“Great.” Finally, the real Jacquelyn. Not the emotionless, directionless shade that had been walking around in her place. Hope sprung, renewing Micah for the first time all day. “You’re the Waerd,” he said, motioning her ahead of him. “Where do we start?”
She charged for the door, her attention clearly centered. “Back to town. We’ll start at the fire station, see if Wes is there. If we can get him cornered, you’ll be able to gauge if he’s got Trish.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then we’re fucked.”
“Shut up!” he shouted, throwing a plate against the wall. It shattered into a hundred pieces, adding to the mess that would have to be picked up before he brought her home.
“Please.” The sharp tone of their begging voices grated on his ears. “Let us have the old woman now. There’s no point in waiting. She knows us. She’s not like the other humans. Dangerous. Kill, kill, kill!”
“She doesn’t know you. And you can’t have her. Not yet. She’s here to do a job and we need her help. Jacquelyn will be upset at first and she loves that damned old woman. Finn said so.”
The smell of fear drifted to his nostrils, and he whipped around, pointing an accusing finger at his captive. “Don’t make them angry! I told you, clean this house, get it ready for her, and make her feel better when she gets here. That’s all I want you to do. Don’t talk to them. Don’t look for them. They. Belong. To. Me.”
“You know Finn?” The biddy just wouldn’t let it go. She pressed him, eager to make the connection. “You’re friends, perhaps?”
“I knew him,” he stressed. “You don’t need to know how.”
“You look familiar. What’s your name, boy?”
He rushed to where she sat in the corner and gathered up the strands of her gray hair. Jerking her head back he twisted her face, forcing her to look at him. “Don’t call me that. I’m no one’s boy. I’m a man. I take care of myself. And I’m going to take care of her!”
“You’re a silly, foolish creature if you think Jacquelyn will sit by and let you take her. You don’t have a clue who or what she is.”
He released his grip on her hair and rubbed his temples in an attempt to banish the throbbing pain. She was trying to confuse him on purpose, talking in circles, steering the conversation in the direction she wanted it to go. Damn her. Couldn’t she just shut her mouth before he was forced to shut it for her?
Blood trickled from her lip where he’d hit her a little too hard. It wasn’t his fault, she made him. Gave him no other choice. He asked her not to fight him, but she’d been so stubborn. “You can’t do your job if you’re too beat up to stand. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will. They’ve made me stronger, I could kill you on accident and that would make Jacquelyn sad. Just cooperate and I’ll make sure they leave you alone.”
“Wouldn’t you like them to leave you alone?” She sat up a little straighter, supporting her right shoulder with her left hand. “They’ll ruin you if you don’t get rid of them. Now.”
Maybe he shouldn’t have jerked her arm so hard. He may have dislocated her shoulder. And Jacquelyn wouldn’t be happy if he hurt the old woman. He wanted her happy so she’d never want to leave. “Do you want me to look at your shoulder?” He hoped he sounded helpful. “I’ve had EMT training. It might need tending.”
“No, thank you very much,” Trish said, her brow furrowing. “I’ve had enough of your gentle care. Just keep your distance, and I’ll be fine.”
Why was she so damned bullheaded? He took a step forward, the urge to wrap his fingers around her thin and withered neck almost too much to bear. With just the sparest amount of pressure, he could squeeze the life right out of her. It wouldn’t take much to teach her a lesson, to make her realize that he was more than some random bumbling kid. He’d become theirs as much as they’d become his. And they had made him a god.
His thoughts shifted as soon as his foot hit the floor. No. This wasn’t about the old woman or them. This was about Jacquelyn. And he didn’t want to cause her pain.
“You see?” his invisible companions hissed near his ear. “She’s not going to help you. She wants to stop you. She’s a witch, our lover. An evil witch and she’ll use her witchcraft against you. She’ll hurt us if you let her. Please, let us have her!” Their keening cries stabbed at his ears. “Please! Please! Please!”
“Stop it!” His arms flailed in the air as if to push them away. “I’m in charge here, not you! You told me I could have whatever I wanted and, for right now, I want her. Leave me alone or I’ll send you away.”
A deep, cackling sound shook the walls, rattling the dishes in the cupboards. A warm breath of air caressed his body, followed by an icy shock. They’d left, but not for long. They were never gone from his side for more than an hour or so. And maybe in their absence he could get the old lady to do some work.
He approached her cautiously, holding his temper in check. It was so quick to surface lately, like a shot from a pistol. Crouching beside her, he laid a consoling hand on her good arm and she flinched away.
“I can feel you,” she whispered, and tiny pulses of shock raced up his spine. “Everything you harbor in your heart, I know. You’re laid bare to me, you can’t hide it.”
“Are you really a witch?” Not that he was scared. Nothing scared him anymore. “Seriously. That’s what they said you were.”
“I am nothing more than what I am,” she said.
“That was a stupid answer. You think you’re smarter than me, but you aren’t. You’re no better, either. A lot of people thought they were better than me. Willie, Bree, even Finn. But in the end they’re the ones who are dead, and I’m still alive.”
“Do you really think so?” Trish asked.
He hated her riddles, and he hated her. He needed to shut her up, keep her voice from snaking into his ears. “I think you are a witch. They don’t lie to me. Not ever. There’s something about you that makes me feel strange. And I don’t like it.”
“Then let me go.” Her gray eyes reminded him of storm clouds racing across wind-whipped fields. His insides felt mushy, and he remembered for a moment the person he’d been. The sadness, the self-loathing. “Let me go.”
He took a step back. And then another to put a little distance between them. With those strange eyes, she’d seen into his soul. His angels were right. The old woman was a witch and she used her eyes and big fat mouth to cast a spell on him. “I’m going to kill you,” he said. “I promised them I would. But not yet. I can’t bring her here until this place is ready for her. And you’re going to make it ready. I said I didn’t want to hurt you, but that’s a lie. I want to hurt you so bad I can taste it.” He raced to the counter and grabbed a length of twine, an old dirty rag and a roll of duct tape. “I don’t want you in my head anymore.” He quickly bound the old woman’s hands and stuffed the rag in her mouth, ignoring the gagging sounds she made. He ripped a strip of tape off the roll, and pasted the rag in place.
He paced for a moment to collect his thoughts. Now that he’d shut her up, he could think clearly. Keep the witch from casting spells. Put her to work. From a closet in the old Finnish-style kitchen, he produced a bucket and a mop. Next to that he piled towels and bottles of household cleaners. Time for her to do what he’d brought her here to do.
“Did you know that the kitchen is the biggest room in a Finnish house?” Jacquelyn would like these fun-facts. His mother used to tell him about their house time and again, delighted by the stories. “It’s the biggest room because they spent most of their time here. Cooking, eating as a family, canning and preserving food for the winter. People just don’t live like that anymore. They’ve lost the art of family, you know? But we’re going to change that. We’re going to be a family together.”
The old woman’s body slumped against the wall as she choked against her gag. He could still feel her trying to dig around in his head, maybe because her eyes were still open and trained on his face. Though he could fix that prob
lem with a teaspoon. Scoop those cold gray eyes right out of her head. But then how would she see to clean the house? Probably not the best idea. Yet.
“Can you cook? I bet you can. Most old ladies around here can. Maybe if you behave we’ll keep you around for a while. I don’t know if she can cook or not, and she might want to learn now that she’s got this great big kitchen.” That was a sound idea. Jacquelyn might not be much of a cook. She lived by herself, after all, and had never had a family to take care of.
She snorted. He couldn’t tell if it was meant as an insult, or maybe she was insulted that he even had to ask. Some ladies were very sensitive when their domesticity was called into question.
“I bet you can bake pies, fry chicken, and mash potatoes. You look like the sort. I’ve got a garden in the summer. And there’s an apple tree out back, too. You can teach her how to bake apple pies. I love apple pies.”
He floated on wings of hope. A god and his goddess living in peace. She’d love him. He knew she would. Maybe not right away, but he could be patient. She was worth waiting for. And after Trish taught her how to be a good wife and a good cook, he’d kill her. It might make Jacquelyn a little sad, but she’d be so happy with him that it wouldn’t hurt her for long. She’d get over it. And then it would be just him and her. Forever.
“Come on.” He scooted the bucket close to Trish. “Get up. I’m bringing her home soon, and the house has to be perfect.” But she stayed still and calm, resting in the corner. Rage burned inside of him, frustration that this woman would dare to defy his orders. Eyes closed, he pinched the bridge of his nose. He might have to hurt her again, just to give her the proper motivation. “All right, you asked for it. I’ll try to watch myself; I don’t know my strength yet. It’s still gonna hurt, though.”
Her flinch was more the reaction he wanted. Just a little more motivation and she’d be ready to help him. “That’s it. Get up, now. I’m going to untie your hands but you’d better behave or else I’ll have to hit you again. We have to get this place cleaned up and it’s going to be hard enough for you already with that sore shoulder.”
She inched her body up the wall, standing on wobbly legs. “Good. I knew you didn’t want to be hurt.” Everything was falling into place. He smiled. Smile and the world smiles back at you, his mom always said. “Look,” he poured some cleaner in the bucket. “I’ll even give you a hand. She’s going to be so happy. And I’ll be sure to tell her you helped.”
His life would be perfect in just a few short hours. He’d have her, the only thing he’d ever truly wanted. He’d be happy, complete.
Soon.
Chapter 29
JACQUELYN PULLED UP to the fire station, an angry fire burning in her stomach. She’d known Wes for years. Finn had been Wes’s friend for literally decades. They were closer than brothers. She would never have considered him a threat. Though, truth be told, Wes had seemed a little more bummed over their break up than either Jacquelyn or Finn. But she figured that had more to do with him thinking things might change between them and they wouldn’t hang out anymore. Then there was the whole issue with his desire to become a demon-hunting-side-kick, a fact that had always been a sore spot between Jacquelyn and Finn. If the Sentry ever got wind that a civilian was up on their activities, there’d be hell to pay. And if Wes did in fact, have anything to do with Furies in her town, she might as well kiss her ass goodbye right now. Jacquelyn swallowed down the shame rising in her throat like bile. She’d let the situation get way out of hand. Never should she have allowed herself to be so weak, as well as ask Micah to remove her grief and sorrow. She should have kept a clearer head. She should have done her goddamned job.
Worrying about what she had or hadn’t done right wasn’t going to get Trish back, though, and Jacquelyn finally felt more like herself. With a Bearer at her side, she stood at the double doors leading to the lower garage level of the fire station, her breath stalled in her chest. Please let him be here, she silently prayed. But if he was here, then what? Jacquelyn didn’t think Wes would have stashed Trish in one of the fire trucks for safe-keeping. He’d keep her off-site, away from prying eyes with, perhaps, the Furies to keep guard. Worst case scenario—he was already long gone, holed up somewhere and waiting.
“Are we going in?” Micah pointed toward the door.
He’d really stepped up to the plate. Never in a million years would Jacquelyn have thought Micah ready to take on the responsibilities he had. And yet he he’d taken all of them and then some. A true Bearer and a good partner to have, she couldn’t think of anyone else she’d rather have at her back.
Except, maybe, Finn…
Stop. Not now. You can cry your eyes out and worry about him later. Walk it off, damn it. Get your shit together and do your job.
“Just taking a second to prepare.” Jacquelyn shrugged a shoulder. The holster that held her Glock swayed under her arm, protected by her jacket and just below it, her dagger hummed with warm energy. “Are you ready?”
Micah flashed a championship grin. “I’m good.”
A buzzer sounded at their entrance, notifying the upstairs employees that someone had come in. Not quite six o’clock, the day shift had already left and the guys that worked the twenty-four hour rotation were transitioning into dinner time and their stand-by hours. She’d been to the station a couple of times with Finn. A fair share of the town’s population served as volunteers on the fire department, working in the capacity as EMTs or First Responders. It was a public point of interest, and more than once she’d shown up at the station just to shoot the breeze.
“Hey, Jax!” Sarah Thompson said, coming down the stairs. “Haven’t seen you for a while. What’s up?”
Nothin’ much, just looking for a slimy bastard killer, you? “Oh, you know, same old, same old. I’m actually looking for Wes. Is he around?”
“I don’t think so. He may have taken comp time this afternoon. You’re more than welcome to go look in the maintenance bay. His office will be unlocked if he’s here.”
“Great. Thanks.” Grabbing Micah’s hand, she steered him toward the garage to the left of the staircase.
“Wait a sec!” Sarah called, taking the last five steps in one leap. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”
Oh good Lord. Just once, God, an ugly, nondescript partner. Or must I always be punished with one Adonis after the next? They didn’t have time for this dating game bullshit, no matter how sexy Micah looked. Besides, he was way too young for Sarah.
“Sarah,” Jacquelyn said through clenched teeth forced into a smile, “this is Trish Whitney’s…nephew, Micah. He’s staying out at the ranch for a while.”
“Hi, Micah,” Sarah drawled, shaking his hand. “We’re always looking for new recruits. You ever think of volunteering?”
For your studs of the month calendar? Bare-chested with a fire-hose between his legs?
“Well,” Micah looked around as if he were sizing the place up. “I guess that depends on how long I’ll be sticking around. I’m actually here to talk to Wes about it. He told me to stop by and he’d give me the run down.”
“He offered to sponsor you?” Sarah asked.
“Something like that. But we’re in a bit of a hurry. Aunt Trish is waiting for us. It was nice to meet you, Sarah.”
“Stop by any time!” Sarah waved as Jacquelyn dragged Micah into the garage.
“Friendly lady,” Micah commented as Jacquelyn led him through a maze of fire trucks to the maintenance bay.
“Sure. Whatever.” She refused to massage his ego at a moment when they should be focused on work. Sarah wasn’t blind, though, nobody could deny Micah’s appeal. Cut, dark skin, light brown eyes and a million-watt smile. Jacquelyn swallowed down the guilt that settled in her stomach like a heavy stone. She shouldn’t be thinking of Micah that way. Especially with Finn in the hospital, beat to shit. No time for sifting through her feelings right now. She’d have plenty of time to dwell on all of it later. Right now, she needed t
o find Wes, get Trish back, banish some Furies, and ask some questions. In that order.
The vast garage that housed the department’s several fire engines led to a small hallway that opened up into an office. Beyond that office was a smaller garage that housed the ambulances. Jacquelyn turned the knob on Wes’s office door, her heart skipping a beat when it gave way and turned. Sarah said the door would be locked if Wes was gone. And for once it looked like luck was on their side.
But the office was dark and cold. No one had been there for a few hours at least. Flipping on the light, Jacquelyn stared at the bleak, white concrete walls and the sad old metal desk set in the corner. Several photos had been spread across its surface as well as a few heavy texts and a couple of notebooks. Jacquelyn flipped on the light and sat down at Wes’s desk to take a closer look. Micah loomed just behind her, his presence like a soft bubble against her back. It comforted her to know he was there, put her mind at ease.
Many seasons graced the pictures, spanning the course of a year or so. Faces smiled back at her, remnants of happier times. The central theme of each picture sent a sharp spike of tension through her shoulder blades. In each and every photo, the same trio of faces smiled back at her.
“You’re in every single picture,” Micah said, leaning over her shoulder. He rifled through several photos. “Well…you, Finn, and I’m assuming the other guy is Wes? And what are these books?” One by one, Micah perused the titles. “A History of Demonology… Occult Practices Through the Decades… Ancient Norse Mythology…” His eyes met Jacquelyn’s full of concern.
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