To Surprise A Seer

by Jane Cousins

  Of course then things had gone from bad to worse. At least Quinn Bennett hadn’t shied away from the challenge he presented her. Damn, watching her crumple to the floor after trying to read his memories had fired every protective instinct he had into overdrive.

  He’d felt sick to his stomach that she had been hurt because of him.

  But Quinn had rallied and insisted she wasn’t walking away. That they could do this together. So here he was spilling his guts about his wonderful, happy childhood.

  Except, he kept getting distracted. There was something... hell, don’t down play it, everything about Quinn Bennett fascinated him. He kept having to remind himself this was business not personal. She was a doctor, and he was nothing more to her than a patient, or worse, a lab experiment.

  It was not a date. But here he was chatting with a beautiful woman. And those eyes. Silvery blue, they reminded him of the starlit skies over the desert in Egypt. When the sky was a pure blue and overhead a million stars would just suddenly appear moments before the sun slipped away over the horizon. A pure blue glinting with flickering stardust.

  Fuck, stop thinking about the woman’s eyes and tell her about your tenth birthday.

  But it wasn’t just her eyes. Or those full, sensual lips. Or the curve of her cheek. Or the way her blue silk top clung to her curves, drawing his attention to every breath she took. It was the way she eyed the plate of churros and marshmallows, with clear longing that she clamped down on with rigid control. She fascinated him. What would it take to make a woman of this calibre lose control? Give in to temptation?

  Watching her bite into the one and only churro she’d permitted herself had almost made him moan out loud. The way she savoured the flavours. Her eyes sparkling with delight. The edges of her lips twisted upwards in clear enjoyment. Damn, it made him want to feed this woman for the rest of his life.

  Wake up, idiot, that is not going to happen. She doesn’t see you as anything other than a challenging case. And you won’t even remember she exists come tomorrow.

  But still, he couldn’t shake it. Something about Quinn. Something familiar. Hazy and half remembered. Which was balls out crazy. He didn’t even know what he had for breakfast yesterday. He almost wanted to say he recalled her from a dream. Which was crazier still. He didn’t dream. Everything before the rush of returning horrors each morning was a frustrating blank.

  “So, does the coin around your neck have special significance?”

  Matias blinked, Quinn’s question had caught his attention. Reaching up he fisted the coin, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face. “It’s from my first dive, when I was seven. It’s tradition in my family that you commemorate your first find. We were off an island in the waters of Greece. Mama’s research had led us to the area. Papa’s instincts guided us to the wreck. A warship. Not much left of it but rusted manacles that kept the crew bolted in place. A couple of swords and a handful of coins.” He remembered how proud he had been. How they’d had a special dinner that night in celebration.

  Quinn noted it was the first time Matias had smiled whilst mentioning his parents since he had begun talking. “How did they meet? Your parents?”

  “Papa’s family have been wreck chasers for more than five generations. And though we have a family compound located just out of Buenos Aires, my Papa basically grew up on the sea, with a nose for lost treasure, he would say. The first time they met was over the remains of a Viking longboat that had swept onto an isolated beach on the Western Coast of Africa. Met... perhaps clashed, is the more appropriate term.”

  “It wasn’t love at first sight?”

  “Maybe, but they were too busy trying to claim the wreck for themselves to notice at first.”

  “What changed?”

  “They both refused to give up rights. And as they worked to uncover the find, they talked. I think they realised they had more in common than they first thought. My mother’s people are Scottish. Legend chasers with an uncanny ability when it comes to ferreting out half truths from the fiction. Watching Mama research was a treat in itself. Lots of muttering and inventive cursing. Almost as if she were fighting a battle with a pile of books and old manuscripts. Then suddenly she’d find it, the tiniest thread, a crumb of half remembered fact and she’d unravel the whole story.”

  “And your father?”

  “Papa? Big. Boisterous man. Would sing sea shanties one moment coarse enough to burn your ears. The next, he would serenade Mama, making her blush.” Matias chuffed a laugh. “He always said that the real treasure he discovered on that beach was Mama.”

  “And they were happy?”

  “It certainly seemed that way to me. The older I got, the more I realised they weren’t just in love, they were partners. Mama would track the legends. Once Papa had a starting point, with his instincts, before too long we would be diving a wreck or a sunken temple, and hauling up long lost treasures.” Abruptly Matias stood, the legs of his chair scraping backwards loudly. He couldn’t sit still suddenly. He needed to keep on the move. “You hungry? Time for lunch I think.”

  Quinn watched as Matias cleared the table and began bustling around the kitchen. Damn, he’d broken the moment. Just when they were beginning to make some progress. But she couldn’t voice a rebuke. She’d seen the strong emotions flicker across his face. This couldn’t be easy for him. In his mind, yesterday, his parents were alive.

  “Just something light would be fine.” Quinn watched in dismay at the growing variety of food Matias was placing on the bench top. Was he expecting to feed an army? “Really light.”

  There she went again, pushing away temptation. Damn, Matias wanted to shake the woman’s control.

  Ten minutes later, sitting across from Quinn as she nibbled on the crust of her ham and tomato - no butter, no relish, no mayo - sandwich, Matias couldn’t help but note that her eyes kept wandering to his own over indulgent creation; ham, turkey, jack cheese, tomatoes, lettuce, sweet jalapenos, with a mustard and mayo dressing.

  “You sure you don’t want a bite of mine?” He offered.

  Quinn shuddered delicately. “No, thank you. That just looks like heartburn on a plate to me.”

  Matias laughed and took a large bite. Idly wondering what it would take to shake Quinn’s composure. There was just something about her that made him want to ruffle her feathers. Probably because he liked the colour that flooded her cheeks and the way those stardust eyes sparkled when she let loose. He couldn’t resist. “I suppose you’ll be wanting to hear about how I lost my virginity?”

  Quinn choked slightly, grateful she’d taken such a small, sensible bite of her sandwich or she’d be wheezing right about now. “Excuse me?”

  “Well, you did say you wanted to hear about everything. I assume that includes my first encounter with the opposite sex.”

  “Um. Yes. I suppose.”

  Matias wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Though it seems a little unfair to me. Here I am, spilling my guts, telling you all my most intimate secrets, and what do I get for it in return?”

  “Pardon?” Quinn placed her barely eaten sandwich down.

  “My throat is getting sore from all the talking for one. I tell you what. How about we do a quid pro quo arrangement from now on?”

  Quinn frowned. “That isn’t how therapy works.”

  “But I’m not in therapy. I’m just randomly spilling my guts, hoping that by some miracle we find the answer to why for the last decade my memories have been relegated to goldfish level.”

  For the first time since they’d sat down, Quinn heard anger seething beneath the surface. What Matias said was true. He was far from the average patient. And what she was making him do here today, re-live all the details of his life, when for him, it was only hours ago that he had discovered his parents’ bodies, and that his sister was missing. Really, it was surprising that the man was able to function at all.

  “Okay, so tell me all about your introduction to the fairer sex. Let me guess, you were a
precocious thirteen year old?”

  Matias swallowed the abrupt spike of anger, amusement flooding back. “If only. Try a desperate seventeen year old. Hey, remember I lived on a boat with my family twenty-four/seven. Between the remote dive sights and the close supervision, I should count myself lucky I’m not still a virgin.”

  Quinn laughed, she couldn’t help herself. “And was the experience everything you hoped for?”

  “It was fast.” Matias grinned. “Very fast.” He shook his head in bemusement. “I was fortunate we stuck around for three days and Ines, the girl, let me redeem myself. She was incredibly sweet about it all. Man, what a smile. The moment I saw her smile, I was half way in love.”

  Quinn was surprised at the small stab of jealousy that gripped her. Unacceptable, she tamped down on it hard. Aloof, objective, cool and collected. Believe it, live it. “And what happened to Ines?”

  Matias shrugged. “She returned to the mainland to attend college. I kind of moped around for a few weeks, writing very heartfelt, incredibly bad poetry. Nico teased me mercilessly. Then I got distracted by our next wreck hunt and I kind of forgot about her. Except for that smile. So, how about you?”

  “No, really-”

  “Come on, Quinn, quid pro quo. I unloaded, now it’s your turn. Besides, it’s not like I’m going to remember any of this come tomorrow anyway.”

  Quinn rolled her eyes, yes it was unprofessional, but she couldn’t help herself. “Your most persuasive argument yet. Fine. Okay, my first time? Joseph Dundard, my first year at Uni. With my magic, I had to be a little picky, given all the skin to skin contact. Joseph appeared ideal. Not a broadcaster.”

  “What happened?”

  “We stopped, we started, we stopped again. I kept getting flashes of other girls Joseph had been with.”

  “That must have made things... challenging.”

  Quinn smiled. “For both of us. I didn’t realise until later that I was sending those memories back to Joseph in technicolour detail. No wonder two weeks later he got back together with his previous girlfriend.”

  “Did you dive back into the dating pool?”

  Quinn nodded. “Carefully the next time. I had a lovely boyfriend through most of University who could barely remember where his car keys were. Very sports focused, that helped.”

  “So given your magic and my condition, we sound like a perfect match.” Matias grinned, toffee eyes full of mischief.

  Quinn swallowed hard, fighting the urge to cross her legs at the sudden wave of heat that infused her. “You’re forgetting what happened last time we touched. Unless you prefer your women prostrate and unconscious?”

  “No, I really don’t.” Matias’s grin dropped away. “But then, I’ve never shied away from a challenge either.”

  “So tell me about your magic?” Yes, anything to change the suddenly uncomfortable topic of conversation.

  “I’m not so sure if it’s so much magic as it is evolution. Both sides of the family seem to have always had the need to chase legends, solve mysteries. My father’s side have always done so on the water. And over time we’ve adapted. The high levels of oxygen in our blood means we can dive deeper than the norm and stay under for lengthy periods of time without equipment. We easily shrug off differences in air pressure. Heal quicker. We’re stronger. Fast reflexes.”

  Quinn nodded. “And how do you go about pinpointing a wreck?”

  “Papa never stinted on the latest technology but for the most part it was instinctive... a pull. Mama would research a legend and give us a general locale but then it was Papa’s turn to narrow it down.” Unconsciously, Matias reached up to touch the gold coin at his throat. “We all have... had specialities. Papa and I tended to lock in on gold. And Nico had a thing for silver.”

  “What about Copper? What was her contribution?” It felt like the right moment to ask so Quinn slipped in the question.

  “Copper?” Matias managed a wry smile. “She took after Mama. Head always in an old textbook or journal.”

  “Tell me about her. What was she like?”

  “I was five when she was born, with this head full of bright, sun kissed red hair. Hence the name. I suppose you could call her a cross between a tomboy and a bookworm. I always have this image of her in my head, smiling up at me, a dusty old tome in front of her. Her reading glasses balanced precariously on the end of her nose, with her hair up in a messy ponytail.”

  “Did she like to dive?”

  Matias shrugged. “Not as much as Nico and I. She was more like Mama... she liked the unravelling of a mystery. The research. Pulling on a thread and following it. We preferred the hunt, the find, the exploration.” Matias stood suddenly, hands clenched into fists. “If she is still alive she would be twenty-five now. Fuck, thanks to me, we don’t even know if she is alive or dead. If she was taken. If she’s hiding.”

  “Hiding? From who? The person who killed your parents?”

  “Maybe.” Anguish flooded Matias’s eyes. “What if it’s me she is hiding from? What if I did something that day on the boat to scare her off?” He scowled. “One moment she was there... then she wasn’t. And now I can’t even trust if that last memory of her is real.”

  “Why can’t you trust it, Matias?” She’d thought he was all barely suppressed rage but it tore at her heart to realise that he was also drowning in guilt.

  “You have to understand, to me, it happened moments ago. Copper is next to me. I thought she was worried about the same things I was; the coming storm, the loud voices. But yesterday I remembered something. Copper had it in her hand, a narrow tablet made of black stone, obsidian. There was some kind of writing or... symbols on it. Copper was scared of it, of what was on it.” Matias began pacing. “Am I going crazy?” He laughed humourlessly. “Crazier?”

  Quinn held up her hands in a calming gesture. “Just breathe.”

  Matias shook his head. “Fuck, I need a drink.” He stalked out of the kitchen, only to return a minute later with a bottle and two shot glasses.

  Quinn shook her head automatically as he filled the two glasses, placing one down in front of her. Drinking with an almost patient was not a good idea. Plus, her sugar intake for this week was already off the charts. She’d carefully planned for the three glasses of champagne at the wedding yesterday but that churro dipped in chocolate earlier had sent her into the stratosphere. Shaking her head, Quinn pushed the glass away. “No, thank you.”

  Matias frowned before pushing the glass back towards her. “I don’t drink alone.”

  “Then don’t drink.” Quinn snapped back a little sharper than she intended.

  “You want me to keep talking? Then we drink.” He held his glass out to her. Quinn issued a put upon sigh, the things she did to help people, there should be a plaque somewhere. Reluctantly she picked up her own glass, there wasn’t much liquid in it, what could it hurt? They clinked glasses, Matias inclining his head. “Salud.”

  Quinn’s throat burned and clamped shut, her eyes watered. Thankfully she couldn’t cough or splutter since all the air in her lungs had been set on fire. Bloody hell.

  Matias eased back in his chair, looking unaffected and expectant.

  “What?” Quinn was surprised she managed to get the word out.

  “Now it’s your turn to talk, Quinn. Remember that little quid pro quo arrangement we had going? Time for you to pay up.”

  Quinn shook her head automatically. She did not share her life, her secrets, her fears with anyone. Even her friends or family. To have them monitoring her, watching for the first signs that she was losing her grip to appear, she couldn’t take that kind of scrutiny.

  “I’m not telling you anything more until I hear your story, Quinn. Come on, it’s me, Bubbles, remember? I won’t recall any of this come tomorrow anyway.”

  Quinn glared at Matias, noting the stubborn look in his eyes. Damn, okay, what could it hurt? And now she’d definitely gone and jinxed it.

  Chapter Eleven

  “What is it
you want to know?”

  Matias grinned. “So gracious in defeat. Hmm... okay, what was it like growing up here? It’s a magic town, right?”

  “District really. The Southern Sanctuary encompasses three towns; Haven Bay, Hideaway Cove and Reverie Valley. Not everyone has magic. And not everyone in Reverie Valley is aware of it. We’ve deliberately cultivated a large flamboyant artistic community who live in and around the Valley. Lots of vegetarians and organic subsistence types who believe in chakras, karma, tai chi and tarot card reading.”

  “Smart. Between the fakes and the desperate to believe, any magical mishaps will be attributed to the wonders of the cosmos. And anyone chasing a story will meet the obvious crackpots and dismiss the evidence as manufactured. So you have family here?”

  “Somehow, someway, I am related to pretty much every one in a thirty-mile radius. But as for immediate family, I have a younger brother, Valentine, parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, all tooling around, eagerly sticking their noses into my business on a daily basis.” Whoa, was it the booze or her obviously interested audience that was making it so easy for her to share all this personal information?

  “And your magic? This memory accessing thing you can do; you were born with it?”

  “No. In my family our magic tends to appear around the onset of puberty. It certainly made school interesting. And quite the challenge for our local fire department when ten of my cousins came into their fire breathing magic in fits and starts. That’s when they re-located the Fire Station closer to the school.”

  “And you?”

  “Me? It was disorientating to say the least. To brush up against people, friends, and be inundated by memories. Weirder still to see myself featured in those memories.”

  “I bet you gathered a lot of blackmail material.” Matias reached over to refill Quinn’s glass and then his own.

  Quinn shook her head, her hand swooping up the glass and bringing it too her lips before she’d consciously thought through her actions. “People have secrets for a reason. To protect themselves. To protect others. They hoard the bad memories, desperately trying to wish them out of existence. But memories that evoke the most extreme emotions are the most tenacious. Hate, pain, desperation, guilt, anger... despair.” She tossed back the fiery liquid, this time not choking. “And the more they run from or try to hide from those dark memories, the more power they feed them.”