Love Beyond Loyalty

by Rebecca Royce

  He looked down his nose at the white-haired bird. "No, Madame, I am not a nervous flyer. Not in the least." Picking up the red wine on his tray table, he took a sip. "And you? Do you fly often?"

  "Not as often as I did when my husband was alive, but now my daughter has married a Frenchman and they are living in Paris. She keeps calling herself an expatriate." The woman laughed as if that was a grand joke. Her laughter sounded more like twittering than downright chuckling, and he found himself temporarily charmed. "They're having a baby in six months and I want to come back at least twice before that."

  He nodded. What a lovely concept. It wasn't something he could fathom. Such a normal existence. He imagined she never in her life had to worry if she was cursed.

  Christophe had to be on guard at every moment. He wouldn't want to lose his grip and find himself standing in someone's bedroom watching them sleep or walk out the door and wind up in the middle of the street in a different country.

  If he felt the tingling in his hands start, then he needed to concentrate on cooling down the temperature on his fingertips. For some unknown reason, doing that could prevent the transference. So far, and thanks to whoever controlled these things, he had never shifted elsewhere when he slept.

  Living this way worked for him to a certain extent. He was intellectual, a professor of gemology and he liked being by himself at a dig or in a lab. But still, he couldn't help but feel a pang of regret that he would never know what this woman knew. No one would be flying him over the Atlantic in his or her dotage to visit grandchildren.

  There had only been one thing he'd seen that went poof like he went poof and that had been a graveyard in a small town located on the Pyrénées Mountains. The locals swore one day there had appeared a small town that had not been there previously. Eventually, discredited as insane, the people had stopped making those claims. Before long Lourdes had grown bigger and overcome the suddenly present little town. Some people had even said it was a miracle, and given the local religious furor belonging to that spot, the people, who refused to believe it had always been there, accepted that explanation.

  But not Christophe.

  Smiling at the old woman, he leaned back in his seat and pretended to sleep. If he could go from one place to another and suddenly appear where he shouldn't be, then so could a town with a very peculiar graveyard.

  About once a week, Christophe would search news on the Internet to see reports of the area. Recently, an American professor of history named Leonardo Gregan had been arrested for being in the cemetery of that little town in the middle of the night. The local press dismissed Leonardo as a whacko professor from the United States and soon more Americans arrived. Even though it had been quickly hushed up, it appeared that in addition to Leonardo disappearing back to America, all of the charges against him mysteriously vanished as well.

  Christophe smiled at the thought. He imagined the local police department had a new car, or twelve, in their lot.

  But for Christophe's part, he couldn't get Leonardo out of his head. He'd read about him. Before the man's escapade to France, when he had all but dropped off the map, he'd been a perfectly respected, highly thought of member of his field. What was he doing digging in that graveyard in the middle of the night?

  Using his own academic credentials, he'd called Leonardo's university in New York City. They'd said he was on sabbatical and, no, they didn't know when he'd be back or where he was.

  Clearly, Christophe must be out of his mind because he'd boarded the next plane, and was on his way to the United States to find the man and ask him if he knew what made that town appear like that. He blew out a breath. Hell, he knew it was a long shot. It was more likely than not his 'issue' had nothing to do with that town. Still, he felt like a man obsessed and he had to do his best to satisfy his questions before he could finally set this to rest.

  He was going to find him before he got back on another plane and returned to France if he had to ring every doorbell in the upper east coast of the United States of America. And possibly the Southern coast too, if necessary.

  * * * *

  Drew Dubowski could feel Marina's distress. The skin on his arms began to hurt as if needles were being pressed into it. A million tiny needles. He closed his eyes.

  "Sir, what size coffee would you like?"

  He opened his eyes and cleared his throat. "A medium."

  "What size?"

  Biting his tongue to not tell the woman off, he said the requisite word that would get him a medium coffee. It was a made-up word that the company created to make ordering coffee more exotic. He hated having to say it, but it was the only way they'd give you the damn coffee.

  "Do you want something in it?"

  "Just black."

  His tone must have told the barista he was rapidly getting over her attitude because she ran to the back of the coffee store to retrieve his black brew.

  Exactly how far would he have to run to get away from Marina? He was hours from where she was, or at least where he thought she was. She might have moved for all he knew. But assuming she was where she should be, which was safe behind wards in Maine, it was getting out of hand that he could be standing in Pennsylvania and still know she was in distress.

  His hand reached, almost as if by its own direction, to his cell phone before he pushed it back down into his pocket. He couldn't call her. If he started doing that, he was going to just have to give in and become involved in her life.

  That was an unacceptable idea.

  He'd already let her down, more than once. She was better off without him.

  Chapter Four

  Gabriel regarded Loraine for a moment. What was the best way to tell someone they weren't human? He pulled his hair out his pony tail holder and ran his hands through his still damp hair. As his hands passed through the strands, he got a whiff of himself. Hell, he smelled like the river and it wasn't a good stink. Poor Loraine, her car was going to smell like nearly drowned street bum until she could get it detailed.

  Her lips pursed together. She was obviously angry that he'd told Leonardo about how she spoke to Futon, which, given that he now knew she was an Outsider, she probably could actually do.

  "All right." He cleared his throat. "Here's the deal." He paused. "Fuck, this is hard."

  "Why don't you just try saying whatever you want to say instead of obsessing over it and then maybe you won't feel the need to use such language?"

  Grinning, he appreciated the way her cheeks had gotten red with her annoyance. He wanted to reach out and stroke the soft skin on the side of her face and see if it felt as hot as it looked. Of course, there were lots of things he wanted that he never got to have, so his strange desire to touch her would have to be one of those things he lived without.

  "You sound like my fifth grade teacher. It was the only full school year I ever did. She used to lecture me constantly."

  Loraine narrowed her eyes but kept them on the road. "I'm a fourth grade teacher so I imagine she and I have lots in common. Don't stall, Gabriel."

  Of course, she was a teacher.

  Why shouldn't the first woman he'd ever had this strong a physical reaction to be educated? Most people were, at least compared to the little time he'd spent in school. Gabriel leaned his head against the back of the seat. He'd just told her how little time he'd spent in a classroom. She probably thought he was a goddamn idiot now.

  "Gabriel, don't stall."

  "Fine. Here's the deal. There are these people called the Outsiders."

  She interrupted. "You used that word before."

  He nodded. "That's right. I'm not entirely certain on all the history here. Okay? I'm sure that Leonardo could tell it better. Hey, that's an idea." He pulled out her phone. "Let's call him, and let him tell you."

  "Let's not. Please continue."

  He shifted, uncomfortable in the blanket she'd given him. For all intents and purposes, he was completely exposed—body and soul—in front of her right now and it wasn't a condit
ion he enjoyed.

  "Outsiders are supposed to, I don't know the words exactly, keep the balance in the universe. Keep the order of good and bad."

  "Like Yin and Yang?"

  He knew what that was. "Yes, like that."

  This was going better than he thought it would. She hadn't run from the car screaming or thrown him out onto the street. But, then again, she spoke to a dog so maybe she was better set up than most people to accept the unusual.

  "Go on."

  The woman really liked to issue orders. It was a good thing she was so beautiful. Her comment earlier about having a lot in common with his fifth grade teacher couldn't have been more wrong. In no way did Loraine Peacock resemble the grey-haired old biddy that had inspired such hate in Gabriel that he'd committed his one and only unjustifiable crime. Of course, even after he'd tried to fix things he'd paid for it dearly…

  "The Outsiders have always been around. Then there was this prophecy."

  She shook her head. "What do you mean 'then there was this prophecy'? There's never just all of a sudden a prophecy. Someone has to do the prophesying."

  "I guess one of the Outsiders could do that. I don't know. I never asked that question." But now that she mentioned it, he should have. Idiot.

  "Okay, sorry for the interruptions." She pointed ahead. "Am I turning up there?"

  Following her gaze to where she looked at the road, he nodded. "Yep, the second left, not the first."

  "Okay."

  "So." Gabriel waited until Loraine had made the turn to start talking again. He didn't want to distract her too much while she operated the vehicle. "The prophecy said that eighteen children would be born together and one apart. The eighteen who were born at the same time, the Outsider children, they would need to fight the nineteenth child who was really a demon born into the body of a human boy."

  Her neck muscles clenched as she swallowed. "A demon? Futon mentioned a demon and something about a war. Are you one of those Outsiders? Am I supposed to be helping you with your war?"

  Nodding, he decided that like ripping off a bandage, it was better just to get the inevitable over with. "I am, and so are you."

  Silence descended on the car and he looked out the window, not liking her distressed expression. Finally, he just couldn't take it anymore.

  "Say something, Loraine."

  "How can I be an Outsider?"

  "How can any of us be Outsiders? We just are." He drummed the fingers of his left hand on the center console. "How do you think you can speak to Futon?"

  He watched as that piece of information sunk in. Her skin's pallor, already as white as soap, actually got paler, and he worried that she might pass out. "Are you okay? Should we pull over?"

  She shook her head. "My parents and my grandparents were Outsiders too?"

  Sighing, he wished this could be easier. "Not the ones you knew as your parents and grandparents."

  "What does that mean?"

  He could hear the edge of desperation in her voice. "Pull over, sweetheart."

  This time she obliged. After they had settled the car on the side of the road, he looked her straight in the eyes and found he could hardly breathe. All he wanted to do was swim in their violet depths. When had the Divine had time to make such a surreal color, and how had it ended up in Loraine's eyes?

  Not that he was complaining. In fact, he would like looking at them forever. He gasped. What was that last thought?

  He would like looking at them forever…

  Wow. Knowledge hit him like a truck smacking into a brick wall. She was his soul mate. His heart pounded hard like he'd run a marathon. She'd just appeared in his life hours earlier, yet he was certain she'd been made for him.

  God, her eyes…

  "Are you going to explain what you meant or not." She sounded frantic. He realized he'd been silent for too long.

  "Whoever it was that raised you, the people you thought of as your parents or grandparents or whoever, are just the people who ended up raising you. Your biological parents were killed thirty years ago, as were mine, when the Darkness came into power."

  She bit down on her lip. "What you're telling me is that everything I've known, everything I've believed my whole life, has been a lie?"

  He shook his head. "Not everything. You're still you. You're still Loraine Peacock. The things you've believed to be true about yourself are still true. You're just more than you thought you were."

  You're my soul mate.

  "How did you justify speaking to the dog… er… Futon?" he asked.

  She bit her thumbnail. "I can speak to all animals. It's just that Futon is the most interesting conversationalist."

  Nodding, he wanted to laugh at the funny way she put things but didn't think she'd appreciate that at the moment. For him, finding out he was an Outsider wasn't such a big deal. He'd always been weird. He could fly; he could move people or objects through space. Alexa had been different too, so he'd never been alone in his oddness. Finding out there was a whole slew of people who were the same was not such a big leap.

  Of course, the idea that he had a prophesied destiny was a little bit hard to take, since he'd practically taken care of himself since birth. But for Loraine this had to be hell. Apparently the fact that she could speak to animals hadn't been enough to tell her that she was significantly different from regular humans.

  "It's going to be okay, Loraine. There are benefits." At least he hoped he was a benefit and not a downer. However, maybe Loraine would think a man who was basically a low-life like him was more of a problem than a plus. God, could that happen? Could they be saddled with each other if she thought he was a stupid, ignorant criminal?

  "What are they?"

  He cleared his throat. He really needed to get something to drink. "The eighteen children were born as pairs. Nine groups of soul mates."

  "There's someone out there who is my soul mate?"

  Gabriel pinched his forehead; a migraine had taken hold between his temples. "There is someone out there, yes." He should just tell her? Shouldn't he? But it sort of irked him that she didn't know immediately that it was he. It might have taken him an hour but he'd figured out who she was. Shouldn't it be one of those organic things that happened? Hadn't Charma and Jason just known? But then they'd shared dreams at night when they'd slept. As far as he could tell, he never dreamed let alone communicated with Loraine in them.

  Silently, Loraine pulled the car back onto the road. He knew he should say something but silence was just easier.

  The GPS signaled they'd arrived at their destination, which brought Gabriel out of his musings. Loraine parked the car, still thinking whatever thoughts consumed her.

  Before he did anything he had to figure out what to do about Alexa. Sebastian had her so deeply indoctrinated in a belief system where Gabriel—not Sebastian—was the evil one that he wasn't sure he would ever get her back. He'd never told the other Outsiders about her. Everyone, especially Kal, who had been the one Gabriel and Alexa had helped Sebastian capture before Gabe had seen the error of his ways, knew there was a woman out there working with Sebastian, but Gabriel had refused to discuss her.

  Maybe he would turn out to be wrong but it seemed to him that the last thing Alexa needed was the whole Outsider crew showing up to try to convert her. That might make her disappear all together.

  Loraine looked out her window. Her head was turned so all Gabriel could see was the way her long red hair fell against the side of her face. He reached up to touch it just as she looked at him and he ended up banging her in the nose. She yelped, and Futon barked.

  "Sorry." He quickly withdrew his hand before looking at Futon. "It was an accident. I didn't mean to hit her."

  Ah, hell, now he was talking to the dog.

  "He didn't think you did." Loraine laughed and rubbed her nose. "He's more concerned about this place. Something doesn't feel right to him."

  Gabe nodded. "I bet it doesn't. It's a homeless shelter founded by Sebastian, also known as t
he demon who Futon's been talking about."

  "The demon?" Loraine swung her head around to look out the driver-side window again. "He's here?"

  "I doubt he's here right now. He does, however, use it as his own personal hunting ground. Someone goes missing and no one notices."

  "And your Alexa works here?"

  That was kind of a strange way to put it. 'His' Alexa? "Ah… yes, she does." Gabriel pushed open his door, making sure he was still wrapped in the blanket. The good news was that since this was a shelter he'd be able to clothe himself. The bad news was he was going to have to explain to Alexa what happened, and she would, once again, not believe it was Sebastian who had done it.

  Someday, and he had a feeling that particular day was not going to be too far away, he was going to have to stop banging his head against the increasingly frustrating brick wall that was Alexa's loyalty to Sebastian. Where the hell was her trust in him? He'd been the one who had fed and clothed both of them during their years on the street. In no imaginable circumstance could he foresee ever betraying her, and while she thought she was helping him, it might be nice to see a little of the same unwavering support from her.

  Loraine opened her door, telling Futon to stay in the car. He watched as she lowered several of the windows.

  "Are you doing that so he won't get hot?"

  She nodded. "It's the responsible thing to do. Also, he can escape if he needs to."

  "Has he run off before?"

  "Yes, but he always comes back. One time he disappeared for an entire year. He never tells me where he goes. Then again, it's not unusual for Futon to be cryptic. He's definitely here on his own terms." She cleared her throat as she looked up and down the street.

  He could remember the first time he'd been here. Even at eight years old, he'd known that someone should have objected to two children running barefoot through the streets at ten o'clock at night. Hand-in-hand, he and Alexa had moved silently, not ever daring to complain if one of them stubbed a toe or stepped on broken glass.

  Alexa, no more than a waif when she was well-fed, had diminished down to where he was afraid she was going to disappear if she lost any more weight. All he could see when he looked at her was long, unwashed, black hair flying in every direction as they ran together.