“Your mother is needed here. Violence grows everywhere, including Ann Arbor.” Bas pulled her toward the alley beside her mother’s house. “Come on, let’s get back to your lessons. I’ll find Jean later.”
Julie followed along, though part of her wanted to tear Chicago apart to find her mother so she could yell at her. “Mom ran away from the Triad. Why is she doing this?”
“When you run away from who you are, most times you end up back where you started.”
Bas really needed to get a job writing Chinese fortune cookies. “Why doesn’t she tell me?”
“My guess is that she wants to protect you.” Bas tugged her around the corner of her mother’s building, behind a garbage dumpster.
“Keeping someone ignorant doesn’t protect her.”
Bas drew Julie close as he prepared to pop them back to Ann Arbor. His bleak expression held none of the easy-going acceptance she’d grown used to. Julie froze, sensing something ancient, something powerful beyond imagination, a will that wouldn’t compromise.
Then Bas smiled, dispelling the feeling. “I disagree. Sometimes it does.”
Harry showed up bright and early the next morning, just as Julie finished the last of the blueberry crepes Bas had made.
“You two look cozy,” he commented as he walked into the kitchen. He was dressed in a white shirt, tie and black pants, as if he’d just stepped out of the office.
“I thought I locked the front door.” Julie’s heart rate bumped into high gear. She set her fork down.
“You did. How are the lessons going?” The curt question was addressed to Bas, who stood at the sink.
Bas put the crepe pan into the sink and turned. “Fine. Julie is learning to sense energy. It appears she may not wield it in the conventional way of Sun Dancers.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.” Harry’s serious gaze turned to Julie.
“We’re exploring how her power works.” Bas winked at Julie, picked up a towel from the counter and dried his hands.
“What does that mean?” Harry’s sharp question raised the hair on the back of Julie’s neck. He looked at Bas, eyes narrowed. She could feel a crackling in the air.
“What do you think it means?” Bas asked. He put the towel down and shifted his weight, body square, hands loose at his sides.
Julie suddenly felt like she’d been placed between two bulls and someone had put a red flag in her hand. She gave Bas a warning look, stood up and walked over to Harry. “Hi. Have a tough week?”
He looked down at the hand she placed on his sleeve and some of the tension seemed to leave his face. “Yes.” He rubbed the back of his neck and she remembered the curse and Marguerite. No wonder the man acted grumpy.
“She’ll be out of your head soon,” she said softly.
He didn’t say anything, but the color of his eyes deepened. Her breathing hitched.
Bas cleared his throat.
Harry spoke to him without looking away from Julie. “Bas, are you available to make a trip?”
“I seem to be at your beck and call a lot, recently.” A hint of amusement tempered the words.
Julie started breathing when Harry stepped away from her.
He gave Bas a rueful look. “Sorry. I’ve been in Australia all week meeting with a Walker who lives in Melbourne, Oliver Clayborne. He’s agreed to assume the role of Lion of Australia. The Triad there, like everywhere else, is extremely wary of instituting a regional governing structure again, but Clayborne’s both charismatic and powerful.”
“I’ve met him. He’s a good choice,” Bas said.
“You’re a legend, Bas. If you show up and give him your approval, his road will be easier.”
Bas straightened. “I’m on it. This is very good news, Harrison.”
Harry nodded. “It’s a start.”
Bas walked over and put a casual arm around Julie’s shoulders. “Take the day off. Go somewhere with Harrison and have some fun.”
Julie glanced at Harry. He had gone still like a predator, his eyes fixed on Bas’s face. Bas wore an innocent expression as he gestured toward the window. “You might want to plan something indoors though. Looks like a storm is brewing.”
“Good-bye, Bascule.” Harry took Julie’s arm and drew her out of Bas’s hold.
Bas laughed as he popped out of the room.
Harry released Julie’s arm and walked slowly to the table. He sat, looking so tired Julie thought about offering him a bed. The image of Harry in her bed sent a frisson of heat through her.
She took a deep breath, walked behind the chair where he sat and touched his broad shoulders with both hands, because she had to. “You work too hard,” she murmured, and began a firm massage of the knotted muscles in his back.
His whole body stiffened, and then he dropped his chin to his chest. “No. I need to work harder. There’s too much to be done.”
“I’m glad you’re here now.” Somehow it was easier to talk to his back than his face.
He didn’t say anything for several long minutes as she gently kneaded his shoulder blades. Then, so softly she barely heard the words, he murmured, “I’m glad I’m here, too.”
His words were melted sugar, filling her with sweetness. She had a sudden, fierce desire to ease the load this man carried, if only for an afternoon. “What do you say we do something wild and crazy?”
Harry turned his head and gave her a speculative look. “What have you got in mind?”
Tasha waved good-bye to her three friends, her tennis racquet slung over her shoulder. She always played tennis on Tuesday mornings after her first class. Her muscles felt loose and limber from the energetic game. She walked across Palmer Field and up the gentle incline toward the group of brick buildings known as the Hill dorms. Scents from the lunch preparation wafted out of the cafeteria in Mosher-Jordan, the dorm where everyone who lived on the hill met to eat.
“Natasha.” Luc was suddenly beside her, keeping pace with her slow stroll.
Tasha’s heart seemed to pause in her chest before resuming its steady beat. “I thought you’d left town.”
“I did. I’m back. I want to talk to you.” He took her arm and drew her onto the grass, off the paved walk.
“You tried to hurt my mother.” She yanked her arm out of his hold. Her voice sounded more hurt than angry, which pissed her off. She cocked her tennis racket in a vaguely threatening manner to make up for it.
His eyes softened. “No. I wouldn’t hurt your mother. I wouldn’t have let my sister hurt her, either.”
She studied his face, looking for the truth. His eyes were clear and unwavering. His lips formed a tight line, with a slight droop that might be tiredness. The tilt of his head indicated pride and the thrust of his chin spoke of stubborn determination.
A tension in her chest relaxed. She had no logical reason to believe him, but she did. She lowered the racket. “What’s wrong with your sister? Why does she want to hurt my mother?”
Luc held out a hand. “Come have a drink with me. I’ll explain what I know.”
Grandma Jean would have a fit if she found out Tasha had gone anywhere with a Shadow Walker. And despite that fact that Tasha inexplicably trusted this man, she fully intended to keep to public places when with him. “Stay here while I run up to my room and stash my racket. Then we can head over to the League and grab something at the food court.”
At his nod, Tasha quickly covered the remaining distance to her dorm. Leslie, her roommate, was out. Tossing her racket on her bed, she grabbed a brush from her dresser, pulled out her ponytail and ruthlessly smoothed her hair. She frowned in the mirror as she put on lip-gloss and mascara. What was she doing? This wasn’t a date. To prove it to herself, she pulled on a fresh T-shirt that clashed with her hair and changed her shorts for a pair of worn jeans. She pulled out her phone and texted Leslie to let her know where she was going, their safety system when out with new people, and left the room without looking in the mirror again.
Harry sat in the back
of the two-person kayak, an orange life jacket snapped around his chest. A paddle rested across his strong, muscular thighs. He wore a pair of beige shorts and a navy blue collared polo shirt. His hair was ruffled from the light breeze and his golden eyes were lit with anticipation. Standing on the dock next to the sleek, narrow boat, Julie felt unreasonably happy that Harry seemed to be enjoying himself.
The kayak bobbed gently in the quiet pool of water at the head of the Argo Cascades, a boat bypass around the Argo Dam on the Huron River. The Cascades were a man-made series of nine water drops that led back into the placid waters of the Huron. During summer, the Cascades were a popular spot, crowded with people navigating the white water drops in over-sized inner tubes and kayaks. On a school day in early fall hardly anyone was on the water.
“You do know how to steer one of these, right?” Julie asked. Harrison had insisted on sitting in the back. The man obviously had control issues.
“I’ve read about it and understand the basic physics involved.” He studied the water rushing through the opening in the limestone rocks that marked the first drop.
“Let’s trade places.”
“No.”
She should have suggested bowling or tennis, neither of which would have ended with her in the water. “Okay, but steer straight into the drop and then just let the current take us over.”
His brow lifted. “Bossy.”
“Pot. Kettle. Black.” She wrinkled her nose at him, entranced by this relaxed and teasing side of Harry.
He smiled. The mischievous, heart-melting smile of a boy about to start on an adventure. She smiled back. The attendant cleared his throat and she stepped into the front of the kayak, taking the oar he handed her. The attendant gave them a push, and they were off. The first drop went smoothly. The kayak shot down the fall, white water spraying Julie’s face. She laughed and bounced on her seat when the kayak hit flat water.
“Paddle on your left.” Harry commanded.
They made it down the next seven falls quickly. Their oars worked in perfect harmony, as if they’d been kayaking together for years. As her muscles pumped, Julie let her imagination fly free. This was the final race in the Cascade kayaking competition at the Olympics, and she was going for the gold. The current winning time, set by the French Polynesian team, was a moving yellow line in front of her. The camera zoomed in on her face, intent and determined. Then the shot switched to Bob Costas, who introduced an emotional video montage of her life. Several heart-wrenching moments later, they were back to the race. She dug deep with her oar, determined to cross that moving line. Pull, pull. Closer, closer. Her arms strained. The crowd roared her name. Julie! Julie!
“Julie!” Harrison roared. “What in bloody hell are you doing? Pay attention.”
The final fall that would dump them into the Huron required a sharp right turn as the water curved under a stone pedestrian bridge. Because she’d been gunning full speed ahead, the current caught them before the nose of the kayak could complete the turn.
“We’re going sideways!” Julie yelled.
“I noticed.” Harrison sounded calm again while she paddled frantically and shouted instructions. The current was too strong. They were going to hit the side of the bridge and flip. Good-bye gold medal. Suddenly, impossibly, the kayak straightened and shot nose first down the fall and out into the serene, tree-lined Huron River.
“Whoo Hoo!” A young woman, watching from the bridge, clapped. “Awesome!”
Julie looked over her shoulder at Harrison, incredulous. “How did you do that?”
Harrison grinned and wiped water off his face. He looked young and carefree. For a moment she could only stare at him, a funny, warm feeling building in her chest.
“I can move from London to Ann Arbor in the blink of an eye and you’re shocked when I turn the nose of a kayak?”
Good point. “I agree with our audience. That was awesome. You can be on my Olympic team anytime.”
“Is that why you were thrashing water like a mad woman?” He gave her an interested look. “I hope we won.”
“We had to forfeit due to illegal use of magic.” Julie turned and began paddling at a more sedate pace. She heard Harry’s oar enter the water and felt the boat surge forward.
She relaxed with each slow stroke. The Huron wound through Ann Arbor, but at times it seemed as if they were in a wilderness. Trees crowded the shores, and the sounds of birds chirping replaced the hum of traffic.
“I don’t generally do that,” Harry said, several minutes later. “Break the rules,” he clarified.
“That doesn’t surprise me. You’re in a job where you see the consequences of that. I, on the other hand, do sometimes break rules.” Julie pointed toward the shore. They were floating past the Nichols Arboretum. “When I was a student at Michigan, we’d borrow trays from the dorm cafeteria to use for sledding, we called it ‘traying’, on the hills here in the Arb. That was totally against the dorm rules.”
“Obviously you have a dark side, Ms. Dancer. I’ll have to keep an eye you.”
Julie laughed, mostly to cover the shiver she’d felt at the promise in his statement.
“I’ve never been on a sled,” he remarked.
Julie glanced back. He was studying the hills with a thoughtful expression, as if imagining what it would be like to zip down them on a snowy winter day. He’d never been in a kayak before today, either. What kind of man spent his life studying and working? She watched the smooth pull of his muscles as he moved the paddle through the water. Okay, he had to spend some time at the gym, too. That body could not just be the result of good genetics.
“You enjoyed yourself.” His words were a statement.
It took her a moment to realize he was talking about sledding and not about watching him. She looked toward the shore. “Yeah, it was all fun and games until I’d tip over and end up wet and shivering.” She shook her head, remembering. “I’m not a big fan of the cold. I met Jack when he pulled my face out of the snow and offered to share his thermos of brandy-laced hot chocolate.”
“Jack was your husband?”
“”For about thirteen years. Tash was twelve when we split.” Julie pulled hard on her paddle.
“Tell me why you loved him.”
Panic fluttered in her stomach. Her muscles tightened, no longer relaxed. “What?”
“Why did you love Jack?” He asked the outrageously difficult question as if inquiring about the weather, with a mild note of curiosity.
People sometimes asked why her marriage had broken up, but no one had ever asked why she’d loved Jack, not even Dorie. “Why does anyone fall in love?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I asked.”
“You’ve never been in love?”
“Of course not.”
The way he said it, as if love wasn’t a possibility for him, angered her. She quit paddling and turned. “Balances aren’t allowed to fall in love, either? Harry, you need a new job.”
He didn’t respond, a patient expression on his face.
She sighed. “Jack was so full of energy and enthusiasm that being around him was like getting a shot of caffeine. Nothing got in his way when he had an idea.” Julie looked up at the sky, gathering her thoughts. “Back then, we were all trying to figure life out. Jack was different. He was so focused, so sure of what he wanted.” She met his gaze and shrugged. “I think his sense of purpose is what attracted me at first.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t the brandy in the hot chocolate?”
His dry response surprised a laugh out of Julie. “I never thought of that.” She looked at his beautiful, serious face. “Love is an emotion that covers a lot of different feelings.”
“Yes. I’ve recently made a study of it. The Greeks identified four different types of love—family, friendship, romantic and divine.”
“You studied love?” Like kayaking. Gathering knowledge about things he’d never experienced. She wanted to find his parents and shake them. What were the Penumbrae t
hinking? This man should have been surrounded by love as a child. They were just lucky their Balance was as balanced as he seemed to be.
“Do you still love him?” His voice sounded different, darker.
“No.” Julie turned back to face the bow and pulled a stroke through the water. “Well, maybe the family kind of love, just a little bit,” she admitted, trying to be perfectly honest.
There was another pause before he spoke. “One’s mate should be family, friend and lover.”
Julie felt his gaze on her back. She turned her head again, and her breath stuck in her throat. His eyes held a mix of emotions that she couldn’t begin to interpret. “That would be the ideal, wouldn’t it?” The words whispered out of her tight throat.
Then, as if he’d firmly shut a door, his gaze cleared. “I’m getting hungry. Let’s find a place to eat the food you brought.”
“I like your T-shirt.” Luc had opted for a chocolate milkshake, but hadn’t started drinking it yet. He held it between his hands, slowly rotating the paper cup.
“Orange does not look good with red hair,” Tash informed him, glancing up from her iced tea. She’d been trying not to stare at him. Most of the women in the lower-level food court at the Michigan League weren’t showing the same restraint. Luc was the focus of a lot of female eyes.
“Red?” His gaze moved over her hair. “Wasn’t it your own Mark Twain who said that when red-haired people are above a certain social grade, their hair is auburn?”
Tasha laughed. “Yes, he did. I love Mark Twain, but I don’t think I qualify for the auburn upgrade.”
“In your case, social status is irrelevant. Even if you were a pauper, people would struggle to find a word that describes the rivers of honey, fire and gold that flow through your hair. When you move your head, it’s as if the last finger of the sun releases the earth, waking its power.” His accent sounded thicker than usual.
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