Soul Reckoning

by Nancy E. Polin

  “A little further?”

  “I told you, I sense age.” She narrowed her eyes. “Unnatural age.”

  Dave nodded, eyes already sharpening in thought.

  Despite her own belly flipping around, Rowan didn’t detect any surprise in the man’s expression. She supposed not much knocked him off his equilibrium. She wished she could say the same for herself.

  Ruth brought her attention back. “I want you to try not to worry. You’re safe here and the gris-gris will help protect you out there.”

  A thought slid within the numbness in her brain and Rowan shifted her focus from Ruth back to David. “What if we let him come for me? Couldn’t you arrest him then?”

  His eyes softened in compassion, his voice low. “For what?”

  Understanding was heavy and Rowan felt like she was falling. There was no evidence of anything, just the play of smoke and mirrors in her head and the rambling of her uncle in an old journal. Although he’d appeared to her several times, she couldn’t even remember what the man looked like most of the time. Except his eyes. Those remained clear. Her mouth dry, heart hammering, she leaned forward. “If you let him take me, isn’t that kidnapping?”

  “Hell, no.” Luke glared at her. “That is not going to happen.”

  She scowled, pulling away from him. “It’s not your call.”

  “The hell it’s not. I’ll knock you out and tie you up myself if you even think about pulling something that stupid.”

  Bristling, temper bursting from a well of fear, Rowan bared her teeth. “Try it and see what happens, you jerk.”

  “Knock it off, both of you.” David met her eyes and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I can’t allow that. It’s way too dangerous. Too many variables.”

  Rowan appealed to Ruth for any semblance of support, but the older woman shook her head as well. “Honey, I know you want this over with. I truly do understand, but serving yourself up as some kind of trussed-up turkey isn’t the answer. Do what I ask for now, please, and my boy over there will tip over some rocks and see what squirms out. I even have some folks I can talk to. If we figure out who he really is and where he is, it takes away a lot of his advantage. You need to have patience.”

  Patient was the last thing she felt. Terrified stood at the top of the list in neon colors, but white-hot rage bumped up against it as a close second. She fisted her hands, body trembling.

  Her emotions had to have been painted all over her face with clear, broad strokes because Ruth spoke to her with such gentleness. “I know you’re scared and I wouldn’t demean either of us by suggesting you shouldn’t be, but please be willing to take a leap of faith and believe that we will do everything we can to end this nightmare for you. Trust that you have a lot working on your side.”

  She gazed across the table, soaking in the eccentricity fused with understanding and sincerity. Despite their heated words, Luke rested one hand on her leg and squeezed in reassurance as David nodded.

  A second later a cool breeze brought the robust scent of roses.

  ****

  Luke watched her as she continued to drown in that temper of hers. She spoke with customers, smiled and pretended, all while that knot in her jaw kept throbbing.

  And she wouldn’t look at him.

  But that was okay. It wasn’t the first time he’d endured the silent treatment and sure as hell wouldn’t be the last. Without any kind of backup, she at least wouldn’t attempt the stupid action she’d proposed.

  The thought of it sent threads of panic through his belly and up his spine. He sucked in a full breath, then another to steady himself. He knew what he was getting into when’d he’d chosen not to hop on his bike and leave town. Now he was stuck.

  Rowan crouched down next to one table, chatting with the elderly couple seated there. There was nothing forced about this particular interaction, her smile free and genuine. She nodded, reached out, and touched the woman’s hand, patting the man’s shoulder when she straightened. Returning to the bar, she ignored Luke and hailed Justin to request a bottle of wine befitting a fortieth anniversary. She analyzed the three he brought her, decided on the Sonoma Coast Chardonnay, and returned to the table with two glasses. The couple beamed up at her.

  Luke stared, completely gobsmacked. There was no other word to describe it. The grace of her movements, the warmth of her smile, the way the lighting bounced against her hair, sparking like embers. All her inside beauty only served to augment her already perfect features.

  Over the last few years he’d made an internal promise that he’d never leave himself vulnerable to another woman again, and yet here he was. Stupid but the damage was done. There was no going back. Some tiny part of him expected Cate might even approve.

  When Zoe hailed her for change, Rowan slid from the dining room toward the office.

  Seeing an opportunity, Luke left Justin at the helm and followed her, his desire to rectify the situation swelling within him. It brought on a slice of shame, annoyance, and a definite dent to his pride, but his need for her trumped his irritation.

  She’d sealed herself in the office, no doubt locking it as she accessed extra cash. Without pause, he used his own key to let himself in, closing the door and leaning against it.

  Rowan barely passed him a glance as she removed ones and fives from the small floor safe. “I don’t have time for this, Luke. I have to get back out there.”

  “How long is this tantrum going to last?”

  “Tantrums are for children. I happen to be busy right now.” She closed the safe and rose to face him, eyes still like flint.

  “Uh huh.” He tilted his head, watching the flint spark, fascinated.

  When she lifted her chin in defiance, Luke stepped closer. There was little room for her to retreat and she didn’t even try. Her glare would have been withering for most men.

  But Luke wasn’t most men. Saying nothing, he reached out to take her free hand and waited for the blaze to burn out. He rubbed one thumb gently over her knuckles in a subtle attempt to hasten it.

  When she continued to stare, he touched her face, lightly running his fingers down her cheek and across her jawline. “That was very sweet what you did for that old couple.”

  She blinked and her brow furrowed.

  “I don’t want to lose you, Rowan.” He lowered his voice to a whisper.

  “That’s playing dirty,” she muttered, a faint scowl crossing her face.

  Luke stepped close, dipping his head to press his lips to her forehead. When she sighed and her body relaxed, he drew her against him.

  She pressed her cheek to his chest. “I hate feeling helpless, Luke.”

  “I know.” Helplessness was no stranger to him and he hated it just as much, if not more.

  “You’re an easy scapegoat now. You understand that, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  When she met his gaze again, the flint and fire were gone. Fatigue stole in instead. “I want to sleep in peace. I want to be able to walk down the damned street, watching for muggers like a normal person. I don’t want to fear that place behind my eyes where that guy seems to hover.”

  “I know.” He pushed a hand through her hair, tangling his fingers in the thick waves to tilt her head back. Although still troubled, her pupils swelled as she peered up at him. She took a breath, her lips parting around it.

  He leaned down to kiss her, a reassuring brush of his lips to hers, but the gesture tingled with electricity. With only a scant pause, he pressed his mouth to hers a second time, slow, tender, and deep, smiling into it when she melted against him.

  When his cell phone rang, Rowan stepped away to break the kiss, skin flushed, eyes slightly glazed. “Zoe’s waiting for her change.”

  Luke couldn’t keep the grin off his face, letting it widen when she shot him a dirty look. He glanced down at his cell, cool temperatures dousing his insides. “It’s Andy.”

  Hand on door knob, Rowan paused, shifting toward him. Concern chased the flush away.

&
nbsp; He picked up, bracing for the worst. His insides seemed to shrivel. “Hey, Andy.”

  Listening to the man’s familiar rambling, relief weakened his body when he caught the words he needed to hear. Luke leaned against the desk, muscles a little watery. Rowan caught his arm, fingers pressed in, fearful gaze holding his.

  He disconnected a moment later and smiled down into her eyes. “Henry’s on his way back. He’s a tough old bird.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Marcus Ady slumped down against his sweat-stained mattress. Humidity sank its claws into him, made worse by the perpetual low-grade fever he now suffered from.

  Fury ran hot through his blood, but he’d tempered it enough to crystalize and dissect his thoughts. Intense emotions could only lead to mistakes and chaos. He couldn’t afford to allow it. A calm cool mind was essential.

  A heavy veil had dropped, cutting off access to the girl. When he drank the potent mixture to send his mind to roam, it had bounced back, indicating someone else’s protection magic.

  There was no way to know whom it belonged to, but whoever did the spellcasting was powerful. Impressively so. It wasn’t associated with the original protection spell, but it did build upon it.

  The first had had nothing to do with Marcus, it just worked against him at the root. A very old maternal spell which attempted to protect those residing within the walls of the old building. But there had been thin areas that Marcus had been able to traverse. He’d been able to seek petty revenge on Jimmy, tormenting him on a psychological level, but the physical and the soul were lost to him. Marcus had used those gaps to stir the pot with the girl, preparing her, weakening her.

  But now those holes had been plugged up, reinforced.

  A fresh wave of anger had him shaking, and he pulled himself up from his makeshift bed. He reined it back in, struggling for control. His muscles were weak, but the fire of his mind coaxed them to move. He left the tiny bedroom he slept in, grabbing on to the doorjamb when he wobbled.

  Pulling in a few cleansing breaths, he stepped forward to enter his altar room.

  It was more than just the place he prayed and worked. It was the heart of his home, the heart of him. The locked walk-in closet contained his remaining talismans. Marcus gritted his teeth at the memory, the betrayal. Jimmy’s fear and rage could have ended his long life, but the man hadn’t been able destroy them all. No, not all. But their power had ebbed. It would all soon be gone, the spirit energy dissipating into nothingness. Then he would die. It was inevitable, unless he could tap into the young, bright soul of the girl. The blood soul of his enemy.

  When he’d been close to her that first night, her energy hummed with vibrancy and strength. The timing only confirmed the wishes of his gods. He would continue to survive. He’d believed it to be his fate.

  Now he wasn’t so sure.

  Marcus surveyed the storage unit where he stocked his supplies. With little pause, he pulled an old text from the second shelf. He slid to the floor, shuffling through pages of the ancient book. His memory whispered that somewhere, someway, there was a way around. He needed to find it.

  As he read, his muscles stiffened beneath him, pain radiating into his bones, but he remained still, determined. Spell by spell, his own notations lining the edges, he scoured the text. He refused to let panic impede him, choosing to allow deep, even breaths to keep his mind focused.

  The sun touched the horizon and his animals slid into their morning schedule. The sounds of hungry and restless livestock filtered in from the outside when Ady’s solution finally emerged from the depths. Marcus sighed, rolling his head against his shoulders in an attempt to relax his bone and gristle.

  Yes, the new protection magic on the girl and the tavern was solid. Someone had taken a tremendous amount of care to be sure of it.

  But he wondered if that someone knew there was a way around it. Marcus allowed the smallest of smiles, suspecting how ghastly it must now look but not caring. He rarely looked in the mirror these days anyway.

  There was no doubt it would take a little more time and he needed to prepare. It wouldn’t be without risk. He was powerful, but magic didn’t necessarily correspond to physicality. His body was weak, becoming weaker every day. The fever kept him chilled or roasting. Perspiration and tremors were constant companions. He had to believe it was all temporary. In his experience, belief was just as strong as the physical. He would hold on, and keep his wits about him. He would have to go into the city. He’d be vulnerable, but there was no choice any longer.

  The alternative was unacceptable.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Rowan clamped her arms around his midsection, pressing her cheek to Luke’s back as he wove the bike with expert care through city traffic. The power of the machine beneath her and the wind whipping past gave her a jubilant feeling of invincibility. It was now easy to see the appeal of traveling by motorcycle.

  He leaned into the turn and guided them through the shadows of the hospital parking garage. Finding a space not far from the stairwell, Luke cut off the deep rumbling growl of the engine. He waited until she’d hopped off to follow suit.

  Andy had delivered some wonderful news about Henry and Rowan felt almost as relieved as Luke looked. Over the past couple of months, she’d developed a sincere affection for her favorite customer.

  The old man had a road ahead of him, but his doctor assured the family that perseverance and therapy could bring him back to himself. Or at least pretty damned close. Considering what could have occurred, they’d take it.

  Luke’s hand curled around hers and his lip twitched in a tiny smile. She squeezed his fingers as they made their way through the lobby, heading for the elevators. This time they wouldn’t be going up to intensive care. Henry had been placed in a regular room for the interim, although depending on Andy’s wishes, he’d either be transferred to a rehab center or brought home with supervision and therapy visits.

  They stepped from the elevator on the fourth floor and hung a right, skirting around staff, other visitors, and the occasional wandering patient.

  Henry was on his own in room 407, his family seeing to their respective outside responsibilities. The old man appeared shriveled and pale, but he slowly turned his head when they entered. His smile drooped to the left, but it reached the warm brown of his eyes.

  “What’s this? It’s not like you to be laying around, Henry.” Luke had gripped Rowan’s hand in startled response, but his voice remained steady in playful mockery. “Unless you’ve got some cute nurses. Then I suppose I might be able to excuse it.”

  “Some … always pleasant … but I’d prefer to be … drinking with … the boys…” The man’s words were slow and slurred. Saliva glinted on his chin.

  Rowan stepped forward, grabbed a tissue off the bedside table, and gently wiped his mouth. She smiled. “Hi, Henry.”

  Embarrassment etched into his face, and Rowan touched his arm, speaking softly. “You’ll be back soon. Your stool is waiting for you. We won’t let anyone else sit there. Your boys wrapped some caution tape around it.”

  “Really?” The old man looked beyond her, fixed on Luke, who nodded.

  It was true. The day of Henry’s stroke, the other regulars marked the stool as off-limits.

  “Good … to know. I’ll … have to get … bett … er faster … now.” He spoke with some effort, enunciating and drawing out each word.

  “You do that.”

  Luke stepped behind Rowan, casually resting his hands on her shoulders. Henry raised his brows in pleasure and amusement. “I’m out … of it … for a lit-tle while … and you … two stubborn asses … find one … another. Je suis content pour toi. I’m hap-py for you.”

  Her insides jittered a little at the old man’s observation. Unsure how to react, she chose not to, deciding to take an impulsive leap instead. “Henry, may I ask you something? It concerns my uncle.”

  He frowned, fatigue reverberating through his crinkled features. “Of course, ma chère
.”

  Guilt sliced through her the moment the words left her mouth. The man was exhausted. A tiny string of saliva escaped his drooping mouth a second time and Rowan wiped it away. “Never mind. You should get some rest.”

  Henry’s brown eyes locked on hers. “That’s all I’m … doin’ in here … resting … unless the thera-pists come in to … torture me. What you … want to … know?”

  Rowan hesitated. She didn’t know how likely it was that Jimmy would have confided in Henry when he hadn’t felt compelled to talk to Luke. Even as Henry watched in expectation, she knew she should never have even brought it up. It was selfish and stupid. He didn’t need to be saddled with her issues as he recovered from a stroke. Shame burned her face and she stared down at the toes of her flats.

  “La Jeune fille ne peut pas parler?”

  Luke shook his head and nudged one visitor chair over to Rowan. He grabbed the second one and perched on the edge. Silence hung between them while she debated.

  “Ask … me.” His gaze flickered between the two of them. “Is it some … thing to do with … his illness?”

  “You knew about that?”

  “Oui. He was in … pain for long time. Got … so much worse. Miser-able. Nothing seemed … to help.” What little color he had faded from his cheeks. His eyelids sagged, struggled to open. “Then … something … did.”

  Her heart blasted in her ears, but she waited. Luke’s hand squeezed her shoulder, relaxed.

  “He started going … to one of … those places. Well, wasn’t … even a shop he said … some … house. Desperate, I think.” Henry’s shaking hand found hers. “I was afraid … for him … told him to stay a-way. Said those avenues could … bring … bad juju.”

  “I know he didn’t listen, Henry.” Rowan folded the old man’s hand between both of hers. “What do you mean by bad ‘juju’? Wasn’t he looking for some kind of drug?”