Beck planted his feet on the floor and rocked back until his chair was balanced on two legs. For a demon, he seemed pretty relaxed. “Your friend, the witch."
"What? Are you talking about Kizzy?"
He nodded.
"Kizzy's not a witch,” I said, glaring at him. “She's a Romany gypsy and..."
Beck shrugged. “Call her what you want. She seemed pretty witchy to me."
"Why? What did she tell you?"
"That you were hurting and I could help you."
I felt like a little kid who'd been sent out of the room so her parents could discuss her “problem.” I didn't know who to be mad at, Kizzy or Beck.
Beck studied my face, now hot with anger. “Why are you freaking out? Was it the ‘witch’ comment?"
"No. But she should have told me what was going on."
"She didn't think you would accept it. It had to be this way."
I folded my arms and stared at him. “Why you?"
"She sensed I was a psychic healer. When she took hold of my hands, she knew for sure."
When I heard psychic healer, I barely resisted the urge to roll my eyes and say, “Yeah, right.” But then, I remembered why I was here. Kizzy, who loved me unconditionally. Kizzy, who always had my best interests at heart. Out of respect for her, I should at least listen to what Beck had to say. Not that I totally trusted him. In my world, it paid to be cautious.
"Halloween night in the gym,” I said. “You stared at me. I thought you were a...” My voice trailed off. Before this went any farther, I had to make sure he wasn't a Trimark.
The front legs of his chair crashed down. Beck's gaze pinned me to my chair. “A what?"
"I need to see your hand."
He looked surprised but extended his right hand, palm down. I turned it over and tilted it toward the light. No inverted triangle, but something didn't look right.
"Now, the other one,” I said.
I frowned in concentration, trying to remember everything Kizzy had taught me about palmistry.
"Something wrong?"
I released his hand. “Your fate line isn't solid at the end. It splits into three lines."
Beck said, “Like a pitchfork."
I squirmed a little. “Well, it's probably nothing. It's just that I've never seen one like it."
"Nicole has it too."
He showed me his palm again, this time cupping his hand slightly. Sure enough, it looked exactly like a pitchfork. “Demon mark,” he said.
I stared at him in disbelief. “No way!"
"Way,” he said, solemnly. “Our mother researched it. According to her, Cambions can choose their own fate. Hence, the three lines signifying three different paths."
"Like good, evil and...” I stopped, not able to come up with a third option.
"Doing nothing at all,” he supplied. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back again. “Of course, in our case, our mother drags us to church a lot. She says it's to make sure we're on the right path."
I wanted to ask if that plan was working. Since I had no clue about half-demon etiquette, I thought it might be rude and maybe I wouldn't like the answer.
He scrubbed a hand across his bristly chin. “So, what were you looking for on my palm?"
I breathed a little easier knowing Beck wasn't a Trimark. Okay, so he had a demon mark but it was open to interpretation. I could live with that.
I sighed. “It's a long story."
He made a lay it on me motion with his hands. I gave him a quick history of the Star Seekers and Trimarks. Nothing I said seemed to shock him.
When I paused for breath, he nodded and smiled, “Any more questions?"
I nibbled a hangnail. “Yeah, you look bigger tonight than you did at school today."
One corner of his mouth drew up in a brief smile. “I'm a creature of the night."
I blinked at him.
"Our powers don't kick in until after dark. During the day, we're just like everybody else."
I was skeptical. “Nicole doesn't look bigger at night."
"Our powers aren't the same. She's stronger at night, of course, but she also has some abilities during daylight hours. My mother thinks Nikki has more human qualities than me."
"Meaning you have more demon qualities?"
"Yeah. Which bugs the hell out my mother. She thinks Nikki is perfectly fine, but she worries about her bad old demon boy."
I thought about Nicole and her snotty, self-centered attitude. Maybe Melissa Bradford was worried about the wrong twin. “What's the deal with your eyes?"
"When we're outside at night and other people are around, we wear special glasses that keep our eyes from glowing. If anybody asks, we tell them we have problems with night vision. That's bogus, of course. Our senses are more animal than human."
His nostrils flared as he leaned toward me and inhaled deeply. “You smell like pine needles and rose petals with a dash of Juicy Fruit gum."
"Huh? What?"
"In fact,” he continued. “I knew you were here the minute you stepped out of the car."
"You could smell me?” My voice squeaked in surprise.
He nodded and grinned. “Yeah, and you smell damn good."
Thank God he didn't say “Good enough to eat.” Just thinking it gave me the willies. A good reminder, though, that I was dealing with someone not fully human. To me that meant visions of hungry werewolves or vampires. Time to change the subject.
"What exactly did Kizzy tell you?"
"That you had special powers. You'd had a setback, but were okay physically."
He paused. I knew what was coming next.
"She said you hadn't recovered emotionally, and it was robbing you of your powers. According to Kizzy, I'm the one who can restore them."
I could have worked myself up into a righteous snit. I could have stayed deep in denial, grabbed my backpack and demanded a ride home. But, then again, my trusted friend Kizzy had set this in motion. Trilby, as well, had popped in to say, “Scoot your ass over there and get healed."
I'm not a genius, but I had learned a thing or two in the last six months. Life—especially my life—doesn't always make sense. Sometimes you have to suspend belief and go with the flow. I said, “What exactly does healing involve?"
He glanced at the kitchen clock and stood. “We've got forty-five minutes. Follow me."
Without checking to see if I was behind him, he went through the back door and into the covered porch where he flipped on a floodlight, illuminating the back yard.
I couldn't resist saying, “I could have used a little light when I was stumbling around out here."
He looked over his shoulder and grinned. “Not part of the plan."
I followed him down the steps and into the yard, hurrying to keep up with his long strides. Freezing rain, whipped by a gusty wind, peppered my face, chilling me to the bone. Geez, did I have to catch pneumonia to get healed?
"Hey!” I yelled as I scampered after him. “Can't we do this in the house?"
He muttered something I didn't catch and disappeared behind a black Ford Ranger parked next to the garage. I heard the jingle of keys. A light flicked on in the detached garage. I scooted around the corner to see Beck standing in the open doorway, his muscular body outlined in a halo of light. He stepped back and waved me in.
"I'll get some heat going.” His voice was husky as he closed the door behind me. He crossed the room to a gas fireplace and flicked it on.
I stood, my back pressed against the wall, scarcely believing my eyes. What I assumed to be the garage was a cozy apartment, complete with a small kitchen, table and chairs, overstuffed couch and gas fireplace. A narrow, neatly-made bed hugged the far wall.
"You live out here?"
"Yeah, pretty much.” Beck pulled on a black tee, then crossed to the table and picked up a chain with a silver cross. He slipped the chain over his head and tucked the cross inside his shirt. A demon wearing a cross couldn't be all that bad ... could he?
I felt like the chick with the blindfold who holds the scales of justice. But, in my case, I wasn't weighing right and wrong. My dilemma was this: Trust a demon and maybe get healed or ... run like hell! I decided to trust a demon.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Eight
Beck busied himself clearing books and papers off the table and stacking them on the floor next to the couch. “I like to do experiments and stuff. My mom doesn't like me messing up her kitchen."
His small kitchen counter was cluttered with bowls of colorful stones and dried plants. Open shelves above the sink held fruit jars filled with liquids and candles in a variety of colors. Pots and pans hung from an overhead rack. A dish drainer filled with inverted glass beakers sat on the counter. Next to it was a Bunsen burner like we used in science glass. The air was fragrant with a mixture of odors. Pine. Sage. Lavender. I inhaled deeply and felt the soothing aroma coil through my body, easing my tension.
I pushed away from the wall and picked up a bundle of dried weeds tied with string. “What do you do with this?"
He took it from me and set it in an earthen bowl. “It's called a smudge stick. White sage and pine."
He struck a match and set the bundled weeds on fire. The flame died back quickly, leaving only a curl of fragrant smoke. Beck set the bowl on the table. “It helps the healing process."
He turned to face me. “When's your birthday?"
"Huh?” I said, confused by his abrupt question.
He glanced at his watch. “Just tell me."
"May fifth."
"Okay, you're a Taurus. Your element is earth, so you need to face north."
He put the smudge stick on the table and pulled out a chair, gesturing for me to sit. Stepping to the stove, he said, “While I get stuff ready, tell me what's bothering you."
He poured liquid into a small pan and set it on the stove to heat. When I didn't answer, he turned and raised a quizzical brow.
I looked away, ashamed of my weakness.
"Talk to me, Allie. Let me help you."
I didn't see him move, but suddenly, he was standing over me, cupping my face in his hands. Once again, I felt the strength and power of his touch singing through my veins. It was too much, too soon. I pulled away.
Beck folded his arms across his chest and stared down at me. “Okay, I get it. You don't trust me. Problem is, if we're going to do this, I need a starting point."
"Of course I don't trust you. I don't even know you!"
"Guess what? I don't know you either, but it looks like this is supposed to happen, so maybe we should just chill out."
Okay, new information. Sounded like Beck wasn't too psyched up about this healing thing either. I glanced up at him. He smiled and gave me a nod of encouragement.
Should I stick a toe in the water and see what happened next? Was it possible to trust someone just a little? Just enough to get healed? Did I have any other option other than to cut and run?
I sighed. “What do you need to know?"
"Start at the beginning."
By the time I finished, I'd told him everything. The fall off the ladder. The telekinetic power, the moonstone prophecy. My ability to read minds with the moonstone. Make that my former ability to use TKP—telekinetic powers, meaning I could move stuff just by thinking about it—and read minds. Caught in his hypnotic golden gaze, I described my recent humiliation at the Star Seekers meeting. Finally, in a voice choked with emotion, I told him about killing Baxter with the apple bins, and about my nightmare.
When I ran out of words, he nodded and went back to his preparations. I watched him digging through a container of stones and felt a spark of hope flicker to life. Sharing my burden with another living, breathing person—even though he was only half human—seemed right. I felt like I needed to hang on to the table to keep from floating up to the ceiling.
Beck selected a stone, frowned and held it to the light.
"What happens next?” I asked.
"Have you heard the term ‘shaman'?"
"I think it has something to do with Indians ... Native American Indians?"
Beck nodded and dropped the stone into the pan. “A shaman is a healer who believes in the old ways. I was trained by one."
Beck glanced over at me. “When we came back from Europe, we lived in a remote area close to an Indian reservation. My mom home-schooled us. After our lessons, we had lots of time to wander around. One day, I found an orphaned, half-dead fawn. I knew where the shaman lived so I took the fawn to him. His name is Jed Nightwalker. I came back every day and watched what Nightwalker did, how he healed the fawn. From that point on, I hung out there as much as I could. He said I was a natural healer."
"Did this Jed guy know you're part demon?"
"Oh yeah, he knew,” Beck said. “That first day, he wouldn't let me inside his house. But, I kept coming back, day after day. Finally, he accepted me for what I am. Every time I found an injured animal, I took it to him. We became friends."
"Your mother's okay with this shaman stuff? Her being so religious and all?"
His mouth turned down in disgust. “She doesn't like it, but she can't stop me."
I thought about his rush to get me out of there before his mother returned. Seemed like half-demon Beck had a few demons of his own.
"So what if she comes home early?"
Beck selected three more stones and placed them in the liquid, wiped his hands on his jeans and gave me a grim look.
"She would assume the worst. Like I said, she got pregnant by an incubus, a male demon who has sex with sleeping women. Sometimes I see her watching me and she looks terrified, like she's waiting for me to be like him. Like it's just a matter of time."
Eyes flashing in anger, he turned back to the stove. I studied his profile. His body was stiff with outrage. A knotted muscle twitched in his tightly clenched jaw.
"So, that's why she makes you go to church so much?"
"Yeah, she thinks she can pray the demon out of me.” His voice was bitter, and he wouldn't meet my eyes.
And I thought I had problems. Suddenly, all I wanted was for him to feel better.
"Hey, demon boy, lighten up!” I said, with a grin. “You are what you are. Sure, your eyes glow in the dark, and you can jump really high, and you're stronger than the average non half-demon guy, but you seem okay to me."
His shoulders relaxed and he gave me a quick smile.
"Besides which,” I added. “Most of the girls at school have the hots for you.” I felt myself blush and looked at my feet. “Except for me, of course."
In a blur of movement, Beck was there beside me, lighting a fat, white candle. He removed the pan from the stove and set it on the table. Its fragrance wafted upward and mingled with the smoke from the smudge stick. Somehow, somewhere in the last few seconds, he'd managed to dim the lights. Damn! How did he do that?
"Except for you, huh? Guess I'm losing my touch,” he said.
His tone was light, but when I looked up, his eyes were intense and focused. Caught up in his gaze, I was unable to look away. He leaned over me, his palms flat against the table, his face bisected by the flickering candle into light and shadow. Half-human, half-demon. Time was measured by the thudding of my heart as I wavered between fear and fascination. Beck moved closer. The heat from his golden eyes poured through my body like molten lava. I gasped in surprise.
"Keep looking at me, Allie. Let me into your mind."
No problem. I couldn't not look at him. I heard the splash of water and felt his finger brush the center of my forehead with warm liquid.
Beck's voice was deep and whispery. “May this healing water rid your mind of pain and distress."
Still gazing into his eyes, I allowed his words to wash over me. I wanted to be healed, didn't I? I visualized my mind as a clenched fist. I willed each finger to relax and extend outward, to release the guilt and pain I'd been clinging to. I jumped in shock when I felt a burst of pure energy arc from his body to
mine.
Beck murmured, “It's working. Stay with me, Allie."
He dipped both hands into the liquid and stroked my temples. “May your mind be filled with peace and harmony."
Drawn into his hypnotic gaze, I allowed my heavily-guarded heart to unfurl like a rose in time-lapse photography. From tight bud to full-faced glory. Bathed in sunlight, open and trusting. Again, Beck's power slammed into me. Again, I emitted a little squeak of surprise.
"Almost done,” Beck whispered, dipping into the water one last time.
His warm, wet fingers stroked the length of my neck and stopped at the hollow of my throat. He leaned closer and blew a puff of air into my mouth which was, quite conveniently, hanging open.
"Allie Emerson,” he said. “Bathed in pure white light, you are restored in mind and spirit.” The deep timbre of his voice poured over and through me like warm honey, permeating every cell in my body.
Beck cupped my face in his hand and stroked my eyebrows with his thumbs. My eyes grew heavy and I let them fall shut. As if from a great distance, I heard Beck say, “So shall it be."
We stayed like that for a long moment. I felt the warmth of his hands against my face, the strong pulse of his heartbeat against my skin, his inhalations catching the rhythm of mine until we breathed as one. When I opened my eyes, his face was just inches from mine. His gaze had softened. His eyes were filled with a yearning that sparked across the short distance between us, morphing into a physical hunger I felt clear down to my toes. His lips were inviting and only a few inches from mine. The dark centers in his eyes grew larger. Oh, yeah, he felt it too. All I had to do was move a little closer and...
Stop! With great effort, I pulled away and listened to Faye's voice in my head. What are you thinking? Beck's a half-demon. The other half is horny teenage boy. He has magic abilities you've never dreamed of. Sure, he looks like a lost little boy, but damn, girl, don't be so trusting. Did you forget my lecture on the one-eyed trouser trout?
I caught Beck's fleeting look of disappointment. He knew. I hadn't said a word or moved a muscle but he knew I'd moved out of the moment. And I knew he would have taken that kiss in another second. Maybe Faye was right, even though she was consorting with Brain Dead Roy. I gave him a shaky smile. “Are we done? Am I healed?"
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