by S. J. West
"You are such a baby," I complain. "Fine. Dig in."
Chandler and I eat from the tray I know Mason left for us. I'm not sure when he found the time to prepare his home for our arrival but I’m thankful for his thoughtfulness.
After we eat, Chandler sits back on the couch all slouched over and lets out a loud burp.
I shake my head at him. "Say excuse me," I tell him.
"Excuse me," he says, a Cheshire grin on his face, the poster child of complete satisfaction.
"If only your adoring fans could see you now," I say with a roll of my eyes.
"They would still love me, like you still love me."
"I don't have much choice," I say. "I'm connected to you forever, they're not."
“Is it so bad that you’re stuck with me until death do us part?”
I find his choice of words a strange way to put it but I say, “No. I don’t mind being connected to you for that long. I’m getting kind of used to having you around.”
Chandler sits up and holds his hand out to me. "Come on. Let's try to find the next vessel. I'm curious to know if we'll have the same kind of connection with them too."
I take Chandler's offered hand as we sit beside one another on the couch.
"When I had my vision of you," I tell him, "all I did was listen to the sound of the wood popping in the fireplace. Let's try to concentrate on that and see what happens."
We both close our eyes and remain quiet, allowing the sounds of the fire to surround us. I'm not sure how long we sit there but eventually Chandler says, "This isn't working either is it?"
I open my eyes and look over at him.
"No, it's not. I just don't understand why it isn't. It's supposed to be easier with two of us but it seems like it's harder. But, I might know someone who can help us."
In my head, I call to Michael.
He instantly appears, standing in front of the fireplace.
He smiles at me. "I'm glad you called to me."
"Can you help us? I thought you said it would be easier when there are two of us trying."
"Uh, Jess, who are you talking to?" Chandler asks, looking between me and the fireplace.
"Michael. I can see him now when I'm awake."
"Wicked," Chandler says, smiling. "Can he help us?"
"Don't know yet, you keep talking," I complain. "He can't talk over you."
Chandler puts a hand to his lips and makes a motion like he's locking them with a key.
I look back at Michael.
"What are we doing wrong?"
"It's not so much that you're doing anything wrong," he says hesitantly. "But you're the one who is blocking the connection."
"Me? How?"
"When you connected with Chandler, it was right after you and Mason first began to share your feelings for one another. You were open to allowing someone else in. Now, you're closed off again."
"How do I open myself up again?"
"I'm not sure, but I still believe Mason is the key to your success."
"But he won't see me."
"But he did see you. He came to the funeral. He wants to be with you but he still feels that would be selfishly placing you in danger."
"Any idea how I can prove to him that he's wrong about that?"
"No. I wish I did."
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Chandler hold up his hand like he's in school asking for permission to speak.
"Go ahead," I tell him, slightly amused.
"What's he saying? Can he help us?"
"He thinks I'm the reason we can't connect. My emotional state because of Mason is blocking the connection."
"So, how do we fix that?"
I sigh heavily. "I have no idea."
Michael fades away, apparently no longer having any more useful information to impart.
Chandler and I finally decide to give up for the rest of the day and just have some much needed fun together. We go back into the entertainment room. While flipping through the available movies on Mason's holographic TV, I notice three new additions, all three of the original Star Wars movies. I know they're new because they’re displayed in blue instead of purple indicating they haven't been played yet. I smile wanly because I know Mason placed them on there for me. He probably thought I would find comfort watching them just like I did when I was sick.
As the evening draws late, Chandler and I retire to our separate rooms which are right beside one another.
"Ok, I know this is going to sound like I’m a complete weirdo," Chandler says to me, looking somewhat shy about what he’s about to say next. "But would you stay in my room with me until I fall asleep?"
"Why?" I ask, drawing out the word because this seems like a very peculiar request.
"Because I don't like sleeping in new places," he confesses. "I always make my agent stay in my room until I go to sleep when we're in a new city. It's just that first night. I can't relax enough to fall asleep without knowing someone else is with me."
"You're such a baby," I tease. "Let me get in my pajamas and I'll be right there."
Relief floods Chandler’s eyes and he smiles shyly. "Thanks, Jess. You’re the best."
I go to my room and slip into my pink flannel pajama set. When I enter Chandler's room, he's already in bed without a shirt on, raised up on his elbows waiting for me.
"You have pants on under those covers, right?" I ask.
Chandler smiles. "Nope, can't sleep with clothes on either."
I pull a small wood chair over to his bedside and he lays his head down on his pillow.
"Now you can't leave until I'm asleep," he says. I hear the worry in his voice that I might not heed his rule and decide not to pick on him about it.
"I won't leave," I say. "I promise."
I turn the lamp on his nightstand off, casting the room in complete darkness.
It doesn't take more than thirty minutes before I hear Chandler's soft snoring. As quietly as I can, I pad over to the door and leave the room, making sure I close the door behind me so softly not even a mouse can hear it.
When I turn to go to my own room, I feel like my world has come completely unglued. Standing at the end of the long hallway is Mason, watching me.
I feel my heart tighten in my chest at the sight of him.
"Don't go," I beg, knowing that if I don't say something, he might phase away before I have a chance to speak with him.
"I just came to get something," he tells me, even though I don’t see anything in his hands. "I thought the two of you were asleep."
I see his eyes drift to Chandler's door and back to me.
"Chandler can't go to sleep in a new place without someone being with him," I tell Mason, wanting to make sure he understands the reason I'm coming out of Chandler's room so late at night.
"It's really none of my business," Mason says, his voice devoid of emotion.
I take a tentative step forward. Mason doesn't move.
"Thank you for coming to the funeral," I tell him, continuing to slowly make my way to him up the hallway, feeling a desperate need to close the distance between us not only physically but emotionally too.
"I wanted to make sure you were all right," he says, eyeing my progress towards him warily but not telling me to stop. His eyes linger on my face, caressing me with his gaze. I can feel his longing to reach out to me but he holds himself back.
"I wasn't sure I would see you again, after last time," I say, remembering how Mason had looked at me in my bedroom like he was taking a mental picture of me to last him the rest of his life.
"I can't seem to make myself stay away from you," he confesses, looking slightly ashamed about his own weakness.
"I don't want you to stay away," I tell him. "Mason, please. I need you by my side."
"I can't. It's not safe for you."
"I'm safer with you than without you," I tell him, trying to make him see reason. "I can't think about anything but you and it's making it impossible to connect with the third vessel. I need you
in my life. I can't live without you in it."
"I'm sorry, Jess. I can't take the risk of something happening to you because of me. I'll try to stay away from you. In time, I know you'll forget about me. I'm sorry."
Mason phases before I have a chance to convince him how wrong he is.
I turn to go back to go to my room fully intending to give myself permission to cry myself to sleep.
Chapter 5
The next morning I find Chandler in the kitchen scrambling up some eggs and frying some sausage links.
"Hungry?" He asks me when I sit down at the table.
"Not really," I say, laying my arms on the table top and burying my face in them.
"What's up, Jess?" He asks, concern in his voice.
Not even bothering to lift my head, I tell Chandler about seeing Mason the previous night in the hallway.
I hear him switch off the stove and walk over to the table to sit down across from me.
"Listen," he says, "I want to try something."
I lift my head up and look at him. My eyes still feel scratchy and puffy from crying myself to sleep the night before.
"Try what?" I say, sounding completely despondent even to my own ears.
"Yesterday, when I went to see Lilly, I did something I'm not very proud of but for your sake, I had to know."
"Know what exactly?" I ask, sitting up straighter in my chair, my curiosity piqued.
"I had to know if Mason really loved you or if he was just playing games with you.” Chandler grimaces like he’s ashamed to say the rest to me. “I used my power on him."
"You what?" I almost scream. "What the hell were you thinking Chandler? I'm surprised you're still alive!"
"I apologized," Chandler says looking properly contrite for his invasion of Mason's privacy. "I might have apologized after I had what I needed, but I did say that I was sorry."
"What happened? Did it work?" I hate that I'm sort of glad Chandler did what he did but I can't help it. A desperate, love sick woman will take any evidence that the man she loves still loves her, even if that evidence was obtained in a totally unacceptable way.
"It wasn't much different from the time I used my power on those Watchers who were trying to kill us. The only difference was that I didn't just tap into his sorrow, I tapped into his love for you too."
“What did you feel?" I ask, finding myself holding my breath waiting for his answer.
Chandler holds out his hands to me. "Like I said, I want to try something. I want to see if I can channel his feelings so you know first hand how he feels about you. Maybe if you know, your mental block will disappear and we can find the third vessel."
I'm hesitant to do as Chandler asks. What if Mason doesn't love me as much as I love him? What if I find out something I just don't want to know?
"I'm not sure it'll work," Chandler says seeing my indecision. "But if it does, at least you'll finally know."
Taking a leap of faith, I place my hands into Chandler's.
"Here goes nothing," he says, closing his eyes.
I feel a warmness emanate from our conjoined hands and then it hits me like a bolt of lightning from the sky. My heart swells with so much love I'm not sure it's big enough to contain it all. Mixed with the love is a sense of fear, fear of losing it all. Guilt and sorrow seem to surround the love constricting it to a point where it's suffocating my heart. Happy tears spring to my eyes because I finally know, without a shadow of a doubt, Mason loves me.
Chandler lets go of my hands and looks at me. "You felt it, didn't you?"
I nod because I can't speak. I bury my face in my hands and let myself cry tears of relief. In my heart, I knew Mason loved me but never knew the depth of that love until now. How someone who feels that way about another person can force himself to stay away takes more will power than I can ever hope to have.
"Are you ok?" I hear Chandler ask me, sounding concerned that maybe he shouldn’t have shared Mason’s feelings with me.
I nod, wiping the tears from my eyes and finally finding my voice. "Thank you. I needed to know."
Chandler smiles. "I know you did. Now maybe you can concentrate. Otherwise we're doomed," he says, drawing out the last word to sound ominous.
I laugh.
Feeling lighter of heart than I have since the night Mason left me, I dig into the breakfast Chandler made and tell him I think we should go back upstairs to the living room and try to connect with the third vessel again.
The fire in the fireplace has long since burned itself out, but Chandler makes quick work of it to build it back up.
"And how does a rock star know how to build a fire?" I ask.
"Boy scouts," he answers.
"Of course you were a boy scout," I say, shaking my head. "I should have known."
Chandler and I sit on the couch again and turn to face one another. We hold each others hands and concentrate on connecting with the third vessel.
Since Michael said my ability to open up enough to connect with the next vessel is directly related to my feelings for Mason, I ask Chandler to channel Mason's love into me once again, hoping it's enough to completely break my mental block.
Just as I feel my heart swell with his love for me, I see a vision of a woman dressed in an off the shoulder white sweater and black Capri pants dancing barefoot around a room filled with all types of fabrics. She has short black hair cut into a stylish bob with thick curls that bounce happily above her shoulders as she dances. I see her pick up a long piece of gauzy white fabric and twirl around with it in her hands to music that has a happy beat. When she turns around, I can't see her face because the fabric is obscuring it, but I do see a cursive black 'A' appliqué stitched on the upper right corner of her sweater. The vision fades and I open my eyes.
"Did you see her?" Chandler and I ask at the same time.
We laugh.
"Do you know who she is?" I ask him.
"I think I might," he says, completely amazed by the fact.
"Who is she?"
"I think that was JoJo Armand. She's a French fashion designer."
"How do you know a fashion designer?"
"I don't know her personally, but I've been to a couple of her fashion shows. My agent said it was good PR to go so I did."
The name sounds familiar and I remember why. Angela told me the dress Mason bought for me to wear to the masquerade ball was from the House of Armand.
"I need to call Isaiah," I say standing up quickly to fetch my phone from my room.
It doesn't take long for Isaiah to come and get us.
"Have you located her?" I ask Isaiah when he arrives.
"Yes. She's at her design studio in Paris. I sent Malcolm over there to speak with her on our behalf. Apparently, they're friends."
"That helps," I say. "At least she won't think we're a bunch of lunatics right off the bat."
Isaiah places his hands on our shoulders and we find ourselves standing in the room we just saw in our vision. Rays of bright sunlight shine through the large windows making up all four walls of the loft we’re in. It's a lot like being in a glass house that's ten stories in the air. The Eiffel Tower can be seen in the distance to our right making me realize how surreal my life has become.
JoJo Armand is standing on the opposite side of the room from us with her hands on her hips nodding at something Malcolm is saying to her. Almost as soon as we phase into her work space, her eyes are drawn to us. Just from the vision we had of her, I know JoJo is someone who has a natural effervescence but when she looks at us, it seems to multiply ten fold.
"Bonte' divine!" She says running over to us, her curls boucing around her shoulders. JoJo looks to be in her early forties but her love of life makes her look almost like a teenager. Her joyous smile is infectious and we instantly know we've found our third archangel.
She squeals in delight as she gives first me a hug and then Chandler.
"Jess and Chandler?" She asks, a French accent tingeing her words.
"Yes,
" I answer. "We've been looking for you."
"Oui, oui, Malcolm told me that. He said I would have to wait for you to come to explain what is going on."
JoJo takes one of each of our hands and practically drags us over to a sitting area in her studio. The furniture is modern and doesn't look very comfortable since there are no backs to any of the chairs, just thick padding covered in white leather placed on top of steel frames.
Once we're sitting on either side of JoJo, she says, "S'il vous plait, tell me what is happening? Why do I feel like I have finally been reunited with two of my very best friends?"
Much the same way I did with Chandler when I first met him, we explain what we know to JoJo. She seems to take it all in stride without asking too many questions.
"Is there anything you want to ask us?" I say after we’ve explained the situation to her.
"Do you both have your crowns and talismans?" She asks.
"We have our crowns," Chandler answers, "but I haven't found my talisman yet."
"I have always wanted a crown," JoJo says, a wistful look on her face. "It's just like when I was a little girl and wanted to be a real princess. Now, I am a princess of Heaven, c'est vrai?"
"Yes," Chandler answers, obviously knowing a little more French than me. "A very powerful princess."
JoJo smiles brightly. "So, what should we do now?"
"We should probably attempt to find the next vessel," I say. "But there's no guarantee it'll work the first time. It took Chandler and me a while to finally be able to find you and we were only able to locate you so quickly because Chandler's been to some of your fashion shows and was able to recognize you instantly."
"Ah, do you like my clothes?" JoJo asks Chandler. "Did you buy for a lady friend?"
"A few lady friends actually," Chandler admits with a cocky grin. "And yes, I do like your designs. They always show off a ladies figure to its best."
"Merci," Jojo bows her head at the compliment.
"I actually have one of your dresses," I admit.
"Lequel?" JoJo asks, but I have no clue what she just said. I must look confused because she then says, "Which?"
I describe the dress to her.
JoJo nods excitedly. "Oui, oui, I remember that dress. I wondered who ended up wearing it. It is one of my favorites. You lover has very good taste."
