Darkstone
Page 17
“I’m afraid not.”
She scanned the quad, watching students crossing to attend classes or head to their dorms, seeing several sunbathing or doing homework. A typical college day, a typical college campus. But she wasn’t a typical college student. Though she loved Inanna, every time they spoke Naomi was reminded how different her world truly was. She dreaded the question but knew it had to be asked. “What is it?”
“I’ve just returned from the monastery.”
An image of Nathan crossed her mind, his dangerous smile filled with sharp pearly teeth, his alien countenance bespeaking personal peril regardless of his alliance with Inanna’s goals. “Is Nathan okay?”
“He’s fine, sweetheart.”
The news both soothed and agitated Naomi. While she didn’t want anything happening to her former instructor, the news that Inanna had gone to see him couldn’t be a positive sign. She didn’t have long to wait.
“The time is near, Naomi. Spiritual portents are stirring, though there’s still nothing substantial.”
Her stomach dropped, and she swallowed hard to keep from vomiting. Pulling her knees up, she cradled them close with one arm. “How near?”
“Within the year, maybe sooner.”
“Within the year? I…I thought—” I thought I had more time!
“I know, sweetness. Nathan and I have been waiting for a particular sign, an increase of magical strength in the world. We’ve only just been able to analyze the omens.”
Naomi dropped her forehead to her knees, squeezing her eyes closed. Within the year. The words washed over her and she trembled with the implications. Within the year she’d be a murderer, a killer. Through the looming dread, she felt a burst of giddy joy. Within the year it would be over and she could live her life as she saw fit. She chastised herself for the momentary delight, squashing it with ruthless facility.
“Naomi? Sweetness?”
She started to answer but her throat was clogged. Clearing her throat, she spoke, “Yes, I’m here.”
Inanna’s compassion resonated through the phone. “I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear. I’m so sorry.”
Naomi shook her head though her mother couldn’t see the gesture. “It’s okay.” She raised her head, using one hand to brush her hair from her forehead. “We both knew it was coming.” She scanned the quad with a jolt of dichotomy as the world at large continued at its slow pace, ignorant of her shattering reality.
“That doesn’t make it easier to bear.”
A brief stab of hatred for Inanna flashed through her. The platitude was easy for Inanna to say. She wasn’t the one who’d been sent out to so thoroughly compromise her values and ideals, values and ideals that had been instilled in her by the very person who now demanded she repudiate them. The acrid emotion startled Naomi and she gasped aloud.
“Sweetness?”
“I’m fine. Just…I just need to process this.” She struggled with the unforeseen hostility, having taken enough psychology courses to understand why it had triggered. “I’ve got to go.”
“All right. I’ll call should I hear anything more.” Inanna paused. “Never forget that I love you, Naomi. You’re my daughter of the heart.”
The words didn’t have their usual effect, but Naomi smiled nevertheless. “I love you too, Mama.” She ended the call, hugging her knees to her chest as she stared blankly at the world that continued on without her.
* * *
The rest of the day passed in a blur. Naomi performed the motions of a university student, her mind scattered to different places. She handed in her paper at the last minute, having skipped most of the professor’s lecture to complete the assignment. The quality of the work wouldn’t stand up to her usual academic level, but even knowing she’d get a mediocre grade didn’t penetrate her mental fog. Wandering in a daze, she eventually realized that she suffered from shock. Her thoughts flitted from one inane topic to another, occasionally crashing against the knowledge that she was a trained assassin with her first assignment and time was fleeting. There was no one to talk to, no one in which to confide.
Hours later, she sat at a table in the student union, ignoring the mocha she’d purchased from The Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf. She stared unseeing at the people within her view, observing them as they went about their business without a care as she fiddled with the cardboard sleeve hugging her to-go cup.
Her phone rang and her heart stuttered. Inanna again? Was there something else? Would they have a name already, a place? They couldn’t have discovered something new so soon. She battled her nausea as she fished the cell phone from her bag with shaky fingers. Joram’s impish smile graced the screen, a photo that Naomi had found online and attached to Joram’s contact information. For a brief moment she debated not answering. How could she explore these feelings with Joram, knowing what she knew about the end of the world, about her militant role in stopping its devastation? How dare she grasp at happiness when she would be the instrument of destruction for at least one human being? What kind of selfish person was she that she wanted so badly to pursue a relationship with Joram despite her murderous skills?
Rebecca’s words filtered through the miasma. “I don’t know what nightmares you face, girl, but I know they’ll kill you if you don’t allow yourself to release some of that pressure.” The question wasn’t why Naomi should attempt to find some modicum of happiness but why not? With difficulty, she ignored a deep sense of guilt and took the call.
“Mi empress, I hope I’m not interrupting a class.”
Despite her inner horror, Naomi smiled. She relaxed into her chair, not realizing how stiff she’d been holding herself. “No, you’re not. It’s good to hear your voice.”
“Yet another thing we have in common.”
Naomi’s smile widened. How could she pass up the opportunity to connect with the woman of her dreams? Perhaps that was why her imaginary friend had appeared in the first place—as a fail-safe, a release, the one person who wouldn’t judge her for her upcoming role. Joram had always brought a sense of peace to Naomi, even as a disembodied voice in the darkness.
“I have a question for you. It’s a very serious one, one that requires the utmost attention and honesty on your part.” Joram paused. “Are you ready?”
The words dropped like ominous rocks in the pool of Naomi’s psychological stupefaction, causing ripples that made her shiver. Concern weighed down her almost overloaded emotions as she straightened again. She felt her forehead wrinkle with the frown, her stomach once more turning to acid. “What is it?”
“Do you like to hike?”
The incongruent question shorted out Naomi’s thought processes as she stared into space. Several moments passed in silence as she reconciled her emotional upheaval with the innocent query.
“Naomi? You still there?”
Joram’s voice held a worried tone, cutting through the worst of Naomi’s haze. “I’m here, yes. Sorry. I wasn’t expecting that question.”
“It’s okay. If you don’t want to go hiking, maybe we can have a picnic or go dancing.”
She’s asking me out on another date. The realization raised Naomi’s spirits to dizzying heights before they crashed once more. Her destiny required something that could break her, an action that had the potential to destroy any friendships if news of her activities became public knowledge.
Again Rebecca’s words haunted her. “If you don’t loosen up now, you’ll do something drastic in the future that will destroy everything.” The statement held a ring of truth. Though Naomi might not destroy everything, it was very possible that her fears would cause her to flub the actual attempt—or worse, stay her hand completely. Dating Joram would distract her from the wraith of Death looming over her future actions. Growing their friendship could also interfere with her goal but she’d deal with that obstacle should it appear. “I’d love to go hiking with you.”
Relief colored Joram’s voice. “Maad! My schedule is all over the place, but I can get away
on Sunday or Monday evening. I know you have classes, so we won’t be out too late.”
“Actually, it’d be nice to get out without the huge weekend crowds.” Naomi entertained the notion of registering for afternoon and evening classes the following term, freeing herself up for later nights during the week. Providing this thing between us lasts that long. She refused to consider the survival rate of their burgeoning relationship against the reality of her cutthroat destiny.
“Fantastic. I’ll pick you up at six on Sunday then?”
She smiled at Joram’s ebullience. “Six on Sunday. It’s a date.”
“It’s a date,” Joram repeated.
Her words echoed in Naomi’s ear with an almost ominous quality. A date.
Chapter Nineteen
Joram followed the scent of freshly brewed coffee. She paused in her bedroom doorway, contemplating the person sleeping on her living room couch. Rand’s spiky hair stuck out in all directions, not much different from its normal state of being. Someone had draped a blanket over her, but Joram couldn’t remember if she’d done the deed or not. Last night hadn’t gotten too out of hand after the gig. She’d only invited a handful of people over, mindful of her cleaning lady’s apoplexy after the last shindig. Rand must have been too drunk to get home.
She shuffled past the dining table and into the kitchen. Chloe smiled at her from the dining table, entirely too alert and cheerful for the amount of drink she’d imbibed the night before. That had always been the case. Chloe had never had a hangover in Joram’s memory, being one of those lucky souls with the intestinal fortitude for which most heavy drinkers envied. Joram had long since gotten over her disgruntlement at Chloe’s alcoholic talent, ignoring her upbeat attitude as she filled a waiting mug with coffee. She took her first sip, eyes closed, letting the hot liquid stir her sluggish senses.
“Good morning.”
More willing to face the day with the caffeine jump-starting her system, Joram cracked open her eye to look at Chloe. “Morning.”
“Sleep well?”
A yawn negated an immediate response. She took another sip of the caffeinated nectar before answering. “Well enough.” Glancing about, she spied the blender. A fruit smoothie would hit the spot. “How about you? You come to bed last night?”
Chloe shrugged. “I slept in the spare room.”
Joram raised an eyebrow as she peeled a banana and broke it into pieces. Unless Joram was occupied with another woman, Chloe usually slept in the same bed with her. She opened the freezer and located a bag of frozen berries. “Why?”
“You haven’t been really interested the last couple of weeks. I didn’t want to push anything.” Chloe winked at her. “I’m not a redhead with short hair and a European accent.”
Heat rose in Joram’s cheeks though she smiled at the comment. She tossed a handful of chia seeds into the smoothie mix and went to the refrigerator. “Busted.”
“Yep.”
Time to change the subject. Anders’s opinion of Joram’s romantic intentions had been clear. While Joram couldn’t imagine Chloe being his snitch, her best course of action was to play down her interest in Naomi to everyone. “What’s Rand doing on the couch?” She poured coconut milk into the blender.
Chloe shrugged, returning her attention to the morning’s edition of LA Weekly. “She was a little too tipsy to drive. I hid her keys.”
“Smart move. I take it that chick she came with didn’t pan out?”
“You take it correctly. The bitch started putting the moves on Jarod once she got here. Rand didn’t take it well.”
“I imagine she didn’t.” Joram pulsed the blender, remembering Rand’s eye-candy-of-the-moment flirting with Invocation’s rhythm guitarist. Fortunately, her band members were tight friends. They’d all been through Hell, unlike anyone else outside of Anders’s control. That alone gave them a common connection that could never be broken. The younger ones had arrived at the tail end of a golden age of cooperation brought about by Joram’s powerful influence while she’d been incarcerated there. Though none of them discussed their shared past, the specter of it loomed large in their souls. Yet another reason why Joram was reluctant to believe anyone in her band was spying for Anders. It had to be a recent convert, someone who’d never grown up under his influence.
Chloe continued reading. Joram finished fixing the smoothie and poured it into a glass, pausing to freshen her coffee before bringing both to the table. She ran her fingers through her bangs as she sat next to Chloe, brushing the hair from her forehead.
The house was quiet except for the occasional snores emitting from the living room and the rustle of paper as Chloe turned pages. Joram soaked in the silence, letting the peacefulness wash over her. Sometimes she wished she was on the beach at home, taking in the ocean, smelling the salt air and baking in the sun. Those moments of quiet sustained her whenever she was at Anders’s compound. The beaches here in California were always packed with people. They drowned out the sound of the surf with their boom boxes and screaming children, filled the air with the scents of beer and suntan oil. The only equivalent to that serenity is what she could find in the studio. She’d been feeling the itch to immerse herself in music growing stronger for the last week. It was time to write a new song or two. Their next gig was tomorrow; she had time today if she got an early enough start.
Chloe broke the silence. “Holy shit.” Her mouth hung open as she stared at the paper.
“What?” Joram frowned. She leaned toward Chloe, tugging on the page closest to her. “What is it?”
Wordlessly, Chloe turned the weekly entertainment magazine toward Joram, giving her a full view of the page.
Joram scanned the headlines, uncertain for what she was searching. “What?” she asked again.
“This!” Chloe pointed at a column entitled “Top Picks.”
Squinting, Joram skimmed over the list of upcoming concerts, her heart jumping when she saw Invocation listed third.
“A recent up-and-comer, Invocation, has become a must-see. Jamaican lead singer, Joram Darkstone, has the voice of a forsaken angel…one rooted in the lust and fury of a dispossessed soul. The band’s music is catchy and upbeat—a mix of rap rock, nu metal and industrial with just a hint of formal orchestral training—belying the serious emotional and political undertones hidden within the lyrics. They’re playing regularly at ClubPixel in LA, but you can also catch them this Saturday at the Noxim Hall in downtown Los Angeles. The playbill includes The Willies and the Rum Runners. Tickets are $50 a pop for a three-band concert. Good quality tunage at a decent price. Check it!”
“We made Top Picks.” Joram swallowed, unable to believe what she’d read.
“You made Top Picks.”
“In LA Weekly.” She gaped at her friend.
Chloe dropped the paper onto the table, reached over to take Joram’s face in her hands and planted a huge kiss on her lips. “LA Weekly,” she repeated, staring into Joram’s eyes.
They stood together, and Joram swept her up into a bear hug, whooping aloud. Excited, they danced around the table, jostling chairs and upsetting a decorative wall hanging, hardly noticing when it crashed to the floor.
“What the hell?” Rand scowled at them over the back of the couch, rubbing one eye with her fist. “Get a room and shut the hell up. People are trying to sleep around here.” Her crankiness didn’t dampen Joram’s joy. Instead, she released Chloe and dragged Rand into the fray. The smaller woman struggled to escape, still wrapped in her blanket, but Chloe swept in to assist. Only when Rand stubbornly refused to move at all did they release her to continue prancing about. She fiddled with her hair, edging away from their enthusiasm with a puzzled frown. “What’s going on? You guys act like you’ve won the lottery or something.”
“We did!” Joram grabbed up the magazine and approached Rand with such speed that the drummer took a defensive step backward. Relenting, Joram spread the paper out on the dining table, pointing to the article in question. “Look!”
Laughing, Joram grabbed Rand in a tight hug, pleased that the embrace was returned rather than rebuffed.
“We gotta call the guys!” Rand chortled. “Bay is gonna shit bricks.” She slapped Joram vigorously on the back before pulling away. On the way back to the couch, she stumbled over the trailing edge of her blanket, swearing and laughing as she staggered off in search of her cell phone.
Chloe gathered the magazine. “I’ll call Ivan. We need to collect more copies of this for PR purposes.” She gave Joram a peck on the cheek. “Congratulations. There’s no place to go but up.”
Elated, Joram watched her leave. She didn’t agree with Chloe’s sentiment but didn’t argue her point. There were still plenty of ways to fail, even at this point. Failure wasn’t an option, not as Anders’s Chosen One. Despite the sense of pressure that had always held her down, she savored the moment. They were doing it; she was doing it, living a life of music with love on the horizon. She couldn’t wait to see Naomi again, to share this milestone.
Chapter Twenty
“Griffith Observatory? I’ve always wanted to come here.”
Joram opened Naomi’s car door, her pleasure at making a good choice for their date easing the nerves tying her intestines into knots. Not for the first time did she wonder why she put herself through this anxiety; there were plenty of women out there that required far less effort. Before she fell sway to the sentiment, Naomi’s impish grin eased the internal sourness, a brilliant reminder of how much this particular woman appealed to her. “Glad to hear it. I come here now and again. It’s fun.”