Dangerously Yours

by Lark Brennan

  “We’re safe,” she said.

  “Are we? Something’s off here. Can’t you feel it?”

  What she felt had nothing to do with lasers or voodoo and everything to do with the male body inches away. “So what haven’t you told me about this spell you found last night?”

  “I felt someone watching me.” He glanced at her. “Yeah, I know that sounds paranoid.”

  “No, when you sense someone’s there, they usually are. Any idea who it might be?”

  “The woman from Foxy’s, Catarina, reacted oddly when she saw the tats on my arm. Like she recognized them.”

  Lex had known Cat for several years, although they never crossed paths outside Foxy’s. “Interesting. What are they?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t put them there.”

  “Who did?”

  He laid a heavy hand on her arm. “Shhhh.”

  She glanced up at his face. He seemed to be listening for something.

  “What is it?” she whispered.

  “I felt a shift in the orphic density somewhere ahead. It felt like a ripple of yellow over the blue.”

  “How far ahead?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied. “Several miles probably. Unless…”

  She was too aware of the pressure of his fingers on her skin.

  “Unless what?” she asked.

  “Unless there was a major alteration and all I’m picking up is the residual waves.”

  “Should we go inside and check the sensor?”

  His hand dropped away from her arm. “If the laser’s used, my ComDev will alert me. Let’s walk up the path to the first clearing. The sensor is effective, but it lacks the subjective capacity to feel certain subtleties within the orphic.”

  They found the path easily in the moonlight. Earl ran out in front, stopping periodically to mark a bush or stick. The higher they got, the stronger the warm trade winds blew until they were looking down on Colin’s cottage.

  The air seemed clearer on the hill and the night sky twinkled with stars in spite of the moonlight.

  “It’s so beautiful here and quiet. I can understand why people run away to sea,” she said.

  “Been there, done that. It gets old.”

  “Maybe it wouldn’t if you had a companion to run away with.”

  He chuckled. “When somebody’s out to kill you, travel companions tend to opt out of touring the world.”

  What would he do if she volunteered? Laugh, probably. And yet the prospect of spending days and nights alone with him on the sea conjured a swirl of erotic fantasies.

  “Are you picking up anything new up here?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure. Orphic has a different feel than delphic. Delphic comes in one flavor while orphic…” He paused to find the right words. “Orphic is like food—sometimes the flavors are distinct and obvious like strawberries or lobster or chocolate and there’s no mistaking what I’m getting. At other times it’s more like a concoction, a casserole or complex dish with spices, herbs, and ingredients whose flavors change when mixed together. Tonight the orphic is a mixed drink—a mojito or piña colada. There’s a light sweetness and underneath a kick.” He shook his head. “I’m not explaining this very well, am I?”

  “I think you’re explaining it extremely well considering I have no experience with orphic perception. The only thing I don’t get is whether the orphic is good or evil.”

  “Mostly good,” he said. “Good but with a troubling undercurrent of turbulence.”

  “We can go back and check the sensor,” she offered, although she didn’t want to leave this spot yet.

  “We have plenty of time to sit in front of the screen and wait. It’s been a while since I’ve stood on a hilltop and looked into the night.”

  She wanted to say something flippant and witty but nothing came to mind. So much had happened between them in such a short time.

  “I’m sorry I blackmailed you,” she said.

  “I’m not,” he murmured. “Your methods pissed me off at first but I was going crazy on Fat Dog. I needed to get out of there. The last few days have been quite an education.”

  “We’ll find the laser and you can do whatever you want after that.”

  “And if we don’t? There’s no telling the kind of destruction a weapon like that could do and I can’t find it with all my goddamned knowledge and resources. Who or what is going to die next while we sit on this fucking island with our thumbs up our asses?”

  “You need a drink and so do I. Even if something happens tonight, we’ll have to wait until dawn to take Silverbelle up.”

  He stared into the starry night sky, tension and frustration rolling off him in waves. “Yeah, I could use a whisky. Call Earl.”

  No sooner had Bodie unlocked the cottage door when Lex’s ComDev blared out Lady Gaga’s “Born This Way”—Chantal’s self-assigned ringtone. She retrieved the device from her pocket and answered the call. “Good morning.”

  “Hi. I tried to video you earlier.” Like all the French cousins, Chantal’s English was impeccable but the accent that used to fall halfway between American and upper-class British now held a distinctly Australian twang.

  “We were out.” She sat down in a wicker chair on the porch.

  “We? As in you and David?”

  Lex rolled her eyes. Chantal had a thing for blond men and David was definitely blond, male, and good-looking.

  “No, Bodie and me.” Saying his name sent a ripple of excitement through her. If there was more privacy, she’d love to tell her cousin about him. As it was, the last thing she wanted was to get all girly about him within hearing distance.

  “Bodie? Male and hot?”

  “Very.” Her cheeks burned in the darkness. “So you got my text with the photo?”

  “Obviously.”

  “I came across the spell this afternoon on a path intersection at the top of the ridge near Spring Hill. Recognize the symbol?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What symbol?” Bodie asked.

  She cringed and glanced behind her to find him leaning on the doorframe. “I planned to tell you.”

  On the other end of the line, Chantal chuckled. “I take it you’re talking to the delicious Bodie.”

  “Hold on,” she said into the ComDev before returning her attention to him. “While you were practicing with the energy, I took that walk and found a spell. With everything else going on, I figured it would be more efficient to send a photo to my cousin Chantal first to see if she knew what it was.”

  His silver eyes were hard. “When were you planning to tell me? Or were you?”

  “Yo, Lex,” Chantal said. “How about we take this to a vid discussion? I want to see this hottie for myself.”

  Lex hesitated. Being up-front with Bodie would probably appease him, but Chantal was unpredictable where Lex’s love life was concerned and capable of saying something that would make the tension at the cottage even more awkward than it already was. “Fine, but behave,” she said into the ComDev.

  Bodie hadn’t moved. “Well?”

  “We’re going to video conference this discussion. You’ll hear everything I do, okay?”

  He followed her inside where she plugged her ComDev into the monitor they’d borrowed from the Ariel and clipped it to the side where the camera would pick up her image to broadcast to Australia. She sat down and waited. Within a couple seconds, Chantal’s tanned face appeared on the screen with the interior of a canvas safari tent in the background.

  “Hi, Bodie,” Chantal said. “So, are you and Lex friends or what?”

  “Merely scientists with a common interest,” he replied. “How about you two start at the beginning.”

  Lex took a deep breath. “I followed the road that runs along the ridge at the center of the island to a crossroad near Spring Hill. Someone had constructed a spell there and since indigenous magic isn’t my forte, I snapped a picture and sent it to Chantal to see if she knew what it was.”

  “I w
ant to see the photo,” he said.

  A couple of taps on her ComDev and the photo shared the monitor’s screen in a new window alongside Chantal’s transmission.

  He drew in a sharp breath. “Fuck.”

  Chantal frowned. “You recognize it?”

  “Do you?” His voice was gravelly and his knuckles grazed Lex’s back when he grasped the back of her chair.

  Something had upset him and her impulse to protect him surprised her. She directed her attention to Chantal. “The square was white linen,” she said. “Do you know what the symbol means?”

  “It wasn’t drawn in blood, was it?” Chantal asked.

  “No. Ketchup, I think, or hot sauce. Is that important?” She propped herself on her elbows on the tabletop, not trusting herself not to lean back into Bodie.

  “Could be. The symbol is a protection against possession by evil entities—spirits, demons, and so forth—used in African-based practices such as Vodoun, Santeria, Macumba. Usually it would be drawn in charcoal and a personal item of whoever is to be protected would be placed within the circle of salt. At dusk, everything would be folded into the cloth and it would be buried.”

  “Buried anyplace in particular?”

  “That depends on whose magic it is.”

  Lex sensed her cousin was holding back information. “And if the symbol was drawn in blood? What would that mean?”

  The chair creaked with Bodie’s weight and the heat of his body radiated on her back.

  On the other side of the Earth, Chantal let out a long sigh. “But it wasn’t so why would that matter?”

  “Just tell me.”

  “I know the symbols but the specifics of the magic aren’t my area of expertise. Someone at the Durand library should be able to research the spell for you. All I know is blood binds the person doing the spell and whoever he’s protecting.”

  “Binds how?” Bodie demanded.

  “I don’t know,” Chantal replied clearly exasperated. “Why do I think I’m missing something here? Would you mind sitting down so I can see you?”

  He ignored her request. “I know the symbol. Maybe you recognize the others.” He stepped closer and turned the inside of his right forearm toward the camera.

  Lex looked down at the tattoos he’d hidden from her before. There were three symbols—the protection symbol from the spell was closest to his wrist and two other characters were evenly spaced in a line toward his elbow. Each was delicately drawn in black and about two inches in diameter.

  “Where did you have those done?” Chantal asked, her voice unsteady.

  “I didn’t.”

  “Then how did you get them?”

  When the muscles in his arm tensed, Lex thought she might know the answer and laid her fingertips on his bicep. “If you want answers, you’re going to have trust us. Please sit down.”

  He hesitated.

  “Please. Chantal’s a Protector as well as an anthropologist. Nothing we discuss will go beyond the three of us.”

  He pulled a dining chair over next to her and sat down, lifting his arm and staring into the camera. “So translate if you can, Miss Durand.”

  On the other side of the world Chantal’s eyes widened and she gasped. “Oh my god! You’re a revenant!”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The hair stood up on the back of Bodie’s neck. “What are you talking about?”

  Chantal frowned. “That you’re a revenant.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You don’t know?” Chantal asked.

  A buried memory shimmered under the surface. “Know what?”

  Lex’s lips were pressed into a tight line, her gaze glued to the monitor.

  “That you died and came back to life,” Chantal said, a touch of sympathy in her eyes.

  “Of course I know. I was shot—multiple bullets in the chest. Mark rushed me to the emergency room where I flatlined and they revived me.”

  Both women shook their heads in unison.

  “I should know if I was shot,” he snapped.

  “We’re not disputing that,” Chantal said. “But the medical staff didn’t revive you. Whoever brought you back did it with extraordinary psychic power.”

  “Bullshit.” And yet he’d awakened almost two weeks later in a room in a private Durand-owned hospital in upstate New York, not Boston General. Still he’d never questioned Mark’s version of his resurrection.

  Lex’s warm hand closed over his icy one. “What color were your eyes before you died?”

  He pulled away. “Brown. The doc said the change was the result of trauma, like someone’s hair turning white overnight.”

  Chantal nodded knowingly. “A Durand doctor?”

  His chest tightened, constricting his breathing. How could he have missed the obvious inconsistencies? What else had Durand lied about? “And the tattoos?”

  Chantal planted her elbows on the table in front of her. “Hold them up again.”

  He held his forearm to the ComDev camera lens.

  She stared at the screen for several seconds before she replied. “The first symbol is obvious. Revenants are susceptible to possession by spirits, ghosts, and sorcerers so your guardian gave you a blood protection enhanced with his own power.”

  “Prevent possession?” He laughed bitterly. “Sure makes me feel better. And this guardian? Who’s that?”

  “Whoever used his power to bring you back—Mark most likely,” Lex said.

  He stiffened. Not Mark. Anyone but that S.O.B.

  “Possibly Adrien,” she continued. “Revenants are rare and surrounded by myth, even among the Durand. Only an extraordinarily powerful psychic can pull a soul back into a body and return it to life.”

  Revulsion churned in his gut. “Mark can bring people back to life?”

  Chantal shrugged. “I have no idea. Why would he want you alive badly enough to risk his own life to save yours?”

  Easy answer to that one. “He wouldn’t.”

  “Maybe you should ask him,” Lex said quietly.

  He pinned her with his most withering glare. “We’re not that close.”

  “Why not? Seems like he’s one of the few friends you have besides me.”

  The suggestion he and Mark were friends was ludicrous for so many reasons. Durand had insisted on complete secrecy regarding Jack’s work so only a leak at DT could have led the government goons to his door. Sure, the guy showed up in time to rush him to the emergency room, only to wipe out Jack’s life, all his money, possessions, everything without so much as a “Do you mind?” Jack was killed off and Bodie was born. Durand had given him a new name, tattooed crap on his arm, and set up his identity before his head was even clear of the morphine.

  Lex turned to him. “I say we send Chantal close-ups of the ink so she can discreetly research the symbols and the specifics of the spell on the hill. And that means no posting the tats on a Durand board for input.”

  Chantal wrinkled her nose and set her mouth in a pout. “Why not?”

  Bodie remembered Adrien’s warning of a security leak. “Adrien told us to stay clear of DT for a while. No hurry on the research. I’ve had these for three years. Another couple weeks won’t make any difference.”

  “Gotcha.” Chantal nodded and leaned back in her seat. “Nice meeting you, Bodie. If you ever get to Australia, look me up. You both should come visit. Lex’s other boyfriend was ordinaire and rather dense. You’re a big improvement.”

  “Bodie’s not my boyfriend,” she sputtered. “We’re scientists working on a problem of common interest.”

  Chantal winked. “Sure, sweetie. Whatever. Got to go. Cheers.” And the screen went dark.

  With exaggerated flourish, Lex retrieved her ComDev and reconnected the monitor to Bodie’s laptop. Her hands fumbled when she snapped photos of his tats and sent them to Chantal. Good. She was nervous. Exactly where he wanted her. Now it was time for some answers.

  “Have you known all along that I’m a revenant?”

 
Her expression resigned, she settled into her chair. “Since you took off your sunglasses in the Talos that first day. The silver eyes were unmistakable.”

  “You mean you know other revenants?” The word sounded ominous to him.

  “Only one and before you ask, he’s never spoken of what happened or what it’s like being a revenant. Asking is taboo. He wears tinted contact lenses except on rare occasions with family.”

  “So he’s a Durand.”

  “Yeah.” Her fingers picked at the case of her ComDev until she caught him staring at them and stilled. “Chantal and I’ve told you what we know. Your eyes turn silver and you’re susceptible to possession. You can see ghosts and spirits and they’re generally extremely hostile toward you because you came back and they didn’t. Whatever psychic abilities you had before you died are seriously ramped up. That’s all I know.” Her gaze never directly met his.

  “How was I brought back to life? What did this powerful psychic do to me?”

  She met his glare. “I don’t know. He pays a price, too, but I have no idea how that works either.”

  “Try again. The truth this time.”

  Color rose in her cheeks and fire flashed in her eyes. “That is the truth! Do you really think the Durand are so irresponsible we’d make that kind of power available to just anyone? Aside from the Durand Sentier, only a handful of Protectors have ever had that knowledge.”

  “Go on.”

  She took a deep breath, her breasts rising under the snug tank top. “There are legends of revenants among the Navajo, Pitjantjatjara, and Shalamov but I’ve never heard those confirmed. The Dissemblers generally favor death over resurrection, but for a good reason—who knows what they’ll do?”

  “Just like your brother.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Whatever grudge you have against Mark is your business. Just remember—he could have let you die.”

  Teeth clenched, he felt his anger rise. “He got something out of it or he wouldn’t have brought me back.”

  “So what? Get over it and move on.” She shot to her feet and he followed so quickly her hands flew to his chest to keep from falling into him.