Mark of Fate

by May, W. J.

  “Yeah,” he laughed sarcastically, “that’s what your boyfriend is for. I’m out. Later guys!”

  “Wait—” Rae called, but he was already halfway to the landing.

  “Yep!” Molly chirped. “See ya!”

  “Molls—”

  “I’m going to take a shower to rinse all this off,” Devon murmured, still wringing streams of orange juice from his shirt.

  Rae actually stamped her foot, unable to believe she’d been abandoned this easily. “Devon, you can’t possibly be serious—”

  “You’re right,” he added morosely, “I’ll probably just drown.”

  Before she could stop him he vanished up the hall.

  Three doors slammed in rapid succession, leaving Rae standing alone in the middle of the room, wondering where her quiet morning had gone…

  * * *

  After the second time Rae heard something fall in the shower, she decided to intervene. The door was closed but unlocked, and she crept silently forward, peering through the clouds of steam.

  How was it that this was the boy she was dating?

  For a second she just watched him from the doorway. It wasn’t often she was able to catch him unawares, and she had to say she was thoroughly enjoying the unguarded view.

  He looked like something out of a magazine, something that had been photo-shopped to perfection. His dark hair streamed down his neck as he ran his fingers through it in what looked like slow motion. It was only later Rae realized she was just used to seeing him move so fast. She could see every muscular outline in his arms and back, and for a moment, a brief, mischievous moment, she almost considered jumping right on top of him.

  Then again, today he would probably drop her.

  And then there was the other thing…

  She folded her arms across her chest with a sigh. There was that pesky little other thing. She didn’t know exactly where she and Devon stood. They were still together, of course, but they hadn’t been able to patch things up since their argument back in Scotland.

  Of course the fact that Rae decided to at least entertain the idea of giving London another chance made big strides towards reconciliation. And while her mother was distracted by the arrival of Carter, he was able to slip into her room that night with no one being the wiser.

  But they hadn’t talked. Or kissed. Or even held hands.

  They simply slept together. By the time Rae opened her eyes the next morning he was already dressed and downstairs.

  The kiss that had just happened in the kitchen, well, that had been a gamble. One that had most decidedly paid off. Being back in the city, with Guilder and the Council just an hour’s drive away, it made it easy to forget everything that had happened in the interim. If the kitchen was any indication, Devon seemed to wholeheartedly agree. Gabriel was out of sight, staying at a hotel down the road, and although a part of her had never thought it would actually happen, Julian and Devon were actually moving in next door. Devon had a place but he and Julian opted for the apartment for now.

  For the first time in a very, very long time, it felt like the beginning of something.

  “Shit—Rae!” Devon whirled around with a gasp upon seeing her there. One hand flew up to his chest as the other shot out like a shield between them. He dropped them both with a sheepish look. “You scared me.”

  This time Rae couldn’t help but laugh. It was all too strange. “You know, I’ve known you since I was fifteen, Devon, and I can honestly say I’ve never seen you jump like that.”

  “Shut up,” he chuckled, reaching for the shampoo. “I didn’t hear you come in… Wait,” his face soured and he shot her an accusing glare, “I didn’t hear you come in because you’re using my tatù right now, aren’t you?”

  “Guilty.” She grinned. “In my defense I did come in here with the good intention of conjuring you some hand rails…”

  He shook his head disparagingly. “You have no shame.”

  All at once Rae froze. The words triggered a sudden echo in her, and despite all her good feelings about new beginnings she was suddenly taken back.

  She had said those exact same words to Gabriel the morning she’d left to confront Jennifer. She’d been standing in clouds of steam then too—he was undressing to take a bath.

  As if to bolster the memory, a familiar tangy scent caught her attention. She looked down to see bright orange swirls of juice still pouring off of Devon as he trailed his fingers through his wet hair. The sharp acidic smell brought to mind other memories as it circled its way down the drain. Memories of another naked man and the intoxicating smell of his body wash as it wafted over her.

  Orange juice, she gritted her teeth. Why did it have to be orange juice?

  The smell of citrus momentarily overwhelmed her, and she took a step back.

  “I’m, um…I just going to…”

  “Hey…” She looked up to see him staring at her curiously, a confused half-grin still lighting up his face as the water streamed down his body in tantalizing little rivulets. “I’m just kidding,” he assured her quickly, misunderstanding her hesitation. The grin faded and he took a step out of the water to cup her cheek. “What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost…”

  The warmth of his hand heated her skin, or maybe she was just blushing. Her heart stuttered and skipped as she stared up into his beautiful eyes. Thank heavens for once he couldn’t hear it. “Nothing’s the matter,” she said in what she hoped was a steadier voice. “I was just going to conjure us some towels.”

  She took a step back and did exactly that, feeling oddly relieved that she was no longer channeling his ink. Just like that time on the boat when she’d fallen asleep in Gabriel’s arms, it made her feel almost guilty to be using it. When she was finished, she reached up slowly and slipped off her sticky robe and then the shirt underneath. “How about it, Mr. Wardell?” she asked seductively. “Mind if I join you?”

  He smiled again, stepping back under the torrents of hot water. “Miss Kerrigan, I thought you’d never ask…”

  * * *

  Much to Rae’s delight their time in the shower went as well as their time in the kitchen. And created as much of a mess. There was a wet trail from when he’d suddenly turned off the water and carried her to her bed, and because she still had nothing to sleep on but a bare mattress both of them were sporting matching circular indentations in their skin from the springs.

  “I look like a giraffe,” she called, examining herself slowly in the mirror. The giant rings laced up her back like some kind of weird tattoo, offsetting the sparkling fairy on her lower back.

  Devon appeared back in the doorway, holding a mug of coffee and a thermos. He was already dressed and dried and was gazing at her back with a look that sent flushes of heat careening down her skin. “You most definitely do not look like a giraffe,” he promised, extending her the mug.

  She took it gratefully then frowned at the thermos. “You’re not staying?”

  “I’ve got some work to do in the city,” he explained, slipping on his shoes with one hand while balancing the thermos with the other. She watched nervously and prayed for the best. When he was finished he gave her a swift kiss on the forehead, followed by a wink. “You wanted a normal life, right? Well this is it. I’m a working man once again.”

  She folded her arms across her newly-conjured bathrobe with a pout—the coffee-stained one had already taken up residence in the trash. “What work do you have to do? We just got back…”

  “Follow up on some old cases,” he said casually, “get started on a written report. We missed a lot when we were gone this summer. There’s a bunch to do.”

  Rae couldn’t think of anything to say to this so she settled for a simple, “Oh.”

  She’d hoped that the four of them—or more specifically—the two of them would get at least a day to settle in before the Privy Council started taking over their lives. And considering none of them had technically accepted their positions yet, it was all still tentativ
e, it hadn’t seemed so unlikely. Maybe Devon was just being ‘super-agent’ like usual. After all, Molly and Julian weren’t jumping back into the Council’s chokehold. They were out having a day for themselves.

  “Well, do you think you’ll be back for dinner tonight?” she asked hopefully. “I can conjure us some,” she backtracked quickly at the look on his face, “I mean, we can order some take-out.”

  “That sounds great.” He gave her another kiss, on the lips this time, and pulled back with a smile. “This is going to be good, Rae. This is going to be what we wanted.”

  She forced herself to smile quickly in return, and waved goodbye as he headed out the door.

  The tentative ‘probationary return’ had been her idea. This was their future they were talking about. There was bound to be a bit of trial and error before they got it right.

  Julian and Molly had been quick to agree. Devon hesitated a bit more. She suspected that he was ready to jump right back into the saddle, but had gone along with it for their sakes. This morning, after seeing how excited he was to get out the door and back to work, a flutter of nerves swirled away in her stomach.

  Were things really going to be good? Was this really what they wanted?

  A knock on the door brought an automatic smile to her face. She pulled her new robe tighter around her and skipped across the kitchen floor to answer it.

  “Did you fall down again, or did you want to break in that bed…”

  Her voice trailed off when she saw who was on the other side.

  “Miss Kerrigan,” Victor said with a twisted smile, “I trust you’re keeping busy?”

  Chapter 10

  “Aren’t you going to invite me inside?”

  Rae blinked. She realized she had been standing in the doorway, saying nothing for the better part of a minute. Perhaps it was the shock of seeing such a prominent member of the Privy Council darkening her doorstep. Perhaps she was simply hoping he’d go away. “Um, yes…I suppose.”

  She took a reluctant step back and watched as he walked inside, instantly wishing she was wearing anything other than a lilac bathrobe that stopped halfway down her thighs. But Victor Mallins couldn’t have been less interested in her. His eyes swept over the decadent furniture, the vaulted ceilings, and the stacks of unopened boxes, everywhere Rae wasn’t. They couldn’t have failed to see the trail of wet footprints leading from the shower to the bed.

  “Nice place,” he remarked dryly.

  Dry was underselling it. Everything about this man seemed to literally crackle with age, from his bony fingers to his dome of white hair, every part of him down to the thin slit in his face where his lips were supposed to be.

  “Thanks,” she said awkwardly, kicking a pair of Devon’s pants discreetly out of sight as he finally turned to face her.

  “With a view of the river to boot,” he remarked. “I could never have afforded something like this at your age.”

  “Well, that was sometime in the late 1700s, wasn’t it?” Rae answered in a voice as inflectionless as his. “They probably didn’t have places like this back then.”

  It was rude, to be sure, but she saw absolutely no reason to pay him any sort of deference. This was the man who would see her in chains. Who had kept women like her in a position of second-hand prominence for the last sixty years, and who had kept hybrids like her on the run. As far as she was concerned he could take a swan dive from her penthouse balcony into the river.

  “Forgive me if I find your impertinence hardly shocking, Miss Kerrigan,” he said, wandering in a wide circle around the living room. “It’s no less than what I’ve come to expect.” He rested a withered hand on one of the boxes. “Still moving in, I see.”

  Rae gritted her teeth, furious with this man’s intrusion into her house. “Well, up until recently we weren’t sure whether or not we’d be returning.”

  “We? Ah, yes.” His face cleared as he understood. “Yes, I saw Mr. Wardell leaving as I was just pulling up. He looked…a bit under the weather.”

  Rae stiffened. “He’s fine.”

  For the first time, Victor offered a faint smile, patting the unopened boxes. “Still not sure, then? As to whether or not you’ll return?”

  She jutted up her chin, and he took her silence as his answer.

  “Do you know what the President of the Privy Council does, Miss Kerrigan?” he asked, settling himself down in Molly’s prized chair.

  Her blood boiled at the sight but she reined in her anger, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing it. “I think the better question is do you know what the President of the Privy Council does, Mr. Mallins? Between the two of us, you’re the one occupying the position.”

  His glittering black eyes fastened squarely on hers. “The job of the president is that of a servant. I am here merely to represent my constituents. To give a single voice to the masses. And to assist the people in those things they are incapable of doing themselves.”

  “So,” she sneered, “you’ve come here to arrest me all on your own?”

  “Don’t be silly,” he answered, pulling on a pair of black driving gloves. “I’ve come to take you out to lunch.”

  * * *

  It has to be said Victor Mallins and Rae Kerrigan couldn’t have made a more awkward pair.

  It was a clash of the Titans. Old versus new. Young versus old. Modern versus…something that looked more at home in the time of Jack the Ripper.

  In honor of the bright summer sun Rae had conjured herself a pair of tight-fitting white jeans along with a stunning turquoise camisole that laced up the sides and hung in bright ribbons down her bare back. Her hair was swept up in a stylish ponytail and long jeweled earrings dangled down to lightly touch her shoulders.

  Normally she never took so much time to get ready, but seeing as Victor had no choice but to wait outside the door until she was finished, she decided to make the effort.

  For his part, Victor could have stepped straight out of something written by Edgar Allen Poe. Despite the summer heat he wore strict, formal dress clothes: Black slacks, a white collared shirt, an ebony traveler’s cloak, and a pair of leather riding gloves to top it off.

  When they’d first walked outside, Rae half expected him to call his horse. He called his driver instead, and together the two of them headed down the street to a fancy Italian place Rae and Molly had yet to try.

  The air conditioning had been turned all the way up and Rae shivered as they stepped inside, wondering if it was too late to duck back into the car and conjure herself a jacket.

  Probably the reason he picked this place, she thought resentfully. If I die of hypothermia before the cheese platter, then all his problems are solved.

  “Oh, Mr. Mallins!” A nervous-looking host hurried forward the second they walked inside. “We weren’t expecting you today.”

  “That’s quite alright, Billy,” Victor took off his gloves and cloak and handed them to the young man, who hung them quickly on a coat rack.

  No wonder the man acts like he’s onboard the Titanic… everyone enables him!

  The man shifted anxiously from foot to foot. “I’m so sorry, but since we didn’t know you were coming your usual table is occupied. Perhaps you’d like to try something up on the…” His voice trailed off as old snake-eyes shot him a cold stare. “Actually, why don’t I just ask the couple occupying the table to move? I’m sure they won’t mind.”

  Victor didn’t crack a smile. “That would be wonderful, Billy. Thank you.”

  ‘Billy’ hurried off, mumbling so softly that Rae had to switch into Devon’s tatù to hear, “I’m sure they won’t mind at all. They’re only on their honeymoon…”

  “Nice place,” Rae repeated Victor’s words from earlier, hoping to fill up the awkward silence that followed the host’s departure. As she glanced around she saw an elderly couple watching Victor from behind a potted plant beside their table. The look in their eyes was the same one as Billy’s. Again, Rae shivered… Something that had nothing to
do with the air conditioning.

  Victor ignored her and waited without blinking for Billy to return. Moments later they were seated on the upper level of the restaurant, at a prime table centered in front of a huge floor-to-ceiling window. Billy had openly gawked when he noticed Rae’s casual attire, staring between her and Victor like perhaps she was some street urchin who had followed him in. He blanched again when she seated herself without waiting for him to pull out her chair.

  “Two iced teas to start,” Victor instructed, opening his menu.

  Rae hated iced tea. But she held her tongue and opened her menu as well, thanking the gods of fine dining that—curtesy of Princess Sarah’s tatù—she spoke fluent Italian.

  “So,” she began conversationally, “why is it that everyone in here is so afraid of you? I mean, it’s not like any of them know what you really do.”

  Victor kept his eyes glued to the menu. “Do you see that huge bank outside?”

  Rae glanced out the window at the towering white Colonial sitting across the river. “The Danske? Of course.”

  “I own the bank.”

  Unable to think of a single thing to say to this, Rae nodded casually and lowered her face behind her menu.

  Well, I’m sure I could conjure a bank. Just, give me a few years…

  “Ah, Billy,” Victor said the second the man returned. Although he was clearly labeled as a host, Rae got the feeling that because Victor had labeled him his ‘go-to’ guy, Billy doubled as a server when the banking mogul was in the building. “We’ll have two coniglio cacciatore. Rare.”

  “Wait…” Rae glanced up in horror as Billy disappeared. “Coniglio, isn’t that—”

  “Rabbit. Yes.”

  A bunny rabbit. And of course he ordered it rare.

  Her throat welled up as the six-year-old part of her started to silently cry, but she held it together on the outside and took a determined sip of her tea. “Why are we here, Victor?”