Grave Danger

by K. E. Rodgers

  “I saw what happened when your hands connected. That wouldn’t have happened unless your mind was else were.” Jackson stared down at her as she stood so still not looking at him, but behind him. It was then that he felt another presence.

  Jackson turned around in time to see Olivier Prince shut those same doors that led back to the dining room. The expression he wore was that of genuine sympathy, but Jackson could see underneath the older man’s mask to the cruel streak that touched the corners of his mouth and flashed in the dark brown eyes.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you. I just came out to see if Ms. Schofield was feeling unwell.” Olivier walked casually over to them, a prowling gate that said he was a man who bowed down to few if any. He reached out to touch her forehead, but Clarissa quickly jerked out from under his touch.

  “Don’t you dare put a hand on me, you bastard,” she swore at him while keeping her voice on a low level so the others in the dining room couldn’t hear. “I’ll kill you before I ever let you touch me.”

  Jackson, at hearing those words, took up a position in front of Clarissa, blocking her from view of the death bokor. He didn’t like this man, not since the moment he’d laid eyes on him when he’d been driven into town to see to their problem with the flesh-eaters and event then he known that there was something off about him. Jackson had seen the way Clarissa had clutched her stomach, seen her worried eyes when she’d sat next to him at dinner. And her outburst only made him dislike this man more. Even though he wasn’t bokor, he knew his family’s abilities could hold up enough against Olivier Prince.

  “Are you Clarissa’s little champion, boy?” Olivier said, a hint of his Cajun accent creeping into his otherwise bland speaking voice. “How extremely brave of you to think that you could stand between me and my fiancé, but then I always thought teenagers a rather reckless species.”

  “Fiancé,” Jackson quoted back, his head making a quick jerking motion to look behind him at Clarissa who still refused to meet his eyes. “Clarissa doesn’t have any family,” he said, believing his own lie.

  Olivier shook his head, a sardonic smile touching his full lips. He was about an inch taller than Jackson, his ego even taller than that. A man in his mid-thirties with stylishly cut dark brown hair, he was considered by many to be a catch with the ladies as well as being the best at his craft. Clarissa had been one of those foolish women. But then Olivier had perfected the politician’s talent of two-facedness better than any in Washington.

  “Clarissa and I have been engaged for over a year now; up until her unfortunate demise. We were going to marry just after her birthday.” He chuckled to himself as if something he’d said was funny. In his twisted mind it was.

  In the next instant Olivier had Jackson by the collar of his dress shirt, pulling him up until his feet dangled inches off the ground. Jackson kicked the air trying to get loose. Their eyes met, Jackson looking down as Olivier grinned up at him. For several seconds their eyes locked before Olivier threw Jackson into an antique table in the corner that collapsed beneath the sudden weight of Jackson’s flailing body.

  “I have to say, Clarissa, I’m surprised to see you here,” Olivier continued as he took Clarissa by the arm, holding her close to his body. “I never thought to see you in this very interesting form.” His eyes were alight with cruel passion as he forced her closer to him. “You were always very pretty in your flesh, but outside it you seem to be even more beautiful. It must be that your soul was more desirable than the body. You positively outshine the other spirits in that room.”

  Clarissa jerked out of his restraining hands, but was only free for a second before he had both her arms pinned down by her sides. She could feel the strength in his touch, not just the physical strength of his body but the strength of his bokor powers. She wasn’t sure she could compete with him.

  His lips captured hers despite her attempts to turn her face away from him. At one time she had loved kissing this man, loved everything about him. It had been far too late before she recognized the signs about his true nature. He loved the kill, more than she did.

  That lump tried to rise in her stomach. It made her insides hurt to know what she had been before death had hidden the truth from her mind. She had loved the hunt for the creatures she believed didn’t deserve to be on this earth. Clarissa had taken them all down, even the very young ones who didn’t know that what they were was wrong. But in Clarissa’s mind a child monster was just as bad as a grown one.

  Olivier had been worse though. At least she had been merciful. He had taken great satisfaction in torture. Clarissa couldn’t stand to have those lips on hers, not when she knew those lips had commanded his victims to humiliate themselves before he’d ended their existence. It was like kissing the devil himself and it made that lump in her stomach – in her soul – burn to know that she had loved this devil.

  Clarissa managed to pull her mouth away from his, hating the taste of him on her tongue. “I hate you,” she whispered as he leered down at her.

  “You were always so overly dramatic, Clarissa. I wondered why I put up with you as long as I did.” He brought one manicured finger up to her lips. “Maybe it was this little talented mouth of yours.” He rubbed his finger over the seam of her mouth, an evil gleam coming to his eyes. “I wonder how it would work now that you don’t need to breathe.”

  That sent Clarissa over the edge as a new found strength stole through her. She pushed at him, not only with her hands but with the strength of her own bokor powers. She was a Sorcière, a female bokor, and just as capable as he in the use of her magick.

  Olivier stumbled back, his arms going wide to steady himself. Clarissa was on him, her movements sure and fast as his had been, pinning him to the far wall near the door to the dining room. She would wonder later why no one came out to investigate, but right now her mind was on the matter at hand.

  She could feel Jackson behind her as he righted himself and stumbled a bit to get to his feet. In a moment she’d make sure he had nothing broken. Now she’d make her feelings clear to her ex-fiancé.

  “You ever come near me again and I will take you down.” Her voice laced in the venom of her magick. She held Olivier to the wall with little effort even though he was a good deal taller and bigger than she. His face remained beautifully impassive as she continued. “Just because I no longer have flesh doesn’t mean I can’t see you destroyed. And trust me when I say it will be my pleasure to see that your soul goes back where it belongs.”

  “Go hIfreann leat!” To hell with you! She released him, stepping back as she watched him fix his collar with a calmness that she knew was likely only an illusion. He gave her a final once over before he turned and opened the doors, retreating back into the dining room.

  Clarissa went over to where Jackson was standing on shaking legs, his hand holding his back. She missed the malevolent smile that came over Olivier’s face just as he passed through the double doors and left them.

  “Are you all right, Jackson?” Clarissa said, touching his back, moving his hand away to see if he was bleeding. He wasn’t. “Jackson, I’m so sorry.” She continued to fuss over him until he stopped her by taking her hand and bending forward to look down into her troubled eyes.

  “You weren’t like him, Clarissa.” He made the quiet comment, the soft deep voice that was so Jackson. “Maybe you weren’t completely innocent, but then none of us really are. But you were never like he is, a real monster.”

  “Thank you for saying that,” Clarissa spoke quietly as she fixed his shirt and tie that been horribly wrenched loose from Olivier’s near stranglehold. “But it isn’t true. I was exactly like Olivier when I was alive. It didn’t matter that I hurt people. All I knew was what he’d told me about abnormalities in this world, and I believed him. Maybe that’s why I didn’t move on. Maybe I’m being punished for the crimes I committed against those people I saw as aberrations in my world.”

  “I don’t want to go back in there, Jackson,” she said, stepping away
from him. “I don’t want to be with those people anymore.” Clarissa wiped against her face making sure she wasn’t crying, at least not on the outside. “What time is it?” she asked Jackson. Clarissa hadn’t thought to put on a watch and Cyrus’s house was devoid of any clocks. She speculated that Cyrus didn’t like the look of time as he had spent most of his being dead.

  Jackson looked down at his right wrist. Some days he was left handed and other days he wasn’t. “It’s about quarter till ten. They’re likely finished eating and probably getting ready to go into the parlor. I’ll take you home if you like.”

  “No,” Clarissa interjected. “Stay, you should stay and enjoy yourself. I think it would be good for you to do a little self PR work. The Spectral Services need someone like you, Jackson. That is, if you still want to be an S.S. member one day.”

  “Of course I do,” he answered, adjusting his coat.

  Jackson took Clarissa’s coat from the walk in closet by the front door. He was one of the few who could touch non-tangible objects made by the Eidolon people. The problem with things made by magick, however, was that it didn’t last long. The energy always wanted to return to its natural state, which was why Clarissa never wore any article of clothing twice as she couldn’t. Magick preservatives could be placed in the garment, but even then it wasn’t enough. The beautiful dress Clarissa was wearing tonight would dissolve back into the natural world in a matter of days if she was lucky. Already it had been a few days since its conception. All the Eidolon cloths had a short expiration date.

  Clarissa hugged the coat to her. Not because it provided warmth, at least not physically. She reached into her pocket to get out her cell phone when Cyrus burst through the double doors, taking up the extra energy in the room by his presence alone. Those doors were getting more use tonight than they got in a month. Clarissa watched as “his majesty” made his grand entrance.

  “Ms. Schofield, will you be joining us in the parlor.” His all seeing gray eyes roved up and down her person as if he were looking at more than just the physical spectrum that most saw. “Or do you still require a few more moments to yourself?” His eyes caught sight of his broken antique table before drawing his attention back to them. He closed the doors behind him.

  “You certainly are a trouble maker, Clarissa.” It was the first time Cyrus had ever addressed her so informally. “If your previous associations with Mr. Prince hinder your ability to serve on the advisory committee then I ask that you step down from your post. I do not tolerate my council members to make an exhibition of their selves in my home. We are very fortunate to have found him. His willingness to assist in community matters is hanging on a very tight thread, one that could easily snap if he finds us less than welcoming. Do we have an understanding then?”

  Clarissa nodded, turning her focus down on the phone in her hands. She scrolled through her list of numbers until she found the one she wanted. She pressed to connect, putting it up to her ear.

  As it was ringing she looked up the far distance to the oldest of her kind. The man who could very easily squash her like an irritating and unimportant bug under his Cesare Paciotti inspired dress shoes which cost him just as much, if not more to have the likeness on his feet. If he thought she could tolerate her ex-fiancé and attempted murder – she wasn’t sure it could be called murder because she still walked this earth – then Mr. Stiff-upper-lip Cercopoly had another thing coming to him.

  “I understand you’re a self-righteous ass,” she said to his slightly shocked face. Clarissa was sure no one had ever spoken to him like that. At least not in some time, several decades if not more and Clarissa liked the thought that she was the first to put him in his place in all that time.

  Clarissa walked the distance to her date and reached up to kiss Jackson on his astonished and adorable face. He looked good tonight in his suit. Any girl with a quarter of a brain in her head could see that Jackson was a fine catch and not just because he looked good in a suit. He was a good kid and one day he’d be a fine man.

  With a dignified air in her step she walked to the front door. Corrigan’s phone was still ringing yet he wasn’t picking up. He had a tendency to lose it, though as yet she couldn’t guess how. The old brick of a phone was huge. Just as she had the door open and was ready to walk out she turned back to face the man who lead the Eidolon people of St. Augustine.

  “I would rather die again than be on your advisory council, you uptight jerk. Both you and your bokor buddy can go fuck each other till the sun comes up for all I care.” She forced a pleasant smile on her face for her date. “Good night, Jackson.” She slammed the door shut behind her.

  Chapter 24-

  “Are you feeling all right?” Clarissa pressed her fingers to his forehead, finding his skin cool, almost clammy to the touch. Corrigan shook his head up and down, but even that small movement looked like it took more effort than it should.

  Making a concerned frown, Clarissa drew a line along the curve of his dark eyebrow. Corrigan wasn’t well and even in her ignorance of his species she knew what the cause of his current state of health meant.

  She was killing him and he was slowly dying for her. Clarissa, with the full awareness of the woman she had been in life morphed and molded with the woman she had come to be in death now had a very different understanding of Corrigan’s dependence on taking lives. It went against every moral code she had developed as a human.

  Clarissa wasn’t entirely human, not anymore.

  Love for Corrigan had changed the rules and she could see how women could so easily fall for men who chose a dangerous life; one that for those on the outside with little investment could quickly condemn. And whether it was right or wrong, when it came down to choosing between the love of her existence and some faceless/nameless victim she would choose Corrigan.

  Clarissa had met Corrigan on the bridge. He had given her one long look up and down at her in her dress and heels and smiled in obvious approval. He’d kissed her then and there, and with that kiss had wiped away the last bitter tastes of Olivier from her mouth. Several minutes later when he’d pulled back he’d told her she was over dressed for tonight and that his sisters wanted to take her out for a girl’s get together.

  Standing now in the hall on the second floor of the main house, Corrigan stood with one hand in his jeans pocket the other braced against the wall next to him. He watched with apprehensive eyes as Clarissa knocked on the closed door.

  The door was opened as Helen stood poised with one hand on the door while the other reached out to take Clarissa’s hand. Clarissa was startled for a moment when their skin touched. But Helen just smiled at Clarissa and pulled her into the room.

  “Sorry, Cor, your level of testosterone isn’t allowed inside. We’ll take good care of her.” Helen propelled Clarissa further into the room while she remained on female guard duty at the open door. Even as Corrigan tried to peer around her to see Clarissa in the guest bedroom Helen wouldn’t allow him to go any further than the entryway.

  As he was looking over Helen’s head into the brightly lit room, he felt someone coming up behind him. Corrigan turned in time to find Chas standing just behind him in the hallway. He moved forward to hand something to his wife, a pair of earrings.

  “Thanks for getting them, baby,” she said, rising up to kiss him on his dark cheek. “Now if you’ll both excuse me, we have some serious preparations to get through before we go out.” With that she slammed the heavy door to the guest room closed in their faces.

  Both men could hear the music as it was turned up several clicks, nearly drowning out any female chattering that was going on inside. Corrigan and Chas stood silent in the hallway, not sure what to say to the other.

  Chas was the first one to break the silence. “You’re coming out with us tonight whether you like it or not.” His words were meant to be abrasive and to the point, but Corrigan knew his slightly older brother well enough to catch the emotion in his voice. So they all knew he’d stopped hunting. That he�
��d drunk more than his share of liquor and was slowly letting his body turn against him. “I don’t give a fuck about your noble motivation because if it comes to force I won’t hesitate. None of us asked to be what we are and it’s the very nature of the world that you either eat or get eaten. It can’t be helped that the humans aren’t the top of the food chain, they never have been.”

  Corrigan remained standing still, one hand braced on the wall as he stared transfixed at the closed door. He suspected that Clarissa knew more than she let on. And he knew that despite his resolve he couldn’t hold out forever. Already it was so much effort just to stand in this hallway. It had been a few days since his intervention with Debora and Trueman. They’d tried to give him a transfusion like a normal human, but it wasn’t enough. The blood wasn’t fresh enough and already its nutritional value had depleted by half.

  “I know, Chas.” Corrigan made the statement, his head slightly bowed and now looking at the bottom of the door. He didn’t feel himself and for a moment he imagined that the floor was rising up to meet him. It wasn’t.

  “You are too fucking heavy to carry,” Chas grumbled as he caught his younger brother before he kissed the hallway floor with his fall. Corrigan, despite his weight lose, was still several inches taller than Chas and it was quite a load to take his full weight. Chas sagged under their combined weight and then he felt the weight lessen. Looking up from his bent position he found Trueman with one of Corrigan’s arms slung over his neck.

  “I’ll help you take him downstairs,” Trueman said, his glasses riding slightly askew on his nose. “I’ve brought a couple of bags of fluids to put in him. That should do until we can get him something more substantial.” He watched as Corrigan’s head flopped forward on his chest. “He’s in no position to put up a fight tonight.”

  Corrigan mumbled something incoherent.

  “Shut the fuck up, Cor,” Chas barked at his brother as they made their way down the stairs, his weight dispersed between him and Trueman. “No one gives a shit what you think right now.”