“I have a plan.” It was a risky one, but I had confidence it would work.
“Would you like to share this plan with me?”
“Not really.”
With an exasperated sigh, he tucked his hands in his coat pockets. “Fine. I trust you know what you’re doing.”
I hoped I did.
“Shall I escort you back to Jude’s?” he asked.
“No. I have dinner plans with my dad and Mindy.”
“Do you want some company?”
I laughed as we stepped outside, the nightlife beginning to buzz through the Square. A tarot card reader had set up her round table with purple muslin scarves draped on top. I wished I could take a seat and have her pull a fortune card that said everything would be all right. But there was no fortune teller to give me any guarantees.
“It was difficult enough to explain Jude to my dad,” I said, offering George a friendly tap with my elbow, hands in pockets. “I wouldn’t know where to begin with you.”
“Very well,” he said, the charm returning to his tone. “I know when I’m not wanted. Let it not be said I ever pressed myself against a lady’s wishes.”
I pulled George into a hug. Hesitantly, his arms came around me.
“Thank you, George. I know this is hard for you. I know you miss him too. Just trust that I know what I’m doing.”
“I do, darling girl.” He gave me a good squeeze. “I do.”
Chapter Four
“Ohhhh, whooaaaa, sweet child of mi-eeeiiiine.” Mindy drew out Axel Rose’s chorus in exaggerated glee. Pretty much how she hopped through all aspects of life. I loved the girl. “Whoohoo! I love Way-back Wednesday. They play the coolest stuff.”
I zipped my coupe through evening traffic down St. Charles Avenue, nearly missing a UPS truck making his holiday route well into the evening. I felt a pang of guilt, not yet having bought one Christmas gift. I loved this time of year. Usually, I’d be the first one to have my shopping done, gifts wrapped and under the tree.
“Earth to Genevieve?” Mindy snapped her fingers in front of my face, then turned down the radio.
“What? What did you say?”
“Jeez, girl. Talk about distracted. Now I know why you complain when I’m in Dave depravation mode.”
Her boyfriend, Dave, did indeed seem to complete her world. When he was gone, she could pout and whine better than anyone. But Mindy could always make the best of things, no matter what. Of course, there was no making the best of things when your man wasn’t simply on holiday with his rich parents in Aspen.
“Sorry,” I said, trying for a truly repentant smile. “My mind’s been wandering a little.”
“A little? You obviously don’t know the meaning of the word. I knew you were into Jude, but I didn’t know you had it this bad.”
“Yeah. I’ve got it pretty bad.” I careened around a corner, heading into my dad’s subdivision.
“Have y’all talked about, like, marriage and stuff?”
Mindy’s wide blue eyes got that glassy look any time the mere mention of white, satin or wedding cakes came up in conversation. I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Yeah. We’ve…discussed it.”
Actually, we’d tied the knot, but I couldn’t tell her. My relationship with Jude was so complex. I couldn’t explain how I knew he was the only one I’d ever love after a mere few months of knowing him. And I certainly couldn’t tell her now that he was MIA, especially since I had no idea how long it would take for me to bring him back.
“Ooooooo,” she gushed. “You have? Do tell.”
“Come on, Mindy. Not now.”
“Oh, sorry. Right. I forgot we were being depressed over our absent boyfriends at the moment.”
I pulled up the driveway and came to a stop behind Dad’s Ford truck. We both got out.
“I’m not being depressed. I’m just—” Exhausted, afraid, angry.
“I know, I know. You miss him. I get it. It’s just funny to see you so wrapped up in a guy.” She tied the wrap of her long cream cardigan tighter around her waist.
I’d left my sword at home tonight, carrying only the concealed daggers in my boots. Jude had cast a protective ward around my dad’s house and I’d demanded George strengthen them recently, so I packed light when I came home. Sometimes I needed to be the girl I was before this all started. Of course, I could never let my guard down completely. But I felt lighter all the same as we walked through the back gate to the entrance off the kitchen.
The second I stepped inside, my VS hummed a steady electric charge. It always did when I was at my dad’s. Something to do with the wards Jude had set around the house or something.
Dad stirred a pot over the stove, giving us a beaming smile when we walked in. “There are my girls!”
He tapped the wooden spoon and set it aside, then pulled me into a big bear hug. He smelled of roux and Old Spice and home. I nearly choked out a sob at the warmth that filled me. He brushed a kiss on my cheek, then gave Mindy the same treatment.
“Now aren’t I the luckiest man alive to have such pretty dinner dates?”
Mindy giggled, always falling for Dad’s silly charm.
The back door opened behind us. “Greetings to the house. I come bearing gifts.”
“Erik,” I said with a smile.
He waved with the French bread in hand. Erik was a family friend and basically an adopted son for my father. His own parents had died years ago up north. When he came down here to work in wetlands research, Dad had given him a job at the dojo, and Erik had just wheedled his way into Dad’s heart. And mine. I had no other siblings. Erik was the brother I never had.
“So.” He arched a brow at me after a swift hug. “The prodigal daughter returns?”
I punched him in the shoulder. Though tall and gangly, he was fitter than his physique let on. I’d sparred with him often enough to know.
“I’ve only been away from the dojo a few weeks.”
After Jude was taken, I was unable to focus on helping out at the dojo. I’d been planting the seed of my biggest and most elaborate lie yet, that I’d enrolled in a student-abroad program for next semester. So I explained I’d been tied up with application essays, paperwork with the arts and sciences department, and packing what I’d need for a full semester abroad. Dad had accepted my lies without the batting of an eyelash. Erik…not so much. He knew I was up to something, but thankfully, he never pried too much. Just enough to annoy me.
It wasn’t entirely untrue. I would be abroad. As a matter of fact, I’d been spending most of the past few weeks at Jude’s cottage on the Isle of Arran in Scotland. Our cottage, I should say. Mira would be growing antsy if I didn’t return soon. We hadn’t been separated this long since her birth. The agonizing moment when Jude was ripped from my life, I’d sifted directly to the cottage and curled on the floor in a ball of grief. A burning warmth had traveled from inside my abdomen up out of my chest. The glowing orb of brilliant white light transformed into Mira—a snowy white hawk. But not an earthly hawk. My spawn. A fey being made from the Flamma of Light. I’d been with her on the island most of the time since Jude had been gone.
I’d only recently come back to town to see Dommiel. When I went to Jude’s house in the French Quarter afterward, I needed to be surrounded by his things, to feel his presence all around me. I’d slept in his bed, remembering the many nights we’d lain there, talking, kissing, cuddling…more.
Mindy and I were roommates, but we’d both been shacking up with our boyfriends for months now. She only commented once since he’d been gone, asking where Jude was. Since his business of authenticating rare weapons often took him traveling out of state, I had an easy excuse. As long as Mindy and I checked in with each other daily by cell, there were no worries between us.
“And where’s this famous boyfriend of yours?” Erik smirked. “I figured he’d be here for the last supper and all.”
“God, Erik,” I said with a frown. “Don’t make it sound so dire.”
>
“Yeah, she’s only going to England,” said Mindy. “Eeeeee!” she squealed. “I can’t wait till Mardi Gras break! I’m making Mom buy me my plane ticket to London for Christmas.”
My dad clutched his chest. “Mindy, sweetheart. I’m an old man. Please don’t make that sound again.”
“You’re not old, Mr. Drake. You’re like fine wine. Men like you get better with age.”
My dad actually blushed. “Well now…on that thought, I better finish dinner for my ladies. And, of course…you, um, Erik.”
I smiled. My dad flustered was possibly the most adorable thing in the world. For a strapping forty-something man who did indeed seem to grow finer with age, he had no clue how his bashfulness made him even more endearing.
“Smells good, Dad. Gumbo?”
“Seafood gumbo.” He opened the fridge and pulled out a pint of raw oysters. “Why don’t y’all grab a beer and head into the living room. It’ll be ready soon.”
I grabbed three Heinekens for us before taking his advice. Dad already had the television tuned to the holiday music station. Michael Buble crooned “Let It Snow”, which I always found to be ironic for us down here in the Deep South. It never snowed. If it did, it was once in a very long while, maybe leaving enough sleet-snow to scrape off cars to build a mini-snowman. Still, the song meant the holidays no matter where you lived.
Mindy plopped onto the leather sofa. I did the same. She took a deep swig. I pretended to drink mine, refusing to give Mindy a reason to interrogate me why I wasn’t drinking. She could play the ditzy one, but she was quite perceptive. She smiled, then wrapped an arm around my shoulder.
“I’m going to miss you.”
“I know. I’m going to miss you too.” My stomach flip-flopped when I thought of where I was really going. As much bravado as I showed to George, I was terrified I’d go into the underworld and never return. I blinked back the sudden tears stinging behind my eyes.
“Awwww.” Mindy leaned in for a one-armed hug, both of us still holding our beers. “Don’t be sad. You’re going to have such an awesome time. I just wish you could go after Christmas.”
Another lie. I needed to cut ties now. As soon as Uriel got what I needed, I was heading into hell.
“I know. But they like to get you set up in your hall of residence and get the orientation over with before the semester begins.”
Erik sat on a love seat on the other side of the coffee table. He brushed his brown hair, which always seemed to hang in his eyes, off his forehead. He sipped on the Heineken. “So what are you studying?”
“Oh, the usual.”
“Like?”
“Honestly, I haven’t chosen the courses yet. My advisor gave me a list to choose from that would meet the requirements on my transcript.” Lie. Lie. Lie.
“Mm-hmm.”
I pretended I didn’t know what he was alluding to, admiring the brightly lit Christmas tree we’d decorated together a few weeks back.
“I’ve got to go potty,” said Mindy, setting her beer down and bouncing toward the hallway.
Erik shook his head at her. “She just says whatever she thinks, doesn’t she?”
“Yep. Never had a filter. Seems to work for her.”
“Must be nice,” he said, draining the rest of his beer and setting it on the coffee table.
“How’s work in the Wetlands?”
“Work.” Always the introvert.
My VS thrummed a steady stream through my body. It wasn’t triggering a warning of any kind, but every time that line to my power was revving higher than normal, it put me on alert.
Erik leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. “Are you okay, Genevieve? You don’t quite seem yourself these days.”
Something about his observant gaze sent my adrenaline higher. A familiar awareness shivered through me. He didn’t give off the pulse of power of an angel, but there was just something niggling at the back of my mind.
“Erik. Are you…”
I had no idea what I was going to ask him. Are you an otherworldly host of Flamma? The question in my mind sounded ridiculous. I couldn’t possibly ask it aloud.
“Am I what, Genevieve?” he asked. Just when I thought he’d answer my question in the affirmative and put my sudden suspicions to rest, he said, “Am I hungry? Yes. I’m starving.”
“Well, that’s good,” said Dad, stepping into the living room and wiping his hands on a towel. “The rice is done. Let’s eat.”
“Awesome,” said Erik, taking his empty beer bottle and disappearing into the kitchen.
My pulse slowed, the shot of adrenaline dissipated, my VS humming steady. Was I crazy? Paranoid? I was seeing sentinels, angels and demons wherever I went these days. The next thing I knew, I’d be accusing my dad of being a saint. And while he was an earthly saint to me, I doubted he could hide that kind of secret from me.
I needed to get back to Arran. That was the one place I could meditate and build my strength, focus my power. I needed to see Mira. My connection with the snow-white hawk grounded me in a way that defied explanation.
I pasted on a smile so I could get through dinner, then get the hell out of New Orleans.
Chapter Five
I stepped lightly down the dark, stone corridor, drawing closer to the pool of light up ahead and the feminine sounds of pleasure. The eerily familiar moan of the woman drew me faster to the open archway. Within the chamber lay a dark-haired woman in bed beneath a fair-skinned, black-haired man. She clawed the man’s back as he lay between her legs, thrusting hard. Her ankles wrapped the back of his thighs, encouraging him.
I stepped closer, for they hadn’t seen me, hadn’t heard me. The man whispered down at the woman pinned beneath him as she writhed in ecstasy.
“Am I your master?” He rolled his back like a snake, slamming inside her with brutal force. She cried out.
“Yes,” the woman whimpered.
He fisted her hair and pulled, arching her neck.
“Say it again.”
“Yes.”
Cool wind and the bite of winter wafted over me, sucking the breath out of my lungs. I recognized the two lovers coupled in sweat and lust and violent submission.
“You don’t need him. Only me. I am your master,” he repeated in a silky whisper, pumping harder, faster.
“Yes. You are my…”
“No!” I shrieked.
They stopped and peered toward the doorway where I stood. I stared back at the smoldering face of Thomas as well as my own, then snapped awake.
I sat up, panting. “Never,” I choked out on a hoarse sob before looking out the cottage window, where a gray dawn rose. I rubbed my palms over my face, glad I’d sifted back here to Arran after dinner with Dad and Mindy last night. But I also sensed the immediate loneliness that accompanied living here without Jude.
I’d had dreams of Thomas before. The sultry, seductive kind that heaped a boulder of guilt on my back. This was different, a horrifying nightmare of my submission to darker temptations. This was my subconscious torturing me with my fears as the time to enter the underworld drew closer. Still…the dream put me on edge.
I threw off the layers of quilts and trudged into the bathroom of the cottage Jude and I had shared for a blissful week-long honeymoon. Hard to believe that was a mere three weeks ago.
After cleaning up, I slipped on a pair of thick wool socks and wrapped the blue, black and green tartan around my shoulders. I shuffled into the kitchen and lit the stove with the lighter I’d had to buy for the cabin. We hadn’t needed it before. Jude could conjure fire at will. He’d never told me how he’d gotten that handy ability. Actually, I’d never asked. One of those many questions still on my “ask Jude” list.
My stomach rumbled, and a subtle wave of nausea squeezed my gut into a knot. I patted my still-flat abdomen.
“I hear you. I’m coming.”
Morning sickness had settled in this past week. But as long as I ate as soon as I awoke, the nausea faded. I fille
d the kettle under the faucet, staring out at the bleak gray sky. Clouds pressed low and heavy.
A white dot in the distance drew closer. Mira winged out of the clouds, soaring directly for the cottage. As was her way, she sifted straight through the stone wall facing the sea, flapping her snowy wings and settling on the wooden table. She dropped a mussel from her beak and fluttered her feathers. Setting the kettle on the stove, I walked over and calmed her with soothing caresses.
“It must be cold out there.”
She blinked her gold-bright eyes slowly as I smoothed my palm from her head down her back, giving me a greeting chirp. Over the past weeks, I’d learned to interpret meaning behind her sounds. She chirped again with a soft blink of her eyes, a happy sound she often made—such as when I’d offered her raw oysters for dinner or when I’d given her the warm nest of loose yarn and torn quilts for her to sleep on in the cottage. Her clicks and chirps meant nothing to the average person, but to me, it was like interpreting a toddler’s grunts and coos. The thought made me pause and brush my palm over my abdomen, wondering what our child would look like. I hoped she looked like her father.
“I see you brought your breakfast inside.” Mira blinked heavy lids, letting them fall closed. Her cold feathers warmed under my touch. “Let me see if I can get this place a little warmer.”
Picking up the fire poker, I stirred the black embers, finding a few reddish coals still glowing in the ash heap. I stepped outside for some kindling in the pile next to the door. A blast of frigid air and a few snowy flakes whooshed in through the open door.
“Brrrrr!”
I set to piling the kindling and blowing on the embers. Smoke billowed a corkscrew plume up into the chimney. Within a minute, a flame lit. I fanned it higher, then piled on a peat log.
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