The windows were closed and locked. The bedroom door was shut. The fan ran, but she often lamented that it didn’t create any real air current.
On the ceiling a shape formed, a gold rectangle.
Marley blinked several times. The image was fuzzy and she wanted her eyes absolutely clear. There it was, not the sunny gold that lay in bands over the bed, but deep, dark, rich gold like molten ore poured into a mold.
The shape trembled, came a little closer, then receded. Part of it flapped down and she looked at the gorgeously embossed flyleaf of a book. When the tissue-thin flyleaf flipped away, blinding arcs of color beamed forth as if from deep inside an empty cavity. Then the cover settled gently back and more prisms blazed from the depths of jewels mounted in the gold surface.
Marley closed her eyes again. The image unsettled her. A field of magnetism emanated toward her, tugged at her as if to pull her from the bed.
“Marley, may I come in?”
Uncle Pascal, requesting her attention while she could still see the fantastic book, disoriented her.
“Marley, may I—”
“Yes,” she signaled. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
He didn’t respond immediately and when he did she could tell he was unsettled. “You’re needed here in my flat. I have no choice but to ask you to come.”
“Can I at least have coffee and wake up?”
“We have coffee here.”
“Yes.”
As carefully as possible, she eased herself away from Gray and stood up. Her legs felt rubbery and her head ached. Neither discomfort surprised her. When she started to move around, a number of parts hurt. She wished she could curl up with Gray again.
She scuffled into the bathroom and took a five-minute shower. After cleaning her teeth and washing her face she looked in the mirror to see if she had erased any signs of wild lovemaking. She didn’t think she had managed very well. In a drawer she found a fuzzy scrunchee and gathered her hair into a volcanic bundle atop her head.
Naked, she returned to the bedroom and rushed into a bra and panties and a yellow cotton sweat suit.
“C’mere,” Gray said from the bed. “Where d’you think you’re going? We aren’t finished yet.”
She got just close enough to make it impossible for him to grab her. “You’re right. We’re not finished. But I’ve got to go over to Uncle Pascal’s. I think there’s a family meeting going on. As soon as it’s done, I’ll be back. But don’t stay if you have to get on with something.”
“What I have to get on with is leaving me all alone in this big bed. Cruel, cruel woman. I didn’t hear the phone, anyway.”
“It didn’t ring.” If he was going to be around her, he might as well start learning the ropes. “Uncle doesn’t need a telephone if he knows where I am and he really wants to reach me.”
He groaned and threw an arm over his face. “What have I gotten into?”
She bit back the temptation to tell him he was free to get out the second he wanted to. She didn’t want him to so why give him ideas?
“Bye,” she said.
On the way out of the flat she looked around, expecting to see Winnie curled up somewhere. Willow usually popped the dog through Marley’s front door before leaving for work.
Winnie wasn’t in the flat this time.
Marley covered the distance to Uncle Pascal’s in minutes and tapped on his door. Rather than call her in, he opened it himself and gave her a piercing look. “I tried to stop this from happening,” he said quietly. “I was overruled.”
Marley patted his hand and kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry. Hey, Sykes. I thought you hated early mornings.”
“I do.” Sykes sounded furious and Marley got edgy.
Her brother held Winnie so she flopped over his shoulder while he kept an arm across her back legs. She gave Marley an indolently satisfied glance and settled her head down again.
“How’s Gray?” Willow had curled up tightly in a wicker chair shaped like a bird’s nest. “He’s so dear.”
Again, her sister’s reaction to Gray bemused Marley. “Gray’s fine. Really good.”
“Amazing,” Willow said, shaking her head. “Time heals.”
Marley was too tired and too overwhelmed to dig for explanations.
“Who is this man you have accepted?” The man who asked wore his strawberry-red hair tied in a ponytail that reached his waist. He turned to look at Marley with dark green eyes.
“Papa,” she said, almost under her breath. “Papa?” She held out her arms.
“Yes,” Antoine Millet said, his thin face tensed. He gave her a quick hug. “It is your papa. You have become a woman, but it seems you have forgotten your responsibilities while I’ve been gone.”
“Oh, boy,” she said. “Some things never change. I’m doing just fine with my responsibilities.”
“Fornicating with unsuitable people is one of your duties?” Antoine said. “I think not.”
“Antoine,” Pascal said. “Marley is an exemplary girl, a joy who has helped me a great deal.”
“You are talking about my responsibilities, Papa?” Marley said. “I haven’t seen you in years. How many? Fifteen? Uncle Pascal is my mentor.”
“Don’t—” Antoine pointed at her “—use that word lightly. There is only one Mentor and that’s why I’m here. Your mother and I are making progress tracking down the Mentor. When we find him, he will help us deal with the curse. At last we’ll find a way to deal effectively with any dark-haired male Millets—without having them visit disaster on us.”
Sykes made a sound that resembled a snarl and Marley wouldn’t look at him.
Antoine continued as if Sykes hadn’t interrupted. “The Mentor will also want to be sure all of us—including you, miss—are following the instructions he left for us.”
“Sykes?” Marley attempted to make contact with her brother.
“Yo, Marley. This is bizarre, but keep your cool.”
“Has Papa been told about—Does he know anything about me being involved with something that could be sticky?”
“Not the way you mean. But as you can see, he’s picked up something about your love life. Uncle Pascal knew you weren’t home all night, then he figured out you had someone with you when you did get back. He didn’t tell Papa, but he seems to know anyway. How’s Gray in bed? Nuclear from the look of you—which may be what gave Papa his ideas.”
“Sykes!”
“Did he have any reason to wonder what he’d got himself into?”
In other words, Sykes wanted to know if Marley had met a potential Bonding Partner. “Later.”
“Marley’s in love. Well, well, well.”
“Gray’s probably a powerful paranormal sensitive,” she said and enjoyed watching his flaring brows rise almost to his hairline.
“I’ve got to get back to your mother,” Papa said. “She and your two older sisters are alone in London.”
Marley held her breath, waiting for someone to remind her father that he’d left most of his family alone, for most of their lives. Silence greeted Antoine Millet’s announcement.
“Sykes,” Antoine said. “You will make yourself more present to the family. It may be that you will be required to take up your position after all.”
“I think he’s lost his mind,” Sykes told Marley.
“Until I let you know otherwise, we will make sure the entire family is never all in one place at the same time,” Antoine said.
“For a change,” Willow said, surprising everyone and bringing a grin to Marley’s mouth. “I thought we’d been doing that for twenty years.”
Antoine ignored her. “If something untoward should happen, we can’t afford to have all of us destroyed at once.”
“Well,” Sykes said. “That’s a conversation killer. Do you have something else you want to share with us, Pops?”
Antoine scowled, but Pascal hid a grin.
“Leandra and I believe the Mentor is manifested in a sibylline casket he has l
eft for us. Perhaps it is inscribed on the inside, or the outside—or this object could be an urn of unimaginable value. There are many possibilities, but whatever it is may well be the source of our troubles. It could be for the possession of this priceless artifact that disaster originally befell the Millets. Our dilemma now is to decide if Sykes is the next carrier of destruction.”
“Carrier?” Sykes said. “Am I a harbinger of some sort of disease?”
“Quite possibly as far as the Millets are concerned,” Antoine said. “But if not, you will have to lead the family.”
Marley couldn’t bear to look at Uncle Pascal, who had perfected the art of fuming in silence.
“This mysterious urn or casket,” Sykes said flatly. “Where did that idea come from?”
“From years of selfless searching, my boy,” Antoine said. “We now know that the Mentor’s revelations were stolen by a woman in Bruges and she sold it for its great value. After the theft, what is rightfully ours was recovered, but we don’t know what happened to it. When its whereabouts are known there are those who will try to take it from us again—by any means.”
“Twaddle,” Willow said from the farthest corner she’d been able to find.
Antoine shook his head in exasperation. He scowled at her. “You need a lot of work, and you,” he pointed at Pascal, “should be dealing with that. This young woman is denying her powers and no Millet is allowed such outrageous behavior.”
“Perhaps you have forgotten that I am the head of the Millet family,” Pascal said in a far too pleasant voice. “I will take everything you’ve said into consideration. Please contact me the moment you learn anything else. Meanwhile, we will start our own enquiries into this casket or whatever. Have a good trip back to London, brother.”
“What is it, Marley?” Sykes asked her in secret.
“I’m not sure. I have to think.” But had the vision she’d seen of a glowing golden object been no less than a precognition of the Mentor’s dangerous treasure?
Antoine looked around and slowly a smile spread over his face. “Feisty lot. Wouldn’t have you any other way. Sykes—straighten up. Willow—whether you like it or not, you are gifted and will soon come into your own. You won’t be able to fight it.”
To Marley’s horror, Sykes, an evil smile on his handsome face, began to fade out.
Antoine snapped his fingers at his son. “I knew I shouldn’t have taught you that. It’s far too powerful.”
“You didn’t teach me,” Sykes said, sounding as if he was in a wind tunnel.
Pascal cleared his throat. “Like all of your children,” he said, “Sykes was born with his, er, gifts.”
Antoine shrugged and turned to embrace his brother. “You have the better part, Pascal,” he said. “Being in charge is a great thing. You certainly wouldn’t want to be rattling around the world, responsible to no one at all, like I am.”
Pascal grumbled under his breath.
Antoine stood before Marley, his hands behind his back and his expression foreboding. “Marley,” he said and put his arms stiffly around her. “You are a puzzle to your mother and me—just as all of our children are. But we love you deeply. If you have found your Bonding and decide to do what you should and join with the man permanently, let us know.”
She couldn’t say a word.
“Be careful with him. Your mother and I are aware that you have awakened a wounded lion among sensitives, someone formerly suppressed by fate. Perhaps this one is completely healed and safe. I hope so.”
30
When Gray’s phone had rung, just after Marley left to see her uncle, the last person he had expected to hear was Sidney Fournier. They had talked briefly—she had done all the talking, or the ordering—for a few minutes, before she had lowered her voice and said she had to go.
Other than to tell him she wanted them to get together where they would definitely not be interrupted, she had refused to explain why they should meet tonight at Myrtle Wood, one of the smaller River Road plantation houses.
He thought it was pointless drama to go to such lengths, but had agreed. The possibility that he might finally get a useful lead on Liza and Amber gave him hope.
As soon as Marley left him to go to Pascal’s, he had used her shower, given up on doing anything about looking like a wild-haired pirate, and tucked himself back into her bed. He hoped she would return alone, but if not, he was a big boy and he’d think of something to say—like, “I was just testing the mattress.”
He snickered.
The front door opened and racing toenails sounded like an army of rats on a rampage.
The bedroom door flew open and Winnie charged in, her giant bone clenched between her teeth.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Gray said to Marley. He glanced at Winnie. “Your dog’s frowning.”
“Probably at you,” she said.
“I like your topknot.”
She felt the crazy pom-pom on top of her head and turned up her palms. “Everyone should have a distinguishing feature.”
Winnie jumped on a chair, and from there onto the bed. She drooled slightly around the chew.
Gray did his own frowning. “The dog’s on the bed,” he said.
“I’ve always admired an observant man,” Marley said. “It’s her bed, too.”
“I’m waiting for you,” Gray said. “We weren’t finished.”
“You must be a masochist.”
“There’s pain, and then there’s pain,” he told her. “I figure the more I practice pain control the better I’ll get at it.”
She narrowed her lovely eyes. “Just what does that mean?”
Gray could tell when he was entering deep water. “Sit right here by me.” He patted the bed beside him.
Promptly, Winnie placed herself where he’d indicated and panted, working on the bone.
It wasn’t easy, but Gray kept the smile on his face and patted the other side of the bed. “Come on. I want to talk.”
The look she gave him suggested she thought he had something other than talk in mind.
Winnie hopped clean over him and settled in what was to have been Marley’s new spot—really close to Gray.
She smiled as if she was very amused. But she also took off the yellow sweatsuit in about two rapid motions, ran, took a leap and landed on the bed beside him, kneeling so she was all sweet curves in her skimpy bra and panties.
Winnie crossed his body again, planting her feet hard on some of his unprotected parts as she went.
Gray winced and said, “Ow, ow, ow,” but the dog looked smug and put herself between him and Marley.
“I’ve just seen my father,” Marley said, and Gray thought her expression was one of the oddest he’d seen. She appeared amazed, disbelieving, a little bit sleepy and a lot cross. “First time in fifteen years.”
He sat up, letting the sheet fall to his hips and making no attempt to hike it up. “Is that right? I thought I was the only fatherless child around here.” Damn, his mouth never got that loose. It had to be her effect on him. “I meant motherless.”
“I was talking about fathers,” Marley said, inching a little closer.
He stroked her thigh and played his fingertips in the dip just beneath the leg of her panties. She jumped. But so did he.
“I met your dad,” she said. “He hasn’t been away, has he?”
“Nope. He’s been right here in New Orleans. And whenever I needed him, he was there for me.”
“That sounds nice.”
“It is.” He scratched Winnie between the ears. “Gus adopted me when I was eight. I was a lucky kid. I’m glad you got to visit with your dad today.”
“I’m not sure I am.”
He could see she wanted to ask more about his own history, but was too polite to push. He’d tell her more eventually—if he had to.
Marley flattened a hand low on his belly and stroked back and forth. She shuddered and half closed her eyes. Gray’s gut turned to fire and he was a man with a body on full alert.
>
“What did you mean about pain control?”
He needed a tongue transplant. “I should probably have said pain management. The way to manage this wonderful pain of ours is through immersion therapy—translate that into pain management.”
“Is it too much for you? Be honest, please.”
He hesitated. Winnie stood up, watching first one of their faces, then the other.
“Marley, if I can’t have you, why bother?” he said, watching every word, aware of how easy a pitfall would be. “There’s no way I could be satisfied with less. Could I kiss you before I go crazy?”
“Just a minute,” she said. “We—my family—has something called a Bonding. It’s when one of us meets the right person to share…sex with. We tell if it’s happening by the heightened senses. But it can be pretty overwhelming.”
He nodded sagely. “I am so lucky. And I’m so ready to be overwhelmed with you.”
She frowned as if there was more she wanted to say, but kissed him instead. She leaned over him, pushing him down and slipping her tongue between his lips.
Gray began to stroke her all over. He liked the bra and panties. They were a special kind of sexy—forbidden, maybe. When he looked sideways, it was into Winnie’s shiny black eyes.
“Sweet lady,” he said. “Maybe Winnie could go take a nap somewhere.”
Marley laughed. “Off, Winnie. And wait.”
Apparently that meant the dog did just that. She got off the bed and waited beside it. Gray could imagine her upturned face ready for the signal that she could return.
He forgot the dog.
Marley stood on the mattress. She laughed down at him and bent forward at the waist so that her breasts all but slipped from the bra. He reached up for her, but she shook her body from side to side, evading him.
“Oh, baby, come on down,” he said.
“Wait.” She put a foot on his stomach, balanced herself with outstretched arms and slowly moved her toes until she tangled with hair around the base of his penis. That was one thing he couldn’t subdue, and didn’t want to.
Marley ogled him. “Oh, my, I think I should be scared.”
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