by Austin, RB
Without thinking, she gave a high-pitched whistle. Eddie turned, his gaze locked on hers, like he’d known she was there the whole time. Kate had pointed behind him. Eddie glanced at the uniform and scurried away. He returned the following weekend, would never glance in her direction unless she whistled then he’d give a nod and take off.
It wasn’t until Kate was a week away from turning eighteen that she’d asked Eddie for payment for keeping him out of jail. He hadn’t uttered a single protest.
This time around she’d be able to pay him for the new identities.
Kate arranged the loaf of bread and jar of peanut butter on the floor. She hummed quietly while opening the bread and taking out two slices. Next she unscrewed the small jar of PB and ripped off the seal, setting it face up on the floor. Then paused.
“Shiiit.”
She didn’t have a knife.
Chapter 23
He was coming in.
Kate held perfectly still underneath the thin blanket. Eyes squeezed shut. Maybe Mary would be home soon. She’d stop him.
The floor creaked.
Kate gulped. He was half way in her room now. At least he wasn’t with Stacy. She had pulled the dresser in front of Stacy’s door, leaving through the window, crawling back in through hers.
Why hadn’t she just taken off? Stayed away until Mary came back.
Because of Stacy. A dresser to the door wouldn’t stop him completely. Kate had stayed to make sure he wouldn’t go into Stacy’s room.
Another creak.
Her muscles tensed. Maybe he’d think she was sleeping and leave.
A rough, sweaty hand touched her shoulder.
Kate jerked, whimpered. She couldn’t help it.
A low chuckle. “I knew you were awake, Katie.”
Another whimper.
No. No. No.
“Were you waiting for me, Katie? Did you block Stacy’s door? Is that because you want what Randy has to give?”
Kate clutched the edges of the blanket tightly, curled into a ball.
“You’re a bit older than I like, but I’ll make an exception tonight.” The blanket was ripped from her grip. Before Kate could bolt he was on top of her. He tore her shirt. His hands grabbed her breasts. “Ooh, yeah, baby. You’re going to make Randy feel so good.” He pinched her nipple. Hard.
Kate screamed. And screamed.
She bolted upright. The scream echoed in her ears. She gasped for breath, her heart pounding.
“Are you okay?”
Kate spun. What was he doing here? She jumped to her feet, tripped over her bag strap, and went down. Hands outstretched, she caught herself on a stack of music books.
She’d taken her gloves off to wash in the downstairs bathroom after her PB sandwich. Wet hands and pleather gloves didn’t mesh, so she’d waited until her hands completely dried before putting them back on. She must’ve fallen asleep before that happened.
The pile of books began to slide. Kate registered her knee slamming into the ground before she was thrown into a memory.
A gray haired man walked toward her. Mid-fifties. Wore glasses. He reached inches from where Kate sprawled on the floor and picked the top music book from the pile Kate had knocked over, but in the vision was still stacked neatly against the railing wall. The man thumbed through it, stopped on a page, and headed to the woodened organ, securing it on the ridge above the keys. He sat on the bench, shoulders curved inward, fingers on the keys. After the first chord, his hands began to move as graceful as the ice skaters Kate used to watch at Millennium Park. The music was haunting, beautiful.
Then the man was suddenly gone. The music only an echo in her ears. The musician’s emotions still bubbled in her own chest and a tear slipped down her cheek. Ripping her hand away from the music book while keeping one eye on Rich Guy, she searched for her gloves.
Why wasn’t he saying anything?
What was he doing here?
He wore another pair of expensive pants, black this time, still sporting that strict crease down the front of the leg. Those certainly didn’t get washed in the 24-hour laundromat Kate went to. His shoes were shiny and black. A blue sweater peeked from underneath a brown leather coat, leather not pleather. His eyes were wide. Expression said he was still shocked to find her here. That wouldn’t last long. He’d call the police next.
Finally spying her gloves, she scooped them up and her coat. Without giving him any spare seconds to snap out of it, Kate lurched to her feet and bolted for the stairs.
“Hey! Wait a minute,” he called out.
Yeah, right.
She hit the last step and was out the front door, booking it across the street. Kate was out of sight within the next minute and didn’t slow until she’d cleared four blocks. Hands on knees, she let her butt rest on the wall of the building behind her. Breath sawed in and out of her lungs.
Suddenly she stiffened. Her head jerked from side to side, glanced behind her, though she already knew the answer.
She didn’t have her bag.
She’d left it.
In the church.
With all her money.
IDs.
Extra clothes.
Stacy’s picture.
Chapter 24
Lucas watched the nheqeba run down the street. He wanted to go after her, but the expression on her face when she saw him on the balcony leadened his feet. He’d recognized the fear whitening her cheeks, racing her heart, but hadn’t felt it coursing through him. The hit he’d taken two nights ago from the wife and child beater prevented it.
If he pursued her, she’d just continue to run.
He’d followed both Fathers into the church that morning, ready for another day of search and find nothing. Although at least the end was coming. Soon Lucas could officially tell Cade coming to Philadelphia had been futile.
As they walked up the aisle, he’d heard the too fast heartbeat. Lucas thought it was one of the choghens and wondered if a trip to the hospital would throw off his timeframe. Then he focused and realized the sound was from above. He’d made an excuse to the Fathers and crept up the stairs.
The scream pierced the air as he reached the third step. Panic tightened his chest. His own.
He hit the top step just as the nheqeba wrenched to a seat on the floor. After realizing who it was, his reaction made perfect sense. They’d only spoken once, but he’d been listening to her voice for weeks now as she addressed customers and her employees.
Lucas stood on the church steps until the nheqeba was out of sight. Back inside, he took the stairs three at a time to reach the balcony.
A black backpack lay on the floor, an indent in the middle like the nheqeba had been using it as a pillow. A half-eaten loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter sat a few feet away. He stepped over the pack and knelt next to the pile of music books strewn on the floor.
He stared at the book the nheqeba had touched right before her brown irises turned a bright golden yellow. Her body jerked once then her head and gaze slowly moved as if she were seeing things he didn’t. Lucas had called out once, but she hadn’t reacted. Finally she snapped out of it and her irises faded back to brown. What the hell?
Who was she?
What was she?
Not a Behn obviously.
Woyrs eyes didn’t change. It was the one thing that remained the same when their bodies turned.
Fallen’s eyes didn’t change.
The demon that attacked Gabe didn’t have yellow eyes. Nor the one who’d kidnapped Emma.
Lucas had never sensed evil from this nheqeba. There was no way she was associated with Apollyon.
He finished stacking the other music books and tapped the edges of the one that had started her trance. Had the nheqeba found some
mysterious object? If so, the same thing wasn’t happening to him. Lucas placed his whole palm on the cover. Waited a beat. Nothing. He picked it up. Held it in his hands. Flipped it over. Stroked the back. Nothing. The power had come from the nheqeba, not the object.
So what was she?
His gaze fell on her backpack.
Chapter 25
Kate would’ve left for Chicago right then, but she didn’t have her damn pack. No ID to get a bus ticket. No frickin’ money. After discovering her idiocy, she double backed and waited in the shadows across the street from the church. The police never showed. Which didn’t make sense? Why hadn’t Rich Guy called the police? Why was he at the church anyway? He didn’t look like a priest.
Her spot offered a view of the front and left side of the church. She couldn’t leave her pack there. Had to get it back. As soon as he left the building, she’d sneak back in. Kate frowned.
He had to wonder how she got in. Probably would find the tape covering the side doorjamb. Well, she’d break a frickin’ window if she had to.
She waited all morning and most of the afternoon before the front door opened. Two priests walked out and, she held a breath, R.G. was behind them.
With. Her. Backpack.
Slung over his shoulders.
As if it belonged to him.
“Bastard.” She barely held herself back from whipping across the street and ripping it from his shoulders.
He stilled, turned his head in her direction.
She sucked in a breath. He couldn’t see her. She was in the shadows. Against the wall. The sun was in his eyes. He couldn’t see her. But he stared right at her. Her heart pounded and she ducked farther behind the green prickly bush.
R.G. took one step in her direction.
Her breath caught on a gasp.
One of the priests called to him. The older one. R.G. turned, spoke, then glanced back in her direction before following the priests to the house next door.
Kate stood behind her bush, seething. Anger was better than panic. Although that wasn’t too far away. All was not lost. If he still had the bag, she at least knew where to get it.
Her stomach growled. “Oh, fuck off,” she snarled, and settled in to see where her bag went next.
Kate waited all day. R.G. never once left the house. The younger priest went out for an hour or so but that was it.
It had to be close to starting time at the bar. If she didn’t show, Bev would fire her. Kate might be able to get her pack from R.G. with all the money intact, but she might not. She couldn’t afford to lose her job right now.
Why did this have to happen?
A couple hours later, Tina asked, “You okay, tonight? You seem distracted.”
Kate lifted her thumb off the club soda button and set the beverage gun back in its holster. Her hand was shaking. “I think I’m coming down with something.” She had to get it together. Twice she’d served the wrong drinks. Had messed up a kitchen order. Bev shot her a few glances already. Any more screw-ups and she’d be sent home.
“Do you want to skate out early? I can cover for you.”
Kate picked up her tray. “No, thanks. I can stick it out.”
Tina shrugged. “Let me know if you change your mind.” She sucked in a breath. “He’s baaack.”
Kate froze. Had to catch her tray from falling with her other hand. Her palms began to sweat inside her gloves. Then her eyes narrowed.
Her backpack was in his hands. He was swinging it around like it was a toy.
What game was he playing? She stormed away from Tina, liquid spilling out of the three tumblers on her tray.
“You’re sitting in my section,” she hissed, jerking her head to the cluster of free tables on the right.
His eyebrow rose, but he nodded a second later.
She pivoted and headed back to the table whose drinks she carried. Her gaze fell on Tina. Still by the bar, mouth open, a hint of betrayal in her wide eyes.
Shit.
Chapter 26
Lucas sat at a table in the nheqeba’s section, fighting a grin. She probably didn’t find the situation amusing.
She delivered drinks to a couple, walked back to the bar, and spoke to the other waitress, too quietly for him to hear. The waitress’s gaze darted to his every once in a while before she finally nodded. The nheqeba turned and started toward him. He stared at her anything but simple brown eyes, searching for traces of gold. None. Even up close, not a fleck of yellow.
The nheqeba cleared her throat, clearly annoyed. “Here’s your scotch.” She set a glass in front of him.
He hadn’t even seen her carrying it. The nheqeba had her pad open, pen out, and was scribbling intently. Gaze down, she said, “You’ll have a hamburger, rare, with pickles.”
Lucas raised his eyebrow, hiding another smile. So she’d paid close attention to him, too.
“And an appetizer of mozzarella sticks.”
He frowned. “I don’t eat—”
“Those are for me.” Her narrowed eyes flicked up, daring him to protest.
His mind flashed back to what he’d seen on the floor next to her bag. “Of course. Then I’ll also have a second hamburger.” He cocked his head, studied her. She was frowning now. “Medium well?”
She sniffed, started to write again. “Just medium.”
He didn’t try to hide his smile this time. She glanced up, scowled, and stormed off. Lucas chuckled. He lifted his glass and took a sip. This was the most fun he had in a long while.
When he finished his drink, she swept by with another one and, without a word or a glance, set it on the table, grabbed the empty, and kept on walking. He grinned so wide his cheeks hurt.
Ten minutes later when she emerged from the kitchen carrying three plates, two hamburgers, and cheese sticks, he stood. A few steps in her direction, she raised her head, met his gaze. Her look stopped him.
“What are you doing?” she snapped when she drew closer.
“Helping you,” he answered, taking two plates from her. Her grip tightened before releasing.
“It’s my job.”
He had no reply for this, so said nothing. She’d set the remaining hamburger plate in front of his seat so he placed the one in his hand in front of hers. Strange. He liked serving her.
When she turned as if to walk away, he lightly caught her gloved wrist. “Where are you going?”
She stiffened, then jerked her arm.
He let go immediately.
“I have to work.”
“But the food?”
“Will keep until I have a break.”
“Of course.”
The nheqeba bounced off, assisted other customers, refilled drinks, and delivered food orders. She’d made half a dozen trips to the bar before she came back, hands on her hips. “Why aren’t you eating?”
“I’m waiting for you.”
She frowned. “Your food’s getting cold.”
He shrugged. “No more than yours.”
“Mr. Rich Guy’s gonna eat cold food?” She snorted. “You probably never ate anything not heated to the perfect temperature before in your life.”
He studied her for a long moment, before saying quietly, “I don’t think you know me well enough to make that assumption.”
Her cheeks pinkened. Mouth pressed tight. She turned and left, disappearing into the kitchen.
Lucas reached for his drink. He and Father Gregory were leaving tomorrow afternoon. They’d managed to finish searching through the relics in the basement this morning. Nothing key-shaped had been found. There were a few maps. Most of early Behn and Woyr territories. He wasn’t sure if they were the maps in the prophecy, but Lucas was happy to not be going home empty handed.
The sweet s
picy clove scent of the nheqeba reached his nostrils a few seconds before she did. She set a full glass of scotch in front of him and another glass with pop in front of the mozzarella sticks. The chair squeaked against the floor when she pulled it out. Without a glance at him, she lifted her hamburger with two gloved hands and took a bite.
Lucas watched her chew quietly, hands still gripping the burger, gaze on her food, before he pulled his own plate in front of him.
The nheqeba had finished her burger and almost all of the mozz sticks before Lucas had eaten half of his own three-quarter pound. He should’ve ordered more food.
“So what’s your game?” she asked, finally lifting her head.
Slowly chewing the bite he’d just taken, Lucas used the time to study her up close. Never had he wanted to just gaze at someone so much before. It was strange. Her mouth was pressed together too hard, her expression too wary, the circles under her eyes too dark. Was her exhaustion permanent?
She intrigued him. And he wanted to see her eyes turn yellow again. Why did they do that? What happened in the balcony? What had she seen? Why had she been sleeping in a church? Why did she have two IDs?
“Is your first name really Katherine?” He leaned forward so his voice wouldn’t carry.
She stiffened and her eyes flashed. Not yellow, though. “You went through my bag,” she said through clenched teeth.
“I did.”
“You had no right,” she hissed.
Lucas lost his voice.
Flushed cheeks, eyes almost spitting fire. Never mind. His attraction wasn’t strange. He’d never seen anyone so beautiful in all of his centuries.
