Whisper Cape

by Susan Griscom

  “I’m sorry, I should have said something, but I was afraid you were going to have me arrested for hit-and-run.”

  “Arrested? No, you’re safe, especially since you didn’t hit me. You know, Addison, we’ll figure this all out, I promise. I know this is a lot to comprehend.”

  Eyeing the bread she’d just toasted to perfection, he raised an eyebrow and said, “Now that’s a handy little talent you have there. Very handy indeed. Let’s butter it and eat.”

  “I have to say, as frightened as I am about these powers and everything else you’ve told me, I am a bit relieved to know I finally have someone to confide in who knows as well as I do that a bear didn’t kill my father.”

  Addie didn’t think she could eat anything and the idea of swallowing seemed impossible, but after the first bite of soft, buttery eggs, the rest followed with very little effort. Feeling somewhat dehydrated from the beers earlier in the evening, she drank two large glasses of water.

  “Okay, let’s say—for argument’s sake—you’re right and this man Ristéard was my father. If you knew him so well, why didn’t he ever tell you about me?”

  “My guess is he kept you hidden from us for your own protection. His powers were far greater than any of the others’ in the Sectorium. I believe he kept you a secret because he knew your life would be in danger. Addison, there are only about ten people known to the organization—in the world—who possess such prodigious powers as we have. These powers are only obtainable through inheritance, and it only strikes one gender per generation, skipping genders each time. If you had been born a boy, you would be powerless.”

  “Oh, so then ... my aunt has no powers.”

  “Correct, and she can never pass any powers down to future generations, one of the reasons why there aren’t very many of us. Not every person born with special abilities has a child of the opposite sex. As I said, if you had been a boy, then the power would have stopped with your father, but fortunately,” he raised his eyebrows and smiled, “you were born a girl. We were aware of Maia MacKenna, but no one had any clue about you. Your name—Addison—isn’t it also a boy’s name?”

  “Usually, yes.”

  “Maybe they named you Addison to hide your identity.”

  “Maybe. Almost everyone calls me Addie, though, well, except for my father, he always called me Addison.” And you. She lowered her head, not wanting to reveal her emotions. She wanted to say how she loved hearing him say her name—how she felt beautiful and special whenever the melodic sound of it passed through his lips.

  Then she felt guilty. How the hell could she allow herself to think about this man that way when her life was in danger?

  Cael’s intense blue eyes focused on hers as if he could hear her thoughts.

  “Addison,” he said in a deep whisper, causing her stomach to flutter.

  “Yes?”

  “Come with me.”

  He stood, reached for her hand. She took it and followed him to the sofa in front of the fireplace.

  Addie sat as Cael lit the fire then joined her on the sofa. He faced her, taking her hands in his. “Addison,” he repeated. “What I’m about to say is very serious ... I’m sorry this has all come as a shock to you, but I need your help. I’m sure your father loved you very much. I knew him well. He was my mentor, perhaps more. I suppose you could say he helped raise me. I loved him and respected him. He was a great man with great powers. Because I knew him so well, my instincts tell me your father hid you away to protect you from the dangers to our kind and from the monster who wants to kill you.”

  A lump formed in her throat and she held back tears. She wouldn’t cry. She stared at him, searching for some hint of a lie or trick, but nothing in those pools of deep sapphire revealed anything but sincerity.

  “Our kind? What do you mean?”

  “We are ... you are special. You have special abilities normal human beings don’t have.”

  “Why didn’t I have them before?”

  He shrugged. “Exposure, perhaps. We can explore it later, if you like. I need you to think—think hard. Is there anything you can remember—some deep hidden memory from your childhood, perhaps? What about your mother ... where is she?”

  ***

  Addison was silent for a moment as Cael stared at her, waiting for her to answer.

  “My mother died when I was a baby. I don’t even remember her.” She stood up abruptly, throwing her arms down, her hands clenched into fists, hitting her thighs. “No ... I can’t do this ... don’t make me do this. Why is this happening? I don’t want these powers. Why didn’t he tell me?” Her posture was stiff as she glared at him. She stepped away, as if to bolt and leave the whole mess behind her.

  “I need him.” Her eyes softened and glistened. “He was always there. Whenever I had a problem, I could turn to him and he would make things better. He was my life.”

  Cael grabbed her arm gently, pulling her back down. Her face fell onto his chest, her tears soaking his shirt.

  “I miss him so much.”

  “I know. It’s okay now, let it out. It’s good to let it out.” As he shared in the grief of her father’s death, he sensed she was weeping for the first time since her father died.

  Cael’s own emotions balanced on a thin wire as he held her, thinking of his own childhood with Ristéard. He found himself torn between love for the man and now the strong desire for the man’s daughter. God, her hair was so soft, and her sweet fragrance had him mesmerized. Her skin felt smooth as silk as he stroked a finger down the side of her tear-soaked cheek. She was perfect. Her lips were full and trembling and he remembered how wonderful and soft they had been when he’d kissed her. Even though he grieved with her over a man he loved, he had to fight to control the erotic fantasies he had conjured up as he sat with her.

  Chapter 16

  The morning light filtered through the window, waking Addie from a deep, dreamless sleep. She was in a bed covered by a puffy, light blue comforter. Next to her head lay the rose Cael had given her last night. She pulled it to her nose, delighting in its sweet aroma; she closed her eyes and let its soothing fragrance comfort her. She sat up slowly, and as she looked around, she recognized the room as Cael’s bedroom, but he was nowhere around. She must have cried herself to sleep and he carried her up to bed. How embarrassing, she thought, but then she marveled at the image in her mind of him carrying her up the stairs. Or maybe they just teleported. Just teleported, right. This was all so incredible.

  She pushed the comforter off and realized she was still fully dressed—except for her shoes. She heard a clang come from somewhere downstairs, which she soon recognized as the clattering of pots and pans and ooh, she smelled bacon ... and coffee.

  ***

  Cael looked up from the stove as Addison wandered into the kitchen looking a little sleepy but still good enough that he wanted to grab her and drag her back upstairs and do oh-so-many wonderful things to her. The erotic fantasies he had the night before were still fresh in his mind.

  When he woke up this morning with her asleep beside him, he’d wanted to make love to her right then, but reconsidered. Addison wasn’t some one-night stand he could jump into bed with and forget. He liked her, and she was Ristéard’s daughter, which warranted more respect than a careless romp in the sack. Moreover, with everything going on, it was better not to get involved. His past relationships had gone sour because of his abilities. He always had to be too secretive for any woman to trust him, but then ... Addison was different. He wouldn’t need to keep the secret from her; she had her own secret to keep. She was like him ... and she was beautiful first thing in the morning and hell, they were already involved. When he did make love to her though, and he would, he wanted it to be meaningful.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  “Good morning. What time is it?”

  “Near noon.”

  “Wow, I haven’t slept that late in ... well, I can’t remember, it’s been so long. My God, it smells heavenly in here. W
hat are you making?”

  “Blueberry pancakes, bacon ... there’s coffee over there,” he said, pointing the spatula in his hand toward the drip machine on the counter.

  “Ah, terrific. Thanks.”

  She poured some coffee, took a sip, and stood with both hands wrapped around the cup. He watched her look around the kitchen, quite a contrast to the little kitchen in her apartment, and he detected a twinge of embarrassment come over her.

  “You look much better then you did last night. Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes, I did—your bed is much more comfortable than my old sofa bed. I slept like a baby, no nightmares.” She sipped the coffee then rubbed her finger around the rim of her cup as she leaned up against the counter.

  “Do you normally have nightmares?”

  “Yes, actually, I do.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It isn't something I normally talk about, but I seem to feel more at ease with you. Considering ... you know things about my dad. Things I didn’t even know.”

  “I'm glad you feel that way.”

  “Yeah. Well, the nightmares started right after my father died and they usually involve someone or something chasing me.”

  “Maybe your subconscious mind is trying to tell you something.”

  “Yeah, I thought so, too. Maybe there is some meaning behind them and if I could only identify what’s hounding me, I might figure out what happened to my dad.”

  “Maybe we can work on that together,” Cael said.

  Addie looked at him and smiled. “Um ... Cael ... I’d like to apologize for my hysterical state last night. I don’t think I’d cried before, I mean for my dad. I never wanted to sound weak and pitiful. Crying is so debilitating. So I guess I’ve been holding it in all this time.”

  “No apology necessary. You needed to get it out and I don’t think you’re weak.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not usually a blubbering idiot ... I just wanted you to know.”

  She stood there looking so fragile. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss the pain away. “Well, I don’t believe that crying for the loss of someone you love is considered a flaw. It shows you have compassion, not weakness.”

  She smiled at him and he sensed the embarrassment fade from her mind, her posture becoming more relaxed.

  He poured pancake batter into the pan and added several plump blueberries. As it cooked, he poured two glasses of orange juice and placed them on the table he had set with a small vase holding another beautiful red rose.

  “Wow,” Addison said as she noticed the table. “This is all so beautiful,” she leaned in close to take in the fragrance of the rose. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Sure, you can get the bacon that’s warming in the oven. There are some hot pads in the top drawer next to the stove.”

  She retrieved the pan and placed it on top of one of the potholders on the table, then sat to enjoy the breakfast.

  “This is really sweet of you,” she said, taking a bite of the fluffy pancakes. “Hmmm ... these are really good. You know ... someday you’re going to make some lucky girl a great househusband.”

  “A househusband, is it? Now there’s a comforting thought—all those years of training in martial arts, not to mention the four years at Dartmouth and the stint in law enforcement I had to endure before I started working for the organization.”

  “Martial arts ...? You were a cop? I guess that makes sense, I mean before becoming a private investigator. Wait ... you went to Dartmouth?

  “There you go with the multiple questions again.” He found this habit of hers delightfully amusing. “Does it surprise you that I have an education?”

  “No, no, not at all, and I guess it makes sense you would attend the same college I did—the same college where my dad taught Ancient History. I wonder if you were there when I was.”

  “Probably not, I think I’ve got four years on you.”

  “How do you know how old I am?”

  He shrugged. “I checked. Twenty-six, right?”

  She grimaced.

  “What? I wanted to know.”

  “You are very annoying, you know.”

  “Yes, so you’ve said.” He smirked, then took a bite of his pancake.

  “Okay, so you’re thirty. Or ... let me guess. You have some longevity gene and you’re really over a thousand years old.”

  “Hardly, but a nice thought.”

  “Oh.”

  “You sound disappointed.”

  “Well, you know the prospect of living forever and never aging ... every woman’s fantasy.”

  She fell silent for a moment.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I was just thinking about something you said earlier about the training you had in martial arts.”

  “Yes, what about it?” He stabbed his fork into his pancakes.

  “Well, I didn’t have any formal training, but you know, my father did teach me a few things.”

  His fork—filled with pancakes just ready to go into his mouth—stopped as he stared at her, wondering if he’d heard her correctly. “What?”

  “My dad trained me,” she repeated.

  “Trained you for what?” The fork full of blueberry pancake made it all the way in.

  “He trained me to fight.”

  He stared into space, contemplating what she was telling him.

  “You don’t believe me. He taught me karate, kickboxing, sword fighting. I always thought we were just playing around, you know, for exercise. He started teaching me from the minute I could walk. When I was old enough, I would have contests with my aunt. My dad would be the judge, and the loser would have to dish up the ice cream or whatever dessert we were having. I remember losing more often than winning in the early days, since I was so much smaller, but, once I became the same height as Maia, I started whipping her butt. I wasn’t aware at the time why he was teaching us. It was just fun, but now I guess I have a better understanding.”

  “Of course ... how could I be so stupid to think he wouldn’t have given you some instruction?” He laughed. Although he had no doubt she could fight, he did have some reservations as to whether she could hold up against someone who outweighed her by eighty pounds, but he kept that assessment to himself.

  “Some instruction, what makes you think he only gave me some instruction?” She put down her fork and crossed her arms over her chest.

  He took in the sight of her; she looked so sexy when she was defiant. It was another one of those little personality traits of hers he was beginning to adore.

  “You know, Cael, sometimes you can be very arrogant.”

  “Well, I suppose having the ability to dash in and out of space tends to elicit a certain amount of self-importance. My apologies, I’ll try not to sound so supercilious in the future.” He smiled, waited for a smile back, and got one. “I guess we’ll have to see about your skills, now won’t we?”

  “I guess we will. That’ll be one way to tone down your supercilious behavior. How about after we finish eating?”

  “Are you challenging me?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  “Okay then, sure, why not.” He shrugged and took his last bite of pancake. He’d go easy on her, but he wanted to see what she had.

  “Okay, you’re on. I’m going to need to get back to my apartment soon after to change my clothes and shower.”

  “Right, we should have thought of grabbing some things last night, I guess. Well, no worries, we’ll just zip over and pick up some clothes. I think you should come back here to shower. The less time spent at your place the better. We should leave your truck there though ... try to throw him off. Since he seems to know your truck, he might follow it.”

  ***

  Addie took the last bite of the delicious pancakes. Surprised she ate three, she sat and sipped the coffee, her chest tightening as her thoughts turned to the monster hell bent on killing her. “Cael, this thing, this demon or whatever he is, I need you to tell me more.
What do you think he is exactly?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m almost certain he was outside the Bar and Grill last night when we left. I sensed him again when we arrived at your apartment. Either he has the ability to teleport—like me—or there’s more than one.”

  Addie shivered and took another sip of coffee.

  “You didn’t just shiver because you were cold. Are you okay?”

  “I suppose,” she paused. “Cael, you seem very in tune with my emotions. Can you read my mind?”

  “Not completely, but when I concentrate, my intuition intensifies.”

  When she just stared at him, he continued.

  “What I mean is, I can sense your thoughts. I can’t hear them word for word, but I have a pretty good idea what they are.”

  “You mean you’re empathic?”

  “Hell no, just the thought, not the feeling. Thank God.”

  Addie frowned.

  He stood, turned to her, and cupping her chin in his hand, tilted up her face. “Don’t worry, though—I can’t do it all the time, especially when someone’s mind is so clouded with emotions, as yours is most of the time.”

  “I'll try to remember that. What else can you do? I mean, you can teleport, and you have acute intuition. Can you fly or do you have x-ray vision?”

  He laughed. “No, sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not Superman.”

  Addie raised her eyebrows. I think you're a superman.

  “I’m flattered that you think of me as a superman, but unfortunately, I can’t fly and bullets can kill me.”

  “You just read my mind, or whatever it is you do. I’m really going to have to watch what I’m thinking around you, aren’t I?”

  “Sometimes, yes. I can hear and see better than most, too. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have heard you screaming the other day when you were hanging from the side of the cliff. At the time, I was down the road beyond a normal person’s hearing range. Then last night when you were in danger, I could sense it.”

  “Right ... then, if you can’t fly, just how did you get my camera?”