by Lori King
5
Joker
Tucked into deepest shadows behind the massive staircase which leads to the private portion of the MC, I am secretly watching the woman who owns me, heart and soul. Sadly, I have taken on these stalkerish tendencies, but I must confess, I am completely captivated by Jenniene’s beauty and totally badass persona. At this moment, my woman is still rockin’ those sexy, skin-tight leathers she favors for fighting. Did I mention this woman is pure-dee poetry in motion when she’s got a dagger in her hands and a rogue at her throat? No? Well, she sho’nuf kicks ass and looks mighty fine doin’ it, too. My Jenniene is obviously one very skilled warrior who is well accustomed to battling reprobate Immortals. Let’s just say that in the past three days I’ve seen a side of this woman I could never have imagined before now. And I gotta admit, I really like what I have seen, and want more. Much, much more.
Sadly, I can also see her bone-deep weariness, and hear the worry in her voice as she discusses our rather limited options with Blood. I can’t help but recall how proud I am of the woman my Jenniene has become since the time we were together in New Orleans. I met some of her friends, Spell Weavers, who are much like the Twin Ravens MC, an Immortal bastion protecting humans against those Immortals who wish them harm. Jenniene has become something of a demon hunter and vigilante enforcer, fighting against any Immortal who threatens humans in her beloved New Orleans. She has also worked tirelessly for the last three days beside my brethren here in the MC to stop the reign of terror the Ghouls and other sundry rogue Immortals have unleashed in our fair city.
Jenniene isn’t the only one who feels utterly exhausted tonight. We all are. Even though we have called in reinforcements from Asgard and the Stone Breakers, we are still stretched mighty thin because the Ghouls are being aided by Blood Wraiths and rogue Stone Cold vampires. If we lose tomorrow night and these bastards get the child, this entire part of the mortal world will fall to the darker elements of the Immortal realms. Blood seems to think the entire human realm will fall shortly thereafter. So failure? Not an option.
I smirk at myself, because it seems all that was required to drag me out of my annual drunken pity party was a threat to end the world… that, and the woman I love returning from the grave. The last three days have been some of the worst and best of my life. I have worked side by side with the female destined to be my mate as the Twin Ravens have tracked down every possible lead to find and apprehend the Ghoul clan leader who has been terrorizing Tulsa since the night Jenniene and the child arrived. We have captured many of his Ghoul minions and their allies, which are being held by Hel in the Nordic underworld until they can face judgment. Despite our efforts, the leaders are still free, along with enough of their minions to successfully carry out their plot if we fail in our mission.
Tomorrow night will resolve the matter one way or another, and I fully intend to face my likely demise understanding why I spent over a hundred years mourning the death of a woman who is apparently an Immortal. Even though I have spent most of this time working side by side with my former lover tracking down rogues, we have not yet had an opportunity to talk about our history. I need to understand how she’s still alive and why she sent me away all those years ago. Tonight I am waiting patiently for her to wrap up her consultation with my mentor, because I fully intend to get my answers.
I’m not too surprised when Tara comes up silently behind me. Her gentle touch on my arm reminds me this female has been my closest friend since my arrival in Tulsa almost a century ago. The warmth of her breath so near my ear makes me shiver because it’s unexpected, but not as surprising as her words. “I know you need answers, Joker, and I will be the first to admit the female is a better woman than I had believed possible… But I beg you, old friend, do not give your heart too easily, again. Make sure she is indeed worthy.”
My massive calloused hand covers my friend’s, and I chuckle softly before addressing her concerns with all the honesty I can muster. “There’s nothing left to give, Tara. My Jenniene has owned all of my heart for all these years.” I turn my head to meet the worried gaze of my friend. “I need answers. I need to know how she still lives. I need to understand why she drove me away.” My friend silently searches my face, likely seeking some assurance I cannot give her. After a few moments, she nods stiffly before we continue to watch Jenniene and Blood in companionable silence.
Jenniene gets up from the table and walks to the bar to refill her whisky tumbler before rejoining our leader. Upon returning to the table, she asks Blood, “Do you believe this is the beginning of the prophesied war that crashes the realms?”
Blood smiles wanly, and shakes his head. “No. Not yet. Soon… probably, but not just yet.” His expression turns grim though when he adds, “But if we fail tomorrow night, it will be bad. Very bad. We can’t let the crash happen before we have the appropriate protections in place.”
My mentor looks very troubled by that thought, and I wonder what prophesy they are talking about. I’ve never been one to put much faith in fate, visions of the future, or anything like that. Especially since my own fated mate sent me away, it occurs to me that free will often trumps the plans of the Gods and Destiny alike. So why spend your time frettin’ over some seer’s visions? Yet, it seems as though Blood, the male I most admire, puts at least some stock in this particular prophesy.
Blood’s next words distract me from my musings about the validity of fortune tellers, seers, and their predictions of doom for the earth. “Tonight you need to face your past mistakes so that they will not be repeated in the future.” He looks over his shoulder and meets my gaze, even though I am well hidden in deep shadow. That’s when I realize Tara is no longer at my side. Day-um. I am so focused on Jenniene that I am blind to the rest of the world. That’s one seriously dangerous state for an Immortal enforcer. “Joker deserves to know the truth. He deserves to finally find some peace in his existence, no matter what happens tomorrow night.” My pretty girl nods, but doesn’t say a word.
My mentor rises to his feet and smiles down at my Jenniene, before taking one of her hands into his own to give it what’s likely intended to be a reassuring squeeze. Not that he needs such measures. The male just has a way of putting females at ease. They all instinctively know they can trust him… always. “Mistress Jenniene, I suggest that you stop running from whatever dark thing you believe you have become, and embrace the truth about the good you have accomplished with the gifts you’ve been given, as well as the good you can do in the future.”
Blood motions me over with a movement of his head and Jenniene smiles warmly when I emerge from my hiding place. The love I see in her eyes nearly brings me to my knees in joyful gratitude, but it’s quickly masked with a deep and dark air of guilt. She looks away from me, and slowly pulls her hand out of my leader’s grasp, before she goes to the bar for more whisky. That’s her fifth tumbler of Tara’s good hooch tonight, and I hope it has loosened her tongue a bit.
Blood strides toward me where he smacks my shoulder and gives it a squeeze of assurance before murmuring, “Don’t judge her too harshly. She had her own reasons for her actions.” I can only nod. After all, what can I say to that? We all have reasons for our actions, good or bad. But I am desperate for answers. Now.
I move forward like a sleepwalker to stand beside Jenniene at the bar, where I await her revelations. She meets my imploring gaze, then quickly looks away. I can literally feel waves of regret and sadness roll off of this woman, and I want to take her into my arms to reassure her. Without thought, I reach up to toy with one of her ebony curls, but am disheartened when she pushes my hand away, muttering, “Don’t. Just don’t.”
My spine stiffens and over a century of anger rises up in my soul at her rejection of my simple touch. Suddenly, my resolve to get some straight answers turns savage. How dare this woman deny my simple affection after the hell she has put me through? I grab her arm and force her to turn and face me. When she will not meet my gaze, I roughly tip up her chin to sta
re into her beautiful face. A lovely visage that is now contorted with pain that equals my own. Enough! I will have my answers. I will understand why she doomed us both to over a century of agony.
“Jenniene… how are you still alive?” I demand harshly. Might as well get the biggie out of the way up front. I’ve mourned this woman for so very long, nearly a hundred and fifty years. FUCK! I deserve to know the truth. She cuts her eyes away from my demanding gaze, and licks her full lips nervously. I almost smile because some things never do change. Her mannerisms are much the same as they were when I believed her to be a young human woman. But that thought brings me up short, because obviously something did change. She changed. This woman sent me away because I was not human… and yet here she is alive and well over a century later. Plainly she, too, is not human.
“What gives?” I demand impatiently. Suddenly, knowing why this “mortal” woman who shattered my heart way back in 1872 is still alive, and apparently well, is vitally important. My very next heartbeat is dependent on hearing the truth.
“Before I explain my history, let me say… Uh… when I sent you away. That was just a gut reaction – a knee jerk response. An action born of unfounded fears and old prejudices. You told me your soul was bonded to a demon’s soul and I was afraid. Deathly afraid. I acted without thinking.”
Well, no way in hell am I going to give her a pass on that one. By then, we had been in love for years, she should have known the man I was. I mean really known. She should have loved me enough to see beyond the bond with the demon. Right? The uncertainty I feel in this moment is most unwelcome, so I push it aside and lash out angrily. “Bullshit, Jenniene!” I snarl. “You knew me well by the time I confessed that I share a soul with a blood demon and wolf. You professed to love me. You should have known you had nuthin’ to fear from me.” I swallow the bitter bile of my justified anger and whisper, “You, of all people, should have known better.”
She looks anxious as hell, but there’s no way I am lettin’ this gal off the hook. She has one hella lot explainin’ to do. After a couple of tense and silent moments, I feel my body relax just a bit when she begins explaining. “Uh… I wasn’t human when we met and fell in love. I had not been human for decades by that point. But I was certainly in denial. I had spent years denying that I had been changed… against my will, by another man who, like yourself, was not what he had appeared to be.”
A single tear rolls down her cheek and she turns her head slightly and wipes it away. I long to kiss away her tears, offer her comfort and compassion, but I just can’t move. I just can’t show her the kindness I long to share before I know what was truly in her heart the day she broke my own into a million pieces.
Turning back to meet my gaze, I can see the sincerity in her eyes, I can read it in her very soul. She’s finally willing to reveal the real Jenniene to me. “I was a fool and likely a hypocrite, Zeke, and I overreacted when I sent you away. By the time I realized how badly I had screwed up, you were long gone. My big mouth and defensive nature cost me – no, both of us – far too much.”
“Explain,” I snarl, pleased that my voice didn’t crack and reveal the inner weakness I am desperately trying to hide. Knowing that I am not the only one who has lived an existence filled with regret and pain should be good news, but it’s not. My heart aches for her suffering as much as for my own. FUCK!
“Zeke, when we met, I was much older than most folks believed. I had moved around so much that no one could recall where I came from. I was born in 1821 back in New Orleans. My given name was Jenniene Marie Xavier. My Maman was a femme traiteur who had been trained by Madame Laveau.”
I physically flinch and drop my hand from her face at this revelation. Madame Laveau is the undisputed queen of Voodoo practitioners. And Voodoo is something I was trained at a very young age to avoid, even though my own mother was a femme traiteur, a practitioner of magickal healing arts often closely associated with Voodoo. Suddenly, I think I understand when Jenni said sending me away was just a gut reaction. Voodoo, and its practitioners, engender strong reactions from denizens of the south, and so does the very mention of demons. Many from that era and locale understood there was much more to the world than what the mortal eye could see. And that knowledge leads me to wonder exactly what Jenniene and her mother were into before I met her.
I open my mouth to question what kind of “healing arts” her mother practiced when Jenniene continues telling me her history. “I was sixteen years old when I fell in love with a Creole scoundrel and gambler named Alexandre. I was too young and foolish to realize that he was also a demon who desired to make me into a Demon Shade – to bind my soul to his own – so that I would never die, never leave him behind. He was quite obsessed with keeping me by his side. Fortunately, my Maman suspected he was truly evil, and went to her mentor for help. Madame Leveau rescued me from Alexandre before he could finish the rites to change me completely.”
Jenniene scrubs her hands over her face, and suddenly I can see indisputable evidence of the toll that protecting the shifter cub and tracking down the rogues has taken on her… body, mind, and soul. This female is utterly exhausted, and weary in her very soul. My heart goes out to her, but some mule-headed part of my makeup won’t let me reach out to comfort her or let her off the hook. Instead, I stand there, outwardly stoic, as I await the rest of her explanation.
“I loved Alexandre…” she blushes prettily when a low growl emanates from deep in my chest and my inner wolf wants to rip this unknown Alexandre to shreds. Yeah, the snarly fucker is feelin’ jealous, too. “…at least I thought I did, but he was trying to take away my humanity against my will.”
My pretty Jenni searches my face, looking for what? Understanding? Acceptance? I don’t know, but all I can do is wait for the rest of the story. She licks her lips again before continuing. “Zeke, I was born and raised a Catholic. I am still devout in my faith.” I nod because I knew this about Jenniene. “I could never have willingly surrendered my soul for Alexandre or any man. Madame Laveau had no choice but to destroy him. But I mourn him still, even if he was a fils de putain.”
I almost smile at her calling her lover a son of a bitch, but the revelation that she mourns him cuts to the bone. The wolf in my soul rises up angrily. She is MINE and should not care about another male enough to mourn his death after all of these years. She laughs harshly. “Because I was a foolish young girl who fell for a male with preternatural charm, I had become something that has never existed before me, and will probably never exist again. I am not fully human. I am not a Shade, nor am I fully demon. I really have no idea what the hell I am. I really don’t even know if I still possess a human soul.”
The raw fear and pain of her admission grips my heart in steel talons. Before I can even think, my hand shoots out to cup her lovely face tenderly. “Oh bébé jolie, of course you still have a soul. And it’s beautiful. I’ve always been able to see it, feel it… Everyone can.”
She nods and reaches up to cup my face in an equally tender gesture. “Zeke, I saw your soul, too. All those years ago, I knew you were a good man. I knew you possessed a good soul, but I let fear and prejudice make me send you away. I let my mother’s belief that any soul touched by a demon is condemned to serve darkness convince me that I was only seeing what I wanted to see in you. I was afraid that I had foolishly trusted in another bad man.”
She closes her eyes for a moment and I am drawn in by her gentle fingers caressing my nape, as her hand moves to the back of my neck, and up to stroke the bristly scruff of hair which is beginning to grow out. I’ve spent too many days hiding in a bottle of rum, and then searching for Ghouls to take the time to shave my head, as is my normal habit.
The next words that come out of my beloved’s mouth drive all thoughts of shaving and typical routines from my mind. “Could you find it in your heart to someday forgive me for being a scared little girl? For being a judgmental ass?”
She smiles shakily and finally opens her eyes to seek my own. T
he sincerity and wisdom I see in the depths of those gorgeous eyes rock me figuratively back on my heels. This female has grown and changed so much in the time we have been apart. Her words confirm that assessment. And yet, I am still hangin’ onto ancient hurts which keep the words of forgiveness and acceptance which I long to utter buried deep inside my conflicted heart.
Apparently, my lack of a response prompts Jenniene to say more. “If living this long has taught me nothing else, I have certainly learned that most things are not exactly what they appear to be on the surface.” I almost smile at that one. I, too, have long ago learned not to put much stock in appearances.
She smiles wanly and in that moment, I know I’m hurtin’ her by remaining so distant. I want to reach out and give her comfort, but I just can’t… not yet. Maybe never. I’m feelin’ so raw inside and I am afraid I will lash out. “I have also learned to trust my own instincts, not my old fears, which make me judge people and situations from a somewhat puritanical and mortal perspective.” A wicked little fire flares momentarily in her eyes before she whispers, “We both know I was neither truly pure nor human back then. I sure as hell hope I have grown a bit in nearly a century and a half.”
My continued silence is driving a new wedge between us. I recognize that fact and yet, I do nothing. A subtle shift occurs between us and a dry chuckle escapes her lush lips before she slowly removes her hand from my neck to step away. Her tone becomes wooden, and her posture aloof. “I’ve seen way too much since those days to judge anyone without knowing the facts.” Her wan and distant smile pricks my heart, and yet I remain unmoved and silent.