by Lisa Ladew
Jameson shook his head, his voice still soft, as he glanced at the nurse’s back. “Just him, I think.”
Cora snapped her fingers. “Carick’s not human, is he?”
Jameson shook his head, appraising her again like he had in the truck, like he wondered if she could be trusted.
“How ‘bout you? You human?” He wasn’t. What he was, she couldn’t begin to imagine, but she’d bet a million dollars he wasn’t human.
The nurse turned and addressed them. Argh! Cora had the worst luck in the world! Anytime someone finally started talking, the fucking buzzer stopped them. Maybe it was a good thing, though. Bits and pieces kept her in the slowly-boiling frog pot, where knowing everything at once might have sent her running across the country. Problem was, she still ended up dinner.
The nurse had a pretty face and jet black hair tucked under the kind of cap you never saw anymore. “I’m so sorry you had to wait,” she said, giving Jameson a second look, then a third. Cora wanted to claw her eyes out.
And then it became apparent they already knew each other! “Jameson, I tried to call you.”
Jameson moved away a bit, but Cora followed, leaning her upper body towards him, waiting for Nurse Whorepocket to notice her. She snickered to herself. What the fuck was a whorepocket? Like a hot pocket, but sleazy? Whatever, she’d thought worse.
Jameson introduced them. “Cora, this is Serena, Serena, Cora.” To Serena, he said. “Called me, why?”
“You’re Auntie’s emergency contact.”
“Me? We’re not family.”
Serena shrugged. “She’s got no one else. No family. You’re the only one who comes to see her. She said you were her contact right after you first started visiting last year.”
“The doctor won’t ever tell me about her, though.”
Serena looked down both hallways then leaned in close. “Emergency contact is not family. He doesn’t want to have to consult you for treatment plans.”
Jameson nodded. “Is she sick?” He grabbed for Cora’s hand, and only then did she realize he was holding his breath, waiting to hear that she had died. Was Auntie a blood relation? He obviously cared about her deeply.
Serena looked down the hall again, like she wasn’t supposed to be talking about it. She still hadn’t looked at Cora for more than a quick second. Cora covered Jameson’s hand with both of hers. “Auntie had an episode not long after your last visit, on the day of that blue moon. We couldn’t wake her for twenty-four hours, even with drugs and pain stimuli.”
“Pain stimuli!” Jameson startled, then his tone sharpened. “She’s old as dirt, you can’t do sternal rubs on her!”
Serena nodded. “I know. She’s ok, I swear. Doctor didn’t do it for long. We were about to transfer her out to the hospital when she woke up.”
Serena’s forehead creased. “She’s not the same, Jameson. She’s never been all there as long as I’ve worked here, but now she’s not even a little there for most of the day.”
Jameson cursed. “Can I see her?”
Serena nodded. “She’s waiting for you. She had been for over a week. Every day, she refuses activity time, which isn’t like her. Just sits in her chair, mumbles about her daddy coming home, and asking the nurses about your next visit.”
“Thanks, Serena.” Jameson pulled his hand from Cora’s grip and squeezed Serena’s shoulder. “We’re going now.” Cora forced herself to smile. Serena waved them back and headed for her computer.
Jameson rushed down the hallway and Cora ran to catch up. “Is she really your aunt?”
“No. She wandered away from the home one day, all the way into the eastern edge of the forest. We had to do a search. I found her and she latched onto me. Wouldn’t let me go for anything, even once we had her back here.” He fell silent for a moment. “She’s special. Sweet. Something about her always called to me. I’ve been visiting twice a month since then.”
Cora pulled him to a stop in the empty hallway. “And you just now figured out she’s a switch? Doesn’t the Keeper have, like, instructions or something?”
He shook his head. “It’s not like that. You… you glow, Cora, did we tell you that yet?” He made plucking gestures six inches above her shoulder and out from her ear. “The deepest forest green. And it pulses when you get upset.”
She looked down at her arms. “What, like I’m radioactive?” She turned her hands over. “I don’t see anything.”
“Maybe you can’t see your own glow.”
Of course she couldn’t. Made perfect sense. “No one’s ever said anything about a glow.”
Jameson’s face screwed up. “Not everyone can see it.”
“But you can-”
A door in the hallway opened. Buzzer time. Cora could have predicted it. A woman stood there, an old woman. Cora wouldn’t have been surprised to hear she was over one hundred. Wizened skin hung loosely on a bent frame, as if she’d lost weight. Pure white hair frizzed from the confines of her bun. Her skin was pale, wrinkled like old fruit, but still her cheeks were flush and her lips a deep red. She’d been a natural beauty, but the kind that took more than a moment to see.
She stared at Jameson and he approached her, speaking softly. “Hey, Auntie. You look beautiful.”
She didn’t speak, just patted his arm, then floated back into the room with her floral nightgown grazing the floor. Cora and Jameson followed. Auntie sank into a rocking chair by the window and held out her hand to Cora. Cora went close, studying her for a glow, but she didn’t see anything. Jameson had to be making that up, right?
Auntie touched Cora’s arm, then smiled at her sweetly, looking suddenly like a young child who’d never lost their innocence.
But still she didn’t speak.
Chapter 24
Jameson paced the parking lot, his phone at his ear, while Cora sat wilting in the stifling heat of his truck. He tossed her his keys and mimed turning on the A/C. Bless him. They’d sat with Auntie for a bit and she’d seemed happy they were there, but she never did say a word. Jameson had been antsy, distracted, leaving Cora to engage Auntie in one-sided conversation.
Finally he’d come over, all intense and unintentionally sexy. He’d knelt before Auntie and put his hands on her knees. “Auntie, I want you to come live with me. Not right this minute, there’s too much going on, but you shouldn’t be here anymore. I have some friends who would love for you to come stay. Molly and Hernando. You could live with them until I get a nurse for you in my home.”
Auntie had nodded happily and patted his hand. He leaned in closer. “That’s why you always wander away, isn’t it? You’re not wandering, you’re leaving.”
Auntie’d patted his hand like a whisper and nodded again. Jameson sighed resolutely and shot to his feet as they said their goodbyes. He didn’t even wait until they were in the hallway before he asked, “You know any lawyers?”
Lucky! She did! She’d blushed when she gave him the firecracker’s number, the one who had advised her to plead not guilty due to insanity.
They’d been talking for a few minutes, and Cora could tell by the look on his face that getting Auntie out of the nursing home might be hard, but not impossible. He looked ready for a fight. She hoped he had money. It wasn’t going to be cheap, getting power of attorney over a woman who wasn’t his family. Oh, and he’d said no one knew Auntie’s real name or age.
After a few more minutes, he came to the truck and climbed in, his phone in his pocket. “That’s the process started. We’ll see what happens.”
“If it doesn’t, we’ll bust her out,” Cora said, not even kidding. Why should the state have control over Auntie? To them she was just a number, but Jameson cared. “So was she green?”
Jameson started the car and pulled onto the road before he answered. “She glowed, yes, but not green. She’s magenta.”
“Right. Of course.” Cora laughed to herself and tried to figure out which of her questions to ask first. There he was, in the driver’s seat, her captive inter
viewee for the next ten minutes.
But all she could do was sneak sideways stares and wish Jameson would take her home and have his way with her.
Only problem was, ‘his way’ might just mean a nice cup of coffee and some conversation. He wanted her, but wasn’t responding to her advances at all. Frustrating as shit. She would break through whatever was holding him back, though, no matter what it was.
She gave it a try, grinning in Jameson’s direction. “I’m starving.”
The smile on her face died as she watched Jameson squirm. “Ah. Okay. A problem I can obviously solve at home by myself.”
“You’re not for me, Cora.” His voice was gruff and she could clearly hear the disappointment in his statement.
She shook her head, hair tumbling around her shoulders, ignoring his crooked logic. She wasn’t for anyone. “Says who? If you say Carick, I’m going to seriously lose some respect for you.”
He shook his head. “Not Carick.”
But he didn’t say who.
Cora was over it all. Passive aggressive snark powers, activate! “If you’re not attracted to me just say so. I’m a big girl, I can take it.”
No, she wasn’t, and she couldn’t. Cora held her legs still, resisting the urge to stomp them like a child being denied a lollipop. All she wanted was one lick! Plus a few hundred more, give or take.
Jameson looked at her askance, his eyes wide. “Not attracted to you? You’re kidding, right?”
Okay. At least that was out in the open. But then why the no-licking rule? “So, you are you attracted to me?”
He groaned in a way that was almost a whimper, scrubbing his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s not that simple. You’re a switch. The first one. I have duties-”
Cora cut him off. “You do? Fill me in, maybe we can work together.”
They were pulling up to her house. Jameson hugged the curb but left the engine running, turning in his seat to look at Cora more directly. “I would love to. But it’s not meant to be. We will work together, just not… that closely.”
Cora held up a hand. Passive-aggressive had gotten a few answers, now it was time for persuasion. And popular culture. He didn’t look like he watched much TV, but she could still change his mind with a few witty, well-timed references. “Wait a second. One minute you tell me you’re attracted to me, the next minute you’re saying we shouldn’t act on it? Haven’t you seen Cheers? Moonlighting? The Office? Wait, I know you’ve seen Buffy. Even she got with Angel. It’s inevitable, me and you. Let’s just give in and get it over with.”
Coralie smiled gamely at Jameson, willing him to laugh along and agree. Then devour her whole. But no, the dutiful man with the beautiful body just sat there. Not devouring her. At least not with anything other than his eyes.
He looked away from her, out the windshield at her quiet street. Cora wanted so badly for him to come into her house, to see him surrounded by her things. On her couch. In the bed she’d bought with a man in mind. Her man. Jameson, even though she hadn’t met him yet.
“This isn’t TV, Cora.”
Cora was seized with a sudden rebellion. She launched herself into Jameson’s arms, counting on him to catch her. Solid strength wrapped around her torso, holding her steady as she made for his mouth. “It could be,” she whispered as she kissed him.
His lips were soft but firm, surrounded by bristly stubble that thrilled her with its rough touch. Cora pressed against him, moving her lips sensually in concert with his fingers gripping her waist, holding her firmly to him.
She felt him draw in a quick breath and took advantage, slipping her tongue into his mouth. A sigh escaped her and Jameson answered it with a deep growl, so low and rumbling it seemed to come from his chest.
Her nipples pebbled immediately in response; her core flooded with heat and longing. Now it was Cora’s turn to gasp.
But like a light switch Jameson shut down. He withdrew his lips from hers, used his hands at her waist to set her body away from his, and let go a shaky breath. It couldn’t have been more obvious that he wanted her, wanted to take this moment to its natural conclusion. And yet his clothes stayed on.
Had she been over it before? Now it was ancient fucking history. “Fine. You want it that way, fine.”
She reached to the door, jerking the handle and pushing so hard she almost took out her own mailbox.
The sound of him hopping out of his side and coming around to hers made Cora even more furious. He’d hold her door while she had a hissy fit, but he wouldn’t act on an attraction they both felt?
Coralie stomped up her walkway, completely aware that she was acting like a spoiled brat. But damn, she didn’t ask for much. And here was the kind of man she’d been hoping to find for years; attracted to her, connected to her, but with some bullshit, bound-by-duty reason why they couldn’t make it happen. Couldn’t even give it a shot.
This wasn’t a hissy fit, Coralie decided, this was righteous indignation.
His strong, solid voice sounded behind her. “Goodnight, Cora.”
The wooden stairs made a satisfyingly pained sound under her feet as Cora stomped up them. She jammed her key in the lock as she tried to think of a reply that would adequately articulate the anger, the frustration and thwarted desire she was feeling at this moment.
She pushed the door open and stepped inside, turning for one last look at Jameson, standing firm beside the open passenger door.
Cora yelled something at him and slammed the door. She wasn’t quite sure what it had been. Something about her kissing frogs, and wouldn’t he be sorry when one turned out to be a prince?
Forgetting all about the see-through door, she pressed her face into her hands and moaned, then slid to the floor to sulk.
But only for a minute. With no pictures of Jameson to cut up, burn, and flush down the toilet, Cora did the only thing she could: she went for a run. A Forget-He-Exists run, which was way sadder than Let’s Start Dating head, and ten times less fun.
But twenty times more familiar.
Chapter 25
Zver Vandermere paced down the long hallway, the green concrete walls and exposed pipes creating an echo chamber which bounced his low voice back into his ears, though his words were meant for the blustering male following behind. Mitch Garner. Weak suckass. Zver knew the spineless blowhard wasn’t up to the task in front of them. “We knew this was a possibility. Quit crying and deal with it.”
He shoved his way through the lone door at the end of the hall, the echo blessedly ceasing to be replaced by much sweeter sounds.
Whimpers. His favorite.
Garner didn’t give up that easily, following Zver into the larder and continuing to argue as the door closed behind him with a click. “You expect me to just roll over and die? She tried to kill me. Almost got past my bodyguards. Thanks be to the Father I had the foresight to bring them.”
Zver laughed at his brother, his son, his tone harsh and unyielding. “You placate your cowardice and call it wisdom. What have we to fear from such as her?”
Hands on his hips, Garner scoffed. “A sharp point and a pitching arm, genius. What do you think?”
Zver thought he could almost feel his fingers crushing the useless little slug’s windpipe. He turned and froze Garner with a stare. “Bluster and bravado look as revolting on your face as the piss I smell on your breath. You want something? Muster the courage to ask for it.”
So nervous he couldn’t even stand still, Garner fisted his hands at his sides and puffed up his chest. “I want a bloodblade.”
Zver clucked his tongue and turned away so Garner wouldn’t see his smile. He was a snake, no more. Worth nothing as a politician, but maybe as bait…? They did need information.
Zver strode away from the weasel, knowing he would follow. He slunk into the darkness of the room, his larder, cold and dank, with walls built from centuries-old stone. Such a perfect mood setter.
The women tethered to the wall were stripped completely so he could
inspect them. He treated his stock well, making sure they were served plenty of red meat and green vegetables. Those who bruised easily after weeks of such a diet were unlikely to leave this room. The lucky ones? He moved close, watching them watch him with terrified eyes.
He grasped a woman’s chin and she jumped, her shackles jingling. Zver felt himself harden. It had been too long.
The female’s gums were pink and healthy. He turned and gestured to a guard. “This one.”
She cried and begged as the guard approached. Zver blocked out the words; only the tone and the cries were delicious to him. He could have charmed her to feel no fear of him, no pain during the feeding, but where was the sport in that? The sweet echo of her cries diminished as the guard carried her away.
Garner cleared his throat. “Good choice. May she nourish your children well.”
Bootlicker. Zver fixed him with a stare and swept his arm toward the wall. “Would you like to choose next? One day you might have children to feed.”
The lust in the male’s eyes was obvious, and included the women as well as the power Zver dangled before him.
Garner paced the length of the room, taking his time examining each offering. Showboating. Kiss-ass. He almost hoped the switch killed him. But just him.
Garner paused before one, a freckled young woman with wide hips, a slender waist, and large breasts, whom Zver had deemed unacceptable months ago. The male reached out to fondle her as he spoke and she didn’t even flinch, her face turned to the side, her eyes vacant. “Children would be a blessing.”
Zver gestured to a guard to retrieve the woman, and stepped closer to Garner. “Blessings come to those who deserve them. Those who prove themselves worthy by not hiding behind others.”
Impatient to end the encounter and make his remaining selections privately, Zver addressed Garner’s reason for coming. “I cannot spare a bloodblade.”
Mitch Garner’s jaw dropped. His eyes flashed with panic and bald fear as he raised his arm and gestured to the side. “But you can make more! She’s a professor at the college in the town where I live and work. If we cross paths again-” His voice lowered. “I might actually die.”