by Dannika Dark
I sat on the arm of his sofa. “I don’t think so. He wasn’t into anything illegal that you know about, was he?”
Wyatt shrugged. “Who isn’t these days? Everything’s illegal. Even my ’shrooms.”
Whether Wyatt wanted to admit it or not, Hooper’s death had affected him. Enough that drugs were his coping mechanism for the moment.
“I have a bad feeling about all this. The higher authority asked Christian and me to check out a murder scene. It wasn’t a job, just a favor. I can’t talk about it, but something colossal is brewing, and I feel like I’m sitting on the sidelines.”
“Can’t stop inevitability,” he said, rumpling his hair. Then he crawled toward the middle of the bed and sprawled out, facing the ceiling. “What if none of this is real? What if when we dream, that’s the real world, and this is really the dream?”
“So when you die in the dream, you die in real life?”
His eyes widened. “What a conundrum.”
That must have been his word for the day.
Wyatt’s gaze grew distant. “What if all the spirits are going back to the real world so the real version of them can die, and those who stay behind are saving their own lives? Does that mean their real bodies are without a soul?”
I sighed. Another few minutes of this conversation, and he’d probably be pontificating over the nature of man, ghost, and a higher power.
No, thanks.
As I left Wyatt to discover the secrets of the universe, I realized he was right. You couldn’t stop inevitability. Like the way all the events had fallen into place in order for my Creator to find me. Houdini might have sold me back to Keystone, but Fletcher—who hadn’t even been looking for me—had seen the ad. And known. If there was an order to things, why the hell would the universe let Fletcher get away instead of giving me my revenge? Houdini said it was to give me another chance, to go through the ordeal a second time with new eyes. I felt stronger the second time around, and I finally realized that Fletcher was neither god nor devil. Oddly enough, my time in captivity had been a healing process. After living in the Breed world, I finally saw him as a man and not a monster. I hated that I had to go through it a second time just to come to that realization, but suffering often leads to empowerment.
I pressed my back against Wyatt’s door, the song changing to one by Toto. It reminded me of when Crush would invite his biker friends over for barbecue and they’d sit outside and talk about road trips.
At least it wasn’t Air Supply.
My thoughts drifted to Gem.
Poor Gem.
Hooper didn’t deserve an ending like that. At least their relationship had never graduated to anything beyond casual. We all knew better than to get involved in something serious—that kind of relationship wouldn’t last with a job like ours. Would Viktor allow mates and spouses to live in the mansion? Even if he did, their lives would always be in danger because of our jobs.
Then my thoughts drifted to Christian and the mysterious feelings I had for him. Mysterious because of the memory wipe. Should I allow them to flourish? Thinking about Gem’s current situation made me hesitate. Our jobs were dangerous, and I might be setting myself up for heartbreak.
It also reminded me of the danger I’d inadvertently put my father in now that Fletcher was on the run. How deep of a loss could I sustain before it broke me? My fear was that one day, I would find out.
Gem slowly opened her eyes. Tears had dried on her lashes, and she wiped away clumps of mascara that had settled at the corners. She stared at a string of tiny battery-operated lights just beyond a sheer blue fabric panel hanging from her canopy bed.
For the first time in many years, she felt hollow, and that feeling frightened her. She didn’t want to lose herself again.
Gem grew up wondering what it felt like to be loved. The idea of love had become a curiosity, one that often steered her toward the wrong people. She connected with men but never loved them. Losing Hooper gutted her. Not because she saw a future with him, but because he was a light in this world and deserved a happy ending of his own. Had they never met, he wouldn’t have gone to the party, and he’d still be alive. He’d still be at work and planning a trip to South America.
It felt as if years had passed since they’d left Patrick’s house, and most of the events following were a blur. She remembered Claude carrying her to the car and then passing her over to Niko, who somehow squeezed into the Porsche with her in his lap. Maybe they were afraid that if they let go, she might run. And that was probably true. All Gem wanted to do was run from the pain and guilt, because sitting still hurt too much. She never even had the chance to say goodbye.
She steered her thoughts away from the actual murder, not wanting to burst into tears again. Part of her wanted to believe this was nothing but a nightmare and Hooper was still alive.
Now she was in her bed, keenly aware, thanks to Claude snoring at her feet, that none of it had been a dream.
Gem had never experienced love, so she wasn’t sure how to label the emotions she felt for Hooper. Adoration? He told the best stories and was a doting companion who always made her feel special.
Still staring at the twinkling light in her dark room, Gem swallowed a lump in her throat. A few small candles in colorful jars were flickering, and she soaked in the colors as if they might wash away the memories. She had a sudden urge to go downstairs and float in the pool for a while. Gem soaked in life and enjoyed it, but when negative energy seeped into her thoughts, floating canceled out all the noise.
Crestfallen, she forced herself to think of happy things so she wouldn’t wake up Claude with heavy emotions. Right now she just wanted to be alone more than anything. It took some effort, but she managed to free her legs from his warm and rumbling chest. He continued snoring like a sleeping lion. When she swung her feet over the edge of the bed and looked down, she realized she was still in her party dress.
Why did I wear this? she thought, tears welling in her eyes.
Had she jinxed the whole evening by dressing for a funeral? Gem couldn’t get it off fast enough. After the fabric fell to the floor and she stripped out of the red lace top beneath it, she put on a knee-length nightgown and fastened her kimono robe around her waist. Her quartz pendant felt hot to the touch, so she took it off and placed it on the bedside table. It had absorbed too much of her grief, and she wouldn’t be able to wear it until the sun removed all that negative energy.
She stopped at the foot of the bed and looked at her shelf by the window. Rocks and gemstones were inanimate things she could love, and she’d spent years adding to her collection. She suddenly had an urge to knock the shelves down and throw the crystals everywhere until they shattered.
Misery wasn’t supposed to touch her anymore—it wasn’t allowed.
She quashed the urge to destroy everything she loved and instead hurried to the door. Claude didn’t wake as she snuck out of the room and closed the door behind her.
“You’re up,” a voice said, making her jump.
Gem clutched her racing heart as she looked down. Niko was propped against the wall, his knees drawn up as if he’d been sitting there for a long time, a katana still affixed to his side.
“What are you doing out here?” she asked, but the inane question barely made it out before she wanted to swallow it back down.
“Forgive me for not making you aware of my presence,” he said in earnest. “Would you like to sit?”
“I was just going—”
“To swim,” he finished.
She blinked. “How did you know?”
“Because it’s what you do.”
It was foolish to think that any of them could hide their idiosyncrasies. Each of them managed their pain differently. Viktor drank his away, Shepherd would exercise or meditate, Raven took those precarious walks on the roof, Wyatt disappeared into his room and played music, and Gem floated.
She took a seat to his right and shivered when her back touched the stone wall.
“Did you warm this?”
“Being a Thermal comes in handy.”
“Thanks.”
“If you don’t mind my saying, your light looks better. Did you get some rest?”
“Some,” she admitted, wiping the smudged mascara below her eyes. “I must look like a raccoon.”
Niko held a smile in his voice. “I didn’t notice.”
“Consider yourself lucky.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
Her stomach dipped when she realized her faux pas. “I’m sorry, that was rude. I don’t always think before I speak.”
“Needn’t apologize. Being authentic is an honest way to live, and I wouldn’t change it.”
She stared at the wall in front of them. A candle burned in a lantern several feet to the left, bright enough to wash the floors with soft light. “Occasionally, I regret choosing to be a Mage.”
“We all go through those regrets in our early years. Somewhere in your five hundreds, you learn to accept that life is painful.”
“If I’d stayed a Relic, I’d be an old woman by now. My life would be almost over.”
“And you would have missed all these opportunities you have now to understand the depth of pain and accept it as part of the natural cycle. Mortals are always in a hurry to do things, but they never understand that the most important thing they can do in life is change. Change themselves, change the world—that’s our burden to carry as immortals. It’s what we do here at Keystone. We make sacrifices to make this world a better place. Sometimes people have to die for that change to begin. These are things you’ll learn when you get as old as me.”
“Old as dirt?” she quipped, her joke falling flat. Gem wondered about Niko’s previous remark. “What do you mean by my light looking better? What does it usually look like?” She tried to broach the topic of his blindness with sensitivity. “What do I look like to you?”
Niko turned, his almond-shaped eyes seeming to look her all over even though he couldn’t see her physical form. Despite the low light, his pale eyes sparkled. “I have nothing to compare you to, but you are… lustrous. Your light is unique—a deep amethyst and silver that sometimes floats like a ribbon when you walk by.”
She caught that image and held it in her mind for a moment. A tear escaped and slipped down her cheek. “What did Hooper look like?”
Niko put his arm around her. Gem didn’t really want to know the answer, because it didn’t matter anymore. Hooper’s light was forever extinguished.
“There’s something I want to tell you, but I don’t know if I should.”
She sniffled. “What?”
“You might despise me for my timing. I don’t wish to say anything cruel just to dim your pain.”
“Well, now you have to tell me.” She leaned away to get a look at his face but couldn’t decipher his expression.
His brow furrowed, and when he tipped his head forward, his straight black hair created a curtain. She wanted to reach out and tuck it behind his ear.
But Niko must have understood how important it was for the sighted world to see facial expressions, because he brushed his hair back with his fingers. She briefly wondered about his age when he was turned, but it was difficult to tell with immortals. She guessed maybe thirty. In his time, that was probably middle age for most men.
His lips thinned as if an internal battle was waging. “How do you feel now compared to earlier this evening?”
“I don’t understand.”
He stroked his bottom lip.
“Just say it, Niko.”
“Hooper wasn’t allowing your relationship to develop… genuinely.”
Gem noticed his word choice. Language was her trade, so she knew the importance of phrasing. “Do you mean something to do with his Sensor gifts?”
Niko bowed his head.
Gem sighed, embarrassed that someone had noticed. “I think I knew that already.”
He blinked, astonishment flashing in his eyes.
“I’m not as naive as I look. I had a feeling something was going on after the fourth time we went out. He always fixed my drinks or handled them. But you know what? I didn’t care. Even if he was spiking my drinks with Sensor magic, he made me feel happy. I liked being around him, and maybe it was all just an illusion, but it was a nice one.”
“Do you feel differently about Sensor magic than you do drugs or alcohol? I just assumed…”
“I know what you mean.” Gem drew her legs closer, her bare feet chilled. “I think Sensor magic can be a beautiful thing, and even though it has addictive qualities, I struggle with believing that what he did was wrong. How can joy be an addiction?”
Niko’s voice softened around the edges. “It can be the worst kind. Deception plays with your heart, not your mind or your desires. And your heart is a very precious thing.”
Gem choked out a sob that came out of nowhere. “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have invited him. I shouldn’t have let him go off and leave me alone. They kept asking to speak to him privately, and I told him to go. All I wanted to do was make him happy.”
Niko put his hand on top of her head. The gesture was so odd that she wanted to laugh. When the pad of his thumb found her cheek, he wiped away the tears.
“Do you want to touch my face?” she asked, knowing he sometimes did that to get a sense of someone’s features.
“No.” He withdrew his hand. “I wouldn’t want to learn what your sorrow looks like.”
She essayed a smile. “I guess you’re right. Nothing worse than a wrinkly, wet face with swollen eyes. Can you really tell what a person looks like that way?”
“Not the way you think. But I’m curious like everyone else. Some people have a strong nose. Others have a stubborn chin. Dimples and lines are curiosities, and the differences intrigue me. But sometimes, for just a moment, the light shapes itself, and I think I can almost see a person the way they really look.”
She wiped her nose and realized she was doing it all over his coat. “I’ll give your coat to Kira to wash. I’ve cried all over it.”
“Let your heart mourn for as long as you need. Hooper’s deeds were misguided, but if it’s any consolation, I think he did it because he cared about you. Enough that he thought it might give him a better chance. People cheat in life because they’re afraid of failure.” He leaned forward to get up. “Would you like someone to keep you company? Blue? Maybe Raven?”
Gem didn’t want to see anyone. She had no plans to go down for breakfast in the morning or match the doleful smiles that passed her in the hall. She didn’t think she could bear anyone saying how sorry they were or talking about Hooper in the past tense. She needed to get through this night and then figure out how damaged she really was from the loss. Even if she didn’t love Hooper, he was still a charismatic and thoughtful guy who had deserved a long life. Gem wanted to remember him in a good light, because she feared she might one day grow to resent him for making her an addict to his affection.
“Gem?”
She snapped out of her thoughts. “What?”
“Maybe you need someone to talk to.”
“I don’t want to see anyone, not even Claude. He means well, but could you peel him off my bed and tell everyone I need privacy? I just… I need…”
Without waiting for her to finish, Niko bowed. “As you wish, braveheart.”
Chapter 6
My knee bounced up and down while I waited impatiently on the bench near the front door of the restaurant. Every time someone strolled in, a blast of cold air chilled me all over again.
“I thought you had reservations,” I said, shivering from the gust of wind.
Christian leaned forward and twiddled his thumbs. When he looked over his shoulder at me, his fangs were out in a vicious display. “That fecking arseface knows I called a week ago. It’
s in his bloody book. If they can’t find a table, they need to throw out one of these shitebags and make room. And if that eejit walks over one more time and offers a glass of water while we wait, I’m going to rip his heart out through his belly button and serve it on a platter to the next customer who steals a table that should’ve been ours a half hour ago.”
I crossed my legs. “Stop. You’re making my nipples hard.”
“I approve of that dress, by the way.”
He meant my ankle-length cotton skirt that any decent Puritan holding on to her virginity would approve of. Because Christian wouldn’t tell me where we were going, I didn’t want to dress like a slob. I also didn’t want to be underdressed in winter, so I’d put on knee-length boots, a long skirt, and a sleeveless turtleneck. I wore my trench coat this time, and though I’d initially taken it off while we waited, the parade of customers going in and out had forced me to put it back on.
I felt a sharp stab of guilt when I thought about Gem. “Maybe we shouldn’t have gone out. It’s a little insensitive.”
“You heard what Niko said this morning. The poor lass wants her privacy.”
“Yep, and now we look like assholes. We could have at least made her something to eat.”
“I’m sorry your beau is dead, but here’s a salad to brighten your dreary day.” Christian gave me a pointed look. “I’m sure that’s precisely what she wants.”
“You know what I mean. I know she doesn’t want to see anyone, but it feels dismissive that we’re out on a date. That was pretty traumatic, having to see Hooper with his head lopped off.”
“Now you’re making my nipples hard. Can we not talk about expired corpses on a holiday?”
“You mean the day a naked baby in a loincloth shoots unwitting victims with an arrow?”
“Aye. The very one.”
I glared at the man who stood at the lectern as if he were guarding the pearly gates. Past him, customers were drinking cocktails at a horseshoe-shaped bar. The host had suggested we sit at the bar if we wanted to eat, to which Christian had replied, “Over my rotting corpse.”