The Pearl of Paradise

by Jean Brashear

  Lily’s voice grew even more quiet, barely a whisper. “Until the Dragon and his Pearl are one again.”

  Damon snapped to sudden attention. “What did you say?”

  She glanced up, musing. “His last words to me were, ‘Until the Dragon and—”

  “—his Pearl are one again,” Damon chimed.

  They stood there, staring. No one moved.

  “What does it mean, Damon?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s never made sense to me. I had just told him I’d guard the Pearl for him, that I knew I couldn’t leave sanctuary… and he said that, but it didn’t make sense, except that he must have been telling me that I had to stay—to keep the Dragon and Pearl together.”

  “I used to wonder if it had anything to do with you and me.”

  He turned to search her eyes. “Because he called you Little Pearl?”

  “Just wishful thinking, I guess.” She brushed at the tears trembling on her lashes.

  “Lily, I—” Acutely conscious of Chang’s presence, Damon had so much he wanted to say, so much to explain.

  “It’s okay, Damon. I got over it.” She raised her head. “We’ve got two days to wait. I wonder—”

  “Wonder what?”

  Gesturing around the library, Lily mused, “Do you know the history of the Pearl, Chang?”

  Her brother shook his head. “I never asked. It was always just there, like Fan Lee. I thought he and it would both always be there.”

  Lily nodded sadly. “Me, too. Do you know much about it, Damon?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve done some searching through the ancient texts, but it was slow going with my poor grasp of Mandarin. I haven’t found anything yet.” He smiled ruefully. “Since I didn’t have anything to draw me away before, I didn’t feel much urgency to solve the mystery.”

  If I was going to have to live without you, here was as good a place as any. But he didn’t say it; now was not the time to delve into old heartaches.

  “Why don’t we look again?”

  Damon huffed with impatience. “Lily, I don’t—”

  “We have two days. Chang and the others can be sending out feelers.” Her hard-won calm dissolved, leaving naked anguish on her face. “Don’t you think I want to be beating the streets, too, looking for him? But you’re right—you’re Gregory’s best hope. The police can’t help with this.”

  Her look told him that she knew as well as he did that the tongs were all but immune to authority outside their own. The Bay area held a million places for Kwan to go to ground.

  Lily straightened. “We have to find the key to letting you leave sanctuary. We’ll both go crazy, waiting. This is something constructive we can do.” Her bleak look, limned in pleading, convinced him as nothing else could.

  “I have to call Joanna.”

  “I’ll do it,” Chang responded. “But you know she’ll have already called the police.”

  Damon shrugged. “It won’t hurt to have them looking, too—we just can’t count on them solving this problem.”

  He turned away. “Chang, I want everyone we can roust up, man, woman, and child, asking questions. But be careful. Make it clear to them that I can’t leave here, that I’m listening to Kwan’s demands to wait two days. I don’t want him getting antsy and doing something hasty.”

  His teeth ground in frustration. He was, at heart, a man of action. He was far more accustomed to using his fists or weaponry to solve his problems. Over the last five years, he’d learned a new way to live.

  But Kwan brought him abruptly back to the killer he’d once been. Damon’s fingers itched to close around the bastard’s throat, to choke the life out of him, to watch the hate that Kwan had nurtured for years spark in his eyes—then gutter out.

  One way or another, this would be finished—soon.

  Pinning his stare on the slender young man who would carry burdens that Damon himself would far prefer to bear, Damon poured his determination into his look.

  Chang nodded his acknowledgment. “I’ll be careful, Damon. He’s my blood, too.”

  Damon nodded grimly, then turned to Lily as Chang left the room. He placed his hands on her shoulders, gripping to impart his implacable will to her. “We’re going to get him back, Lily. I’m not letting Kwan rob me of the chance to know my child.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes again, but Damon could see the fervor of her own strong will, the fury of a mother separated from her cub. God, she was a magnificent woman.

  Lily swallowed heavily. “I know, Damon. I believe you.” She moved closer, and he gratefully enfolded her in his arms, pressing her close and placing a kiss of benediction on the top of her head.

  “I swear it to you, Lily. I’m going to make sure you get your child back.”

  Her arms squeezed around his waist, and she looked up with something he never thought he’d see again in her eyes. “Our child, Damon. We’ll do this together, and then—”

  He pressed his forehead against hers, placing a finger over her lips. They might not have a future, and he couldn’t bear to think about losing her again.

  But he would save their child, and if it cost him his life, it would be a price he would gladly bear.

  “Do you have any pictures of him, Lily?”

  Startled out of her intense concentration on the crumbling text before her, Lily placed a finger to mark her spot and raised her head. “Gregory?”

  He nodded.

  She’d never seen this vulnerability in Damon before, always so strong, so sure of himself. She’d seen him tortured by guilt, seen him grieve… but she’d never seen a look that combined such wistfulness with such an aching need.

  She nodded. “I—I don’t have them with me.” She looked away, out the window. “I was afraid of someone going through my purse. It—it seemed safer to hide the few I have.” Glancing back, she saw sorrow and guilt shove the wistfulness aside.

  “I took so much from you.” Even several feet away, she could see his jaw working. He looked away from her, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry, Lily. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been.”

  “Joanna and Ken are very good to him. He’s had a lot of love given to him.” The naked greed on his face to hear about his child pulled at her habit of not talking about Gregory. She straightened. She could do this one thing for him; she could give him the pieces of Gregory’s life that she’d shared.

  “He’s—he’s been living in Petaluma. He’s a happy boy, Damon. They’ve given him a good life.” She smiled faintly. “He really does look like you. I’ll bring you the pictures.”

  “I hope he looks like you, too, Lily.”

  She shook her head. “Maybe a tiny tilt to his eyes, but that’s about it. I don’t know what you looked like as a child, but there’s no question who his father is. He has your same dark hair, just as thick, and his eyes—they’re your eyes, to a tee. I used to look at them and wish I had a picture of you as a little boy, to compare.”

  He shrugged his shoulders, the glowing light of interest dying a little from his eyes. “My mother wasn’t big on taking pictures.”

  The roughness in his voice couldn’t disguise the pain. “You never talked much about your life before you came here.”

  His jaw clenched, and he glanced away. “It’s not something I like to remember.”

  “I’d like to listen.”

  He darted one quick glance at her, a glance that spelled a warning. “It’s not worth your time.” He turned back to the text he had been searching.

  Rebuked, Lily turned back to her own. He was right—they had a more important job to do than talk about any past but that of the Pearl.

  Lily rubbed the back of her neck, tired after hours of poring over texts and drawings, to no avail. The sick feeling in her stomach, the achiness of worry, kept dragging her concentration away from the texts and toward the futile realm of speculation.

  Was Gregory all right? Was he afraid? And worse, was he ali—she shook her head. Such thoughts w
ould do no one any good. Please, please, her heart whispered, don’t take him from me before I ever had a chance to really be with him.

  She jumped up from her chair, unable to sit still any longer. Damon’s head jerked up, questions hovering on his face.

  She shook her head again, rubbing her hands over her crossed arms, trying to ward off the terror. “Sorry—just can’t concentrate right now. I’ll get back to it in a minute. I just—”

  Damon rose and walked to her. “You’re terrified for him, aren’t you?”

  She lifted her gaze to his. “Aren’t you?”

  When he touched her arms, she felt the tension in his frame. He might mask his emotions well, but he still felt them.

  He dropped his hands from her arms. “Yeah,” his voice rough, he turned and began to pace. “This seems so damn little to do—” He slapped the table with one open hand, hard. “Goddammit! Why can I never save the ones who really matter to me?” Lifting both arms to cradle his head in frustration, his fists clenched.

  The air shimmered with the violence of his anger… his frustration… and her despair.

  We can’t keep dwelling on this part for the next two days. We’ll both go crazy. Lily straightened and moved to Damon’s side.

  “Damon?” She placed one hand on his arm and felt the taut muscles vibrating.

  “What?” Almost a growl… the growl of a wounded animal.

  Lily took a deep breath and squeezed his arm, knowing that he was close to exploding, so great was his inner tension.

  Knowing, though, that he would never hurt her.

  He had already hurt her as badly as she’d thought she could ever bear, but she was beginning to understand that he’d done it to protect her. That was the kind of man Damon was. He might be a trained killer, but Lily knew she was a safe as a babe in his hands. Whatever his reason for sending her away, she was beginning to realize that he’d hurt himself even worse.

  “Damon, try something with me,” she urged.

  “What?”

  “Neither one of us is doing too well at concentrating. Do you still meditate?”

  He nodded.

  “I don’t do it as much as I should, but I’m feeling the need to calm myself inside right now. We need clear heads. Remember how Fan Lee would let us share his meditation sometimes?”

  “Yeah. That what you want to do?”

  Lily nodded.

  “Sure, yeah.” He relaxed slightly. “It sure couldn’t hurt—and you’re right. We both need clear heads. How about in the garden?”

  She smiled. Right where they’d spent so many wonderful hours. “I’d like that.”

  Damon led the way outside, pausing to find out if Chang had returned. Shrugging his shoulders, he opened the door to let her exit first.

  The late-afternoon shadows dappled the path before them. Birds filled the air with their song. If only she could forget that somewhere out there—

  Lily shoved the fears away, drawing a deep breath, struggling to settle her mind. Clarity and calm, that was the goal.

  When Damon reached for her hand, she gladly slipped hers into his much larger one, drawing comfort from his touch. He pulled it upward, bringing it to rest against his lips, brushing her knuckles with a slow, soft kiss.

  Within Lily’s heart, something she’d thought forever dead unfurled.

  His crystal-blue eyes invited her into their depths. Within Damon might be demons, but there was magic, as well. Shimmering within aquamarine depths lay treasures she’d barely tasted before they’d been ripped apart, treasures she now knew she hungered to explore.

  She’d done a very good job of convincing herself that she’d hated Damon, that hate had finally settled into indifference—but Lily knew now that she’d lied to herself. Indifference with a man like Damon was not possible.

  And hatred was the other face of love.

  “Come with me, Lily,” he whispered. “We’ll get him back, I promise, but for now, let your fears go.” Settling on the grass, legs crossed, facing her, Damon drew in a deep breath.

  And Lily followed his lead. Closing her eyes, she pulled a breath of the sweet air of this place into her lungs… and released a bit of her terror… a bit of the anguish she’d lived with daily for five years.

  The warmth of Damon’s knees bracketed her own, transmitting his own life force to hers. As Lily cleared her mind of distractions, she felt even more strongly than she ever recalled before, the aura of strength that Damon emanated. Nestling in that warm strength, bolstered by his power, she sought the deeper place within her with an ease she’d never found before.

  She’d been alone for so long that even meditating, she’d always had to shove away a feeling of fragile exposure on the outside while dealing with the aching incompletion within her.

  But now Damon comforted her, just by his presence, his warrior silence… his strength, even after so long alone.

  The Dragon. A fitting name for such a man. As Lily settled deeper into the calming flow, an image rose up within her. She was nestled between the paws of a huge jade dragon, the rightness of her pose settling deep within her. It was as if this was where she belonged, where she must stay.

  The dragon and Damon intertwined around Lily, and her mind came to rest in the still, peaceful place she’d sought for years.

  The Pearl rested between his hands, the same and yet somehow different. Glowing as if with an inner fire.

  Deep within himself, Damon only accepted and didn’t wonder. It was so, and he was complete for the first time in a very long time. He’d felt completion before, the few precious times he and Lily had come together.

  But never before. And never since.

  Feeling more centered, his mind crystal-clear, Damon began to rise from the cool well of meditation. The image of the Pearl persisted as though he actually held it, so real it pressed against his palms. A feeling of rightness, of synchronicity with other energies pervaded him.

  He recognized easily the crystalline purity of Lily’s soul, flowing around him, sliding between his ribs, settling his heart and easing out the ache of long years’ standing.

  Recharged, refreshed, he rose again, the steady hum of energy surrounding him, his palms alive with the feel of the Pearl.

  But when he opened his eyes, as he’d known it would be, the Pearl was not there. Damon puzzled for a moment at the image that had imprinted itself so strongly.

  And then Lily opened her eyes.

  How had he survived so many days without her? The slow, soft smile that curved her lips delighted his eyes, his heart. For a long, timeless moment, he drank in the sight of her, let the bounty of her heart flow into his.

  His body vibrated with the need to unite them completely. He reached out a hand, and when she slid her palm against his, both their gazes widened with the power that surged between them.

  The first real smile he’d felt in years flowed from within him.

  Lily smiled back.

  He saw the moment when she remembered Gregory and reached one finger to touch her lips. “I know. Let’s go back.”

  Closing her eyes briefly, Lily tightened her hold on his hand, and they arose together, her fierce determination blazing from those sable eyes he’d loved for so long.

  Just being near her made everything seem more possible.

  Wrapping an arm around her neck, he pulled her body close to his own and took the first step back into the nightmare of Kwan’s making.

  Chapter Six

  Lily buried her face in her hands for a long moment, her back stiff from poring over musty old texts. What was she doing here? Why wasn’t she out on the streets, trying to find her child? The impulse was crazy; she knew that. But she ached with a need to find Gregory, to make certain that the little she had of him would not be snatched from her grasp.

  If he were hurt… she didn’t know how she would stand it. Anything worse didn’t bear thinking, but she could hardly hold the images at bay.

  Oh, God, Gregory… hold on. We’re try
ing so hard to find a way out. Damon was the key; he always had been. This wasn’t about her, it was about Damon, and Kwan’s deep-seated hatred of him.

  She turned to look across the room at her child’s father.

  Damon stared out the window, lost in thought, one hand spread across a page yellowed by time’s touch. She studied his hand, the long, strong fingers oddly graceful for a man, yet the wide palms conveyed a sense of his power. She shivered, recalling the feel of those hands on her body, the sense of safety he’d always given her, her own flesh warming now as memories crowded in.

  She must have made some small sound, for he turned then, his look of resignation giving way to a smile for her benefit.

  “Tired?”

  She nodded. “A little.”

  “We can stop.”

  She shook her head. “No, I can’t. I have to do something—I can’t just sit here and wait. Not with Gregory—” She felt tears clogging her throat.

  Damon rose and came to stand behind her, those hands she’d been watching, kneading the muscles of her shoulders. “You’re really tight.”

  Lily dropped her head, drinking in the pleasure of his touch, sighing out loud. Wishing they were in a different situation.

  Damon chuckled faintly, then grew silent, all the while working magic on her knotted muscles. “When do you see him, Lily?”

  She stiffened slightly, then responded again to the soothing of his hands. “Only about once a month.”

  He didn’t speak for a long moment. “Who does he think you are?”

  She swallowed heavily. “His Aunt Lily.”

  “And the woman he’s with? Does he think she’s his mother?”

  Lily cleared her throat, trying to regain composure. She couldn’t respond to his soothing anymore. “Joanna tried to help me by having him call her by her given name. She said—” She swallowed against the tears threatening to spill. Drawing a deep breath, she continued. “She said she wanted me to always have a chance to step back in and be his mother—that she wouldn’t take that away from me.”

  “But?”

  Lily glanced up, barely able to see the emotion in Damon’s eyes for the anguish in her own heart. “The last time I saw him, he called her ‘my mom.’” She shook her head, looking away. “I understood. He’s—he’s around other kids more now. He’d wonder—of course he’d wonder if he didn’t have a mom.” She glanced back at Damon. “But it hurt—oh, Damon, it hurt so badly.” Hanging her head, she fought back the tears.