“I’m right here, Micah,” Jacquelyn said. “None of this can hurt you, remember that.”
His fingertips dipped into the dead woman’s blood, cold and slick like old motor oil. A surge of clouded terror burst like a balloon in his chest, filling him with emotions that had nowhere to go. In his mind’s eye he saw a dining room table, a hand reaching out with a match to light two candles. The house was dark, a romantic atmosphere carefully orchestrated while couch pillows were fluffed and placed just so. He walked toward a large mirror hanging above the fireplace and gasped as he looked into the reflection of the dead woman, a rush of pleasure zinging through his veins as she took stock of her made-up face and perfectly coiffed hair.
This was a confident woman, sure of herself and not afraid to admit it. She plated the food and set the dishes on the table close together, straightening a fork on a napkin before pouring two glasses of red wine. A sound, much like nails on a chalkboard sent a chill across his skin as he lived the woman’s memory. She walked to the patio doors, sliding the glass open.
“Hello?” Her voice quavered as she stepped outside.
A strangled scream rent the night as she was seized by what felt like many pairs of hands. Searing pain shot through her skull as taloned fingers raked across her scalp, and a warm trickle of blood ran down her forehead, dripping off curled and make-up coated lashes. Kicking, flailing, crying out, the woman fought for her release, though her efforts proved fruitless against such strong and capable hands. “Who are you?” she screamed. “Let me go! Take whatever you want, just please don’t hurt me!”
A trio of voices hissed in response, followed by greedy cackles that sent chills across Micah’s flesh. “Take whatever we want? What a gracious offer, and so we shall. A pound of flesh, maybe more. Revenge is sweet and tastes like honey.”
Bile rose in Micah’s throat as he remembered the sickly-sweet taste on his tongue moments earlier. The woman’s fear spiked, and he stumbled backward, Jacquelyn’s palms steadying him as he sat back against the fallen tree.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” the woman screamed in his mind. “Revenge? What the hell do you mean? Who the fuck are you?”
Three shrouded figures dragged the woman through the grass and Micah cringed as she was raked over the tree stump and deposited on the ground.
“We are Vengeance,” they said. “And you are our prey.”
Micah took a deep breath, choked again on the smell of dried of blood and death. Darkness descended over the vision and he was overcome by rage, lust, and hunger. He looked down at the woman, now seeing through the eyes of her killers. He bent over her and removed the hood from his head. The woman gasped, a ragged scream tearing through her chest on the exhale. “Oh my god!” she screamed. “Oh my god!”
The vision blurred and a ripple of pleasure danced across his skin at the woman’s distress, fueling the all-consuming hunger that would soon be sated. He watched through the eyes of her murderers as the woman scurried backward like a spider backed in a corner. Her eyes darted from side to side, frantic for an escape route and she paused, her gaze narrowing as she focused on something beyond her attackers’ bodies.
“You?” she shrieked. “You’re with these—th—things? No,” she said with disbelief, the fight gone from her voice. “No,” she sobbed, her face dropping into her palms. “Nooooo!”
He swooped down and the figures flanking him reached out, their spindly arms protruding from their cloaks, the flesh like marble run with cracks, as they tore at their victim’s flesh. The woman screamed one last time, the sound diminishing into a series of gurgling whimpers and then silence.
“Come,” three hissing voices said in his memory to someone in the distance. “Taste of your victory and become invincible.”
“Fuck!” Micah jerked back and knocked his head against the tree. The pain throbbing in his skull was nothing compared to the violent tremors that rocked his body. By slow degrees, his vision cleared and he was once again in his own skin, eyes focused on the blood-stained grass. Arms encircled him from behind, around the expanse of his shoulders and her palms pressed firmly into his chest. Jacquelyn molded herself to his back, the warmth of her body a soothing balm as she rocked a little, back and forth, back and forth.
“It’s okay, Micah,” Jacquelyn whispered. “Calm down. You’ll be okay in a second. Just breathe through it. It’s okay.”
He wondered as she rocked him like a mother comforting her child if the mantra was for him or more for her own peace of mind. This vision had been far worse than the last, so real and almost tangible. Emotion roiled within him, leaving his body in a sucking whirlpool, inch by inch. That poor, poor woman. What had she done to deserve such a grisly death? Who had she offended, and why had this person seen fit to unleash the fury of hell upon his enemies?
Micah reached up and wrapped his hands around her arms. Their contact anchored him to the real world, prevented his head from spinning and kept his own irrational fears silenced in his chest. God, if she only knew what this moment meant to him.
“What did you see?” She seemed hesitant to ask.
“Furies.” He leaned against her and gently squeezed her arm. “The same creatures that killed that man.”
“Anything else?” she asked. “Any…one else?”
Micah stopped her from rocking and freed himself so he could turn and look at her. Her brow puckered in distress, her large green eyes shimmered with worry. What did she know that he didn’t?
“There was someone else, but I never saw a face. The woman—”
“Bree.”
“Bree knew whoever it was. She seemed pretty surprised, though I don’t know how it could have shocked her more than the sight of those three…things hovering over her. Why do you ask? Do you know something?”
“No.” Jacquelyn refused to meet his gaze. “Not yet. I was just hoping that maybe you’d get a look at the person controlling them. That’s all.”
That certainly wasn’t all. She couldn’t even bring herself to look him in the eye. But grilling her for information wasn’t going to help, not while she was so closed off. He could wait. Besides, he was the outsider here, the new guy. And she was the seasoned pro. He’d follow her lead and let her keep her secrets until the time came that she felt comfortable enough with him to open up. Until then, he’d have to wait. “What should we do now?” he asked. “Call Trish?”
Jacquelyn stood and held out her hands. He accepted her assistance and stood, turning his back on the murder scene as he dusted off his pants. A few tremulous steps proved he’d be able to make it back to the truck on his own steam, but as he held his hands out in front of him, they shook a little too much.
“We don’t need to get Trish over here,” Jacquelyn said. “You can drive to the ranch and tell her yourself.”
“You’re not coming with me?”
“I can’t,” Jacquelyn said with a weary sigh. “Someone’s got to go tell Cassy what’s going on and I already told the 911 dispatcher that I’d wait for the deputies so they can take a formal statement.”
“I’ll go with you, if you want. You know, moral support.”
The panic in her eyes betrayed the reassuring smile she fixed on her lips. “No. It’s fine. I’ve been through worse, believe me. Just tell Trish what’s happened. I’ll call you later this evening and we’ll regroup.”
“What’s the plan?”
“We’ve got to find the person controlling the Furies. And we’re running out of time. Another death—maybe two—and we’re fucked. We won’t be dealing with a human controlling Furies, we’ll be dealing with Furies controlling a creature they’ve created. A nasty, inhuman, killer.”
“What happens then?”
“If they change him or her before I stop them, all hell’s going to break loose.”
“Doesn’t sound like fun.”
Jacquelyn opened the door and Micah obediently climbed in Trish’s truck. “It’s not. I’ll call you later. Are you okay t
o drive?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
“Are you really?” Jacquelyn asked.
“No.” She might not be ready to be honest with him, but he had to be truthful. “I’m anything but fine. But I will be. Don’t worry.”
Jacquelyn shut the door and Micah turned the key, the diesel engine roaring to life. He pulled out of the driveway, his eyes firmly fixed to the rearview mirror as he watched her walk to the house and slump down on the front steps. She buried her face in her hands and it appeared that her shoulders shook from the force of her sobs. Even as he drove away, Micah could feel her sorrow, and if anyone was less fine than him, it was Jacquelyn.
Chapter 19
JACQUELYN WALKED AWAY from the sheriff’s deputies feeling like she needed a three-week shower under boiling water. Even then, it might not wash the dirty feeling from her skin. She’d been party to a lie, first for steering local law enforcement toward the idea that Bree’s death had been another animal attack, and secondly, for failing to mention Finn’s date with Bree the night before. But Waerds lived above the law and Bearers as well. Finn’s dealings with Bree were none of their business.
That didn’t mean Jacquelyn considered it none of her business.
Cassy took the news of Bree’s death equally hard. Having worked together for years, Cassy considered Bree a friend, not just another manager. She gave Jacquelyn the day off, she supposed Cassy felt like it was the least she could do since she’d sent Jacquelyn to Bree’s house in the first place. Finding a dead body was certainly enough to earn a day off. If only. Jacquelyn’s work had just begun.
“I have got to get my car fixed,” she said under her breath as she pedaled, the gears in her mind clicking in time with the rotations of the bike chain. Finn wasn’t home and it was his day off from the lumber yard. McCall wasn’t a big city—it wasn’t even a big town. So where the hell was he?
The afternoon flew by, morning’s stress melting into evening’s frustration. If Finn had something to do with Bree’s death, he could be avoiding her, but connecting the dots to see that big picture opened a cavern in Jacquelyn’s chest, the hollow ache pounding like a kettle drum. Had Finn made a bargain with the creatures they were sworn to protect innocent people from? And what on God’s green earth would have sent him to that end? What could he possibly want so badly as to unleash the wrath of Furies on the town he’d protected for longer than the five years she’d lived here?
Coasting down Main Street, she caught sight of Finn’s truck from the corner of her eye. Parked at Mountain Microbrew, the local restaurant and pub, she knew she’d have her hands full if he already had a few drinks in him. He could be difficult sober, and what she was about to lay in his lap wasn’t going to do much to put him at ease. She thought, as she leaned her bike against the back side of the building, that a few drinks might do her some good. Because accusing your former lover of conspiracy and murder was a task best left to someone with a good buzz.
The pub was full of the after-work crowd, mostly guys in tattered jeans and dirty t-shirts, with mud-caked work boots and dusty baseball caps. Finn stood at the pool table with Wes and a few guys from Carmichael Lumber and Hardware, watching as Wes managed a rather difficult corner pocket shot. A stillness settled on Finn, and his eyes drooped just enough for someone as observant as Jacquelyn to notice, and he turned toward her as if he knew she’d walked through the door.
Finn’s blue eyes locked with hers, the intensity of his gaze nearly stealing her breath. One corner of his mouth quirked, hinting of a smile, and he handed his cue stick to the guy beside him before striding across the pub to the entrance. He crossed the space with an easy grace, his body rolling like an animal on the hunt as he wound his way through patrons and a busy waitress or two. Before she could stop him, his arms wrapped around her and he buried his face in her hair.
“Jax.” Her name rumbled in his chest. “I’ve been thinking about you all day. Are you okay?”
One thing about Finn, he never let her forget what he was. “Why do you ask? Were you worried about me?”
“Of course.” He pulled away to look at her. “Something’s up. I felt it. You’re wound tight. You finally cut Trish’s puppy loose?”
Jealousy didn’t suit Finn, it was much too petty an emotion for his usual concern and, though he was still hurt over their breakup, his attitude just translated as mean and nasty. “If you’re talking about Micah, no. He’s still around. Maybe you didn’t hear, but someone was killed last night.”
“Who?” Finn asked, his eyes casting a nervous glance to the side.
Averting eye contact. Not a good sign. Shit. “Bree Embry.”
She gave him a pointed look, her emotional wall up good and tight. There’d be no chance of his prying while she gauged his reaction. His mouth turned downward, the glint of amusement gone from his eyes replaced by an empty, almost blank stare. “Bree…”
“Yes.” Jacquelyn one-upped his apathy with an accusing tone. “You know, the woman you had a date with last night?”
“I—I didn’t see her last night.”
Jacquelyn grabbed Finn roughly by the arm and dragged him to an empty corner near a row of dart-boards. “I was standing right next to you when you made the date! Don’t tell me you didn’t see her last night.”
“You actually think I wanted to go out with her?” Finn smiled, a totally inappropriate gesture considering the circumstances. “Jax, I was only trying to get your attention. I wouldn’t touch Bree with Wes’s dick. She’s a total psycho.”
“Was, Finn. She’s dead. And as far as I know, you were the last person to see her alive.”
“Fuck, you’ve got to be kidding me!” Finn said with frustration as he ran his fingers through his tawny hair. “I did not see her last night. I went home, took a nap, and met Wes here around ten. You can ask anyone. We shot a few games, drank too much, and I slept on his couch last night.”
Jacquelyn cringed. She disliked Bree right down to her neat and tidy time sheets, but it rubbed her the wrong way when someone spoke ill of the dead. Bree wasn’t going to be anyone’s pain in the ass ever again. She’d died a violent, horrible death, and no one, not even a psycho, deserved that.
“Finn, her house was decked out for a date night, candles, dinner on the table, wine. Are you seriously going to stand there and tell me that you stood her up? No phone call, no apologies?”
“You’re damn right that’s what I’m telling you.” He closed the space between them, and leaned down to eye level. “She was nasty to you every single fucking day of your life. Do you really think I’d give two shits if her feelings were hurt about being stood up? She deserved it. In fact, she deserved a lot more than that. I’d never play nice with anyone who hurt you.”
“Did she deserve to die?”
“What? No.” Finn looked away. “But goddamn it, Jax…”
“What, Finn?” she demanded. “What?”
“Why can’t you see that I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get you back? I’m dying here. I can’t breathe without you. I feel like I’m missing a limb or part of my fucking soul. I need you. Being apart from you is killing me.”
When did this interrogation turn on her? This was the exact reason she’d pushed him away. He’d long forgotten their mission to protect. The relationship was all that mattered to him. All of their responsibilities had gone by the wayside in exchange for their time together. And though Finn wasn’t bound to serve, she was. Sure, they’d been together as a couple almost immediately after she moved here, but Finn had never let their relationship get in the way of their duty to protect. When had that changed for him? When had the deaths of innocents taken a backseat to their personal lives?
“Finn, you can’t keep pushing me like this.” She didn’t want to hurt him, but things couldn’t continue on the way he wanted. Finn had blurred the lines between shielding her from the emotional damage of being a hunter and replacing her emotions with a numbness she no longer wanted to feel. “I’m not th
e only one who left. You did, too. I needed you. I needed a Bearer, a partner, and you hung me out to dry.”
“I don’t care about the job anymore.” His voice rose well above the din of the happy-hour crowd. “The only thing I give a flying fuck about is you, Jax.”
“What about Trish?”
“What about her? If you gave me the green light, I’d tell her to find another Bearer to take her place. Shit, it sounds like she’s already got one on the line. Let’s go. Leave Micah to clean up this cluster-fuck and we’ll get out of here. You won’t have to serve anyone. We can just be normal people for once. We—we can get married.”
Disbelieving laughter bubbled up through Jacquelyn’s throat. It was official. Finn had finally gone off the deep end. Married? Run away? Leave Trish? He’d never wanted anything more than to take over Trish’s territory, and now he was willing to abandon everything he’d ever worked for—for what? Marriage and a storybook ending?
“Finn…you’d never leave Trish.” Jacquelyn looked over his shoulder to make sure their corner of the bar was still relatively private. This was not a convo she wanted anyone to overhear. “She’s like a mother to both of us. And how can you just drop a marriage bomb on me like this when you know we’ve got rampaging Furies to stop? How can you possibly consider running away from here when you know people need our protection?” Jacquelyn shook her head. “You haven’t been yourself lately, and I’m flying blind. I need you, Finn. If you don’t have anything to do with Bree’s death, then help me find out who does.”
Vengeance Borne Page 18