Eric waited, and when I didn’t speak, he reached out and gently lifted my chin. His eyes searched mine for a moment. Then he lightly brushed his fingers over my jaw and down to the base of my throat. It took everything I had not to lean into his caress.
He inclined his head once, as if acknowledging some unspoken communication. “Bon. We will not speak of this again.”
Instantly I felt like I’d said or done the wrong thing. “But your wound—what if it never gets better? What if it gets worse? If I can help you—”
He cupped the back of my neck, his fingers warm, his touch light. “I do not know why I am here, but I know this. There is a purpose for everything. It was not a mistake that you were there when I died, and it is not a mistake that you are with me now, like an angel, to guide me.” His lips curved. “I like that. My angel—mon ange.”
I choked at the irony of me being anyone’s guardian anything. “I’m hardly an angel! And as for guiding a dead guy, isn’t that like the blind leading the blind?”
His fingers stilled. “Is there something you wish to share with me?”
Me and my big mouth. Luckily, the boat pulled up next to the dock and Jason called out, “Hyacinth! We’re ready—let’s go!”
Eric gave an aggrieved sigh and released me. “Saved by the boat, of all things.”
Jason had looked away again, so I stood, wiping sweaty palms on my thighs, then held out my hand to Eric. He grimaced but accepted the help, and I hauled him up. When I would have let go, he instead pulled me to him, our forms almost touching. He gazed down at me, expression unreadable.
“Mon ange. I have been un OPJ for many years. As you say, I have met many people, good, bad, and all that is in-between. There is one lesson I have seen them all learn, over and over. The truth will always come out, whether we want it to or not.”
He brought my hand to his lips and gently kissed my knuckles. The heat of his mouth warmed my fingers, tingled up my arm, then spread through my chest and up my throat. His gaze travelled over my face, and his eyes darkened. Then he dropped my hand and stepped back.
“Be careful what you withhold—and what you seek to learn. And…from whom.”
He turned and headed up the gangplank, which Jason had set out. There was no doubt Eric meant to set my blood on fire with that light kiss. But were his words meant as a warning to me—or about Jason?
Or both?
****
Back on the open sea, Jason busied himself at the helm, while Geordi sat on the deck near the stern, coloring other sections of the newspaper. Eric sat close by, but since Geordi obviously couldn’t see him, I let it pass and went to join Jason at the front.
He glanced up as I sat next to him. “So. Going to tell me what all that was about?”
I thought about maintaining my pretense of ignorance, then opted for partial-truth. “I’m not sure. When I saw that guy coming from the stones, I just felt like we had to leave.”
Jason flipped on the auto-pilot, then leaned back in the captain’s seat. “That’s it? You had a hunch, so we ran?” He paused, searching my face. “From what, exactly? A Maltese farmer?”
I tried not to squirm, then had a sudden inspiration. “The Dioguardis.” Jason’s eyes narrowed, so I hurried on. “You said yourself, they have an empire. When I saw that guy, he reminded me of”—I searched my memories of Nick’s family for someone plausible—“of Nick’s cousin. I think his name is Paolo.”
The color drained from Jason’s face. “You think that guy was…this Paolo character? How—when, exactly—did you meet him?”
“At Lily’s wedding. It’s not important. It probably wasn’t him. The point is, the Dioguardis could be anywhere, even here. And he looked like them—tall, dark-haired, and mean.”
“Even the Dioguardis can’t all fit that description—and there are millions of non-mafiosi who do.”
“I know. I said it was just a feeling.” I nodded toward Geordi, willing Jason to understand. “I have to protect him. I can’t pick apart every hunch I get, I just have to do what I think is right.”
“Fair enough.” He stared at me intently, then seemed to make up his mind about something. “Hyacinth—I felt something, too. Back there at the stones.”
I got the sense he’d tossed a ball in my court and was waiting to see what I’d do with it. Had he felt the energy field after all? What if he hadn’t, and I let slip too much? I said cautiously, “You did? What?”
“I don’t know exactly—like maybe that guy was threatening us. I know it sounds weird, but then, there’s a lot about this trip of yours I don’t understand.” He hesitated, shifting in his seat. “And then, just as fast, it was gone. Like it had been blocked. Did you feel anything like that…?”
Could he mean the energy field? Was he saying he knew I’d deflected it, and asking how I’d done it? Too bad for him, because I didn’t know. I might be half-dead, able to hear screaming rocks and see dead people, but I didn’t have any other special powers. Did I?
“Hyacinth,” Jason said slowly. “It might help if you let me in. Tell me what really happened. It’s okay. You can trust me.”
The truth was, I wanted to trust him. But even more, I wanted to have imagined the energy field, and to blame my reaction to the farmer on my own made-up excuse of thinking the Dioguardis had found us. That the Dioguardis would turn out to be the lesser of my two evils wasn’t something I’d expected in a million years.
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out, and I shook my head helplessly.
His shoulders sagged. “Fine. Have it your way. But there’s one thing you did notice, whether you realize it or not. Ask yourself, why did Geordi call that pile of rocks a church?”
The question surprised me. “I…don’t know. I thought maybe you said something, about Malta or the ancient cultures or something.”
He shook his head. “I told him there were caves, but I never said anything about using them for religious rites. And even if I had, he’s seven. Why would he call it a church?”
I started to protest, then stopped. He was right. Why would Geordi make that leap? If he’d heard me talk shop before, he might call it a “burial mound,” or even “standing stones,” but not a church. More to convince myself than Jason, I said, “I’m sure he was using his imagination.”
“Maybe.”
He didn’t sound convinced. He looked at Geordi, still coloring in the back, and I thought I saw worry in his expression. Jason was a good person—I was sure of it, despite Eric’s suspicions.
He turned and caught me staring. As though reading my mind, he said, “It’s okay, you know. I’ll keep you safe. Both of you.”
“Safe?” I couldn’t stop the note of hysteria creeping into my voice. “I don’t know if I’ll ever feel safe again.”
“Hyacinth, I promise you—everything will be okay.”
He stood and opened his arms, and I went to him. God help me, but I needed comfort, too. Jason was here. He’d thrown his lot in with me, asking almost no questions beyond what I wanted to do next. Maybe because of whatever weird spark I’d felt with Eric, or because all the stress hormones in my body reduced me to that most elemental level of “must procreate and keep the species going”—I don’t know. But Jason’s arms felt good. Really…good.
Partly, it was because he was alive. I so needed that right now, a contact with the Living—like I needed Eric to be my contact with the Dead. I needed Jason’s solid strength, to remind me of what was good and decent about the world. Between Lily being gone, and knowing I had to leave Geordi, and my worry over Eric, it seemed like Death had taken over my life.
Whatever Jason’s secrets, he was a living, breathing person, whose heart beat strong under my cheek, whose hands slid up my back to cradle my head against his broad chest, and I started to relax into him, feeling so secure, so…familiar.
Except…he wasn’t.
I broke away. This was too weird. I was too raw.
“Hyacinth…”
I moved away. “No. D
on’t ask me to talk right now, or I might ask why you’re here.”
“I told you. It’s because—”
“You’re afraid of the Dioguardis,” I finished. “I know. You’ve said. But that isn’t the whole story—I know it’s not. You know something about them, something other than what I’ve told you about Lily and Geordi.”
Instead of the expected denial, he stared at me for a beat. “It’s not what you think.”
“Isn’t it? That’s funny, because I have no idea what to think.”
He turned away and shoved a hand through his hair, making it stand up, thick and black, all over his head. He looked like a sleek, black-haired lion, shaking out its mane to intimidate an enemy, and I pushed down another bubble of hysteria.
He nodded pointedly toward Geordi. “We can’t talk about this here.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m just afraid—that the Dioguardis might get him. And they might hurt me. Or worse…they might hurt you.”
He said nothing for a long time. Then he turned away and sat again in the captain’s seat. “Well, if there are Dioguardis on Malta, I’d like to put a whole lot of ocean between us and them as fast as possible. For your sake—and Geordi’s.”
He angled the joystick down, causing the boat to lurch forward, then settled it into a faster speed. I didn’t disagree that escaping the Dioguardis was high priority. I just didn’t know if the ocean was big enough to stop the demons from getting me first.
But I did recognize a reprieve when I saw it, so I turned and fled to the back of the boat. Even if I wanted to question Jason more, I couldn’t now. It was a wonder we hadn’t scared Geordi with our raised voices. I glanced at Eric, but he sat with his eyes closed, asleep, or pretending to be. Had he seen me in Jason’s arms? What if he had? If he’d heard us, what did he think of Jason’s questions about the stones, or his refusal to answer my own questions?
Geordi was still coloring, so I dropped down on the deck beside him, to find he’d drawn a picture of SpongeBob on the business section. Whatever he’d meant about the “church,” Geordi was still relatively sane and transparent, compared to the other men in my life. He must be feeling safer—that had been a bona fide tantrum he’d thrown at the stones. I didn’t know whether to be glad, or sad, that his grief had progressed.
No thanks to me. Damn it all—I could be his parent, and his Fun Aunt, too. I chose a pink crayon and began adding a chubby starfish to the page. Geordi watched, then wordlessly scooted closer until our legs touched. I leaned down and kissed his earth-scented dark hair, and we set to work, creating a cartoon world where the biggest threat was a tiny sea organism trying to steal Mr. Krabs’ secret recipe.
No mafia, no demons, no ghosts or men leading double lives.
It was heavenly. And I wanted to be here forever. Every minute my resolve grew stronger. Geordi didn’t need “a good family”—he needed me.
And I needed him. I wouldn’t leave him. Ever.
Even if it meant breaking my promise to the Angel of Death.
Chapter Twelve
“Some men are alive simply because
it is against the law to kill them.”
~E.W. Howe (1853-1937)
Next morning, I awoke early in our hotel in Denizli, Turkey. We’d made good time on the second leg of our voyage, arriving by early evening in Marmaris, where we had a stroke of luck. The port was one Vadim had frequented when schlepping his “wares,” and the harbormaster recognized the boat. When I told him Vadim had died, he was very sympathetic, and said we could leave the boat in Vadim’s slip, indefinitely. Jason offered to pay him, but he said Vadim had done him enough favors, and he was honored to help us.
He also directed us to his cousin’s car lot, where we picked up a nondescript junker whose main selling point was its cheapness. We loaded everything into the battered trunk, climbed in—Eric included—and headed inland, reaching Denizli two hours later at about ten o’clock. Geordi and I were so tired, the transition from car to hotel is a blur. Mercifully, Jason handled everything. Despite our spat on the boat, I was starting to care less and less what his secrets were, so long as he kept knowing what to do. I sure as hell didn’t.
Except now that we’d arrived, I had to figure it out. Unless somehow Jason could hear the rock also, which seemed too far-fetched even for my current situation. But he had found us cheap rooms—one for him, another for me and Geordi, connecting bathroom between—and ordered me to get some rest. Which helped.
It was barely light, the sun still below the barren mountains to the east. The clock said six, but already hot air wafted through the open window, the noise of traffic and industry outside somewhat reassuring. I was here, now. I didn’t have to have it all figured out. But I did need to pee, and I hadn’t showered since before I died. I got out of bed and went to brush my teeth, wondering where Eric was. He’d mumbled something about taking care of himself and stumbled away. I couldn’t stop him in front of Jason, and the hard truth was, I was helpless to help him, anyway.
I bent over the sink to rinse and spit, and a deep voice behind me said, “Progress?”
I shrieked, and my head snapped up to find Michael gazing over my shoulder at me in the mirror. His massive form took up nearly the entire tiny bathroom. My heart hammered like a gong, and all I could think was, Thank God, I slept in my tank top and shorts.
“You scared the crap out of me!”
“Apologies.” He didn’t sound like he meant it, but just then Jason’s voice came from outside his connecting door, and he rattled the knob.
“Hyacinth? You okay in there?”
“Fine!” I called. “I, uh, saw a bug. A big one.”
Michael chuckled, and Jason said, “Want me to kill it for you?”
“Of course not!”
“Sorry. Rescue it then—I’m great with a water glass and a piece of cardboard.”
“No! It’s, uh, fine. Really. I’m going to shower now.”
“Oh. Okay.” He paused, and I waited, breath held, until he said, “I’ll go get us some food. If you’re sure you’re okay.”
“Positive.”
I didn’t let my breath back out until I heard him walk across the room, then open and close his outer door. Either he’d slept in his clothes, or he’d been awake longer than I had.
Meanwhile, Michael simply stood there, watching me. In his warrior getup, with his heavy, sharpened blades and objets de guerre, it was unnerving, to say the least.
“What are you doing here?”
“Checking on my investment.”
“Couldn’t you have picked some place larger—and more private?”
He lifted a muscled shoulder, leather straps creaking. “My schedule is tight.”
I leaned over and splashed cold water on my face, then reached for a towel. “Well, you should’ve waited. We just got here—I don’t have anything to report.”
“That you arrived at all is impressive.”
“Gee, thanks.”
His grin flashed in the mirror. Not exactly unpleasant, but definitely the hard smile of someone who’d bested many foes. More a baring of teeth than anything else. He examined me, his gaze travelling over my body, then lifting to linger on my chest.
I folded my arms over my breasts and cleared my throat. “Seen enough?”
This time the smile was decidedly wicked, and I thought the sainthood with which he was wrongly attributed might be an actual misnomer, not just a technicality.
Michael lifted his chin in the direction of my boobs. “Your wound is healed. Not only on the outside.” He frowned in a clinical way, as though puzzled by me. “Extraordinary. By all accounts, you should not look this good.”
“Gee, thanks.”
His laugh roared out, and I shushed him, afraid he’d wake Geordi. For that matter, maybe Jason had only pretended to leave. He could be at the bathroom door listening to us, or hiding below the open window. All I needed was for him to break the door down and find me talking to Michael, with his wil
d hair and wilder knives and axes. Worse, maybe Jason wouldn’t see Michael, and would think I was crazy after all. He’d probably decide I wasn’t a fit parent for Geordi. At least the Dioguardis didn’t converse with the dead after they killed them.
“Child,” Michael said, “I meant well—not attractive. But I am sure you knew that.”
He sat on the edge of the tub, and I relaxed. A little. He was still the Angel of Death and technically, my boss. I’d never really had a boss before. During my brief stints legitimately helping at digs or working in museums, my “bosses” were more like teachers, showing me how to identify and care for the artifacts, and determine their value. This was different. I pretty much had one task to do, and Michael’d made it clear I got one chance or I was out.
His gigantic hand reached to touch my chest, well above my breasts, but still, and I swatted him away. Unfortunately, the bathroom was so minuscule, I couldn’t escape.
“Extraordinary,” he muttered again. “And you are not tired? Weak? Run-down?”
“No,” I snapped, then forced myself to take a breath. After all, he was the only one with any knowledge that might help me. “There is one thing I’ve noticed—I’m unbelievably hungry. Yesterday, I ate meat, and it helped. But I’m still ravenous.” As though to prove the point, my stomach rumbled.
“That would make sense. I am sure you have drawn your own conclusions.” He thought a moment. “Death is an end to appetite. In the next world, all earthly needs vanish, but particularly your appetites. Not only for food—all hungers. For knowledge, power, love. Whatever cravings you had in Life are gone in Death, fulfilled in ways you cannot imagine.”
“Okay. What does that mean for me, right now?”
“I am not sure. Perhaps rebirth re-awakens appetites you should have lost, had you stayed dead.”
“Great. So instead of normal hunger, now I’ll have extra-special rebirth hunger. But will I have it all the time? And will I have to keep eating meat?”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps it will fade.” He shrugged. “I do not know much more than you. But…I could guess that hunger for meat is not the only appetite you will find reawakened.”
Debriefing the Dead (The Dead Series Book 1) Page 12