Blood Moon Rising
Page 18
Della?
She acted a lot less angelic than Jasmine had imagined angels to be. There was no compassion, no understanding. Whatever her mission, it was driving her like a zealot. From what Mark had said, she could be here for any of them. When she finally struck, would they be able to stop her?
Automatically, Jasmine began to reach for her phone. Fingertips grazing the surface of the screen, she kept them hovering just above it.
There was no point phoning Asier. She reasoned it would only make her want to go home more. Although he knew she could take care of herself, he was still protective. She didn’t need him turning up unannounced. With Eric working with them, it would only make the situation a bigger mess.
There was no way she could talk to him about other things either. The Italian vamp was perceptive, knowing when something was bothering her. He had a gift for getting her to reveal what they were. However, this time, Jasmine knew she couldn’t share.
Calling Twitch was also out of the question. He was still on Avalon, and she didn’t want to worry him. If she confided in him what was going on, he’d only spend the rest of his trip worrying about the team. It wasn’t fair to do that to him. Both he and Lexi deserved the break away, and Jasmine knew she couldn’t spoil his happiness.
Feeling drained of energy, she shuddered. Maybe her energy levels were sagging? Trying to eat a snack was what she needed.
Slipping from the bed, she padded silently towards the door, slinking out of the room, careful not to wake Gemma. At least one of them could get a good night’s sleep.
The house lay in silence.
Swallowing down her disquiet, Jasmine made her way along the corridor. She was thankful someone had decided to leave on the hallway light. Falling on her arse down the stairs was something she really didn’t need.
Quietly as she could, she tiptoed down the staircase, grimacing when one of the boards squeaked. Pausing, she waited, listening for any sounds.
Eric was the last person she wanted to bump into. Hopefully, Fergus was still on guard duty.
She wasn’t in the mood to deal with the brooding vampire tonight. Her defensives were already low. Insomnia was affecting her emotions, and she was worried if he tried to seduce her, now, she might just allow it.
Sex was an activity she could lose herself in. Give up anything burdening her mind as she lost herself to pleasure. Asier had taught her well. Granting him the gift of her submission, the worries she’d held melted away.
Tonight, she craved the caress of a Dom. The forceful dominance where she knew she was safe and could let them take charge. But here on assignment, that was never going to happen. Mediation was the best she was going to get.
She was also convinced Eric wasn’t staying with them out of the goodness of his heart. Since their first meeting, he seemed to be quietly pursuing his own agenda. What his one here though was unclear.
Nothing stirred as she continued waiting.
Realising she hadn’t drawn attention to herself, Jasmine traversed the few remaining steps, releasing a sigh of relief when she reached the bottom.
Here, everything lay in darkness. The only illumination coming from the open door of the kitchen itself.
Jasmine loathed the thought of interacting with the dark. It had become a living thing for her now, a place that harboured spectres and ghouls. Rationally, she knew they couldn’t harm her, but the recesses of her mind held unlimited primitive terror.
Clenching her teeth, she scurried along the corridor. Shit, shit, shit was chanted through her head. She felt like a child trying to escape make-believe monsters, but she knew what she was frightened of were real.
It was a surprise to find she was not alone.
Legs curled up under her on one of the chairs, Ellen sat hunched over a book. Brows scrunched together in concentration, she was absently chewing on the end of a pencil that had seen better days. Her white teeth were leaving grooves and bite marks along its length. Whatever she was reading, she looked miles away.
“Hey,” Jasmine called, letting herself relax. She was hoping it was less probable she’d get a ghostly visitation if someone else was around. Right now, she’d had more than enough of them.
Startled, the nanny’s head jerked up, her eyes round and blinking rapidly in agitation. “Shit, you made me jump.” The pencil dropped from between her lips as she spoke.
Watching it roll across the table where it fell, Jasmine offered her an apologetic smile. “Sorry. What are you doing down here all by yourself? It’s late.”
Ellen glanced at her wrist watch. “Oh, my goodness I didn’t realise it was past eleven already! I’ve been reading through John’s notes. I found them earlier in his writing desk. He was obsessed with Greek myths and was researching all the different variations written and discovered. I thought they might help with the investigation.”
Walking across the kitchen, Jasmine went straight towards the fridge. She needed something familiar, comforting. She’d become used to milk and cookies when staying with Asier. The Master Vampire always had them on hand after he drank her blood. It was something linked to home.
Finding an empty glass, she busied herself with her task. She’d already spied a packet of cookies open on a counter. “Tell me about these legends.”
“There was one he really seemed to be completely occupied with. Pandora’s box.”
Gathering the glass of milk and the package of cookies, she moved to join Ellen at the table. “As in the girl who opened the box and let all of the nasty things out into the world?”
“Exactly, the same one,” Ellen confirmed, retrieving her mauled pencil she tapped it thoughtfully against her mouth. “She was the Greek version of Eve, made by the gods. The first woman on Earth. John was collecting legends he could find through history, which in some way sounded similar or mentioned a box. It was if he was looking for a connection.”
“He really did like his legends, didn’t he?”
“He could talk about them for hours.” Ellen rubbed her tired eyes with the back of her hand. Fatigue left dark smudges beneath them. She looked as exhausted as Jasmine felt, a weariness that went beyond the normal and gripped your entire being. “This place was his life’s work. His passion. Caroline’s bent on selling it all off piece by piece. She’s never understood. Never wanted to. If it doesn’t make money, then she wants nothing to do with it.”
Jasmine was fully aware of that. The professor’s daughter had made it more than plain the evening before what she thought of her dead father’s work. She hadn’t even bothered to hide her vindictiveness.
There was nothing they could do about it. It was her inheritance, after all.
She’d sensed that Mark would want the magically imbued items. He’d make sure their hostess was paid well just to acquire them. Everything else would be sent to auction.
As for the museum itself, Jasmine had a suspicion Caroline would make sure it wouldn’t remain standing. If sold, the land would bring a high price. Modern flats would replace the building, once it was levelled. What would happen to all the ghosts, then, she wondered? Sure, a lot of them were attached to objects on display, but surely, some were connected to the museum itself?
“Why don’t you get to bed? The rest of that can wait until morning,” Jasmine suggested, feeling sorry for the other woman. It wasn’t her job to spend her spare time reading through things for the case. She could see it helped ease the heart-ache over the man she’d loved and lost, a connection to the dead professor she’d idolized.
“You’re right, and besides, I’ve just realised how creepy it is all alone down here. I didn’t really think about it while I was reading. Will you be all right?”
Jasmine felt touched by the nanny’s concern. She was a very caring person who wore her heart on her sleeve.
“I’ll be fine,” she lied, not wanting her to be up any later than she had already. “Good night.”
Sliding the pencil behind her ear, Ellen’s hands curled around the diary be
fore hugging it lovingly to her bosom. “Night Jasmine.”
Listening to the sound of her leaving, Jasmine felt anxiety squeeze inside her. It would have been selfish to make her wait. She needed to get over this dread. All it did was block her ability to be a good agent.
That thought didn’t prevent her from gulping down the cold milk before hurriedly polishing off one of the cookies. All they did was make her feel sick.
Pressing a palm to her unsettled stomach, Jasmine groaned. Why had she ever imagined they were going to help?
Placing the packet back where she found it, she quickly washed up the glass and left it on the side to dry.
Why did this place seem to be the epicentre for some crazy shit? It felt like a supernatural convention. Ghosts, werewolves, killer angels, a Sumerian dagger, something that could possibly control shifters, and, now, Greek myths. It was all entangled. How did they weed out what was relevant and what wasn’t?
Standing on a road which was no more now than ash and charcoal, Jasmine surveyed her surroundings. She barely recognised London. The buildings still stood, steel and concrete a testimony to the civilisation they’d outlasted. Yet, mother nature had taken back what was hers. Grass swayed in the breeze where it grew long and lush along the cracked deserted pavements. Vines had taken root. Sprawling down roofs and windows, they swamped the city in green as if trying to erase its existence.
Jasmine’s stomach lurched as thoughts unravelled in her head. Was she dreaming? Another premonition? It was terrifying to think this could be a possible future. Had there been survivors? Had the people had time to flee? Or had whatever caused this apocalypse taken them by storm?
The silence was deafening. As if the world was holding its breath, or maybe, it was just in mourning. Nothing stirred, not the carrion birds that she had seen feasting in her last vision or the undead hordes.
Jasmine’s heart pounded with growing frantic beats. How was she back here? Last time had been petrifying enough, but this time, the lack of life was even more disturbing.
A haze hung, obscuring the sun but not it’s heat. She could feel its rays, beating down on her bare arms. The climate had changed. It was far hotter than the England she knew.
“You again.”
Turning, she found Della beside her. The assassin angel looked far from pleased to see her. Head canted to the side, the dark-skinned female’s lips were curled back in a scowl. Her vibrant purple hair was a bright contrast to their surroundings. Dressed from head to toe in leather, she had a deadly set of knives strapped to her hips.
“Trust me, I don’t want to be here,” Jasmine assured her, feeling under dressed in her thin cotton night dress. “I don’t know how your screwing with my dreams, but it has to stop.”
“This is all you,” Della growled back in displeasure. “I have no interest in being here, but somehow, I get sucked in when you sleep. And they’re visions. I’ve told you that already.”
Everything felt so surreal. “Bullshit. I don’t believe you. I know why you’re here. Tell me who your target is? And while we’re at it, leave the ghosts at the museum alone,” Jasmine continued to argue.
Scanning the desolate horizon, Della surveyed the abandoned buildings. “They’re pests and should never have been allowed to roam. I have taken it upon myself to purge them while I’m here.”
“They’ve done nothing to you,” Jasmine was aware she had side stepped her question.
“They shouldn’t exist. If they don’t cross over to either destination, they shouldn’t be allowed to continue. They are anomalies. Glitches that need to be corrected.”
“I don’t agree.” Why was there an air of nervousness surrounding the angel? She didn’t look happy. All her focus was on what was around them. As if she were waiting for an unknown danger.
“Your opinion means nothing to me,” Della finished, throwing Jasmine a hostile glare. “And your interference in what I do is unwanted.”
“And why are you here exactly? Why are you stalking us?” Jasmine curled her toes, letting the fine warm dirt from the road sink between them. She could smell flowers and earth on the breeze. It must have rained earlier. The scents were strong.
“Do you know what a butterfly effect is?”
A frown marred her brow at the other woman’s question. “When something small can result in a larger difference somewhere else.”
“One inconsequential moment no one thinks matters. A blink of an eye yet the impact from the ripples of a harmless event can spiral forwards wreaking havoc.”
“Is this what caused all this?”
Della nodded. “Things set in motion by one person.”
Someone staying at the museum? Jasmine’s mind began to circle with thoughts that were both unpleasant and disturbing. She couldn’t believe it. No. There had to be a mistake. No one she knew would ever let something like this happen. They fought against things like this. Stopped it before it could happen. Yet, there were more than just her and her friends staying at the place. Catherine, Tabitha, and Ellen were also fixtures in the structure.
“Who?” she asked, unable to hold back the need to know.
Standing tall and tense, Della didn’t reply. All her attention was held on something to their left.
Following the angel’s gaze, Jasmine’s eyes widened in horror.
Forms were moving towards them through the grass. Emaciated and reed-like, filthy rags hung in tatters from their frames, not slow and shambling as she has seen previously. No these moved at speed. Bounding along, they ran in a pack, slack mouths gaping as saliva dripped from the corners. A ravenous hunger was the only thing burning in their empty dead eyes.
Zombies.
In a blur of black and purple, Della was gone. Her movements so fast all that could be seen of her was a streak of the colours combined. She fled in the opposite direction. This, Jasmine realised, was the threat that had her spooked.
Turning on her heels, she began a mad dash away from the incoming creatures. Why the fuck did they have to be so fast? Jasmine stumbled on a stone and cursed as she felt the edges cut into her bare feet. Every movie Twitch had made her watch flashed through her head. Cutting off their heads usually killed these things, but where in hell would she find a weapon here? If they caught her, would she be infected? If this was a vision, how could they see her? Nothing was clear. It was a messy jumble in her frantic thoughts as fear tried to overpower her.
A scream was ripped from her throat as a weight hit her back. Taken down under the power, Jasmine face planted on the crumbling road. Pain vibrated up her arms. Her legs stung from scrapes from sharp stones.
Another body joined the first.
Gnashing teeth snapped close to her ear as bony grasping hands clutched her limbs. The foul odour of decomposition and death filled Jasmine’s nostrils. She was being crushed. Body upon body rained down on her, wiggling like maggots.
Opening her mouth to shriek, the sound was muffled as the weight of so many bore down, pinning her beneath.
Jasmine awoke with a scream. Shaking, panicking, she clawed at the thin sheet that had wrapped around trapping her legs. Before her sleep fogged mind had time to adjust to consciousness, she felt hands grasp her shoulders.
On instinct, she fought back.
“What the fuck, Jasmine!” Gemma shouted, blocking her sluggish punches.
The sound of her friend’s voice was all she needed to break free of the horrifying dream. “I’m sorry...It was a nightmare,” she stuttered, still unsettled at how intense and real it’d been. Even now, it was as if she could still feel the hand prints of those walking corpses, clawing at her skin.
“A bad one huh?” Gemma asked, her anger quickly subsiding to concern as she returned to where she was perched beside her.
“Yeah.” A mass of black on her pristine white bed sheet caught Jasmine eye. Looking down, she found it covered in tiny soft feathers. “I have some fucked up ninja angel chick fucking with my dreams, and it isn’t getting any better.”
Gemma sat watching her sombrely. Dragging up the loose strap of her thin short night dress, she moved to sit on her own single mattress. “Sorry, I can’t kick the bitch’s arse for you.”
If only she could. Jasmine was sure the huntress would be more than a match for the psycho angel. Maybe, she’d actually get some answers that made sense. It wasn’t going to happen, though. Unless Della made an appearance in the flesh, she was the only person who’d seen her. That didn’t bode well.
Slumping down on her pillow, Jasmine gestured with a finger towards the chest of drawers. “I guess we could try some T.V. It’s probably all in Hungarian though,” she suggested, desperate to get her mind off empty eyes and the touch of cold dead flesh.
Snatching up the remote from her bedside table, Gemma flipped it on. “Better than going back to sleep or laying here in the dark for hours.”
Clicking through the channels, she settled on a game show.
Jasmine’s eyes rested on the flickering screen and the smiling contestants. The sound was supposed to be soothing, but it didn’t help. Instead of her mind sinking into a comfortable blankness, Jasmine found her anxiety increasing.
“Could we push the beds together?” Jasmine asked with a hopeful note in her voice.
“Sure.” Gemma nodded, glancing her way.
Sweat was already crawling down Jasmine’s temples. She could feel a thin sheen of it over the length of her body. Swiping it into her hairline, she pulled a face. The nights were getting hotter. It was getting even more unbearable.