“One-eyed Willie, do you recall how you ended up with that nickname?”
“You sure are in a mood something fierce tonight. How about you turn your back at least,” he says stifling a laugh.
“I'm going to be in a fierce mood until that demon motel, gets on a plane to Texas and stays there.” Will takes the cue to keep quiet. I hear a distant rustling outside and detect someone’s heartbeat about fifty yards from the house. I let Will know I’m going to check it out.
I follow the sound down to the beach swiftly but stealthily. The tall Saw grass keeps me hidden from sight. Whoever it is, isn’t moving much anymore, they’re calm, reducing my threat assessment to DEFCON five.
I see a figure sitting on a log, lost in thought. I inch closer and recognize the jet black emo hairstyle as Jesson.
“You’re getting slow in your old age,” he chides. We were all created on the same day, neither aging nor slowing down one bit.
“Yeah, well why are you creeping around here anyways?” I say, sounding like my mood has followed me outside. I take a seat at the end of the log, grateful for the reprieve. I couldn’t stand another minute watching Sam hold her, paw all over her, kiss her like he’d starve to death without her lips.
“She visited me in the recovery room the night before she had her memories altered.”
“Really? She didn’t say anything.”
“I barely remember seeing her there myself. I was lingering in and out of consciousness that night. But I do remember she asked me who took her. I think she suspected me,” he says, and I hate to admit it but I had my suspicions as well about Jesson.
“You know who took her?” The hair on my neck stands up. She almost died down there. Whoever took her will pay dearly even if I’ve to hunt down every demon under Malphas’ command.
“Nehemiah knew, so I thought he told you,” Jesson admits. My jaw clenches at the realization of one fact – my commanding superior has made a grave error in judgment.
“Who was it Jesson.” He rises from his seat and paces back and forth, kicking up sand as he walks. He just got his grace back and I’m sure he’s on pins and needles with his standing. I recall the exact day the fallen got tossed out of grace, loosing most of their powers, condemned to rule over evil. Jesson didn’t really want to side with them, but they managed to convince him it was the right thing to do. Power can have a strange effect of people. He finally stops in front of me.
“It was the kid, Sam. I don’t know who possessed him. There was chatter among the ranks that Malphas rewarded Orneus only to cruelly punish him later for some misdeed. He tortured me when he figured out that I had led Nehemiah to her. So it may have been him.”
Nehemiah’s blatant disregard for Brennen’s safety is shameful. I storm off, leaving Jesson on the beach. I find Sam and Brennen engaged in a full lip lock and I pace back out to the hall. Unbelievable! I grab the nearest object and send it hurling across the room. ~
Sam and I’ve worked ourselves up before, but tonight he’s throwing out all the moves.
“I got my Harvard letter in the mail today.” His voice is a dead giveaway for bad news and I get a horrible sinking feeling in my stomach before he even tells me what it said. “Looks like I'm going to Baylor.”
“You can't move two thousand miles away. We'll never see each other.”
“Med school and law school, Bren we'd never see each other much anyways. Did you get your letter yet?”
“I found out weeks ago, since I did the early admission application. I'm sorry, I wanted to wait to tell you when we both had good news.”
“I know babe. It's all right. Baylor is a good school and there's a good shot I can get an internship at MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston.” Yeah, let's throw a party Sam and I won't see each other again until we're thirty. He pulls me in for a much needed hug. Sam warms me in his arms while resting his cheek on my head.
“We've been through a lot this year, I think we'll make it through college,” is what I say, but “What are the odds?” is what I really I think to myself. We've been inseparable since the first day of school this year. But this is high school, and from what I've heard, this is nothing compared to college. Girls still swoon at Sam's feet with all out blatant disregard that we’re a couple. Now he'll have the bombardment of horny sorority girls with a two thousand mile buffer between us.
“Why not John Hopkins’s or Yale?”
“My dad went to Baylor and my grandfather. It means a lot to him. He’s selling the ranch this summer Bren, he’s going to move us to Houston. He wants to cut his losses.” The fire caused his dad to take a financial hit. People didn't want to risk their ten thousand dollar horse in a possibly faulty stable. Most of their wealthiest clients pulled their horses. They never did find the cause of the fire. Our sleepy little beach town has an arsonist at large.
He takes my face between his hands and looking as if he’s about to dive right into my eyes, he moves closer. I close my eyes as his lips softly brush over mine. His warm tongue parts my lips and then he nips at my lower lip with his teeth before consuming me with his lips again. He repeats this until I’m drunk off of his kisses.
We hear a glass vase crash out in the hall and I about jump out of my skin. My heart is lying somewhere in the next town over.
“Stay here I’ll go check it out, “Sam says, already at the door. I nod hugging the sofa pillow to my chest. Sam disappears down the hall. All alone, suddenly I’m too afraid to be in here by myself. I tiptoe to the door.
I find Sam looking bewildered at the sight of broken glass all over the wood floor, a good twenty feet from where the vase had come from. I see a small dent in the wall where it hit and shattered. Someone had to have thrown it. Sam’s already hit the panic button on the alarm panel. An ear piercing alarm goes off and the phone starts ringing.
I explain to the security company what happened and they instruct us to wait behind a locked door until police arrive. Sam leads me into my room and locks the door as instructed, looking more than pleased at our place of refuge. He smiles and waggles his brows. I shake my head at him as I plop on my bed. The blaring siren, does nothing to stir my libido.
“You locked the door when we came in right?”
“Yes, always. I get on to the girls about locking doors all the time, so I’m sure I did.”
“You went out there right after we heard the sound, you would have heard someone running down the stairs.”
“They would have had time to hide in a bedroom, or even escape out the catwalk.” The local police arrive in minutes and Sam makes me lock the bedroom door behind him while he lets them in. While they’re searching the house, Sam knocks on the door and we go down to the kitchen to wait. Sam holds me in his arms making me feel like no one could get by him.
Police with guns drawn flashlights in their other hand, creep around every corner of my house inside and out. They don’t find anyone, and every door and window is still secure, even the catwalk is locked from the inside. There’s no sign of forced entry either.
“Guess I’ll call Father Michael, so he can bless the house, cause I must have a damn ghost.”
“I'm calling my dad, I don't want you spending the night alone. I'll sleep on your chair thing.”
“I'll be fine and it's called a chaise.” He suppresses a wry grin.
“You're still shaking. I'm staying.” I didn't even realize I was. Sam hugs me, the full warmth of his chest heats my face, and I bask in it. Why am I trying to get him to leave?
One word pops in my head -- Baylor, and I change my mind completely. I want him to stay, and hopefully not in the chaise. Sam gets a reluctant approval from his father attached with a firm warning that Sam better be the perfect gentleman. Here's hoping he’s not the obedient son.
Sam takes a seat on my bed while I go into my bathroom to change. I choose a soft mint camisole and silky shorts to go to bed in. I emerge from the bathroom with my hair cascading down my back, freshly scrubbed face, and a light dusting of shimmery body po
wder. His eyes take me all in and I can't help but notice how he hasn't taken a breath in a few seconds.
I sit cross legged on my bed against my pillows. My ivory duvet shimmers under the dimmed light. Sam finally snaps out of his fantasy and judging from the pillow over his lap, he looks like he's afraid to change positions.
“There's a blanket in the trunk at the end of my bed. I see you already have a pillow.” I pump some lotion into my hands and work it into my legs. He suppresses a grin and glides from his seat to my bed in one swift motion, plopping casually down next to me.
“Lie down,” he commands. He grabs the lotion from my nightstand and I see where he's going with this. I open my side drawer and hand him a bottle of massage oil instead. “Even better.”
I flip over and he gently pulls my hair out of the way. He folds my top under itself so it's more like a bra. He oils up his hands and starts in the middle of my back. Sam is an excellent at this. Bailing hay has its up-side. His fingers are strong as he rubs my tense shoulders, turning me into liquid in his hands. I can hear his slow breaths through his nose getting heavier but still relaxed and paced as he takes his time, enjoying mapping out every inch of my body.
Sam's touch elicits soft sounds to escape from my mouth. Sam's hands move down to my legs and then my feet. He slowly makes his way up to my back, then his hands move around to the sides of my abdomen, kneading and pulling, it unexpectedly causes my stomach to roll in waves of butterflies. A low moan is coaxed from somewhere within me. He turns me over and his heated palms take my hands, intertwining our fingers and he moves his body partially over mine. Sam takes my lips in and kisses me in a way that makes my toes curl up.
He glides his hand up my torso and under my top causing my breath to hitch. This is as far as we've been. With only two months of school left, our countdown has begun. I nibble on the fleshy muscle of his neck and he rocks over me sighing out a breath over my ear. His touch travels southward and he gets lost in exploration of new territory. I'll let him make all the travel plans he wants tonight, well almost all. My nails dig into his back and his jeans push against my thigh.
A strange fog veil's itself over my eyes. I squirm away from Sam's neck to try and clear it. The room becomes some other place entirely. I’m on a porch swing or some version of one and I can hear the sound of the ocean. A guy is kissing my neck. His short dark hair is all I can see, his face is buried in my neck. I shake my head and sit up suddenly as it started to feel all too real. Sam looks flustered as he sits up wondering what's wrong.
“What's wrong? Did I hurt you?” he asks.
I shake my head. I can't exactly tell him I was picturing someone else while he was doing a damn fine job playing doctor. “No it's nothing I just got a sudden headache.”
“I'll get you something, just lie down and relax.” I nod and sink back down. Sam takes a moment to adjust himself and goes downstairs to find the pain relievers. What was that? I could feel his hands, maybe it was just Sam's hands. Whatever it was it felt all too real.
Sam return's empty handed. “I think you’re out. I can go run up to town and get you something.”
“No I'll manage, I just need to lie still for a moment,” I say just above a whisper. He lies next to me and I take the spot in his arm. Sam massages my temples and strokes over my forehead with a tenderness that will make him a great doctor one day. He puts me to sleep within minutes.
That night my dreams are filled with images of the dark haired man. The scenes change rapidly from school to the beach, to flying through the air like some mythical creature. His face is never clear enough to make heads or tails of but I get an overwhelming sense that he is good looking just by the way he carries himself.
Sam is dead to the world when I finally wake up. It's early Sunday morning and I’ve to pack for my trip to New York. Our Arab league is leaving tonight. I suppose Sam will get a teaser of what it will be like for us to be a part for a while, I'll be gone for days.
I slip out from under his arm and kiss his cheek. He looks so peaceful when he sleeps, far different from the look of concern he normally wears like a brand. His blond lashes look like mini feather dusters, so perfect I could kiss each one. I shower and get ready for the day. I start a load of laundry and get the house ready to be empty for my trip, watering plants and checking timers. Finally satisfied with that checklist, I start breakfast.
The smell of bacon and pancakes draws Sam out of unconsciousness. I smile at him from over my coffee cup. He kisses my lips and perches himself on a barstool. His hair is sticking up wildly on one side and he smiles, still half asleep. I bring our plates to the counter and we dig in.
“My mom used to make a big breakfast every Sunday before church.”
“My mom used to hide her vodka in her orange juice.” I clang our coffee cups together. “Cheers!” He gives me a half smile.
The day is warm for this time of the year and after breakfast, I decide I'll work on my speech by the pool. I slip into my crimson bikini after Sam leaves. I was hoping he'd spend the day with me until I’ve to leave tonight, pick up where we left off last night, but he said his dad needed him at the ranch. Liam was out a man.
I crank up the stereo. My iPod is playing all of my favorite songs. I lie on my stomach, untying my top and hope I can soak up some much needed color. Cold Play comes on, and as I start to sing along, the veil of fog creeps up over my eyes again. Maybe I should call Dr. Kennedy, something is wrong with my brain. The dark haired guy is not in this dream or vision, Sam is. It’s night time and hundreds of people surround us, we're at a concert. He's singing in my ear to the same song playing in my home. This is a memory, Sam and I saw Coldplay in concert last fall.
The vision cuts off and the scene changes. An opulent room begins to unfold around me. A crystal chandelier hangs in the center of the room and a glossy grand piano sits directly under it. I see myself walk into the room and sit on the bench. The view changes and I see the dark haired man playing the same Coldplay song, I begin to sing along and after he stops playing, he kisses me. Something stirs inside of me, as I'm forced to watch this scene play out. The man lifts me up and carries me out of the room. The fog dissipates and my pool is once again just beyond my chaise lounge.
I pick my phone off the ground and speed dial my therapist. Crap it's Sunday. I glance down at my phone and see the name Elena as I scroll down past the Dr.'s. It's a different number than her office. When did I get her personal phone number? My brows swoop down at how weird things just got. I tie my top and dial the number, thinking, I better get some help before I get on a plane with FAA guidelines.
“Hello?”
“Dr. Kennedy?”
“Yes, Brennen? How did you get this number?” She must have recognized my voice.
“I don't know, I didn't even know for sure if it was you. But I need to see you today. I'm sorry to call you on a Sunday.”
“What's wrong? How soon can you come?”
“I don't know if I should be driving. I've been seeing things that don't make any sense.”
She agrees to come over right away. I take a quick dip in the pool to cool off and then head upstairs to get cleaned up. I let the shower heat up while I gather my clothes to change into. When I walk back into the bathroom it's filled with steam. I flip on the vent and notice something is written on my mirror. I walk in front to read it better. Remember us. Is spelled out. Did Sam do that this morning? Way to freak your girlfriend out Sam, especially after the whole vase tossing ghost adventure last night.
Things just keep getting weirder around here. Dr. Kennedy rings my doorbell half an hour later. I welcome her in and put the tea kettle on. She's dressed casually in white chinos and a silky floral tank top making me feel a little more relaxed. She doesn't seem overly peeved about making a house-call. I hope her bill isn't where she takes it out on me.
I pour her a cup of tea as she takes a seat at the bar. “So what's going on with you? You sounded pretty upset on the phone.” She takes a sip o
f her tea and I fill her in on all the foggy day dreams. Her facial expression never changes during my expulsion of all things dark-haired-stranger. She remains calm and collected.
When I'm finished she nods her head like she knows exactly what's wrong with me.
“What is it? Am I psychotic?”
“On the contrary, you're completely sane. If you start confusing the dreams with reality, then maybe we'll revisit your mental state. But it's perfectly natural to have realistic dreams while you’re awake.”
“These aren't dreams, these are more like... I get the overwhelming feeling that I've been there,done that, like Déjà vu.” She clenches her jaw and takes a deep breath like she had to calm herself before she speaks.
“Well you've never kissed a man who fits that description, have you?” I shake my head. “Well then what do you think the simplest explanation is, dear?”
“I'm crazy?”
“No, look, you're about to intern for the Governor himself, go off to college, leave your boyfriend. Your grandmother passed away recently. It's a whole lot of change, is what I'm getting at. Maybe your mind is just creating its own familiar feelings attached to some random, faceless hero.” Her explanation makes a little sense but I don't think my mind is that complex.
“Well how do I make it stop? I'm about to get on a plane to New York. I’ve to lead a speech on one of the three key points for the joint defense counsel in the model Arab League.”
“When the visions are happening have you tried to stop them, or are you just too engrossed in the um scenery?”
I look down too ashamed to admit that not only did I not try and stop them, I wanted them to continue. “No.”
She sighs out like she’s exasperated with me. “Next time you're having a vision try saying this out loud.” I hereby revoke permission to enter my dreams.”
I repeat it with a quizzical look on my face. “Why would that do anything?”
“You'd be surprised the power those words can have over someone.” She smiles as if she's pleased with her solution. This was a huge waste of time. I try and remember where the degree on her wall is from, but I can't even remember seeing a degree. Maybe she took one of those learn to be a psychotherapist by mail courses. I’m polite as she gives me more bad advice but I can't wait to get her out of here and find a new doctor, one with a degree from a real school.
My Soul to Take (Soul Keepers (Young Adult paranormal romance)) Page 16