Would any of his ancestors care if he died? All his talk of tracking down his progeny and helping them, and for what?
What connection had he truly forged with his family?
In twenty-four hours, this woman had gone from isolated and adrift to steely determination and sacrifice.
What had he done?
“If our plan doesn’t work, I’ll make sure your family is safe. But first, I will move mountains if necessary to get to you.”
She ducked her head, and his heart twisted in response. That unnamed emotion reared up inside of Odie.
“Hopefully it won’t come to moving mountains.” Her lips thinned. She looked everywhere but at him.
“I will come for you, chère. I promise.”
“I’ll hold you to that promise. Now get going, time’s a wasting.”
She turned as he left, but not before he glimpsed the shimmer in her eyes.
Chapter 20
This house seemed so ... wrong ... without Barnaby. Ruth paced up and down the main hallway hundreds of times, checking her watch on every turn.
Seconds crawled by, each one tocked by the old grandfather clock at the end of the hallway.
The swish of her skirts and the scuff of her shoes were the only other sounds in the empty house as she turned and continued to walk.
Too much time to think. The heavy sadness weighted her limbs. Barnaby was gone. A sigh turned into a sob. She didn’t have enough time with him.
Time. Too much after 150 years, and yet not enough.
And now? Not enough time to prepare for what awaited her in Jerahmeel’s lair where she might have to use her power in a completely new way.
That damned power. Why had she not noticed any odd power sensations as she tended Hannah after she’d nearly died? No idea. Maybe it was because Hannah had been in a coma. Maybe Ruth’s emotional state had not been heightened at that time, unlike in New Orleans. If someone or something threatened those she cared about, or her emotions got the best of her, those were the times the powers flared. Just like her powers changed with the men dying in the war, and when her husband cheated, and in the last two days with Barnaby’s death and Jerahmeel’s appearance.
Prior to Barnaby falling prey to Jerahmeel, Ruth had to consciously work to enter anyone’s mind. Since then, the power had expanded and become more instinctive, more defensive and more protective. Maybe her gift would calm down after all this was over.
If she survived. If Jerahmeel could be destroyed.
If.
She had walked away from her family in Maryland so many years ago. Never looked back, never put up a fight. Maybe she should’ve watched over her children, like Odie did with his own descendants. If she survived this ordeal, perhaps she could spend some time with her new family. Her next job might be as a real-life fairy godmother to randomly help her progeny when things got tough. Now that was a pastime that interested her.
If she survived.
How things had changed in the space of a day.
What about Odie? She couldn’t deny their connection, but she suspected his ulterior motives. He’d gotten precisely what he wanted: a partner in the plan to destroy Jerahmeel. Certainly, he hadn’t caused Barnaby’s death, but the timing of Odie’s plan, Barnaby’s decline, the steamy sex, discovering her lineage—it all seemed too coincidental.
Had he used her?
Images rose before her: her children’s smiles, Emma’s sweet face, and the horror written on Hannah and Allie’s expressions. The decision settled on her like a yoke, and she adjusted her mind to support the extra weight.
Used or not, she’d try to carry out her mission, if only to give her family a chance to survive.
Two thirty. The time for planning and second-guessing had passed.
She squared her shoulders and forced her pounding heart to calm down. Damn, how her hands shook as she arranged her hair in the hall mirror. This might be her last acting job. How would she pull it off?
How could she not?
No more delays.
Then she started yelling. “Jerahmeel! I’m ready for you, My Lord Jerahmeel. Come and get me.”
Nothing.
She repeated herself until she was hoarse. No response.
What if Jerahmeel didn’t even show up? Odie hadn’t entered that possibility into the equation.
And Odie was headed right into Jerahmeel’s lair, regardless of whether or not she was there. He would be walking directly into his destruction.
Jerahmeel would still kill all the mortals she cared for.
What if Odie didn’t make it to the lair in time? She’d looked up the weather for Mount Shasta, and the forecasters predicted storms on the mountain. How would that change Odie’s timing? Could he even get to her?
No time to dwell on what ifs. The plan was already in motion.
Holy hell. Time to take this up a notch. She had to get Jerahmeel’s attention.
How did Jerahmeel track her all these years? The knife. If blood flowed into her knife, Jerahmeel arrived. So knife it would be.
Simple enough.
She stepped into the powder room, put her foot on the toilet seat, and pulled the knife free of the holster. Damn, the urge to kill ratcheted up ten times as the naked blade glowed its eerie neon green color. For several long moments, she stared at it, torn between signaling Jerahmeel and heading into downtown Portland to find an adequate kill.
By sheer force of will, she stayed put, bared her arm over the sink, and pulled the knife across her skin. The red blood bloomed from the line of the cut and the knife drank its fill. Unfortunately, the blade found no satisfaction if she provided her own blood. Not only did her hunger to kill not abate, it rose another few notches.
Even as she pressed the razor-sharp edge against her open skin, the wound began to heal, typical for an Indebted. Though the injury hurt like a beast, the gash had already closed. If this injury didn’t draw him out of hiding, she’d have to cut again, not something she eagerly anticipated.
Volcanic sulfur odor wafted over her.
Her heart thudded.
Jerahmeel’s ash-colored face appeared outside the open bathroom door. He sagged against the doorframe. Her stomach twisted.
“Mon ami, you are delectable. I am without words.”
She had a few words for him but bit her tongue.
“I didn’t know if you’d come.” She tried to hit the right tone between coy and awestruck.
“For you, I would travel around the world.”
“Doesn’t that make you tired?”
Even his unnaturally red lips had paled. “For someone as strong as I? The effort is but a soupçon of my total immense power.”
His narrow shoulders sagged. She wasn’t buying the tough-Satan act. But he wanted to keep up pretenses. Even better for her plans.
She batted her lashes, ignoring the nausea that came with flirting with evil. “So it won’t be a problem taking me with you?”
Flipping her hair back, she avoided dragging the strands through the last bit of blood on her arm.
His narrow glare had her on edge. Even his immaculately groomed eyebrows drew together in speculation as he studied her.
Prickles of heat broke out on her upper lip.
Had she overdone the flirtatiousness?
Did he know about Odie’s plans?
Maybe he saw right through her. Oh God, her family. If Jerahmeel knew about the plan, they were all doomed.
A bead of sweat rolled between her breasts.
Why didn’t he say anything?
He simply watched her.
She fought to hide her disgust, a struggle when looking at his oiled hair, the way he dabbed a pinkie finger to his tongue and smoothed his brows, and the way he licked his lips. He preened in front of her. The avid, cruel glint in his tiny eyes told the tale.
He believed he was getting his lover eternal.
The mere thought of intimate relations with his red tongue brought a wave of lightheadedness. She surr
eptitiously gripped the edge of the sink to remain upright. But thanks to her ingrained manners, she kept her face fixed in a polite, bland smile.
He examined his unmarred cuticles. “How do I know you’re not leading me on?”
Excellent question. And difficult to answer, since all she’d done for the past 150 years was avoid him.
When in doubt, best to answer a question with another question. “Who wouldn’t be intrigued by a man with such power and grace?” Even her words tasted like bile and dishonesty.
“That’s true. But you’ve hated me for so long. Why change now? Is it because your Barnaby is gone?”
“Only partly. After we left New Orleans—”
“We?”
Oh no. Her heart rat-a-tatted like a wild snare drum beneath her ribs.
“Odie flew me back up here and, um, then returned to Louisiana. He probably wanted me to himself, but I sent him away. How could he compete with a man like you?”
“There’s no contest, really.”
“None at all.” Little did Jerahmeel know.
“So prove to me you want me.”
How she kept her face bland while revulsion plowed through her like a steamroller was a miracle. Prove it? He would know how much he repelled her the minute she touched him.
Maybe she could use her past to help her future. She poured on the antebellum charm.
“My lord, I’m still a genteel woman of polite society, despite the years of service to you. Any courtship and displays of affection must be in proper order and with decorum.”
He immediately exuded an oily, obsequious manner and even sketched her a courtly bow.
“Of course, mademoiselle. But surely you wouldn’t withhold a small taste.”
A taste?
He smacked his blood-red lips together.
Fine. A taste, but not of her mouth.
She kept the knife in her hand and sliced her arm again. With an avid expression in his black leer, his tongue darted out like a red salamander. Probably equally pleasurable to kiss.
With bony fingers, he grasped her arm on either side of the cut and dragged his hot mouth across the gash. The rasp of his tongue on her skin made her shudder.
“So, you like, ma petite?”
She swallowed hard to hold back what she truly wanted to say. “Mmm. How could I not?”
“Your skin, your blood. So sweet. I want more than a taste.”
“In good time, my lord. Don’t we have all the time in the universe?”
Slowly, so as not to give the wrong impression of her enthusiasm, she pulled her arm back and ran water over it, patting it dry on a towel. The cut no longer bled, thankfully. At least she wouldn’t ruin her white clothes. Not that it mattered in the long run, but thinking about stains kept her mind off the fear clutching at her shoulders.
She then carefully cleaned and resheathed the knife, all the while aware of Jerahmeel’s scrutiny. She tried to put as much reverence into her care of the weapon, knowing that in some phallic way, this blade and her handling of it signified much more to Jerahmeel.
“Well?” She forced herself to meet his lifeless stare.
“Shall we?”
Without waiting for her response, he yanked her flush to his bony frame. His head stopped at the level of her nose and she fought not to recoil from the thick scent of his oiled hair. Thin fingers dug into her ribs right below her breast. Her bland smile froze in place.
Her heart thudded as the brimstone smell increased.
Wood paneling blurred. The ticking grandfather clock faded to silence.
Nothing. She existed in a place with no sound, no light, no gravity. Had Jerahmeel let go of her? She had no sense of his hand on her chest.
Nothing.
Darkness and disorientation swamped her until a wan, unearthly orange glow illuminated what looked like an ice cave. The soles of her feet registered hard ground.
“We’re home, mademoiselle.” He slid away from her.
She turned in a circle, taking in the bleak setting. Winking crystals of light punctuated rough, gray, pockmarked walls. Cold, lifeless air settled over every inch of her body.
Where was she? How in blazes would Odie find her here?
More importantly, how would she keep Jerahmeel’s amorous salvos at bay until Odie arrived?
At the edge of her vision, she saw Jerahmeel stagger and put a hand to the wall to steady himself.
Good. No advances from him for a while. One problem solved for now.
Not as all powerful as he gave himself to be.
She’d try her best to exploit that weakness.
Until ...
Chapter 21
Damn it, the snow was deeper than Odie had expected. Not enough time and not enough progress. How could he have known that an early winter storm had dumped feet of snow in the high reaches of the peak?
Mount Shasta City, a quaint tourist village of alpine and craftsman buildings, felt welcoming, even on this overcast day. He had arrived there just after two, right on time, and stopped at a local outfitter. Despite the clerk’s attempts to dissuade Odie from heading up the mountain so late in the day, Odie managed to stock up with alpine and survival gear.
The clerk tried to convince Odie that randonnée skis would be far superior to snowshoes. But Odie knew himself. This Cajun did not ski up or down a mountain, and he had no plans to start any time soon. Besides, he had no idea what sort of state Ruth and he might be in, if any, upon exiting the lair. He had no idea of the terrain they’d have to cover. He wanted the simplest way to travel. So, snowshoes it would be.
He stuffed the gear—coats and warm clothing, oversize sleeping bag, base layers, dehydrated food, a bivy sack—into a large backpack then lashed an extra pair of snowshoes to the outside. These supplies should sustain them for a time after any escape.
If she was up there.
If they could escape.
What the hell was he doing, attempting to destroy the most evil creature in the universe?
At least he would have tried. At least he had created some meaning from his cursed existence, from the horrible choice no parent ever wanted to make. He would sacrifice part of his being if it meant no one else would have to experience hundreds of years of hell on Earth.
Satisfaction was knowing that he’d found an amazing woman to cherish, even for a short period of time.
Satisfaction was knowing that he could govern some portion of a life that had been filled with helplessness.
High reward, higher risk.
Unfortunately, that risk involved Ruth. He had wanted to order her to stay home and not attempt to attract Jerahmeel’s attention.
But the only way this plan would succeed depended on his tenuous plan and her power. No other options existed.
In the loaner sedan, he headed up the only road on the mountain, a narrow road full of tight switchbacks. As he climbed from the base elevation in town of 3,000 feet, he scowled at the drizzle that turned into thick, fluffy snowflakes. After a few miles, the snow built up on the road, challenging the stamina and stability of the vehicle’s front-wheel drive. Normally he wouldn’t care, but he could scarcely afford to waste time dealing with a disabled vehicle. He skidded through the snow, working hard to keep the vehicle on the road.
Finally arriving at an open parking area at 9,000 feet on the flank of the mountain, he discovered that a forest service gate blocked the way. Five feet of snow piled up on the road beyond the gate. He would have to travel the rest of the way on foot, through the forest and in deep snow, in the waning late-afternoon light, to reach the lair entrance and find and extricate Ruth.
It seemed like such a simple plan when they hatched it in Louisiana.
He was wasting time. Time he didn’t have.
Time he and Ruth and every other Indebted didn’t have as their killing urges grew.
Once someone killed, Jerahmeel would regain enough power to fight back.
How long could Ruth keep up the farce with Jerahmeel befo
re forfeiting her soul, her life, or her family’s lives?
Hurry.
Scowling at the massive amount of snow, Odie strapped on snowshoes and slung the backpack over his shoulders. He needed to find Panther Meadows, a large natural spring area on the mountain. Easier said than done, since the springs would be covered in snow. From there, the entrance to Jerahmeel’s lair shouldn’t be far beyond.
If his research was correct.
If he had picked the correct vortex.
Damn the word “if.”
Striding up the mountain, he ate up the additional miles he had to travel on foot. Instead of following the blocked road, he cut straight up the mountain to where the GPS indicated Panther Meadows’s location.
He struggled to focus on the GPS readings, but he kept imagining Ruth by herself in the devil’s den.
Ruth, his fierce, sensual woman. Such an enigma, from controlled caregiver to sexual wildcat. Her appetite for him—and vice versa—had been near insatiable, and Odie liked her that way. He would gladly spend a lifetime or more devising ways to satisfy this woman.
A lifetime? Like a brick to the head, that unspeakable emotion slammed into him.
Later. He would examine his feelings later. If there was a later.
There hadn’t been time to see if her interest reflected his, either. If she survived, he’d bet on her staying in Oregon with her newfound family, and that didn’t include him.
Disappointment hit him like a kick to the gut.
How selfish could a guy be? The woman had discovered that she had surviving family. She’d committed to risking her life to save them all. How could he fault her for wanting to spend time with them?
He refused to press her. If, after this was all over, she wanted nothing to do with him, he would let her go. It would hurt like having his guts ripped out and stomped on, but he’d do it to bring her happiness. Odie would be damned if he’d ever betray her trust as her bastard husband did.
Which was why Odie stepped up the pace to climb the mountain in the increasingly deep drifts and waning light. He’d made a promise to come get her, and he intended to fulfill the promise, no matter what it cost him. He would do anything to keep her safe.
Flame Unleashed (Hell to Pay) Page 17
