Too eerie to be a coincidence. The number three had been solid in his memory; not even the drugs could banish that image. It meant something—something important. He just wished he knew what.
For a brief and stupid moment, he considered calling his mother. But the lunacy of that act would be worse than anything the dreams told him. First she’d be thrilled at the prospect her son had finally accepted his “gift” and was putting it to good use. Then she’d scold him for leaving, cry, and lay a hell of a guilt trip on him. He’d feel bad, think about going home, and it would all start over again.
Jesus, you’re almost thirty years old dude, time to cut the cord. Micah let out a weary sigh as he scattered the pieces of three across the table, making a nonsensical mess out of the careful groupings. Signs were just excuses. Omens, nothing more than nonsense. Dreams had no meaning.
But then, how did he explain Jax? He snatched up the drawing he’d tacked to the wall. If that dream hadn’t been a sign or some kind of omen, then what could it be? He’d driven through the town where she lived the day after the dream. And what about the gas station? Was it just chance that he’d stopped to buy fuel there? It couldn’t be a coincidence. He brought his hand to his bruised cheek. How in the hell did he explain that?
Without thinking, Micah threw on his shoes, locked up the RV and set out for the walk back into town. Three miles by his estimation. He’d hiked eight mountain miles last week, this walk would be nothing. But by the time he’d put the first mile behind him, his steps became heavier and his breathing more labored. The Ativan lingered in his system, obviously not helping. Sluggish, he dragged his feet as he continued toward town, his eyelids resisting as he blinked. His reflexes weren’t any better as he tried to dodge a car turning the corner toward him before he could cross the street, nearly bouncing off the hood of the car before jumping out of the way. He frowned at the guy who laid on the horn and flipped him off.
That should have been the end of it. Micah didn’t blame the driver, it had been his own stupid fault. But anger boiled inside him and the urge to physically hurt the driver of the car blinded him with its intensity. He took a deep breath, and just like someone had switched a light off in his brain, the feeling fled and he calmed. I must be in the damned Twilight Zone.
Over the tops of the buildings lining the street, Micah noticed the shimmer of sunlight as it bounced off the lake. Jesus, he’d been so preoccupied after fueling up yesterday, he’d totally missed the miles-wide lake that butted right up to the town proper. The water was as smooth as glass, not even a ripple of breeze disturbed the reflective surface. In fact, he’d missed a lot on his drive through town yesterday. This place was actually…nice. Quaint in a small town sort of way, with a charm that made him think he could wind up living in place just like this. Not here of course. Despite this mysterious Jax and his crazy dreams, he was still just passing through. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the sights while he was here.
As he closed in on the gas station he’d fueled up at the day before, a strange sensation of anticipation bloomed in Micah’s chest. He hoped to find her, standing behind the counter, though he had no idea what he’d say to her. Hey, remember me? I’m the idiot who touched your face yesterday. So, funny thing… I have a bruise on my cheek this morning and I had a dream the other night that some sweet little teenager was trying to kill you. Micah shook his head. She’d be putty is his hands for sure.
The electronic ding-dong of the door chime drew the attention of the woman behind the counter. Micah’s shoulders slumped. Not her.
“Hi!” The woman at the register greeted him.
Her gold and blonde hair curled in tight ringlets down her back and the bright smile on her face reached all the way to her turquoise-blue eyes. She looked eternally upbeat, and he didn’t think she faked her enthusiasm for the customer’s benefit. This was a genuine, friendly person.
“Hi.” He reached nervously to rub the back of his neck. “I’m looking for the girl who was working here yesterday. Her name is Jax—I think.”
If possible, the woman’s smile brightened and she snapped her fingers in recognition. “You’re Motor-Home-Guy, right?”
“Um, yeah, I guess so. I fueled my RV here yesterday.”
“And you’re looking for Jax…”
“Yes,” he said, slowly.
“She doesn’t work here.”
Micah glanced down at the woman’s nametag—Libby. “Was she fired or something?”
Libby laughed. “She mostly just loiters. She works at a coffee shop down the street,” she said, pointing to her left, “called Grind.”
“Thanks, Libby,” Micah called, rushing for the door.
“Anytime,” she replied, her amused laughter trailing out behind him.
Jacquelyn cleaned the steamer, the hiss of built up pressure disguising her own sigh. She had a feeling she wouldn’t have this job for much longer. The six-month mark was a couple of weeks away, and she never held a job longer than six months. It came with the territory. Always late, always tired, always rushing out for mysterious reasons, not to mention being terminally distracted. Normality had become such a non-thing in her life, how could a nine-to-five job have any place amongst the chaos?
She tossed the steamy, warm rag into the sink, drawing a glare of disapproval from Bree. Screw it, she thought. I probably won’t be here much longer anyway.
Leaning over the counter, she looked through the Statesman for any articles about missing children. Of course, the Changeling could have taken the body months ago, which made looking through today’s paper sort of a wasted effort. But Jacquelyn had to at least try to find out who the girl had been. She had to have a family somewhere, and they were no doubt worried sick and searching for their daughter, sister, niece, and/or granddaughter. Even if she did find out who the girl was, she’d have to sidestep Trish, because the Sentry forbade Waerds to make contact with any family members of victims who’d died at supernatural hands. And why wouldn’t they? The average human didn’t respond well to news like, “Sorry Mrs. Jones, but your husband was attacked by a Brimstone demon last night. We took care of it though, and smashed its body to ash.” But even so, Jacquelyn found ways around Trish and the Sentry’s rules. Every parent deserved to know what had happened to their missing child. And this girl was no exception.
“This seems to be a pattern, my interrupting your reading.”
For a moment, Jacquelyn didn’t look up. She recognized the energy that emanated from his Bearer’s body, pelting her like warm summer rain. Her eyes moved first, meeting his face. Her head followed and then she straightened. Glancing to his cheek, she noted the bruise he’d given himself by touching her wound. He didn’t even know what he’d done…
“Your face looks better,” he remarked.
Jacquelyn leveled her gaze with his. “I don’t suppose you know why that is, Micah, right?”
He smiled when she said his name. An open, friendly smile that showcased a row of straight teeth, dazzling white in contrast to his darker complexion. His soft brown eyes zeroed in on her face and an electric zing shot through her. Jacquelyn knew that if he focused, he’d sense exactly how she felt. Luckily, she had no intention of letting her guard down enough to give him a glimpse.
Micah opened his mouth to speak. Closed it. Jacquelyn focused, pulled a tight emotional shield around her. He continued to stare at her as though trying to deconstruct her. Good luck with that, buddy. We’ll see how it works out for you.
“Are you being helped?” Bree interrupted in a contrived customer-service voice.
He turned toward Bree as though just now noticing they weren’t the only two people in Grind. “Vanilla breve,” he said, drumming his fingers on the counter.
“Size?” Jacquelyn asked, showing none of the cordiality Bree would want from her.
“You pick.” Micah plunked down a ten dollar bill. He pulled away from the counter and took a seat in the far corner of the coffee shop, giving Jacquelyn the spac
e that she’d been praying for.
How could he not know what he was? His energy screamed at her; Jacquelyn had no problem identifying him as a Bearer. Stronger than Finn. Much stronger. Finn’s presence pulsed like a soft vibration against her, but this Micah—the minute he walked through the door, she’d felt a deep rumble travel the length of her body. He’d healed her quickly, almost instantaneously, whereas Finn’s touch healed her over the course of several hours.
This guy was like a Mack truck of power. And the calming effect he had on her was nothing short of bliss. She wondered, as she steamed the half and half for his breve, if Micah realized how hard it was for her to appear stand-offish. Most Bearers read emotion better through touch. But Micah exuded so much power; it wouldn’t be a far cry to imagine he could sense emotions from even a great distance without making contact.
Jacquelyn left her post—they weren’t busy—and set the cup and his change in front of him.
“When do you get off?” he asked.
For the first time since she’d met him, Jacquelyn smiled.
Chapter 7
THE THREE OF them whispered in his ear. Prodding him for weeks, urging him to take action against those who’d wronged him. At first, he was certain he’d gone crazy. His great uncle had been crazy, you know. Wandered around, muttering to himself, claiming to see things that weren’t there. His grandma called him “touched,” but that was just a polite way to say someone had lost their mind. As the voices became clearer, their presence more and more real, he knew that he wasn’t touched like his uncle. No, he was blessed. They spoke as one. Always as one. Which wasn’t nearly as strange as the fact that he couldn’t see them. But he felt their touch. A constant, sweet balm on his skin. Their hands never left him.
“We can give you pleasure,” they murmured. “We can make you the object of her obsession. We can give you anything you crave if you unleash us. All you have to do is ask.”
“No. You’ll hurt her.”
“Why would we do that?” they cajoled. “If she is not your enemy, she is safe from our wrath.”
“I—I don’t know.” They made him nervous. He didn’t know if he could trust something he wasn’t able to see. “I don’t think this is a very good idea.”
The hands pulled away, and their hissing voices raised the hairs on his neck. “You want what is just beyond your reach. You crave what we can give you. We are the vengeance borne.”
“No. I want you to leave. I want you to go away.”
Their laughter came as through dusty-dry throats. “It’s too late for that. You called to us and we are yours until you give us purpose.”
“If I do it… If I—give you purpose—then you’ll leave me?”
“Of course,” the three replied. “Once we’ve tasted the flesh of your enemies.”
He shut his eyes, the tighter the better. But he couldn’t banish the sensation of their invisible hands caressing him from head to toe, tousling his hair. An invisible hand stroked the inside of his thigh and he shuddered. He wished he were dead. The suspicion over the past weeks that he’d lost his grip on reality wore him down. If he told anyone, he’d be put away for sure. But they were as real to him as anything. The fact that he couldn’t see them didn’t matter. He could hear them just fine. And his body knew their lover’s touch. A blessing, yes, but a blessing he didn’t want for long. He was willing to do anything. Anything to get rid of them.
Tears squeezed out from his tightly shut lids. “Fine. Do it. Take revenge for me. Give me what I want and then leave me alone.”
Invisible lips took turns kissing his mouth. “Your enemies will taste our fury. Who is first?”
He knew who he wanted it to be. But just to be safe he’d try it out, on someone less important. He whispered the name, barely audible, but they heard him and for the first time in months, left his side.
Micah couldn’t take his eyes off her. He sat across from her in a booth at a local burger joint busy enough for him to assume it was a town favorite. To be honest, he didn’t even know the name, he’d been too wrapped up in his own thoughts when he arrived after Jax’s shift ended at seven. He was sure he looked like a dumbstruck idiot, but he just couldn’t help himself. She had a cute nose, a button nose. Her delicate features were small, but her strange pale eyes stood out like glistening emerald pools in the moonlight. He couldn’t help but laugh at his own foolishness.
“What?”
She watched him with a wary expression, like a coyote caught in a snare. He didn’t think it would take much for her to bare her teeth and attack if she felt truly threatened. And talk about direct…her question, it just hung in the air, almost an accusation and so lacking in trust. She was afraid of him. He could feel it somehow, just a trace of fear. It wasn’t just her guarded expression. Truth be told, she was pretty good at masking her face. But he could sense her building anxiety. For the first time, Micah didn’t feel like running. Rather, he was curious about her emotions. Wonders never cease.
“Where are you from?” she asked out of the blue.
“Seattle. Well, Bellevue, actually. I worked in Seattle.”
“What are you doing here?”
He quirked a brow. Yep, she was direct. Somehow this had become more of an interrogation than a simple conversation. “Honestly, just passing through. On my way to Wyoming.”
Jax leaned forward in her chair, pinned him with an apprising stare, like she was trying to reach into his thoughts. “Are you playing some kind of game, Micah? Or are you really as clueless as you seem?”
Angry now. Or frustrated? Searching through the tangle of emotions he knew weren’t his, Micah determined that she was balancing on a precipice of emotion. Fighting for neutrality, but ready to tilt over the edge at any moment. And the worst part of her direct questioning—he was just as clueless as he seemed. “Sorry to confirm your worst fears. But, yes. I am totally clueless.”
She snorted into her glass of iced tea. Again he felt a soft cloud of emotion billow off of her, something between pity and amusement. How nice. Making quite the impression, aren’t you? Micah paused, pushed a French fry around his plate. What did he expect to get out of this, anyway? That somehow, because he felt something when he touched her face, she’d magically have all the answers to the problems in his life and he’d be fixed? He’d finally fucking lost it, hadn’t he? What was the point in pulling up his firmly planted roots and leaving Bellevue just to stall out halfway to his destination? Solitude, he reminded himself, was the purpose of this little pilgrimage. Getting the hell away from emotions that weren’t his and visions that kept him from a decent night’s sleep, not to mention his own sanity. This whole damned trip was about putting distance between him and any human interaction, not forming new relationships. Get your shit together, man. Who cares what she’s feeling and why. He swirled a fry around in a pool of ketchup and popped it into his mouth, masking his own ridiculous confusion with some vigorous chewing. She can obviously take care of herself, and besides, you’re just passing through.
Jax set down her cup and leveled her gaze. A crease gathered between her dark brows, and Micah was struck with the urge to gently erase it with his thumb. Indecision twisted his stomach, twitches of emotion sparking off of her like electricity. She took a deep breath. Held it. Let it out in a single gust. “I’m going to tell you something, and you’re going to think I’m full of shit. But before you pass judgment, hear me out and then think about how you feel.”
This wasn’t the direction he’d seen their dinner conversation taking. One thing was certain: she had no problem being direct. But if playing a captive audience to whatever she was about to say meant squeezing out a few more minutes of time with her, it would be worth every second. “Shoot.”
A pregnant pause lingered between them. Her shoulders slumped as if in resignation and she sighed. Pulling the butterfly bandage from her cheek, she presented him with smooth brown skin, all signs of her previous injury gone. “You did this, Micah. You healed me. A
lmost instantaneously.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but she held up a hand and he obeyed the command.
“You have a gift, Micah. You’re a Bearer and a damn powerful one. I don’t know why you’re here, or why you’re unrealized. But your ignorance could cause a lot of trouble. Trouble I don’t feel like dealing with.”
Bearer? Unrealized? Powerful? “Huh?” Micah closed his eyes and suppressed a shudder as a chill raced up his spine. His stupid Neanderthal grunt of an answer had triggered her frustration again. It prickled over his skin like biting, cold rain. Idiot.
“I have no idea what you mean,” he said. “But…there is something going on here. I—feel things—when I’m around you.” Understatement of the century. Before he’d felt the emotions of others. Twinges of anger or happiness. A shadow of what they truly felt. With Jax, it was completely different. Stronger on so many levels.
Micah tried to discern what she was thinking—or rather, feeling—as she shifted in her seat, but he sensed that she’d managed to erect some sort of barrier, blocking him out. Interesting. Her gaze roamed around the restaurant and settled on a far corner. The concerned crease returned to her brow. Turning, he followed the path of her eyes to see a guy sitting alone, wearing a crisp, navy blue uniform shirt with fire department patches. From the intense, somewhat bemused expression on his face, he seemed to be pretty interested in her. “Do you know him?”
Vengeance Borne Page 6