Familiar Stranger

by Michele Hauf

  “Is this a direct order?”

  “Huh? No, I…No, in effect, I’ll be sneaking you in.”

  “I don’t want you to get in trouble. Rules were made to be followed.”

  “Jack, the rules will separate you and I forever if they find out I’ve been consorting with P-Cell. But I have to do this. You need to know the truth. It’s not a spooky fun house of creatures, it’s just a normal manor

  —well, okay, so not normal. Will you come inside with me?”

  Crossing his arms, Jack scanned the stretch of roadside. Not so much as a cricket chirping. Made sense, when the forest was guarded by nasty stone gargoyles.

  If she possessed an ulterior motive, he couldn’t figure it.

  “Brilliant.” He reached inside the Range Rover and retrieved the keys. Turning, he again found himself in Mersey’s arms. The smell of her—

  sweet and citrusy, eatable—did things to his staunch desire to remain impartial until he knew what she was up to.

  “Kiss me again,” she whispered and slid her hands over his chest. Her lips brushed his, a cool petal against stone. A sigh tickled his mouth. Unwilling to resist, Jack lifted Mersey up to sit upon the hood. She wrapped her legs around his hips.

  “What are you up to, Mersey? Tell me, because you’re driving me crazy.”

  “I’m just kissing you.”

  “Kissing me or killing me? You want to lead me inside a place forbidden to outsiders? Do you have ulterior intentions? I’ve just been chased out of that damned forest by two gargoyles. Living stone things. One chomp and I’m pretty sure I would have been monster supper.”

  “The threshold guardians,” she said between kisses. And caresses, and slipping her hands up under his shirt. Wanting and greedy, she wouldn’t allow him to deny the touch. “No one ever gets past them, or Ophelia.”

  “Ophelia?”

  “Sweet little old lady who lives in the cottage.”

  “Let me guess—she has sharp teeth?”

  “Even sharper senses. But we can avoid them if we take the back route on the ever-changing trail. Jack, I know this forest like I know my heart.”

  “Is that so?” He slid his palm over her soft sweater and nestled it below her breast. A strong, proud heartbeat there. And softness that tangled with his need to remain hard, impermeable and staunch. “And what does your heart say to you?”

  “You really want to know?” So much wonder in her tone. He considered it for a long moment. Darkness kissed his cheek. No, that was Mersey. And there, she traced the curve of his scar so that he sucked in a breath. She wore the proverbial heart on her sleeve. She was open to wonder and enchanted him with an electric draw. He was everything she was not, yet he wanted only to stand in her splendor and wish it to seep into him.

  “Yes,” he finally said, “I want to know what your heart knows.”

  “He is the one.”

  Spoken so distinctly, and without pause, Jack felt it like a shove against his chest. He pulled away and stepped around in front of the car. For he struggled with shapes inside himself that were dark and unwilling to be changed.

  The one? He was no one’s one.

  “What sort of faery-tale nightmare are you playing with me, Mersey?”

  “It’s not a game. I thought we both felt the same way about each other?”

  “Yes, but…”

  Her hand slipped into his. He hadn’t heard her shift from the car hood, yet now she stood next to him, her arm tight to his side and her head pressed against his shoulder. “You’re the hero, Jack. The one my heart has always pined for.”

  He glanced to the corner of the car where the hood had been crunched into a wedge following his adventure in the snowstorm. First, the one, and now a hero?

  Too trusting, this woman. It hurt Jack’s heart that he could not embrace her so easily as she desired.

  “I’m going to disappoint you, Mersey.”

  “Never.” Soft, slightly cool lips met his in a sensual explosion of heat, and he couldn’t make himself not kiss her back.

  How one person could have so much faith in him frightened more than a brimstone-stinking dread demon. He didn’t want to disappoint Mersey. But he didn’t know how to make her imagined dreams of chivalry and romance come true.

  The world didn’t work that way. Not anymore. It had become every man for himself. Women and children first, but only if they could run fast enough, or if they had an armed man before them leading the way. Jack wanted to lead the way, but he wasn’t sure Mersey would follow. She was too strong to be led.

  Her warmth slipped away, and she stepped over to the edge of the road. Would she slip so easily from his life? Could he be the hero she wanted?

  “Come on, Jack! I want to slip in during the night.”

  “The night?” Jack looked to the forest, and indeed, it had darkened. Yet, here on the road it was day.

  “The rainbow will guide us.”

  “The rainbow?” He followed as Mersey tugged him along.

  “The rainbow is always brightest at night and it ends right over the manor.”

  Jack felt the ground slope and he knew they were taking the ditch. It had become that dark. He gripped Mersey’s hand, figuring if she were a familiar—“Can you see like a cat?”

  “I can.”

  “Right then. Is it day or night right now?” He took another step, but Mersey had stopped.

  “Day. But the forest changes at whim. I’d never lead you in if it was true night, because mortals who enter at night can never leave. And because it’s so strange, you must promise me one thing before we enter the forest, Jack.”

  “What’s that?”

  She clasped his hand and stood up on tiptoes, and her breath dusted his chin. He thought she wanted another kiss and so bent close. Instead she whispered, “Don’t let go of my hand. Ever. If you do, you will become pisky led, and you’ll never find your way home.”

  “Pisky led?” Though the forest was dark, the sensation that they were being watched was very strong. “I believe it.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  The question of the moment. With all his heart he wanted to trust this woman. And to walk through the forest, literally blind for the lack of light, he had to trust she would lead him well.

  “Jack?”

  “I do trust you.” And, he did.

  “And do you believe?” came her hopeful whisper.

  “I…” Believe in there being one man for Mersey? No, he didn’t believe in just one. But…He thought of the glass ball sitting on the front seat of the Rover. A thousand charging horses couldn’t have made him toss it out now that it had returned to his life. Should have brought it along. “I do believe.” In some things.

  “That’s my hero.”

  A soft kiss landed on his chin, and then, like the feline she was, Mersey padded into the darkest depths of the mysterious forest that was capped by a midnight rainbow.

  “You don’t need your fancy copper rods to witch a line?”

  Jack followed, one hand in Mersey’s as she sought a ley line, the source of the path, as she had explained.

  “Not here in the forest. The concentration of energies is so strong I’ll feel it immediately. It’s very close.”

  As they broached the inner sanctum of the forest, the lacking light segued to an eerie green that wasn’t quite twilight, but far from the blackness of midnight.

  Still and silent, the air here was much fresher than in London proper. Jack wondered when he’d last breathed such clean air, then decided not to get too used to it. All good things…

  He suspected eyes stared at him from every cranny and moss-covered depth. The proverbial skitter of dread traveled up the back of his neck. But his scar didn’t pulse, so at least he didn’t have to worry about a demonic presence.

  While Jack hoped his enemy was clever enough to follow, he also prayed it would not harm Mersey. He had Mersey’s back. He’d not let anything—

  demonic, living stone or otherwise—h
arm her.

  A thick carpet of verdant moss coated the ground. It shaped over rocks and tree roots and crawled up the trunks.

  This forest was not right. He could feel it as the moss received his footsteps, and shifted subtly, almost as if to trip him up. And the glimmer of dancing lights flashing in the grasses and overhead in the tree canopy? Best not consider the source.

  “So, you spend a lot of time in this forest?” he asked as they twisted around a nonpath that trailed beneath a shelter of tree cover.

  “I like to jog the path that surrounds the manor whenever I get a chance. It’s always a new trail, though it starts and ends at the same point.”

  “I see.” Brilliant. Moving trails and shifting ground. Dark when it should be daylight. And he’d done with the stone gargoyles. What next? Faeries flittering by? “Tell me how you became a demon hunter?”

  “I was born to it,” Mersey said. “I prefer to capture them as opposed to allowing them to tap me.”

  “Don’t like it, eh?”

  “I’ve had a bad experience. A demon kept me in a silver cage once when I was tapped while in my other shape.”

  “Not good.”

  “Nope. Silver will hold a familiar fast. Freedom is a good thing.”

  She skipped over a mossy rock and Jack did the same.

  “My parents were members of the Cadre,” she said. “So I was raised here.”

  “They still live here?”

  “They’re gone. My mother died when I was ten and my father, well…let’s say he’s absent.”

  Just like him, then. One parent gone, and his mother, she lived in the States and they spoke infrequently.

  Mum had taken her curious fortune, sold the family land and moved to a Las Vegas retirement community in hopes of meeting Barry Manilow, her favorite singer. Jack didn’t mind; it made him feel good to know his mother was getting on well.

  “So,” he said, “the Cadre must be like a family to you?”

  “They like to think so. But it’s not as if any of the initiates dole out hugs or serve as a warm shoulder to cry out your troubles to. There’s Lady Dawn…”

  She nimbly avoided a twisted tree root.

  “Oh, never mind her. And forget about girl chats and dating advice. Not to mention, my experience with the dating scene. I don’t have family, Jack.”

  “Family is overrated,” he tried. “And you do dates just fine, if you ask me.”

  “Thanks. But family, it’s all that I want. I don’t think the Cadre is the place for me, but I feel so lost in London.”

  Mersey stopped suddenly and pressed a finger to her lips. She pointed across a clearing, and then pulled him to settle onto a moss-covered rock. Still holding a tight clasp on her hand, Jack knelt and watched the spectacle in fascinated silence.

  If his eyes saw correctly, there were dozens of faeries fluttering in and about a round clearing. They were no bigger than dragonflies, and glowed like firebugs. Grass that looked to be trimmed by a mower, yet dotted with colorful flowers, marked out a wide circle. The air smelled like rosemary and grass and a crisp autumn stream.

  “A faery version of a crop circle?” he wondered quietly.

  “The faery round,” Mersey said, close to his ear. Her breath entered his pores and coaxed him to her side. “Isn’t it magical?”

  “Is that one of those things that if a man walks into it—”

  “He’ll be dancing for decades with no cares in the world. Let’s not go further. Even I don’t want to upset the sidhe.”

  Sidhe. Another word for faery. Jack had scanned P-Cell’s information about the sort, leaving the intense study for the gray seekers. Until now, his stint in P-Cell had revolved around demons. This was a welcome respite. As far as otherworldly happenings went, he could get behind this one. It appeared nonthreatening enough.

  Something pale caught his attention and he bent to pick it up. A plastic bracelet. Jack examined the design. “Some girl must have lost this. Bunch of plastic skulls on it.” He showed it to Mersey.

  “Oh, Jack, throw it. Quickly. Over there into that bush!”

  “Why?”

  “Those aren’t made of plastic. They’re pisky skulls.”

  “Bloody hell.” He flicked the bracelet away. “What kind of creature does something like that? And if it’s lying on the ground, does that mean it’s lurking?”

  “A troll, likely. We’ve one that lives under the bridge over the stream, nasty thing. Trolls eat piskies like candy bars.”

  Jack couldn’t help but think he’d pass next time he had the urge for sweets. Oh, he believed and all, but he knew demons, and had thus far only stalked them in mortal cities.

  Everything about this forest gave him the creeps, and put him on guard.

  “Oh, look,” Mersey whispered, “they’re dancing. I think it’s a wedding.”

  Indeed, a procession of miniature lights danced with cocklebells and formed a tunnel down which two faeries then floated. Jack kept a keen eye peeled for lurking trolls.

  At his peripheral vision, he sighted the small creatures dancing and it gave him wonder.

  “So…” He spread his arm around Mersey’s waist and pulled her up against him. “You mentioned that you had kissed a faery. Tell me how one goes about snogging with one so little.”

  “They’re not always so small. Some are, but others can shift to the more usual size. Most humanlike.”

  “I see.” He knew that. Maybe.

  “But you want details, am I right?”

  He planted a kiss to her shoulder and then waggled an eyebrow. “As salacious as possible.”

  “Could you ever be jealous of a faery, Jack?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “Even a faery who might fancy me?”

  “I…” He didn’t like to consider that there were some things in this world he couldn’t understand, and never would. But he did know one thing. “I would be. Any person—” or creature “—that could win your affection over my own attentions would certainly put up my hackles.”

  Pushing up her loose sleeve, he kissed his way along Mersey’s forearm, landing on the soft inner skin of her elbow. He liked it there. Fragrant and silken. He traced his tongue over her warm flesh.

  “Oh, Jack. How can a man who lives by the gun be so gentle?”

  “My weapon is a small part of what I do. It’s not me, Mersey. I’d never harm you. You know that, don’t you?”

  The glimmer of faery lights twinkled behind Mersey as she turned to press her forehead against Jack’s. “I know you have a gun with you. Did you intend to bring it inside the Cadre?”

  Caught, red-handed.

  “It’s all right by me,” she quickly added. “I’m not worried. You won’t get past the foyer with it.”

  “I’d like to see a bloke try take it away from me.”

  “You won’t even know it’s missing.” She smiled and ducked in to kiss him. The cool skim of the rings on her fingers tickled his cheek. Drawing back, she held her beringed hand before him, waggling her fingers in display.

  “You have three left,” Jack noted. “Did all the rest break?”

  “Yes.” Saddened, she said, “I don’t know why, but they’ve been falling away from me since meeting you.”

  “You said they were for protection? Maybe it’s that you don’t require it anymore?”

  “Because I have you? Do I have you, Jack?”

  “Always.”

  “Then I need to give you something.” She slid off one of the rings from her middle finger and then slid it onto Jack’s littlest finger. It stopped below the first knuckle. “You once had one similar?”

  Jack ran his thumb along the inside curve of the highly polished ring. That freaky night he didn’t need another reminder of.

  “I did. These are common, yes?”

  “Oh, sure. You can get them in bulk. But the ones I wear are bespelled.”

  He’d spent so much time trying to protect everyone else—to offer safety—and now she was o
ffering a simple protection to him. And yet, while he didn’t believe this object could manifest the power to protect, Beryth had alluded the rings kept him back from Mersey. And he felt it, like a hand caressing his heart. Much like the gazing ball, embedded with childhood wonder.

  “But you only have two left.”

  She kissed him again and pulled back with a grin. “Do you still have the other one, Jack?”

  “I…no. But I have this one now, eh?” Another kiss. She took it with a sigh. “Mmm, can’t get enough of you, love.”

  With Mersey fitting herself onto his lap, Jack didn’t care if the bloody faeries staged an attack. He’d fend them off—all without breaking the kiss with his girl.

  Yeah, his girl. Hematite rings and aviator cap and miles and miles of legs in sexy black boots with flirty satin ribbons. She could be his girl. It was easy to go there, even given his last tragic mistake with the opposite sex. Mersey wasn’t Monica. And he felt that even the things he couldn’t tell her, she might already know.

  His claim to her?

  Too bad that ring didn’t exist.

  “Be careful not to let go of my hand—Jack?”

  Everything about her screamed to be touched. The soft sweater hugging all her curves. And her nipples were hard against his chest, begging to be stroked.

  “No, don’t let go of my—”

  The faery lights blinked out.

  Jack sat alone under the dark canopy of leaves.

  Chapter 23

  “—M y hand. No!”

  They had been going at it, kissing and hugging and…that had involved more than the one hand. Mersey had felt the brief shock of contact as Jack’s fingers had stroked her nipple. Melting, she had wanted to become a part of him.

  Now, she sat alone on the mossy rock, her hands pressed to her breasts. His touch was gone. Jack was gone.

  The faery reel danced on behind her, oblivious to her loss. She shifted on the rock and searched the merriment. Gay music shimmied in iridescent waves. Diaphanous clothing fluttered above the clearing, the dancers suspended between heaven and earth. Everywhere laughter played syncopation to the night.