by Nia Shay
"Yep. Come on."
As I made my way up the walk, the first waves of dizziness hit me. I cursed under my breath--usually I had hours after an exchange before the excess energy inside me began to play havoc with my body's systems. Damn, but I'd been careless with him. I grimaced, clutching a porch post for stability.
He appeared at my side in an instant. "You're unwell."
"Ya think?" I shied away as he reached for me, instead thrusting my keys into his outstretched hand. "Here, get the door open. I'll be all right once I sit down."
Fortunately, by the time he'd tried half the keys on the ring and finally found the right one, my head had already begun to clear. I straightened up and led the way inside, crossing the room unerringly in the dark to flick on a floor lamp. Zeph trailed after me and closed the door behind us, standing just inside the entryway.
His eyes roved over my possessions, taking in everything. Not that there was much to take in. The furniture was sparse and functional, the walls bare, everything colored in warm neutral shades. The hallmark of a single person who never entertained. And I actually spent time in this room--the upstairs sat almost unused, and even more desolate.
I could practically feel a comment burning on the tip of his tongue, but he only said, "You should rest now."
"I will." I pointed toward the short hallway leading to my bedroom and its adjacent bath. "In the meantime, go wash up. You look like the clown from hell."
He gazed down on me, a rare, radiant smile lighting his painted features. "I think the twins did a fine job of disguising me."
"Yeah, so they did. But I don't want to try to get that glop out of my pillowcases, so again, go wash up."
"As you wish." He didn't leave, though, until I'd reclined on the sectional per his insistence.
With him gone, I was left alone with my thoughts, which were even more of a mess than usual. The events of the evening had riled me badly enough, but that smile had almost unmade me. I could easily see how such a story could end in tragedy, with a mere mortal throwing herself to her death for one glimpse of that perfect face, one touch of that flawless skin. Just one of those burning kisses.
Grumbling under my breath, I rose from the couch and grabbed a change of clothes from my bedroom, ignoring the sound of running water and the mental images accompanying it. I beat a hasty retreat up the stairs to the little used second bathroom. A cold shower sounded right up my alley about now.
Five
Strains of ethereal music led me back downstairs as I emerged from the bathroom. I found Zeph, much to my annoyance, perched on the edge of my bed. His wet hair was slicked back from his face, showing off the high angle of his cheekbones, the steep curve of his jaw. The very sight of him made me want to turn right back around and spend the night on the couch, but he looked up before I could retreat.
"Jandra."
"What?" I grumbled, ready to go on the offensive.
He said nothing more for a long moment. Instead, he closed his eyes and tilted his head toward the CD player he'd turned on, soaking up the soulful tune. "This is the same music that played in your store," he murmured as the vocals trailed off into an instrumental solo.
I nodded. "My favorite band."
"I like it as well."
"I'm so glad."
He didn't respond to my sarcasm, saying instead, "I, too, feel as if I've found home again after a long journey."
"Please," I muttered. "This place is barely even my home."
"I wasn't referring to the building." His gaze intent on my face, he asked, "Do you ever sing anymore, Jandra?"
"You're kidding, right?" I gestured to the speakers, which were now blaring a boisterous ode to suicide. "At least that guy's artfully depressed."
Zeph nodded. "He sings truly of love and loss."
"And sometimes, of having sex with dead people."
"Excuse me?"
I shrugged, biting back a laugh at his thunderstruck expression. "Ah, I guess you just have to be into that sort of thing. Now get out of here. I need sleep."
He stood, but made no move toward the door. "Allow me to stay at your side tonight, Jandra. Your reactions have been unpredictable."
"No, no, and no." All the more reason to have him far away from me. I pointed to the door. "Upstairs, first room on the right. You can sleep in there."
He tensed visibly. "I don't want to be that far from you. You may have need of me."
"It's either that, or the back yard. Your choice. Besides, should I need you, you'll know it." I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling naked despite my tank top and pajama pants. "This isn't old times, Zeph. My body isn't your plaything anymore."
"It never was." Mouth tight, he advanced on me. Or rather, he went to leave the room. I fell back to let him pass, but he stopped in front of me, head cocked to one side. "What is this?" His hand brushed my left shoulder.
"A tattoo." I hadn't thought about it showing now that I'd changed clothes. I reached up and let my hair down from its plastic clip to cover the design.
"Show me," he insisted.
The note of command in his voice irked me enough that I turned, defiantly flicking my waves aside and shrugging the tank top down off my shoulders. The ink covered the entire span of my upper back, ending just above the shoulder blades. The Latin words "Ex Virtus Dolor" curled in elaborate script within a frame of black roses, their petals and leaves flecked with droplets of red.
I flinched as his fingertips grazed my skin. "Strength from pain," he translated in a strained whisper.
"Yeah." I shook my hair back into place, closing the curtain on the show. "We'd know all about that, wouldn't we?"
He sighed, his breath warming my skin. "I'll leave you be, Jandra. Sleep now, and so shall I."
His hands slid over my shoulders and I stiffened. He pulled them quickly away. Good. Let him think I was angry with him for touching me. It was even almost true.
He drifted out the door. "Goodnight."
"If you have any more dreams, I want to know," I called after him.
"No doubt you will."
After he'd turned the corner into the living room, I shut the door, picked up the phone from the nightstand, and dialed a number I never thought I'd use again. I spent the next twenty minutes holding, being transferred, and explaining myself over and over again. Finally, I managed to request a meeting with a Society contact, only to be told to wait on a return call in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. Bureaucratic red tape at its finest.
I sighed in helpless frustration as I hung up. Two whole days with Zeph under my roof--I'd been hoping for twelve hours or less. Whether I'd survive it without killing him, kissing him, or killing myself remained to be seen. As I lay down to sleep, I wondered which outcome I should hope for.
*****
My rest that night was hard-won and unsatisfying. I woke with a pounding headache and a sour stomach--almost like a hangover, but without the fun beforehand. For a long time I just lay in bed, listening to the silence and trying to pretend I was really alone, like any other morning. That Zeph's disastrous appearance the night before had been nothing more than a bad dream.
But I knew better. I could feel him even without the sixth sense that still connected us. His presence hung in the in very stillness of the house, the thickness of the air. As if the walls themselves waited with bated breath to see what we would do next.
How I wished I had something more constructive to do than drag my butt out of bed and get going. That much, at least, went just like any other morning. Well, except for the sick dread churning in the pit of my stomach. It seemed my mundane existence wouldn't protect me this time. Not when my past seemed so determined to haunt me.
I left the bedroom reluctantly, bypassing the closet after only a moment's hesitation. What the hell did it matter? He'd already seen me in my pajamas. I plodded out to the living room to find him on the same chaise where I'd sat the night before, his long legs dangling over the edge. His tone was familiarly distant
as he said, "Good morning."
"Mornin'," I mumbled back, surprised to see the hour hand on the wall clock edging past eleven. Apparently I hadn't slept as poorly as I'd thought. "You're looking better today," I added.
At that, his aloofness crumpled into a timid half-smile. "I'm not."
"Hmm." I let our minds touch briefly on my way past into the kitchen, and saw he spoke the truth. He didn't seem much better off than he'd been at the shop last night. His mind seethed with fear, doubt, and confusion. And beneath it all his spirit crackled and raged, like a wildfire looking for something to consume.
I puzzled it over as I grabbed a caffeine-laden soda from the fridge and popped the tab. I stuck my head back through the archway. "Have you eaten yet?"
"I'm not hungry."
"Fine." I poured my drink into a glass over ice and carried it back to the living room.
Zeph straightened up as I approached, folding his legs as if he expected me to join him on the chaise. I kept right on walking and perched on the edge of an armchair across the room. He frowned. "Jandra...."
"This is weird, okay?" The words burst from my lips in a near shout. I toned it down a bit and added, "I don't like having people in my house anyway, and you...."
"I was supposed to leave you alone for the rest of your life," he recited without rancor. "And now I've invaded your home and your privacy."
I blinked in amazement. "You mean you understand?"
"I'm trying to." He sighed, staring down at the throw pillow in his lap. "You don't want me here. I realize that. But since I am...I'd like to spend some time with you."
"What the flaming hell are you talking about?"
"I've missed you, Jandra. You were a part of my life for so long."
"Oh yeah, ten whole whopping years. That's a drop in the bucket for you. What made it so damn special?"
"You did." He turned those beautiful eyes on me again, their dark depths fathomless. "I told you last night. No one has ever known me the way you do. Whether or not you can believe that I lo...." He stopped in mid-word, shaking his head. "You meant a great deal to me."
"Past tense?" Sarcasm warred with bitterness in my tone. He just stared at me as if willing me to understand. But I was in no mood to try. I took a long drink and changed the subject. "Have you been up for very long?"
He nodded. "I slept very little. I had another dream."
"What?" I scowled at him. "You were supposed to call me if you had another."
"But you were resting."
"So what?" Again, my perfectly valid question met with a blank stare. I sighed in frustration. "Do you remember any of it this time?"
"Yes."
I waited about thirty seconds. "Care to elaborate on that?"
Judging by his expression, he didn't. "I stood in a hallway that stretched as far as the eye could see," he said finally. "Both sides of it were lined with hundreds of windows--rooms without doors, really. And you stood inside every one of them, crying, calling out for me. I could see you, but I couldn't reach you."
"Mmm hmm." Not too trite. "Is that all?"
"No. Sometimes there was someone, something, looming behind you. A shadow."
"Meaningless," I scoffed triumphantly.
He looked stricken. "Excuse me?"
"Oh, please. The long road, the shadowy figure--they're archetypical constructs. Your mind draws a picture for you, and you fill in the blanks. Any psychiatrist can tell you that. Trust me, I've been to more than a few. Doesn't mean a damn thing."
"No? And how would your psychiatrists explain the changes in me?"
Well. There was that. "A freak accident?" I offered with a shrug.
"You don't believe that."
"The hell I don't." I gulped down the rest of my soda and stood. "Listen, I've got to get ready for work. Watch TV or something, all right?"
He cocked his head, frowning. "Do you leave for work this early?"
No, actually, I didn't. I wasn't due at Dissonance until three, but I needed the hell out of here as soon as possible. Playing house with the bane of my existence was just too disturbing, even for my tastes. I'd been planning to send the assistant manager to the bank with the deposit I'd never gotten to drop off last night, and giving her the rest of the afternoon off.
"We've got inventory coming up," I replied vaguely, avoiding his gaze. How had he seen through my bluff? "I've got a lot to catch up on."
"And you intend for me to stay here until you return?"
"Well, what were you planning on doing? Taking in a show? Getting a mani-pedi?"
"I've told you." He rose to his feet, too. "I want to be close to you."
Aw, great. Now I'd have Karen Carpenter singing in my head all damn day. "Well there's no way you're coming to the shop with me. Wasn't last night exciting enough for you?"
"Jandra...."
"Save it. I've got to get dressed." I fled back toward my bedroom, half expecting him to follow me, jam his foot in the door, and argue some more. He didn't, but he did continue to call out for me.
With clenched teeth, I tried to ignore him, though it was damn near impossible to do. His voice no held magnetism now, no hint of his power. He was simply playing on my emotions again. Finally, I turned on the hair dryer and let it run just to drown him out.
I dressed hastily, choosing a bell-sleeved black tunic and matching leggings. Simple, comfortable, easy to move in. I chuckled at myself as I stood before the mirror--now I was rating my wardrobe in terms of activity potential, like I expected to do battle in this outfit. Jandra Maxwell, super ninja.
My waist-length waves were difficult to tame this morning, thrown into wild disarray by my tossing and turning through the night. After a while I gave up and gathered it all into a ponytail, which I hoped looked deliberately messy. A quick coat of mascara and pale pink gloss on my lips, and I was ready to go. With a mere two hours to spare. Dandy.
Sighing, I scribbled my cell phone number on a sticky note, and presented it to Zeph when I opened the bedroom door. He was, predictably, lurking right outside it. "If there's some kind of emergency, you can reach me at this number. There's a phone in the kitchen--don't come in my room again. And if you call me 'just to talk,' I swear to God I will kick you in the rocks."
He took the note, frowning. "Jandra...."
"Oh, and stay inside. I don't need the feds out here on dark angel patrol. I'll be home around midnight."
"But...."
"Goodbye, Zeph."
He finally conceded defeat. "Goodbye. Take care of yourself."
"I have been for a long time now." I hustled past him into the living room, snatching my purse from the floor beside the chaise, and strode out the front door without a backward glance.
I'd resorted to an all-out trot by the time I hit the driveway. As I turned to settle into the driver's seat, I saw Zeph standing at the living room window. He shook his head as if condemning my wonderfully mature behavior. Then the curtains swung shut.
Tough shit, I thought as I put the car into gear. I sucked in a deep breath as I backed down the driveway--the first one I'd taken all morning, really. I'd been suffocating in his presence. His facade of understanding and tenderness haunted my mind even now, as if someone else lurked behind those eyes I knew so well. If I hadn't known him by the taste of his soul, I might even have believed it. That he was nothing more than a stranger with a familiar face, a man I might have loved once upon a time.
Damn it, why had he come after me? Why now, when I'd finally put him in my past?
And if that were true, why had I spent the night tormented by hazy, erotic images that rose at the memory of his touch? Brief glimpses of a long, lean torso, of pale hands stroking my skin, of a full-lipped mouth twisted into a sinful smile. More than once I'd jerked awake, gasping and drenched in sweat, only to be pulled right back in when sleep came again.
God, I needed that callback, and soon. Another two days like this and I'd be walking the razor's edge of sanity by the time I got rid of him.
The drive to work passed in a blur. Thankfully, I'd taken this route so many times I could probably have managed it in my sleep. I parked as close to the building as possible--a no-no for employees, but I didn't give a damn today. I hurried inside, slipping through the corridors between the storefronts with the deftness of a rat in an industrial maze.
Dissonance's quirky sales floor had never been a more welcoming sight. Cara leaned against the glass-topped counter, showing a selection of body jewelry to a customer. She glanced over her shoulder at my approach, muttering her standard, "Yo, boss."
The shopper looked up as well, a grin lighting his familiar face. "Hey, Jade! How ya been?"
"Hey, yourself." I smiled back. Jordan Radcliff was one of our regulars, a friend of the twins' from their community college classes. He was the quintessential goth boy, from the dyed black Mohawk that hung over one pierced blond brow to the love-worn Doc Martens on his feet.
"Give me your expert opinion." He gestured to the gleaming array of hoops and barbells spread out on the counter. "Which one?"
I stood on tiptoe to peer over Cara's shoulder. "Which piercing is it for?"
He chortled, reaching for the zipper of his jeans. "Here, let me show you."
"Knock if off, J.J." Scowling, Cara slugged him in the shoulder.
Jordan took her violence in stride, turning his attention back to me. "So maybe you'll give me a straight answer, Jade. Rumor has it there was a lot of noise in here last night around closing time. What was going on?"
"I told you," Cara replied before I could even open my mouth. "All girl orgy. And you missed it."
"And I told you, bullshit. I stand by that."
"Look, just buy something or get out, okay?"
"Whoa! Cara, Cara, Cara." I seized her by the arm and hauled her back a few steps--not really out of earshot, but the best I could manage in the available space. In a low tone, I asked, "Did someone forget to take her polite pill this morning?"
"No." She turned a sullen look on the carpet. "He's just bugging me."