“Xander killed him?” Darian asked with a laugh. “When Xander tells the story, it was the Originals that did it.”
“Not so far off,” Xander replied. He circled the bench, until he was able to see the features of the Original Human more fully.
Her aristocratic features were strong and firm, her eyes the color of spring, circled by silver. Xander remembered her older and realized he had always viewed Eden through the eyes of the child who embarked on a journey with the Oracle obsessed with destroying the last Grey God. Eden was little older than Xander, the day he was made immortal.
“Like a family reunion,” Eden said.
Xander felt her gaze and sat on a bench facing her. Darian looked between the two of them, wary but curious. No one spoke. Xander held Eden’s gaze. He felt nothing for the beautiful woman before him, not even anger, despite their shared history. He dwelled on the unexpected lack of emotion.
Eden had been more than a friend, assuming the role of Xander’s mother when his died. Then betraying him. Binding his power. Putting him through years of hellish pain to teach him a lesson about something she knew nothing about.
Yet Xander felt nothing negative towards her. The inability to know how he should react puzzled him.
“Okay, here are the rules.” Darian was the first to break the tense silence. “No fighting where humans might get hurt. If either of you fucks up, I get to kill you. If you want a mediator, let me know. I’ll be standing by the monkey bars. Got it?”
Xander and Eden nodded. Darian strode away towards the large jungle gym, out of hearing distance but close enough to watch and react.
“I’ll admit. I didn’t expect you to be so …calm,” Eden said, puzzled. “You weren’t when last we met.” The familiar lilt of her accent was still present.
“Your parting gifts gave me a lot to think about,” Xander replied. “Though your choice of handing off the vamps to the Black God seems nearsighted.”
“From molten metal to the tempered steel of a blade,” Eden replied. “You’re more dangerous now, aren’t you?”
“More cautious as well.”
Eden smiled. “I didn’t turn over the vamps to the Black God. You can thank the Original Watcher for screwing up that one.”
“You must be happy,” Xander continued, not surprised to find another Original involved in his years of torture. “You wanted the threat to the mortal realm gone, and now it is.”
“That was my goal. I wish I’d been involved in the latest war to protect my kind. I guess that’s the punishment for our roles in the Schism – being pushed aside and forced to watch,” Eden said, referring to the war that severed the two realms completely from one another. It took the magic of all the Original Beings to support the cause Eden had dedicated her life to.
It’s what earned all the Originals their ten thousand year prison terms.
Eden was troubled. Xander didn’t expect to see the emotion from the woman who all-but-raised him.
“What’re you doing here, Eden?” he asked.
“Curiosity. Boredom.” Eden said, gaze stormy. “I remember you differently.”
“Born a predator, turned into a killer by none other than you.”
“Exactly. Not sure what you are now.”
“You created this version of me as well.”
“Do you hate me for it?”
Xander considered for a moment. “I don’t open wounds that are healed, Eden.”
“Good philosophy to have. Humans are a little different. We tend to never forget.”
“What do you want?”
Eden leaned back. “I guess to ask you another question, if you’ll answer.”
“No guarantees.”
“Understood, son. I spent my eternity dedicated to protecting the human realm from the immortal one. It fell, and I had nothing to do with it, but I’ll be Machiavellian about it and simply appreciate the end result,” Eden said and then paused. She was pensive for a moment. “You lived for nothing but revenge. You got your vengeance, just as I saw my goal realized. What comes next?”
“You sought me out for advice?” Xander asked with a laugh.
“We are all that remain from our time. Tell me you did not seek out Jule when you stumbled back into this realm.”
Xander was silent, recalling how Eden always found a way to push past his defenses enough to manipulate him. Older and wiser, Xander was aware of what she did now, just as he was starting to understand the identity crisis that caused Eden to seek him out.
At one point, after he succeeded in killing his father, he did hate the woman who taught him bloodlust and war, then slammed on the brakes to cage the beast she created. Eden used Xander for her own means and yet, the Original Human’s final acts of limiting Xander’s power had been selfless. She had a weapon capable of destroying the immortal realm but had chosen not to unleash Xander completely, knowing what might happen if she did.
If Eden succeeded, Xander died, a fact he didn’t learn for many years after she left him writhing in agony on the roof of a tavern.
No, he didn’t hate Eden.
“You move on,” Xander replied.
“Not exactly the answer I sought.”
“It’s all there is.”
“There’s no greater purpose?” Eden asked. She ran a hand through her short, dark hair. “I mean, what do you do?”
“I make sure ambitious people like you don’t fuck up this world.”
“You? A white knight?” Eden laughed.
“More like the black knight everyone hates but won’t piss off,” Xander said.
“Very fitting.”
“You’re free to do whatever you want here.”
“Free,” Eden murmured. “Interesting take on it. Never considered myself enslaved to my cause.”
“I avoid attachments of any kind,” Xander said.
“Here we differ. You are happy having nothing and living alone in the shadows. I am not.”
“Having nothing?” Xander repeated, irritated. “I think of it as remaining invulnerable, something you taught me.”
“I guess I did, didn’t I, boy?”
Xander rolled his eyes. Eden’s smile was genuine, the first Xander had ever seen. The driven woman was different than Xander remembered; this Eden had no vamp-army or grandiose plan of destroying a world. She seemed … lost.
“Darian,” Xander called.
The Grey God approached. The Original Human eyed him.
“Darian, meet Eden. Eden, Darian,” Xander said and rose. “Good luck.”
He walked away, Traveling back to his condo.
You are happy having nothing.
Of all the things Eden might’ve said to him, this one actually stung. Xander didn’t exactly know why. If he wanted something, he took it.
His cat nuzzled one leg as he stood, thinking hard, in the middle of his bright condo. After the months he spent making sure no one killed the new Black God before Jonny found his footing, Xander began to think he might’ve …forgotten something. He went from ten thousand years in exile to Jonny’s camp to here.
He didn’t have nothing: he had what he wanted.
Why, then, did he feel a familiar stir of deep-set anger?
Chapter Four
Jessi rang the doorbell four times, nervously pacing in front of the closed door. No one answered. She eyed the high-tech security system. Instead of a key, there was a code to enter the condo located in a ritzy building on a private beach. She couldn’t imagine how much a place here cost. There was valet parking for residents and visitors, and her car was – by far – the oldest and cheapest among those in the drive.
Her palms were sweaty, her nerves fried. After her come-to-Jesus moment with Jonny, he’d left a further reminder in the form of a letter that awaited her on the pillow beside hers when she woke. He not only failed to wake anyone, but bypassed the quadruple-locked front door and the barred windows. Not that she slept much in the first place. Now, she never wanted to sleep again.
Pulling out the letter, she looked at the ten digit key code. Next to it was a warning.
Every day you fail to execute the task, the penalty for failure worsens.
Jessi didn’t want to know what that meant.
She typed in the code at noon exactly. She wasn’t going to be late on her first day, not because she cared what the client wanted, but because Jonny claimed to be watching every move she made. Whoever lived in this condo, he couldn’t be worse than the vampire she met last night.
With a deep breath, she typed in the code and entered the condo. The air conditioning was high enough to make her shiver, the bright interior settling her fear of walking into some crazy person’s house. The ground floor consisted of formal dining and living areas, to include a hearth whose chimney stretched all the way to the top of the condo, two stories up. The main floor felt like a hotel room, too formal and impersonal to be welcoming. The wall opposite her was all windows, with a beach on the other side.
“Hello?” she called.
No answer. Impressed already with the airy condo, she ascended the stairs to the second floor. It too, held the welcoming atmosphere of a hospital waiting room, with a living room, expansive kitchen, informal dining area and hallways leading off each side of the common areas. A railing lined the loft area overlooking the formal living area on the first floor. An iPad in a bright green case and a cell phone labeled work phone!!!!! was sitting on the table in the informal dining area, a sticky note on it.
Hey, new babysitter! Instructions are here. Read the seven rules CAREFULLY!!!!!!!!! And follow them. X doesn’t like disorder and stuff. See you in a week! XOXO Ingrid
Jessi opened the iPad and turned it on. The rules popped up on the screen. She found herself counting how many exclamation points Ingrid used before she read through the rules.
“Rule number one: Feed the cat twice a day at eight AM and three PM. No water, only kibbles and wine. Don’t drink the wine and don’t let the cat in X’s room,” Jessi read aloud. “What kind of cat drinks wine?” She sat down to read, growing more puzzled as she did. “Rule two, escort X’s girls out every morning. Rule three, remind him to wear clothes. Rule four, you are responsible for cleaning and laundry. He likes the house spotless and the hamper empty every day.” She rolled her eyes. “Rule five, keep your cell on. He calls at weird hours and you must do what he says. Rule six, no questions.”
The guy sounded like a control freak. Jessi set down the device, aware she was there for a reason. If she found what Jonny wanted today, she wouldn’t have to worry about the stupid rules or finding out how weird the boss was.
She explored one hallway and found two guest bedrooms and an office, all decorated in the same cold, impersonal colors. Down the other hallway was the owner’s suite. She pushed the door open and paused. Just stepping into the cave-like master bedroom made her feel as if she was entering some forbidden place.
It was so dark, she wasn’t able to make out how large the room really was. The bed was huge, taking center stage in the room. Rule number two claimed he took a different woman to bed every night. Jessi didn’t believe it, until she saw his bedroom.
This was not the room of a normal person. This was the kind of place one went for a sexual escape. Everything in the room was geared to tease or soothe the senses, from the soft sheets to the dim lighting to the calming scents. The walls were covered in suede, she realized as she placed a hand against one.
If what she sought was in this room, she needed a flashlight just to see if there was furniture aside from the bed. Anxious to be gone, she searched beneath the sinks and the laundry room, places she thought a flashlight would be. He didn’t have any or candles. She recalled the penlight in her purse and retrieved it.
The bedroom was the only room that had been personalized in the whole condo. It’s where she’d keep something valuable. With the penlight clenched between her lips, she began going through a dresser. Even the guy’s boxers were neatly folded into squares that sat in the middle of the drawer. She closed the top drawer slowly, so as not to disturb the stacks of boxers. She found nothing hidden in his clothing and went through two walk-in closets, both brimming with clothes. She even searched his nightstands and shoes.
It wasn’t there. Which meant, he was wearing it.
Frustrated already, Jessi returned to her rules. A flash of black in the corner of her eye drew her attention to the cat darting down one hall. She checked her watch. She had an hour before the feline was due for dinner and wine.
The house was clean, the laundry done, and the owner gone. Bored after another tour around, she returned to the office to examine the books lining one wall.
“Human philosophy, theoretical physics, poetry, Italian Masters, romance.” She snorted at the strange assortment of books. Each shelf was labeled, the books alphabetized by shelf and each one perfectly perched on the edge. “Human psychology. As opposed to what? Cat philosophy and psychology? Weird.”
She almost laughed, feeling overwhelmed by her task and uneasy in the stranger’s house.
With two teens in the house, no part of her apartment was neat or orderly. Seeing even his books standing rigidly at attention made her uncomfortable. Everything in this place screamed creepy order, which made her wonder what was wrong with the owner. Did he need order in his world, because he was like Ashley, creative and absent-minded?
She pushed one book in then tugged out another to read until it was time to feed the cat. The tiny bit of disorder helped her relax. Satisfied, she returned to the living area and plopped down on a couch too rigid to be comfortable.
Half an hour later, she set the book on the table beside the couch, prepped the cat’s meal and went in search of the beast. The doors to the guest bedrooms and study were closed, but the door to the owner’s suite was open wide enough for the feline to slip through.
Jessi entered and looked around, recalling she couldn’t find anything in the dark room without a flashlight. She retrieved her penlight once more and walked around the room, finally kneeling to look under the bed.
Its eyes glowed back at her. She frowned. What kind of cat had red eyes?
“Here, kitty, kitty,” she called in a sweet tone.
It didn’t budge. Jessi reached under the bed to try to grab it. The cat backed away, beyond her reach. Sighing, Jessi tried tapping the ground, waving her fingers, even using her ponytail to try to lure the cat out. Nothing made the cat want to move.
She left the bedroom for a broom and explored the house completely, unable to find the cleaning closet. Out of options, she took the cat’s food and wine into the bedroom and put them on the floor beside the bed.
The cat inched forward. She reached under the bed. It swiped at her and retreated once more. After another five minutes of sweet-talking, Jessi was ready to give up. She sat back on her heels and looked around, gaze settling on the bed. She rose and moved the food and wine dishes closer to the edge of the bed then lay across the top. The cloudlike bedding cushioned her while the bed seemed to adjust to her shape. She sank into it, unaware a bed was able to provide that level of comfort. Her mattress was as old as Ashley.
She pulled herself forward to test her reach. If the cat got near the food, she should be able to grab it.
Jessi waited. And waited. She tossed a couple kibbles under the bed and heard the cat crunch them. She tossed some closer to the edge.
“Pleeeeeeeease come out, kitty,” she murmured. “It’s like, five! I should be almost ready to go home. You’re hungry, right? Pleeeeeeease come out!”
More crunching.
“I definitely don’t want to get fired.”
The thought of losing her job on the first day made her eyes water. What if that happened? What if she wasn’t able to get what Jonny sent her for?
How was that kid for real, anyway?
Jessi pressed the meat of her palms to her eyes and calmed herself.
“Come on, kitty. Help your temporary mama keep her job,” she said to
the cat.
To her amazement, the cat’s head appeared. Jessi held her breath as it went to the food dish and began eating. She almost squealed.
“Who the fuck are you?”
Her eyes flew up to the form in the doorway. In the split second before the cat ducked under the bed, Jessi was aware of the man’s size and intense gaze. His muscular body took up the doorway, hands on his hips and strange red contacts glowing.
Almost like the cat’s eyes, who snatched a mouthful of food and ducked under the bed again.
“Noooo!” she groaned and reached for it.
It was already gone.
“Dammit, kitty!” She climbed off the bed. “I almost had her!”
“You weren’t even close,” the man said. “She’s playing with you.”
“I’m not here to play.”
Jessi looked at him again, taking in the thick form and gaze so direct and piercing, it was almost hostile. He wasn’t what she expected for the owner who liked everything alphabetized and orderly, preferring structure to spontaneity.
He wore the damn necklace she was after. It dangled in the open space at his neck, visible through the unfastened top button of his loose shirt. She raised the flashlight, her attention caught by the dark stain on his white shirt.
Rule number four: clean house, no dirty laundry.
She neared him, frazzled as much with the cat as she was with him showing up with a stain, when she wanted to go home. She wasn’t going to break his bizarre rules on the first day. Accustomed to the teens’ all but shredding their clothes, she instinctively reached for the stain to feel if it was wet. Salvageable.
He caught her hand. She looked up at him. His eyes were narrowed. He was heavy of jaw with a wide forehead and an aquiline nose set between two large eyes. Long, dark hair was neatly bound at the base of his neck. The air around him was strangely still, the heat of a body unlike any she’d ever seen before reminding her she hadn’t dated in four years. Without traditional beauty, he was still handsome in a raw, dangerous way. If the horseracing fanatic, Brandon, was there, he’d call this man a wild mustang.
Lizzy Ford Page 7
