by J. M. Davies
“I’m so glad you came. I know you still have reservations. You’ve always liked order and structure. I tried to enable you to have those things but I know I failed. Anyway, things have changed. Now you’ve met Ella…come and sit by the fire. I need to explain.” Her voice was high-pitched and bubbly like a child. She led him to two cream velvet Queen Anne chairs that flanked the large stone fireplace, where a bright fire crackled.
“Mother, I believe there’s a rational explanation for my concerns. I just need to figure it out. You addressed Ella by her name. Do you know her? What I mean is, have you met her before?” He couldn’t settle in the chair and paced the length of the fireplace. The crackle of the wood made him pause and he stoked the fire to help it to regain its strength.
Josephine tutted, and sighed as she eased down into the comfortable chair, rubbing her legs as she did so. “You were always such a tightly coiled child, unwilling to accept anything that was different. I guess that’s my fault. I never said so before, Marcus, but I am truly sorry I wasn’t around when you were growing up. It was my biggest mistake. Sit, please sit…I need to tell you my story and it doesn’t begin here in America. You see, I grew up in a village called Honfleur in Normandy, France. Everyone knew each other well; like any small town, you couldn’t keep any secrets. My childhood was like any other until I began to see things that weren’t actually there and my parents were frantic. They didn’t know what to do. Everyone was leaving for the land of opportunity—America—so that’s what we did. But nothing changed. You see, you cannot run away from your destiny; it will catch up with you eventually. Not long after we arrived in the States, my mother died in a car accident and after that, my father couldn’t cope…” She looked away into the distance as the painful memories haunted her.
Marcus, seeing his mother’s tears, sat down in the chair, wanting to hear the story that she had never shared before but unwilling to be caught up in any fantasy. He touched his mother’s arm to encourage her to continue and watched her as she stared into the embers of the blazing fire, already lost in her memories.
She turned and faced him with tears in her eyes, and she reached for his hand.
“You were the light in a long, dark tunnel. There were days when I just couldn’t reach that light, but I fought and struggled to reach it, for you. You see, when your mind is open, it gives you endless possibilities. My mind is not strong and it was easily corrupted in those early days. Marcus, I didn’t understand as a child what I was, but as I grew into adulthood, I knew…I could see the future, things that had yet to pass...” She sat back in the chair and released his hand; her face twisted and lines of worry crossed over her brow and forehead.
“When I was young, I would play games with my friends, parlor games like betting on horses, to entice them and I won. I was showing off but I was playing with fire. I liked the feel of power and used it, but when others realized the power I held, it became dangerous. There are people out there who have great knowledge of this world and the world beyond. They seek out anything that defies logic with a desire to use it for their own purpose, for control. One supposed friend Simon realized my potential and used me. I had no choice—he was an evil man. Once you’re known to these people, you are never free of them. For a while, I was. I met your father and we created you but the past crept up on us. Do you understand? I knew I would never be free and it was too dangerous to be around you. The people the man knew were crazy and even worse than he was. They would hurt and destroy you. Being locked away seemed a simple sacrifice if it meant you would come to no harm. Believe you me, in a world of demons, witches, vampires and shape-shifters, I’m of little importance really. Merely something that can be toyed with.”
Josephine’s body sighed, as if releasing a huge burden that left her exhausted.
Marcus knelt before her. “Witches, demons? Mother, what are you saying? I want to understand but you don’t make it easy.”
“Life is a battle, Marcus, and you must choose which side you’re on because the evil is growing.”
He reeled back from her words and stood up, more confused than ever. For a moment, he thought his mother would clear his mind. He pressed his fingers into his closed eyes. Confusion swirled around and he wondered why on earth he had come here. Only since meeting Ella, a deep need inside his gut for answers seemed to drag him here to his mother. His gut was telling him there was a connection but for the life of him, he couldn’t see it. Leaning his arm against the cold stone wall, he stared out the rectangular window as the wind blew the flowers back and forth, turning his back on his mother. Coming here was a mistake. He should just grab Ella and leave.
Josephine left her seat to stand next to his side, just reaching his shoulders, and she crossed her arms. “Marcus, there is much in this world that defies rational explanation. Have you not sensed it? Even your dreams have meaning. Please, Marcus, you are the most precious thing in my life, you must know that. I was in trouble and we couldn’t keep running from it. I made the drastic decision, the biggest regret of my life, but know this: it was because I believed I had no other option. I had to disappear from your life. You may never forgive me but I did it to keep you safe. In a masochistic way, I was relieved when you turned away from me, shutting off yourself to the belief in anything outside of the ordinary. You cannot believe how much I prayed for that. I didn’t want you to face the pain or the disgust that I faced.”
Josephine’s rambling words stiffened his shoulders. She was talking about danger and keeping him safe, sacrificing herself to let him have a normal life. Now he knew she was crazy; nothing in his life had been normal. He’d been alone all his life, shipped from one home to another, each one worse than the last: beaten, starved, or worse. He turned to stare at her. “Face the pain from who? My father?”
She raised her head and smiled with a far-off look in her eyes. “Don’t ever think that. Your father was a wonderful man, the only man who accepted me for who I was. Marcus, he loved us both with all his heart. He spent his life trying to protect us; you were just a baby when he died. His name was Mathew Drayton. He was an extraordinary man. He was a painter. I have some of his work stored safely. Maybe one day you’ll get to see it, but for now it must stay hidden.”
Marcus released his mother and pinched his nose. “Protect us, Mother? You have to be more specific. Who was he protecting us from? None of this makes sense. So you made some bad decisions when you were young—who doesn’t? But why did we need to be protected? Why would anyone want to hurt us?” The vein at the side of his head throbbed and Josephine reached to smooth his hair that had flopped over his eyes.
“I don’t know who killed your father but the people, the organization I was involved with are notorious and their reach without borders. I was placed in a private sanatorium and your father left with you in tow. It was a heartbreaking decision, but one we hoped wouldn’t be forever. Your father was to take you and leave the country, but that never happened. I didn’t know for a long time that he was dead and by then you were in the foster care system. It took years to be able to get custody of you, and by then, I knew what I had done was wrong. To hide was a mistake and I lost Mathew forever. You were all I had left but I’d lost you too…I’m tired, Marcus. These days, my body and mind are failing me.”
He tried to dissect her words into something tangible but there were vital pieces of information she wasn’t telling him. Staring at her creased and anxious face, he gently took her thin arm and helped her to sit by the fire, placing a thick woolen blanket over her legs.
“The Elusti are evil and merciless and even though I heard that Simon died, his legacy continues. They will stop at nothing to get what they want. I suspect they were behind your father’s death, but I don’t know. I couldn’t see his future. I was told he suffered a heart attack, but he was only thirty-one when he died. I’m sorry it’s such a mess. Mathew and I didn’t get a lifetime together but the love we shared was more than most.” She bowed her head.
The Elusti
. That name almost brought him to his knees. They were always hovering in the background and they were responsible for his mother’s terror all these years. He ground his teeth together. Possibly his father’s death.
Something loosened inside his stiff heart as he looked at his mother and saw her for the first time. All those years, she had been carrying around so much guilt, and yet, she had in her own words, sacrificed her freedom to save him. A blinding rage filled his veins, hearing the Elusti come out of her mouth. He was more convinced than ever that they were the enemy he must fight and defeat, not Ella. If they were connected to his father’s death and the reason his mother was lost to him as a child, he would hunt each and every last one of them down until they were all dead. He would extract his own revenge, legal or not, but he needed specifics. Who? How many? Where? What were their goals? Their contacts? Where did they get their money from?
“What do you know of the Elusti?” he whispered as he held his mother’s shoulders and stared into her pale face.
“You must believe, Marcus. You have to reach deep inside of yourself and open that door you’ve shut. Ella needs you. She’s neither witch nor shape-shifter. She has an old soul, but it’s a good one. A healing spirit hides within and she must be protected. You are the only one; no more hiding. She’s your destiny and there’s a child, but you must open your heart and mind to all possibilities.”
Instantly, as if punched in the belly, he shot backward and removed his hands as if burned. He wanted to understand and believe what his mother said but the more she spoke, the more horrified he was. What did he know about destiny? Healing spirit, old soul: it all sounded like the past and the mumbo jumbo his mother used to talk about, added to her statement that there were witches and shifters. He truly felt as if he’d walked into the twilight zone. His brain would explode. In one brief sweep, his mother had tried to bridge a gap that spanned thirty-five years of his life and now she predicted a child. Marcus could deal with the cold, hard facts about the Elusti but the rest, he couldn’t or wouldn’t accept. It wasn’t possible.
A child? His and Ella’s?
Sweeping a hand across his forehead, he pressed the temple, trying to arrange his thoughts into some kind of logical order, but they wandered toward Ella. There was an unmistakable and dangerous chemistry between the two of them…but a child? He’d never wanted that kind of responsibility or commitment. Hell, he didn’t know what being a father entailed. His memory of his own was vague to say the least and any father figure since wasn’t fit to bear that title. He didn’t have relationships. Eventually some of the women he dated hinted at commitment, and that’s when he ended the affair. He didn’t know how to play happy families. He’d never had one and it terrified him that he would end up like his mother. But that had all been a lie?
A heavy weight pulled on his insides. Was his mother delusional or did what she say have some truth to it? He’d believed for most of his life that she had been mentally ill, and he’d tried to remain impartial and not blame her but part of him had hated her, blamed her for all the bad stuff in his life. Was the truth worse: that she had loved him so much, and feared for his life, that she had sacrificed hers to keep him safe? Although her words tightened his belly, they scratched at his heart, wanting to know the truth. He placed his arm around his mother’s shoulders and cuddled her, soaking in her delicate scent of jasmine. She was his mother, his only living family.
“Mother, I’m trying to keep track of what you’re saying. How do you know these things, for a start? As for protecting Ella, she’s the most infuriating, stubborn, willful, headstrong woman I’ve ever met, who doesn’t listen to a damn thing I tell her. Protect her? I may well end up killing her or vice versa.”
Josephine smiled at Marcus and nodded her head. “She’s certainly got you in a tizzy, and she’s definitely not like the girls you normally date, I know, but she brought you to my door. That must tell you something. There’s so much to explain and as usual, I jump from place to place like an excited child. I fear we don’t have time to go over the details and that soon you’ll be leaving. You see, Marcus, dear boy, from the minute you were born, your father and I knew you’d inherited my abilities. Don’t frown. Listen with your heart, not your mind. You’d stared off into space, as if you were watching a movie. Just like I used to, you were entranced by something no one else could see. Do you remember about Princess Lia, the friend who visited you? You used to tell us about her, how she looked and where you went. You said she visited you in your dreams, do you remember, Marcus? You must know that Princess Lia is Ella...”
The corner of his mouth lifted and he slumped into the chair across from his mother, defeated with the secrets his mother was exposing, some of which—although he wouldn’t admit—he had no choice but to accept as the shocking truth. Of course, he remembered Princess Lia, although he still didn’t entirely believe it was Ella. The hair color was different but her eyes—they were striking, unique and exactly the same. A sinking sensation pulled his gut as he saw flickering images of the girl who appeared in his dreams. If her hair was blonde, she would be the spitting image. How could he not believe it? “I… Don’t say anything to Ella. Don’t you dare tell her one word.”
Lavender filled the air, and Marcus whisked around.
Ella stepped into the room, casually rubbing her damp hair with a towel. “Tell her what?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ella stood barefoot in a new pair of tight-fitting boyfriend jeans that left an expanse of bare, creamy skin that peeked at him as she dried her hair. Her top was a black silky blouse that plunged in a deep v at the front. Marcus instantly felt his body react as his gaze strolled over the two buttons that held the blouse together and the valley of exposed rounded curves that he knew led to ample breasts. His mouth watered and he sucked air in to breathe as if he had been starved of oxygen. He glanced upward and stared at the loose curls that framed her face. Her hair looked lighter and longer.
Was that possible?
He shook his head as if to dispel the trance he was under. A hot, pulsating sensation raced through his veins, arousing him. Of all the women in the world, why did it have to be the one he was meant to bring in before the FBI and wanted for murder? How did she have this power over him that no one else had and made him feel utterly powerless to resist her? Wave after wave of desire flooded him; his nerves tingled as each muscle flexed and his manhood stirred to life, wanting her. She was breathtaking and utterly sexy. In order to cool his emotions, he rose and stood behind the chair to hide his body’s passionate response.
“I used to dream as a child and it seems there may be more to it than that.” Straightening his back, he reined in control and carefully watched her reaction while he flicked his narrowed eyes on his mother’s. He wouldn’t put it past Josephine to blurt out his secret and make it more awkward than it already was. He needed some time to sift through all that information and make up his own mind.
“Stop trying to analyze it all, Marcus. Just listen to your heart!”
Marcus glared at his mother and shook his head. Ella watched the exchange and having finished drying her hair, dropped the towel on the side of the empty chair opposite the yawning Josephine. Raising his hand, he curled his finger to signal Ella to follow him as he left the cozy room and marched into a smaller side room, which opened into the back garden. He walked until he stood in front of the two long glass doors that led outside.
“What kind of dreams?” she said, behind him.
“This is something I don’t talk about, but since meeting you and now talking with Josephine, it’s opening that door I closed long ago. When I was a child, I used to dream about a girl with long wavy hair and big blue eyes. She was my friend. I believed she was real, but I knew she wasn’t because it simply wasn’t possible. Anyway, Mother’s convinced that you’re her.” He stared over at the door that led into the next room. “Josephine used to see events that hadn’t happened. I didn’t believe it. I’m not sure that I believe it now,
but as a child, I didn’t know what it really meant and when she disappeared, I was told it was for my safety. I hated my mother, thinking the worst of her, but it seems there’s more to the story than I realized. You said my mother was gifted; she says she has abilities to see the future. She predicted you. She also says that I have her abilities too. A second sight, she calls it. I was led here looking for answers, which I have, but it leaves me with a hell of a lot more than I bargained with.”
Marcus couldn’t move. He’d been strong all his life; even when he knew others couldn’t, he held up. He faced the death and chaos as it numbed part of his brain that he wanted shut off, but hearing his mother’s words, it was like the polar ice caps melting: inside, he drowned with confusion and emotions he couldn’t ignore.
Ella bridged the gap between them and stroked his arm tenderly as his heart hammered in his chest. “Wow, that’s some heavy-duty conversation.”
He stretched his hand out and wove his fingers with hers. Holding the small, warm hand, he rubbed the lines that were imprinted on her palm with his rough thumb in a lazy circle. A small intake of breath from her and he met her gaze. His eyes bored deeply into hers and an undeniable need and thirst swam through him.
“I don’t know what you are. My mother says you have an old soul. What does she mean? No, don’t answer that yet—all I know is that I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I want to help you. I gave my boss some cock and bull story and we have another twelve hours. He thinks you’re about to give me a full confession and that will make his job a lot easier…” His face was pinched and serious as he ran over the possibilities of what he was doing. Shaking his head as if to erase any concern, his focus was back on Ella and figuring out her connection and involvement with the Elusti. He was going to bring this organization down.
“I need a drink.” Marcus let go of Ella, needing some space and a clear head. He walked over to a glass and metal cabinet in the corner filled with an assortment of liquor. Lifting up a fine crystal decanter, he poured a large measure of an amber liquid into a glass tumbler and knocked it back immediately. The rich whiskey burned the back of his mouth. “Our best bet is to discover who really killed the professor and clear your name, which is easier said than done. Why are you on the FBI’s Watchlist? Ella, what have you done? I couldn’t find any prior arrests, no grounds for concerns that you’re a terrorist. I was told you were a national security threat.”