by G. A. Rael
Chase frowned. “Are you sure about that?”
“Yeah,” Jordan said, deciding he didn’t need to know that she wasn’t planning on telling any of the others, either. That would only make it easier for them to come after him once they learned the truth. “He’s never bothered to tell me when he’s leaving. Let him sweat it out for once.”
The airport was nowhere near as big as Jordan had expected. She had overheard horror stories about security, but they passed through the line without a hitch. Maybe it was because Chase was the kind of person who didn't seem capable of doing anything wrong. People always seemed to go out of their way to accommodate him. At least, the ones who didn't know about his past.
When they got on the plane, Jordan sheepishly asked to trade seats with Chase so she didn't have to sit by the window. First class seats were roomy, and if she kept her eyes straight ahead, she could pretend she was in a nice waiting room rather than a tin can about to take off into the sky at any moment.
That moment came after more than an hour of delay, giving her plenty of time to agonize over what it would be like. Her fear of the man next to her was momentarily overcome by her fear of flying when the plane's engines roared to life. Jordan took a deep breath and tried to remember that she’d fallen from much greater heights and lived to tell the tale.
Then again, she was short on guardian angels at the moment.
"Darling, what's the matter?" Chase asked, stroking her hair with gentleness she didn't feel she deserved.
“Nothing,” she said, forcing a smile. “Just a little queasy, that’s all.”
He was quiet for a moment. "This isn't your first time flying, is it?"
“Uh… yeah.”
"Oh, dear," he said, wrapping an arm around her to pull her over into his seat. "Excuse me, Miss?" he called when the stewardess passed by their row. "My wife is a bit anxious, could she get a glass of something to calm her nerves?"
"Of course, sir. I'll have it right out," the stewardess said pleasantly. She looked just like a flight attendant from an old movie. She was young and beautiful with her flaxen hair pulled back in a tight bun and not a single wrinkle in her red uniform dress.
A moment later, Jordan was holding a glass of red wine and a packet of crackers. "First timer?" The attendant asked with a knowing smile.
"Yeah," Jordan laughed. "Thanks."
"No problem. What sends you two to Ireland, business or pleasure?"
"Our honeymoon, actually," Chase said proudly, squeezing Jordan's hand.
"Oh, congratulations," said the stewardess. "Belfast is just beautiful this time of year."
"We're actually going into the country from the airport. Soak up a bit of the local culture, if we can."
"Well, have a wonderful time and congratulations to both of you," the attendant said with a warm smile. She turned to Jordan with a wink. "He's a keeper."
"He is," Jordan agreed as the other woman continued on down the aisle. Maybe Chase had missed his calling as a steward. He certainly had the personality.
The wine seemed to take effect immediately, even if it tasted more like sparkling grape juice. She decided it had just gone stale and relaxed in her chair, far less disturbed by the clouds passing by underneath the wing of the plane than she had been before. In fact, as daylight shifted to evening and made the miniature city below harder to see, she decided that flying wasn’t as bad as she’d thought.
“I’m sorry for being so inconsiderate, my darling. I should’ve known you’d be anxious about the flight after your fall,” Chase said, glancing up from his crossword to check on her.
"It's not flying," Jordan admitted. "It's heights in general, and you’re anything but inconsiderate.”
He smiled, glancing back at his puzzle. "Say, can you think of a five-letter word for someone who betrays?"
Jordan's newfound zen dissolved into a fresh wave of nausea. "What? Why?"
"My crossword, dear," he said, blinking. "The last letter is 's' and I'm utterly stumped."
She swallowed hard. "Oh. Uh, Judas?"
He tilted his head and stared at the paper before penciling it in. "Huh. I guess even after all this I'm not very Biblically literate. Thanks, love."
"Sure," she said, watching him out of the corner of her eye the rest of the trip. Sometimes it was hard to tell what was the original Chase screwing with her and what was just her Chase being his usual strange self. Then again, that was probably half the fun for the imposter.
When the captain announced the plane's landing in twenty minutes, the stewardess reappeared to collect empty bottles and cans. When she made her way to their row, she took Jordan's empty glass. "Sometimes these landings can be a little bumpy. Better brace yourself.”
"Thanks," Jordan said, even though she was too drowsy to muster up much concern about the landing. Chase was still working on his puzzle when she nodded off and by the time she opened her eyes, the plane was no longer in the air. Everyone was leaving their seats and people were collecting their overhead bags before filing off the plane.
Jordan yawned and stretched her legs as Chase collected their bags from the overhead storage compartment. "That was smooth."
Chase chuckled, leading her off the mostly empty plane. The stewardess waved at them. "Enjoy your trip!"
"Thanks," Jordan called, a bit louder than she had intended. That was some damn strong wine. She leaned on Chase as he led her through a tunnel that connected the plane to the airport and past the gate. "Is everyone in Ireland that nice?"
"Only the natives," he said dryly. They collected their luggage without a hitch and Chase picked up their rental.
Jordan looked around at the well-lit cityscape of Belfast. Even at night, it was beautiful. She waited for him to pull into one of the dozens of tall stone buildings that looked like they belonged to royalty but advertised themselves as hotels. Instead, they kept driving until the city was just a chunk of glimmering lights in the rearview mirror.
"Where are we going?"
"I own a house in the country," he replied, surfing through the radio stations until he found one he liked.
"You own a lot of things," Jordan murmured, leaning against the door. The glass felt cool against her cheek but her skin was flushed all over, so she pulled off her sweater.
"It's always wise to diversify your investments," he said, turning onto a road that was little more than a trickle of cement through tall green grass.
“That’s what my dad always said,” she remarked. “Of course, he was just investing money he stole.”
Chase was silent for so long she was sure she had offended him. "I don't think I would get along very well with your father."
"He’d hate you,” she admitted. She wasn’t sure why she’d become so loose lipped about the man she usually avoided talking about at all costs. Especially since he was still out there somewhere.
"I'll take that as a compliment."
Jordan yawned again. She turned on the air conditioner in hopes that it would help her stay awake. She knew the other Chase would be watching closely, waiting for her to make some kind of move, and she needed to have all her wits about her. Not to mention that Chase himself had finally promised to give her the answers she needed.
“There’s something I want to ask you.”
“What is it, love?”
“What you said before, about those friends of your mom’s…”
“We’re almost to the house, he said, nodding to the looming manor nestled atop the smallest of a dozen mountains that surrounded it on the hillside. The tall spires and broad stone work made it look like something out of a storybook. A few windows were aglow with soft yellow light, but other than that, the stars were the only thing that lit the isolated haven. “I promise, you’ll know everything soon enough.”
"That's not a house, it’s a castle," Jordan said, leaning forward. Her vision was blurry, but she couldn’t blame it on the small amount of wine she’d drank. Maybe Hermes was right and the mask really was screwin
g with her. That would explain the nausea.
"I suppose it is."
"You own a castle?"
"Like you said, I own a lot of things.” He pulled up in the driveway, where half a dozen other cars were already parked. Before Jordan could even form a question in her mind, Chase whisked her inside. The entrance was as grand as the exterior promised with high ceilings, a marble walkway, golden torches lining an elaborate case of stairs, and paintings of various fair-haired beauties, both male and female, adorning the walls. One in particular stood out to Jordan, if only because it was Chase. The man in the portrait might have been clad in royal regalia with what appeared to be a crown of silver briars resting atop his golden mane, and his features were slightly different, but it was him. Jordan would know those eyes anywhere.
"I told them to take that down," he said contemptuously, following her gaze to the painting.
"Who?"
He took her hand and led her toward the stairs, ignoring her question. When her legs gave out, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her without missing a step.
"Where are we going?" The near fall had her head spinning again.
Once more, Chase pretended like he hadn’t heard her question. As he carried her into a massive empty chamber, she heard the sound of people scurrying on the floor above. Chase placed her in the center of a large bed covered in an elegant canopy. Each post had a royal crest carved into the dark wood, the same crest she had seen on the flags that lined the entryway.
There was a cart by the bed, similar to the one in the living room at home, and he pulled a bottle of wine from the ice bucket on top. Even in her foggy state, Jordan had gathered that he had servants, but the detailed preparation seemed excessive nonetheless. She was beginning to wonder if she would wake up to discover that the castle and the journey itself were just part of a strange dream.
“Shit,” she muttered, holding her head in her hands. “Chase, I think something’s wrong…”
"Drink this," Chase commanded softly, propping her up in his arms as he held the glass to her lips. “It’ll help.”
She eyed the wine doubtfully. “I’m dizzy. That’s not going to help.”
Chase looked up at the sound of a large crash from above. He hesitated a moment before he took a sip of the wine himself. He cupped Jordan’s cheek in his hand and kissed her softly, leaving the taste of the bittersweet liquid on her lips. “Chase, what —?”
Footsteps rushed down the stairs and Chase rose from the bed, a strange look in his eyes as he stared down at her. For a moment, Jordan feared that he’d switched places with the other, but his energy told her otherwise. This was her Chase, even if it was a side of him she’d never seen before. Of more concern was the fact that her head was now spinning so badly she could barely see him, or the blurred images of the people who’d appeared in the door behind him.
Jordan stood and took a few steps forward before her knees gave out. Chase caught her in his arms and lifted her gently. Jordan’s hand dropped and knocked over the bottle he’d just opened. Red-black liquid poured out onto the wooden floor and Jordan’s vision cleared enough to catch a glimpse of the label. Eldenberry Elixir was written on the bottle in beautiful script.
Chase whispered something in a foreign language to whoever it was that had entered the room. His tone was urgent but decisive, and Jordan found herself wishing for some sign that he was no longer the one in control. At least then she would understand the motive the monster had for whisking her away from her other protectors to a strange land. When he turned to look at her, she searched his eyes desperately for any sign of the imposter. To her horror, they were the same soft blue depths she knew so well, full of warmth, love, and something she couldn't believe she had never picked up on before. It had always been there. She could see it so clearly in hindsight.
Guilt.
Chapter 33
Darren
“What the fuck do you mean you don’t know where she is?” Darren seethed. “It was your night!”
Samael stood in the living room of Chase’s empty house glaring at him, but if the angel thought Darren was giving him a hard time, he was lucky Max had yet to realize Jordan was missing.
“I told you, I had to cancel and the last I saw her, she was here safe and sound with Chase and Hermes.”
“Right. The two people I trust least, neither of whom happen to be here at the moment. That doesn’t seem suspicious to you?”
Samael frowned. “They were going to that bed and breakfast this weekend, right? I’m sure that’s where they are.”
“I already called the bed and breakfast,” Darren snapped. “Chase canceled their reservation a week ago.”
The angel’s face fell and he took out his phone. “I’m calling Jordan.”
“I’m telling you, she’s not in Cold Creek. I came over here in the first place because I know what it feels like when she gets out of range and this is it.”
Samael ignored him, but he was growing more agitated with each ring that passed, pacing the floor. When it went to voicemail, he said, “Listen here, Jordan, I don’t know where you and those weirdos ran off to, but Darren’s up my ass and we’re both worried about you. Call me as soon as you get this, or better yet, come home.”
“She’s not going to call you back,” Darren growled. “I’m telling you, something is wrong. I can feel it.”
“And I’m tellin’ you, Jordan’s still in Cold Creek.”
“How could you possibly know that?”
“Because I’m still picking up angelic frequencies. If she left the ward zone, I’d get a ping.”
“And if your sensors are broken?” Darren challenged.
“That’s not how it works. Besides, I’m no mortal, but I'd say if you're checking your phone regularly on your honeymoon, you're probably doing the whole thing wrong."
Darren ignored him and rushed upstairs to Chase's bedroom, swallowing the bile in his throat as their mingled scents assailed him.
"What are you doing?" Samael asked as Darren tore through Chase’s meticulously ordered belongings. He pulled out the pockets of each suit arranged by color and hung precisely two inches apart in the large walk-in closet and opened every last dresser drawer.
“Looking for anything that might tell me where they went. For the record, half of Chase’s wardrobe is missing.”
Samael hesitated only a second before he joined the hunt.
Once they’d trashed the bedroom, Darren turned to Chase’s home office. He sat down at the desk and frowned at the screensaver of Chase and Jordan onboard his father's yacht. Chase's password screen popped up. He tried “Password” first, since Chase was just the type, but got an error message instead.
"How're you gonna get in?" Samael asked, leaning over the back of his chair to watch.
"Chase is nothing if not predictable," Darren muttered, wincing in anticipation as he typed in Jordan's name. The red error screen flashed again.
"Those were your best guesses, huh?"
"Yep," Darren replied, searching the desk for any hint. Nothing was taped to the underside of the keyboard or mentioned in Chase's day planner. Any mention of the honeymoon itinerary was conveniently absent from the last entry the lawyer had made. A strange oversight for someone who scheduled his grocery shopping trips.
"Hang on a sec," Samael said, reaching across Darren. Darren scowled at the invasion of space and was about to scold the angel for wasting their time when the green screen flashed and Chase's desktop appeared.
"What did you type?" Darren asked, in awe.
"Alyssa."
"Well, that's... unsettling," said Darren, wasting no time digging through Chase's search history.
"Find anything good?" Samael asked hopefully.
"No," Darren muttered. "The freakiest thing about the guy is that there's not a trace of porn on his computer. That or it's so freaky he’s got it hidden somewhere even I can’t find it," he snorted. "I did find a record of two plane tickets he purchased last night,
though.”
“Belfast?” Samael cried. “That ain’t possible. I’d know if she left the county line, let alone the country!”
“Unless someone is purposely jamming your frequencies.”
“Son of a bitch,” the angel snarled.
“The plane should have arrived at seven fifteen,” Darren said, checking the time. “There's information about a rental made at a kiosk in Belfast, too."
"Is that enough to find them?" Samael asked hopefully.
"Normally, no," said Darren. "Belfast is huge, they could be anywhere. All rentals have a black box we could use to trace the car, but I'd need access to the store’s computers.”
"What would that entail?"
Darren considered it. "Breaking in if they're closed, convincing an employee to commit a crime if they're open."
"You handle the hacker crap, I'll get you in there," Samael promised.
"Good," Darren said, going back to the airport's website. "That involves far less property damage than my plan."
"What are you doin' now?"
"Ordering our plane tickets."
Samael stared at him. "You do know you're talkin' to an angel, right?"
Darren looked at him warily. "I'll do whatever it takes to find Jordan, but I'm not sure you ferrying me across the ocean in your arms is the most practical solution."
Samael rolled his eyes. "Our wings get us into Heaven and Hell, but down here, they’re mostly for showing off. I can 'teleport' us both to Belfast, right now."
"Great," Darren said, standing immediately. "Let's go."
Samael hesitated. "Most folks need a bit more hand-holding to take the leap of faith."
"I can bite a washcloth if it’ll make you feel better, but I'd rather just get to Jordan. "
"Well, alrighty then," Samael said, reaching out for Darren's shoulder. By the time the twinge of anxiety hit him, they were standing in a cobblestone alley behind a tall building. Cars zipped by on the road now and then, but the rain-soaked streets were mostly empty.