by VK Fox
Then he was sliding under the covers, his arms around her. Jane lay against his body, breathing in his scent and the light, her fingers lightly tracing his jaw, his ear, his forehead. He closed his eyes, exhaling with a slight groan as she brushed her fingers through his hair. She was so drowsy. The light whispered into her lungs like a lullaby, rocking her to sleep. Little iridescent puffs blew out like smoke when Ian exhaled. His skin was deliciously warm. Tomorrow she would wake in his arms. She let her cheek rest against his chest, the thud of his heartbeat resonating through her mind. What a magical sound—life pumping through his veins, right next to her. She inhaled the last of the light as the room slipped away. She relaxed in peaceful darkness.
Chapter Eleven
When Jane opened her eyes, she was in almost exactly the same position. Her head was on Ian’s chest, and his arms held her gently. He was peaceful and still. A halo of light peeked around the blackout curtains. Jane tried not to wake him as she stretched.
Propping herself up to get a better view, she studied Ian’s face, not wanting to disturb him but dying to ask a million questions. Annoyed that she couldn’t just know all the answers. Was a Sana Baba agent linked to Sherlock Holmes? Now that would be a cool set of powers. Time to give it a whirl with her average sense of deduction.
Warm, copper skin and black, tightly curled hair indicated his ethnicity was Middle Eastern, but she was clueless about anything more specific. He spoke without an accent, so he’d been born in America or had lived here for a long time. His closed eyes were fringed with long lashes. Gorgeous, but it didn’t tell her a whole lot. A shadow of stubble across his jaw led down his neck, which was almost as thick around as Jane’s waist. Peeking above his neckline were shiny, pointed strips of scar tissue, each an inch apart. Old injuries or stretch marks?
His mouth seemed a little out of proportion: a smooth, thin top lip and a full bottom lip. It gave him a slightly pouty expression when he wasn’t smiling. His eyes were close-set. A memory bubbled up. When Jane was ten, her parents had rented a trailer for a year while her dad was between jobs. She hadn’t had many children to play with, but an eleven-year-old boy lived next door. She had argued endlessly with her mother because she had forbidden Jane from playing with him, no explanation offered. Something about Ian’s face brought the memory to mind, but what could Ian possibly have to do with a little boy in a trailer park? Wrong age, wrong color—it couldn’t have been him. Maybe she’d ask him if he had any distant cousins in the area when he woke up.
“Good morning.” Ian’s voice resonated from in his chest. Jane squeaked at the sudden sound. He chuckled and adjusted his position slightly but didn’t let go. “Did you sleep well?”
Jane couldn’t help laughing at herself too. “Yes. I did, thanks. You have a cool spell. Effect? Whatever you call it. I imagine you don’t get to use it much when you’re out saving the world or whatever.”
“No. Some talents are not as useful in fieldwork. But life is more than missions. I like dream magic. It’s an art.”
“How did you ever figure it out? I mean, I only figured out I could heal people and make explosions happen when I had to. I can’t imagine a situation with emergency nightmares.”
“You’re right. My experience was different in a few ways.” Ian brushed his fingertips up and down her spine. “I’m not the first person to hold this bond. Thousands of people before me were linked in the same way. It’s an old text. The oldest, actually, and Sana Baba has kept careful records of possible powers, so I worked from a list of things to try from the start. Also, I was raised to receive words of power. A huge part of my life has been dedicated to preparing to utilize these gifts. It’s shaped the way I think, how I view things, how I act. So I had a lot behind me before I bonded. It’s also been fourteen years since I formed my link, so I’ve had time to practice.”
“Fourteen years? How old are you?”
“I’ll be thirty in a few months. You’re twenty-three, right?”
“Yeah.” Jane laid her head back on his chest and snuggled closer. As she gazed at the foot of the bed, she realized Ian’s feet were hanging off the mattress.
Ian stilled for a moment. “Are you a religious person?”
“Because of the whole saint thing? I don’t know. My mom is agnostic and my dad is nonpracticing. His side of the family is Catholic. I was baptized, and my parents sent me to Sunday school for a while. When I lived at home, we went to mass for Christmas and Easter. I liked the tradition, and the church was beautiful. Dressing up and being part of a ritual was fun. I believe in God and right and wrong, but I don’t think any of that makes me particularly religious. Why do you ask?”
“I want to know more about you. You must have an interest in saints if you were reading about them. I wondered if it came from a religious devotion.”
“I started reading books on Catholicism and saints after I moved out as a way to connect with my dad. I don’t know a whole lot about that part of my family.” Boy, she missed him. The absence of her goofy, eccentric, survivalist dad left a huge hole in Jane’s life. She wished she could call just him and not include her mom. Just talk to him and not have it spin into complicated family drama. Jane pushed the thought aside and continued, “I kept reading them after I found I had healing powers because . . .” How could she say this in a not incredibly stupid and naive way? “Because I didn’t know where the powers came from, and saints are the only historic figures I know of who could do things like heal. So I figured we might have something in common. The lack of divine guidance sucked, though.”
Ian was rubbing her back again, stirring her from her mental wanderings. She couldn’t shake the sudden melancholy. “Thanks for staying with me.” She paused. “It probably wasn’t what you were expecting.”
Ian’s voice was warm and velvety. “It was a pleasant surprise.”
“What do you mean?”
“When you asked me. You’re right, I wasn’t expecting you to.”
“No, I meant—” A flush was creeping up her neck. “Because we just slept. Not what most girls do when they ask you to stay the night.”
Ian hesitated. “Most girls?”
Jane’s face was hot, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “Yeah.”
“Hey, what’s wrong?” His voice was kind. “You’re upset, and I don’t know why.”
Did she need to spell it out? Jane was strongly wishing for a sudden interruption, like another fire. Maybe she was getting a taste for arson. She gritted her teeth. “I didn’t sleep with you. I mean, we didn’t have sex. You were probably thinking that was where things were going.”
Ian chuckled. “Jane, I just found out you were interested in me. We haven’t even kissed. You don’t know my last name. Why would I expect you to have sex with me?”
“Oh. Good.” Jane blew out a breath, her body relaxed again. “Great! I mean, I’m glad we’re at the same place.” She rolled halfway over so she was propped up on his massive chest, face to face. “We could, though, you know.” Shit. That didn’t sound right. “Kiss, I mean.”
Ian’s eyes sparkled. A sharp knock at the door didn’t pull his gaze away. “If it’s Dahl, he’ll knock again. If it isn’t, then I don’t need to answer it. Unless you’re expecting someone?”
“No, I’m not.” Jane leaned closer, tasting his scent, woodsy and exquisite.
His hand rested gently against her neck, thumb stroking just under her ear at the back of her jaw. Pulse quickening, Jane drew closer. With their lips less than an inch apart, Jane closed her eyes.
She kissed him. His mouth was warm and soft. Her lips pressed against his, timidly at first, and then with more energy as she worked her fingers into his hair. A moan escaped as she opened her lips. Ian was still stroking behind her ear, and his other hand rested on the small of her back, adding pressure. As she bit his lower lip, every muscle in his body tensed, his mouth parted slightly, and he stole her breath. Timid affection turned to a hungry ache. Jane pulled back a few inches, resting
her forehead against his, grinning and dizzy. A louder knock rang out from the door. Ian was panting, his muscles taut.
Jane giggled. “So what’s your last name?”
Ian emitted a deep belly laugh and drew a long breath. “Sendak. As in the author of Where the Wild Things Are, Outside Over There, and others.”
“Huh. You and Dahl both have author names?”
“I can hear you through the door, Ian! Hotel walls aren’t soundproof.” Dahl spoke as if to a disobedient teen.
Ian laughed again and rolled over, depositing Jane on her back on the mattress in the same move. He hung there above her for a few heartbeats, impossibly large, breathless, and considering her with hungry eyes. After a long, charged second, he stood, ran a hand through his hair, and went to open the door. Jane scooted to the edge of the bed, conspicuously the only bed in the room, and put on her best poker face.
Dahl stood in the doorway, his eyes raking over the two of them, the bed, her, the bed, Ian, and the bed. He was dressed and appeared caffeinated. Tobacco smoke wafted faintly beneath Jane’s nose. He handed Ian a walkie-talkie. “Take this with you next time, okay?”
Ian grinned at him. “Sure.”
Dahl shook his head. He squeezed his eyes closed hard enough to make little crow’s feet show at the corners, the corners of his mouth faintly upturned.
Ian cleared his throat. “We should head downstairs and go over the day. I’ll go get ready. Please excuse me, Jane. Maybe you can join us for breakfast in a little while?”
“Super.” Jane fixed in place her best nonchalant grin. She was thankful Dahl retreated without further comment. Ian winked at her, stepped into the hallway, and softly closed the door.
Cloud nine was a great place to shower and get dressed. The stomach-fluttering thrill of replaying it all in her mind kept Jane blushing and giggling and daydreaming. Emerging from her giddy fog, she tried to adopt more socially acceptable behavior as she took the elevator downstairs. A quick nip out back for a smoke, and then down the hall to the breakfast room that smelled like coffee and buttery, syrupy goodness.
Ian was easy to spot, partly because of his height and partly because wherever he sat, the tables around him cleared out. Jane rounded the opposite side of the breakfast bar. Hearing her name brought her up short. Jane paused. How often did a girl get the opportunity to listen to her new magic-wielding boyfriend talk shop with his buddy?
Ian was speaking. “Based on your dream, I don’t think Jane is the person we were tracking, but it’s a mistake I’m glad we made. She’s great. Smart and brave and adorable . . .” Ian paused for a minute, and his contentment filled the silence. He continued with an adopted businesslike tone. “I also can’t wait to see her in action. Did you make any observations on your way out of the hospital?”
“Not as many as I hoped,” Dahl said. “She healed someone, but I was engaged at that moment. I thought we were done when I cut the hole, so I dismissed Excalibur. I didn’t want to pull him out a second time, since I was light-headed. Things didn’t go as smoothly as I’d hoped, but at least we got out in one piece. It’s a tragedy we lost the linked book.” A brief pause, and Dahl continued, “Lovecraft will have a stroke. I’m sure it will be the focus of his next communication. Not that we found a phenomenally powerful healer who can short-circuit power supplies and has a wolf following her, but we lost the ever-loving book.”
Ian grunted in agreement. “Mm. For Jane’s benefit, we should try to find another copy and narrow down her link by who’s inside. A lot of saints have stories. We might get lucky and find a story she remembers in another volume, but if I’m remembering my history, accounts of the early Christians can vary wildly from telling to telling. They are legendary figures, their lives embroidered with dozens of tales. And there are so many of them. Did you know there is a patron saint of beer and a separate patron saint of hangovers?”
“God bless the Catholics. Well, I know who I want my new drinking buddy to be.”
“Olive will love that.”
Dahl laughed. “You mean you’ll love that. Liv’s not the jealous type. One of the many things I like about her. You can come too. Don’t you reveal your true self after drinking seven pitchers of beer? ‘His heart grew light, his face glowed, and he sang out for joy. The crowds gathered around him, and like a little baby they kissed his feet. What a giant! As handsome as a bridegroom. How much like Gilgamesh!’”
Ian joined in with a chuckle. “Dahl, everyone reveals their true selves after seven pitchers of beer.” After a slight pause, Ian’s voice lost its cheerfulness. “I haven’t reported back. I’m asking you not to either.”
“What?” Dahl fought back the volume of his voice with a harsh, shouting whisper. “Why? She needs help, resources. She needs training and a paycheck. I don’t even know what they’ll do to us if we don’t report our findings!”
“I’m almost certain she’s bonded multiple links. At least two, maybe more, and if she was reading a book of saints, the links are closely related to our reality. Management might decide the entire situation is too dangerous.”
Dahl’s voice was measured. “Is this because of last night?”
“Of course not. I made the decision before, um . . . I didn’t know she was going to . . .” Ian’s voice trailed off.
“Dear friend, it’s not our call.” Dahl’s tone had changed, his outburst morphing into concern. “Management makes those decisions for a reason.”
“No. I won’t report her. There’s another lead to chase.” Ian’s tone, soft and serious, became light and conversational again. “As far as management knows, this was an unfruitful stop: we followed the clues, and it didn’t pan out. On to the next stop. As long as it ends with our locating a wild talent, no one is going to realize we found two.”
Another pause, then Dahl said, “Seems plausible. What’s your plan for Jane? She needs help.”
“I know. We’re not so far into our travel right now. We take her with us and train her on the road. We can help her settle somewhere while we go home and do our shift there. When we head out again, we can pick her up and continue where we left off. It’s not like we ever see anyone from Sana Baba while we’re traveling. No one would know.”
“That could work. We need a way to explain away her presence if we get caught, though.”
The sound of clinking flatware on ceramic filled the silence for a minute before Ian spoke again. “I’ll think of something. Of course, I need to speak with her and make sure it’s what she wants.”
The electronic buzz of a pager overlapped Ian’s words.
Dahl’s tone was lighthearted. “There’s my girl. I’d better go call. I’ve been ignoring her all morning.”
“Not a word.”
“Of course. No need to say it twice.” The sound of someone sliding out of the booth and making tracks toward the elevators forced Jane forward so it wouldn’t appear she was listening. She shuffled casually around the breakfast bar and over to the table. Dahl was gone. Ian’s face lit up from behind a plate of peanut butter toast and fruit.
“Good morning again. Do you want to get something to eat? We have a lot to discuss.”
“I heard,” Jane blurted out. Well, so much for pretending she wasn’t eavesdropping. Best to get it all out in the open. She wasn’t good with secrets, and keeping secrets was all she’d done since gaining her powers. Screw that, she was not going to keep secrets that weren’t critical. Ian put down his fork and folded his hands.
“That saves some time. What did you hear?”
“You are supposed to report to Sana Baba about me but aren’t going to because something is wrong with me, so you’re worried about what might happen.”
Ian’s brows drew together slightly. “That’s not incorrect, but it is incomplete. Let me start by answering your questions. Then I’ll fill in the gaps.”
“What’s wrong with me?” The question was surreal. What was wrong with her besides the stuff she already knew about? Could there possibly be
more?
Ian’s face softened around the eyes, and he reached across the table, gently taking her hand. “I believe you have more than one link. All of the different things you can do, all of the different side effects, they don’t seem like they could come from one person. In addition, Catholic saints existed in our reality and were already conduits of power.”
Jane met his eyes. “And this is a problem?”
“It could be. Imagine different realities layered on top of each other. Some are more similar and therefore closer together. Poking holes between those realities could create a tear in the barrier that divides them. At least Sana Baba thinks so. Your powers, from what we know, are like multiple perforations between our reality and one closely related.”
Jane’s chest grew tight. She worked to keep her face smooth. “What does that mean? What would they do if they found out?”
Ian’s eyes unfocused. He swallowed and blinked rapidly a few times, returning to the conversation. “It’s possible they wouldn’t do anything. Healing is pretty much the Holy Grail of powers. The most likely scenario is they would want to work with you: give you training, pay you for your services, that sort of thing.”
“But there’s another possibility.”
“Yes.”
“That they would decide the situation was ‘too dangerous.’ Meaning I’m a danger.”
“Yes.”
“Then what?”
Ian examined Jane’s hand in his. His palm was clammy. “They would order us to sever the link.”
“And how do you do that? Is there some kind of ritual to reverse the bonding process?”
“No.” He said it softly, but the implication hit like a hammer.
Jane went numb. Her ears rang faintly. She gazed at herself from somewhere else. She sat at the hotel breakfast table, holding the hand of a guy she had a crush on who had just admitted he might receive orders to murder her.
“I wouldn’t do it, Jane. The good news is Dahl and I are the ones who found you. We can help you and keep you safe. If you want to go to Sana Baba or if you want to be discreet, it’s your decision. As I said, most likely they would accept you. But it is a risk.”
