Oberon Boxed Set (Books 1-3) Welcome to Oberon

by P. G. Forte

  So he’d just stay where he was, and watch as she slept…

  Scout awoke with a start. She had no idea where she was, or what had awakened her. But then she heard it again. A soft, snoring sound. It came from the other side of the room, where Nick had fallen asleep in an old armchair.

  He hadn’t even wanted to get into bed with her? A cold bleakness settled around her heart. Only yesterday morning he’d said he loved her. And now – Oh, God, it hurt to realize it wasn’t true.

  This is not his fault, she told herself fiercely. They were only words. She had heard them often enough before. Heard them spoken casually, lightly, insincerely. She’d even used them that way herself, hadn’t she? On more than one occasion.

  She fell back on the bed and lay there, staring at the ceiling. It was funny; she had never thought of Nick as the kind of man who’d say anything that he didn’t mean. Not that she had any right to expect honesty. Not after all the lies she’d told.

  The empty bed seemed to stretch, cold and lonely, for acres all around her. Obviously, she’d made a mistake lunging at him the way she had the other night. Hadn’t he told her as much at the time?

  You took me by surprise, he’d said. And still she allowed herself to read far too much into the way his body had responded. If she had given it any thought at all, perhaps she would have realized when he tried to stop – not once, but twice – what it was he was really trying to say. But she’d loved him for so long, and she had wanted so much to believe he felt the same way about her.

  To be sure, if he was just being kind, he had carried it a little far. Had it really been necessary for him to kiss her quite so thoroughly and with such devastating sweetness? To make love to her so passionately?

  To tell her he loved her?

  But given the way she had acted, what the hell else had she expected him to do? He probably figured he was doing her a favor – giving her what she needed, or wanted. Or something like that. Just for the one night. Or perhaps, just for old time’s sake? And she had no one but herself to blame for thinking it meant any more to him than that. Stifling a sob, she rolled over and pressed her face into his pillow and tried to make herself believe that none of it mattered, that things would look better in the morning...

  Nick’s eyes sprang open in the darkness. He thought he’d heard her call his name. But no, she must have been talking in her sleep. Once again he fought down the urge to cross the room and take her in his arms. What would be the point of that? It wasn’t going to make her change her mind about him, and it certainly wouldn’t make his feelings for her go away. Nothing had ever done that. There had to be some way to get over wanting what you couldn’t ever have. Maybe someday he’d stumble across the answer.

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  * * * *

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  * * * *

  Bright sunlight and the tantalizing fragrances of coffee and cinnamon filled the room the next time Scout awoke. For a moment, with her face still buried in the pillows where Nick’s scent lingered, a pleasant warmth crept over her. But it was quickly chased away as last night’s horrible isolation returned full force, along with an undefined restlessness; an inchoate anxiety that pulled her out of bed.

  She dressed quickly. She couldn’t stay here, and it was best not to linger over the reasons why. She had work to do. If Nick was right, then someone, possibly someone she knew, had killed both Lisa and her father. Someone had stolen her family, ruined her life, and left her believing it had all been her fault. She was going to find out who that someone was if it was the last thing she did.

  No. Not the last. The very last thing she’d do was to make sure that someone paid.

  * * *

  Nick was at the stove when she entered the kitchen a short while later. He had set two places at the table with placemats and napkins, and a little vase of blue and purple morning glories from the vine that grew up the side of the building.

  All these homey little touches should have made her happy. They had to mean he cared, at least a little. Had to mean he wasn’t still so angry. But a desperate longing seared her all the same. I can’t keep this, she forced herself to remember. This was never really mine to begin with.

  So she slid into the chair she had occupied the night before. She fought down the urge to run to him, wrap herself around him and never let him go. And she waited until she had her voice under control before she spoke.

  “I guess you weren’t kidding about the whole liking to cook thing, were you?” She even managed to smile as she added, “Something sure smells good. What’s on the menu, this morning?”

  Nick turned toward her for a brief moment, a look of something very like annoyance on his face. And then he quickly turned back to the stove. “Nothing fancy, I’m afraid. Just some French toast and a red pepper frittata. And sausages. Or fruit, if you want it. I have to leave for work pretty soon.” His voice was cool, indifferent, as he added, “Why don’t you help yourself to some coffee while I finish up here?”

  Nick busied himself at the stove, keeping his back to her as long as possible. He didn’t understand why anything she did should surprise him, but disappointment swamped him anyway, weighing on his chest so heavily he could barely breathe. She was back to acting as though they were mere acquaintances. Was there nothing he could do to close this distance between them, even a little? No way at all to reach her?

  “You look tired,” Scout said when he finally brought the food to the table. “Is everything okay?”

  Nick stared at her for a long, long moment while his mind rejected every honest or accurate response that occurred to him. How was it possible for her to rip his heart apart like this and never even have a clue?

  “I’m fine,” he lied, his voice as dispassionate as he could make it. He sat down and concentrated his attention on his coffee for several minutes longer than was practical. Surely, he could only spend so much time stirring nothing into plain black coffee without looking like an idiot. But no, she didn’t even notice that.

  “Listen,” he told her. “I don’t want you out at your house all alone today. Is there someplace I can drop you off on my way to work?”

  Scout looked up, startled. “Like where?”

  “I don’t know.” He hesitated, then took a deep breath. What the hell, maybe it was worth another try. “If you can’t think of anyplace else to go, you could always stay here.”

  “No.”

  It was just one word, quietly spoken, but the flush in her cheeks and the frost in her voice left him with no doubt that she was turning down more than just his apartment.

  He gritted his teeth. “Look, it’s not a big deal, okay? But I’ve got to figure out some way to keep you safe.” He heard the pleading note in his voice and hated it.

  “I can take care of myself,” Scout said, rejecting even his right to worry about her.

  “Oh, I don’t doubt that,” Nick lashed out at her, as exhaustion combined with the pain in his heart catapulted him over the edge of worry and straight into rage. “Not for one instant have I ever doubted that, babe. Somehow, it’s always the people around you who need to watch their backs, isn’t it?”

  * * *

  “Nick sure doesn’t look very happy this morning,” Lucy said, biting on her lip. They were parked on the street across from her cousin’s apartment building. She’d caught just one glimpse of Nick’s face when his car tore out of the drive a moment earlier. He looked like death.

  “No,” Marsha agreed. “Something’s happened. And if we don’t want to waste the rest of the day trying to scrape Scout off the floor, I suggest we go and get her out of there. Now.”

  “Shit. Are you sure about this?” A nasty, cold nervous-ness had seized Lucy. She glanced anxiously across at Marsha.

  “I’m sure.” Marsha said, sounding very sure indeed.

  “All right, let’s go.” Lucy put the car back in gear and slid across the street and into the parking space her cousin had vacated so abruptly. “But I don’t li
ke this, you know. Not one little bit.”

  * * *

  Scout sat at the table, staring at the untouched plates of food, her hands still clenched around the mug she was holding, Nick’s last words reverberating in her ears.

  “I give up,” he had ground from between clenched teeth. “Do whatever you want to do. There’s a key hanging inside the door, if you want it. Just – oh, hell, just lock up when you leave.”

  Now someone was knocking at the door, and she wasn’t sure why she was even bothering to answer it. It wasn’t Nick. Nick was gone. And he’d made it pretty clear that he neither expected nor wanted to find her here upon his return.

  Scout opened the door. A strange chill passed through her when she saw Lucy and Marsha standing in the doorway. Neither woman was dressed in long, black robes, but they might as well have been, given the fell expressions in their eyes.

  Deep within her, something came awake, as if a horn had sounded, summoning her to battle. Scout eyed them warily.

  “We need to talk to you, Scout,” Marsha said with almost frightening formality. “May we come in?”

  Scout stepped back without answering and they passed through the open door.

  She couldn’t help but notice the familiarity with which Lucy moved through the room, crossing immediately to one of the armchairs, casually removing a stack of newspapers from its seat and then dropping them on the floor beside it before seating herself. Scout could tell that this was the chair she was used to choosing whenever she visited her cousin’s home, and for a moment she was consumed with envy for what she knew she would never have.

  Oh, how she wanted to be the one who was at ease here; to be the one who felt comfortable enough to rearrange the furnishings without a second thought. Instead, she perched uneasily on the edge of the couch while she waited to learn what they wanted.

  Marsha came and sat beside her. “I need your help,” she said simply, but Scout thought there was something hard and implacable in her eyes, as if her acquiescence was something Marsha was determined to gain by whatever means necessary.

  “What for?”

  “Actually, a couple of things.” Marsha sighed. “First of all, I need to do something to help Celeste.”

  Scout frowned. “You mean heal her? Or, you know, bring her back somehow?”

  “No.” Marsha shook her head. “Only if she – if her soul, or whatever you want to call it, wants to come back. And I don’t think it does. I think it just can’t move on yet. And I’m afraid that it’s my fault, somehow. That I’m responsible for what happened to her. I need to do something, whatever I can, to help her. But the thing is, I can’t do it alone. I tried, but I’m too close to it. Also, I can’t shut off my emotions like you can.”

  “Like I can?” Scout repeated in surprise. “You make it sound like a faucet. Like I can just turn them on and off whenever I choose to.”

  “That’s oversimplifying things, somewhat.” Marsha shrugged. “But yeah. I think that, for whatever reason, you’ve had a lot of experience doing just exactly that.”

  Scout thought about the implications. She wasn’t sure she liked them. She wasn’t sure she believed it, either. Maybe once that had been true, but could she still do that? Did she even want to?

  “You said a couple of things. What else?”

  “I want this guy. Whoever’s responsible for all these attacks. I want to know who he is and I want to stop him.”

  Scout nodded. “Me, too.”

  She felt the anger coalesce inside her, and it scared her almost senseless. Her eyes closed as an involuntary spasm of nerves shook her. Only one other time had she felt this way. And she was still living with the fallout from that explosion. She opened her eyes again, and cast another nervous glance at Marsha. She recognized this particular emotional brew. Guilt, anger and pain, coupled with a furious need for vengeance. She recognized it all too clearly, and a part of her wanted nothing at all to do with it.

  But that part was no longer in control. She shrugged. “So, let’s do it, then.”

  “Let’s do it?” Lucy sputtered. “That’s it? Don’t you even want to know what you need to do? Or if there are any risks involved?”

  Scout looked at her, sitting there so comfortably in that chair. Nick’s chair. A chair she would have given almost anything to be able to claim as casually as Lucy had just done. It was just a stupid chair. Just a lousy piece of furniture. She didn’t even particularly like it. But all the same, jealousy flared out of control.

  “What’s the difference, Lucy?” she snapped impatiently. “And what do you care, anyway? I want this guy much more than either of you could. He stole my family, he wrecked my life, he hurt a lot of people I cared about. You guys must have some plan in mind, or you wouldn’t be here, right? And I’ve got nothing. So what difference does it make what your plan entails or what I have to do? And as for risks—” She swallowed hard, as she thought about Nick. “Fuck it. What do I have to lose, anyway?”

  “Well, actually...” Marsha cleared her throat, “To be honest, there is some risk, Scout. Remember how we talked about parts of your soul, or your psyche, shutting down when things get painful? We’ll probably be getting into some painful areas with this. If we’re not careful, we might end up triggering another episode. You could end up with the same thing happening all over again. And I have to warn you... I don’t know if we could fix things afterwards.”

  Scout felt the truth of her words. She winced at the thought of what it would mean to go back to the way things had been. But the cold fury building in her gut was going to find some outlet anyway, so it wasn’t as if she really had a choice now, was it? And truthfully, compared to the way she was feeling right now, the way she’d been feeling all morning, what was so bad about closing herself off to pain, anyway? It would be a relief.

  “I’ll take my chances,” she told them. “But whatever we’re doing, I don’t want to do it here.”

  Not here, where Nick lived. Where he’d cooked for her. Where she couldn’t help but imagine what her life might have been like, if only things had been different.

  Lucy was looking at her with a strange expression on her face. Partly surprise, Scout thought, but partly something else as well. Some strong emotion she couldn’t identify. It could have been anger; it could have been hate; it could have been sorrow or dismay. It could even have been respect or compassion. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. Scout didn’t care anymore what Lucy thought. She wouldn’t let herself care about any of them.

  “Right,” Marsha said, standing up. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll go to your house. I think that’s where this all started, anyway.”

  Lucy closed the door behind them as they left. Scout considered taking the key Nick had offered, but in the end, she didn’t. She had to remember who she was, she thought stubbornly. She had to keep in mind what her real life was like. Simple. Clean. No ties.

  Still, when she heard the lock snap shut behind them, she felt as though she’d let go of her last handhold to sanity. She was in a freefall now. Whatever doom lay before her, there was nothing left to hold it back.

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  * * * *

  Chapter Thirty

  * * * *

  Lucy was not happy. They had serious business to conduct, and Scout... well, it was all very well for Marsha to go on and on as she had last night about Scout’s ability to detach from her feelings. Hell, she might even be right about it. But the tension and unhappiness permeating the atmosphere in Nick’s apartment this morning had been unbearable. And it didn’t take any particular talent to guess where it originated. However far removed Scout might be from her emotions, it sure didn’t mean she didn’t have any.

  While Marsha went into the kitchen to boil water for the various infusions they planned to use, Lucy set out the materials she would need to cleanse and rebalance the energies in the area where they’d be working.

  They were using the room that had been Robyn’s. She and Marsha had agreed it was t
he logical place to work. It occupied an auspicious position on the ba-gua grid; it had the right energy – or it would have, once she’d finished clearing it – But even Scout-the-imperturbable had been unable to repress a small shudder when they first entered it. Now she was huddled on the edge of the daybed like a friggin’ zombie, staring out through the French doors that led to the patio, her eyes glassy and cold. Like chunks of serpentine.

  Lucy found her mind wandering away from the work at hand. “I thought Nick was looking a little stressed when he left for work this morning,” she said, keeping her tone casual. “Everything okay between you two?”

  Scout turned to her, her eyes two blanks, her lips curved in a mockery of a smile. “Between us? There isn’t anything between us, Lucy. You, of all people, should know that.”

  Excuse me? Lucy rocked back on her heels. “That’s not exactly the impression I was getting from you yesterday.”

  Scout laughed. A horrible parody, totally devoid of humor, it sent chills down Lucy’s spine. She began to understand why Robyn had been so scared.

  “A fantasy. That’s what he called me, you know? A lovely fantasy. One he no longer needs.”

  Lucy gaped at her. Nick said that? No way. “Oh, c’mon, Scout, that – there’s no fucking way Nick told you that!”

  “I know you think I’m a compulsive liar, Lucy,” Scout said coldly, “But I assure you I’m not making this up. Why would I?”

  “But hello? Yesterday? You and…and then Nick...”

  “He’s very kind. I just read too much into it, I think. I really should start paying more attention to what people actually say. Like the other night. You told me he wouldn’t want me messing up his life. I just didn’t want to hear it.”