and I’ll keep my eye on this one.”
We say our goodbyes, and I promise to come back in the morning to check on things. When we’re in my car, Daphne sighs.
“You know what?” she says and glances my way. “I know it’s barely two in the afternoon, but it feels like we’ve already lived through a whole day. I want a glass of wine.”
“Your wish is my command.”
* * *
“Would you eat the last apple?” I ask her as the credits roll, and she stands to take our mess into the kitchen. I grab some glasses and plates and follow her.
“What?”
“If we were stuck somewhere overnight, hungry and cold, and you only had one measly apple, would you keep it for yourself or share it with me?”
She laughs and rinses a plate before stacking it in the dishwasher.
“We’re not living in Funny Farm. But, no, I wouldn’t be stingy. I would share.”
“I might not share,” I admit and then laugh when her jaw drops, and she stares at me in horror. “What? It’s just an apple.”
“Never mind, then. I’m not sharing either.” She firms her lips and shakes a glass at me. “You can just fend for yourself, Jackson Pruitt. You and your selfishness.”
I take the glass from her grasp and set it aside, then pull her against me and kiss her long and slow, just soaking her in. When I pull back to take a breath, she murmurs, “I don’t kiss men who don’t share.”
I chuckle and kiss her once more. “Okay, I’d probably share with you. If you asked nicely. Now, I promised you a bath.”
“A bubble bath,” she reminds me and lets me lead her to the bathroom. “Oh, wait. I got you something today. I almost forgot.”
She hurries to a bag on the dining room table and comes back holding a little brown pouch.
She shakes the contents into my hand, and I stare down at the pendant on a silver chain.
“We all wear our stones,” she says softly. “Mine is rose quartz. For harmony, love, and trust. It’s a healing stone. With our stones—my sisters and mine—and now Cash’s and Lucien’s—”
“The guys wear them, too?”
“Of course. Lucien has always worn black onyx, but Brielle finally convinced Cash to wear his amethyst, as well. He just wears it under his shirt. Anyway, they’ve all been cast with a protection spell, cleansed, and charged. And I had the same done for this one. I know it looks purple, but it’s not amethyst. It’s auralite. For—”