Out of Mind

by Stella Cameron

  Tall and really nicely shaped, Poppy had grown from an angular little girl with eyes too big for her face, into a gorgeous, exotic-looking woman. If he didn’t know otherwise, he’d wonder if she was Italian, or Eurasian, maybe. He liked the purple leather vest she wore—laced down the front—over a tight black T-shirt and with equally tight black leggings. The higher on the vest, the more widely the laces parted, to allow for the full breasts she’d developed while he wasn’t looking.

  Hmm.

  She frowned. “What’s wrong?” she said.

  “Not a thing that I can see,” Sykes told her. “I was just thinking we’ve known each other a long time—sort of. We don’t really know each other at all, though, do we?”

  Her gaze slid away. “Sometimes you seem very familiar to me. Other times you’re a stranger. I figure that’s how you like it. Man of mystery.”

  He started to laugh.

  Poppy cut him off. “I came to make a confession, and you won’t be laughing by the time I’m finished.”

  That sobered him. “I don’t hear confessions. Not my purview.” He thought for a moment. “Did you do something I’m going to regret?”

  “That wasn’t my intent, but yes.”

  “Huh.” He shook his head. “Do we need to go somewhere for this? We could use my flat.” He thought some more. “That probably wouldn’t be such a good idea. Can I offer you a step on those stairs over there? We’ve got plenty of them.”

  “I just want to get this over with.”

  He held back a bush for her to pass and followed her into the courtyard. Poppy went to the fountain and sat on the edge. Sykes almost warned her about the spray, but thought better of it. He perched beside her instead.

  She remained silent, examining the backs of her elegant hands.

  Sykes found himself at peace just waiting for her to be ready to talk.

  The little red dog emerged and came to sit at his feet. Sykes scratched his head absently and closed his eyes for a long moment. They felt blurry. When he opened them, he remained utterly still, allowing a pale, iridescent green haze to waver over the scene before him.

  Lightly came the suggestion of chatter. It disguised itself in a breeze, but he heard individual voices. They argued and cajoled by turns, and Sykes’s nerves swelled with excitement. He breathed deeply and turned his head toward the griffon bed. Again and again he was moved to look in that direction.

  Clumps of bamboo bent, curled over almost double and straightened, slowly and gently, to stand erect again.

  Mario put his head on Sykes’s foot and sighed.

  “You are still the one.”

  A man’s voice, deep, with some European accent spoke in his mind. Why did Poppy have to choose now to come here?

  “Because she has made a mistake that could have cost us dearly. It will be up to you to decide how to deal with her. Think ahead, Sykes. It will not always be today, although you will remember everything you have seen and experienced. Perhaps Poppy has suffered enough.”

  Who was it? Was it—

  “The Mentor. I am Jude, the one some called Judas, but there were others who went before me. I am their voice, their presence.”

  What could this…person, want from him?

  “Be ready. Be watchful. Support Willow and Ben, for they are at the heart of this episode. You can expect more to come. So much is at stake—your whole world as you know it.”

  Sykes shivered. He looked at the side of Poppy’s face and noted that her eyes were closed, her hands relaxed, as if she slept.

  “Here.”

  Almost afraid to raise his eyes, Sykes did so and saw a man with long, gray-streaked black hair. At his neck white linen gleamed. His black, cutaway coat had tails and he was a handsome figure. That thought came and immediately the notion followed that this was someone familiar.

  “Yes, you look like me, but why shouldn’t you? We are both Millets and we are two of a kind. Listen for me, but do what you know in your heart must be done. The peril is far greater than they know—your authorities as you call them—so much greater. I will not be far away, Sykes, unless an intervention is too powerful even for me to immediately overcome. But trust. We will fight together, all of us.”

  He inclined his head, his blue eyes smiling, and the manifestation dissolved.

  Gasps, little cries of wonder, blended into a new breeze, and more excited chuckling. And, just as abruptly, all was quiet and still again.

  Poppy opened her eyes slowly, looking at him with such concern he almost reached out to touch her.

  “I’ve decided I’ll do whatever you say,” she told him. Her long hair flowed around her shoulders, so dark it shone with a blue light. “It’s about Ben.”

  “Okay.” His attention remained with the Mentor. He hadn’t wanted the man to go, and now he wanted him to return.

  “I did something I’m ashamed of, and I’m afraid it might never be completely corrected. I love my older brother so much. When we were growing up he was my hero. I went everywhere with him that he would let me go. He’s still my hero. I had a very hard time understanding that he grew into a man with a man’s needs and desires—and that he could not remain mine. You see, I thought of him as mine.”

  Sykes smiled at her. He picked up one of her hands and held it between both of his. “Brothers and sisters are often very close. And they stay close. Some things change, but the bonds are still there.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “I have broken the bonds with Ben. Once he knows what I did, he will never feel the same about me.”

  He thought about what she said. “Are you still doing whatever it was?”

  “Oh, no!”

  Rubbing the back of her hand, he ducked his head toward her and tried to make her smile at him. He got the faintest tilt of her lips that only served to send huge tears rolling. She quickly brushed them away.

  “If this—whatever it is—is behind you now, why mention it to him? Find ways to make up for it.” He laughed. “He loves to eat. Make him food.”

  Poppy laughed a little. “Yes. But I think the damage I did may never really mend. I caused doubt and pain. They ran deeper than you can imagine, and even if they seem to have gone away, they could cause distrust and ruin everything in time.”

  He shook his head, at a loss.

  Poppy turned sideways on the narrow ledge to face him and drew his hands onto her thigh. Her fingers squeezed his. “I was the one who drove Ben and Willow apart,” she said. “I told Willow she was too ordinary for him. I said he would get bored with her, and since she’s a Millet, he’d be bound to her forever, and forever he would hate being with her, and then he would hate her.”

  “Why?” He knew the answer, but wanted to hear her say it.

  “Because I didn’t want to lose him,” she said, releasing his hands and crossing her arms tightly. “Willow was always the insecure little one. She insisted she didn’t have powers and wouldn’t want them anyway. I really didn’t think she was suitable for him. But I wanted her out of his life, and I was wrong. It could never be my place to do what I did.”

  Sykes stood up and looked down on her. He felt cold inside. “And now you think what—as far as the two of them go? You can see they want each other.”

  “But Willow is a woman. I understand the doubts she will have. She told me she was setting him free, and no matter what happened in future, she knew they could not be Bonded.”

  “You believe this new closeness they’ve found won’t last?”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of. Unless I explain to Ben exactly what I did so he and Willow can put it aside.”

  The woman looked so utterly miserable that Sykes pitied her, even while he was so angry at the thought of all the misery she had caused.

  “Tell me what to do, Sykes,” she said. “I did try to tell Ben once, but give me the word and I’ll go to him again and make him listen to the truth.”

  Sykes opened his mouth to respond. He felt the sharp words forming on his tongue and
raised his head to calm himself.

  Dancing purple mist made up of too many silvery specks to contemplate shifted in front of him, and he saw a page in a book.

  The picture was of a carved angel—one that looked similar to some of those in this courtyard. Above the picture was written Bella, and below Angelus.

  “She is a very beautiful angel,” the Mentor’s familiar voice said. “She was always beautiful, and wise. Until it’s time for you to know her, you must find your own wisdom. Trust your convictions.”

  Alone again, except for Poppy and her large, dark eyes pleading with him, Sykes wanted to throw himself into finding that statue.

  “I’m not telling you whether to come clean with Ben about this, or not to talk to him,” he told Poppy. “You’ll never be free if you don’t make your own decision.”

  29

  Sykes closed the front door of his house behind Nat, who came bearing food.

  Watchful, Ben studied the detective’s manner, looking for signals that there might be a break in the case.

  “Nice place.” Nat looked around. He looked even more tired, but he had been working with Vanity for many hours.

  “Glad you like it,” Sykes said.

  Ben and Willow tried not to curl their lips at the smells wafting from a stack of obviously foam boxes in several plastic bags slung from Nat’s long fingers.

  Sykes steered Nat to the kitchen, where the table had been moved to the middle and six chairs placed around it.

  Marley had done the honors laying the table and had even popped outside and cut a couple of bird-of-paradise blooms for the center of the table.

  “Is Vanity back at the Brandt house?” Willow asked. After Nat took Vanity downtown, Willow had been left alone with her staff and Marley to work on the Venetian celebration for Chloe.

  “Bucky drove her,” Nat said.

  “We got a lot done,” Willow said. “But we’ll have to start again early tomorrow.” She would have to return in the morning, with as many staff as she could scrape up. Even Zinnia would pitch in tomorrow.

  “Ridiculous,” Nat muttered, plopping his plastic sacks on the table, apparently unaware that he had knocked dishes and flatware askew in the process. “This beats eating at the precinct and having to watch out for Molyneux.”

  Gray, as solidly impressive as ever, turned the corners of his mouth down. “Here. There. Foo Foo takeout is Foo Foo takeout. Why someone from Indonesia decides to run a Cantonese restaurant, I’ll never figure out.” He started unloading the sacks. “But I guess I am glad we’re not trying to do this in your office. All I could imagine was Molyneux’s face appearing at the door, followed by one of us punching his lights out.”

  “We couldn’t have gone there anyway,” Nat said. “This is no joke—I’ve talked to Blades, and missing persons. As long as the powers that be are determined to hide the truth from the people, we’re working semialone. Or I’m working both inside and outside the law would be more accurate. We’ve got two patterns going on. Three killings and seven other missing people for a grand total of ten victims.”

  “People go missing all the time,” Gray said. “That can’t even be all of them for New Orleans in a few days.”

  “It isn’t,” Nat agreed. “But these seven have something in common. They are all young, sexy, in great shape—and they appear to be unmarried orphans.”

  Marley laughed. “You’re kidding. How do you figure that out? And what does it matter?”

  “It could be eight now,” Nat said, ignoring the amusement. “A guy who moonlights as a trainer—at a gym—didn’t show up for three clients early this morning, and the gym says he’s worked there for two years and never done this before. He didn’t go to his regular job. His car’s where it always is. No one can reach him.”

  Her movements were subtle, but Willow’s hand went into her purse on one of the chairs.

  “Okay,” Nat said, eyeing her. “What have you got there?”

  She cleared her throat and shook her head. She pulled her hand out of her purse and shrugged.

  “Are you carrying?” Nat asked.

  “I’ve got a license.” Damn the man’s cheek anyway.

  “What good do you think that thing would be? Do you think guns bother what we’re up against?” Ben didn’t look happy.

  “We don’t know if they won’t. It’s better than nothing.”

  “We’ve got a lot more than nothing,” Sykes pointed out. “If the Embran didn’t think we have something they want, why would they come after us? We have old skills and talents, Willow, very, very old. We are powerful people.”

  “So you think this is all about these whack jobs wanting the Millet magic?” Nat said.

  “Not magic,” the rest of them intoned in unison.

  “Whatever,” Nat said. “I’ve got a theory and I want to know what the rest of you think about it.”

  Willow saw the way Ben and Sykes looked at each other. She deliberately concentrated on Ben until he met her eyes. If she had to ask to be recognized, she’d better start practicing.

  “What is it?” Ben said.

  “You and Sykes are up to something. What’s going on?”

  “Good job. We’re about to tell Nat what he’s already thinking and we expect him to either be furious that we’ve stolen his thunder, or relieved. Hope for the best.”

  “You think the Embran intend to take over New Orleans, don’t you?” Sykes said to Nat. “You think this is a plan a long time in the making, and now everything’s coming together for them. Or they hope it is.”

  Marley sat down abruptly on one of the old chairs. “That’s what I think, too,” she said.

  “It’s some sort of undercover war,” Nat said. He shook his head. “Do you have any idea what would happen to me if the force found out the kind of things I’m thinking and saying? I’d never work again. I’d be in a padded cell.”

  “You’re among like-minded friends,” Gray said. “I agree with you, too.”

  Ben stared at Willow. “What we don’t know for sure is why you’ve been picked out as the prime target.”

  She shivered. “I don’t know why.”

  “It could be because they know you haven’t been practicing your powers too long, so they think you’re weaker than the rest of us.”

  Willow tried not to be offended by Sykes’s suggestion, but she was. “They’d better not think I’m a pushover. I’m as capable as any of you.”

  “That’s something you won’t be testing out,” Ben said. He stood close to her. “Understood?”

  “You can sort that out between you later,” Nat told them. “You’re going to want to know why we’re putting the three recorded deaths together with a particular group of missing persons.”

  Willow’s stomach dropped.

  “I already told you what the seven—or probably eight have in common. But two of them have something really strong.”

  “Spit it out,” Gray said impatiently. He rubbed Marley’s shoulders as if he were worried about her.

  Sykes stretched and swung his torso from side to side. “Let me guess. More bits of Embran eggs.”

  Nat ignored him. “Willow, who do you know who moonlights as a trainer at a gym?”

  She blinked rapidly before her hands flew to her face. “I didn’t think of that. Fabio does.”

  30

  Soft hands on his body, all over his body, brought him out of heavy sleep.

  Total darkness obscured his surroundings.

  He stretched, lengthened the muscles in his arms and tugged against bonds restricting his wrists.

  The hands kept stroking. Starting at his eyelids, the fingers traced his face, hovering over his lips, one nail sliding just inside. “Welcome,” a husky female voice said. “You’ve slept a long time. Are you ready now?”

  Ready? “Where am I?”

  “Here with me, where you wanted to be, remember? You’re so shy and you were looking for someone very special to help you learn all the things you want to kn
ow.”

  Fabio was naked in the blackness and stretched out on a mattress so deep it seemed to suck him in. When he tried to turn, he remembered his wrists were tied—to bars above his head—and discovered his ankles were also bound.

  “How old are you?” the woman asked.

  “Twenty-eight,” he told her, panic starting to flare through the thickness of his dulled consciousness.

  She fondled every inch of him, his ribs, the heavy muscles wrapping around from his biceps, triceps, the deltoids and pecs. He tried to relax. His body was better than good, he knew that. Enough people had told him he should lift competitively, but he didn’t like losing, and if he wasn’t the best, the shame would send him back into his room and it might be so long before he could make himself come out again.

  “Magnificent,” she said, cupping one of his buns. And she slithered to settle on top of him. Her body felt lush, her breasts large and the nipples hard.

  He jerked his head to the side and ground his teeth together.

  “You want to learn how to be with a woman.”

  “I know how,” he said, ashamed that she knew something about him that he had kept secret.

  “That’s not what you told me before you fell asleep. You said you fantasize about being with a woman who will do anything you want, but you were taught sex was dirty—when you were younger—and you can’t fully enjoy a woman.”

  Since he was the only one who knew all this, he must have told her. It sickened him. He worked so hard to have the people he dealt with see him as a stud, a guy who could have any woman and had lots of them—frequently.

  “Relax.” Her voice had a purring quality. “I’m not like other women. I don’t need you to lead me—I’d rather lead you, teach you. I’ll drive you wild and you’ll never forget how I did it. I promise you.”