Eric’s eyes flashed, his temper spiking again. “Believe what you will. I know different.”
You think different. Damn, it was hard having a conversation like this.
His expression darkened, and beside him, the remaining items on the dresser twitched.
Stop it!
Eric fisted his hands at his sides, his tension palpable. My purse actually lifted a quarter inch off the dresser, when Geordi said excitedly, “Tata! He’s waking up!”
I turned in time to see Jason’s eyes flutter then re-close. Damn. Not that I wanted him to stay unconscious. I just didn’t want him to wake up now, while a bunch of inanimate objects danced around the room. Behind my back, I made a get out motion with my hand at Eric.
“Non. I will not leave you with him.”
I twisted around. Go!
The dresser itself shook, and for one intense moment Eric and I stared each other down. Then he turned and flung himself at the door. There was a crackling pop! and he vanished through the solid wood.
I faced Jason in time to see him drag his eyes fully open. He looked at me for a moment, then at Geordi. “Hey, kiddo. What’re you doing up?”
“I heard when you fell on the vase.”
Jason’s gaze slid back to mine. “Oh, really?”
“About that—”
He shook his head. “Ow. Don’t. I know what I saw.”
Crap.
Geordi watched us with interest. He’d gone to bed pretty late last night and slept in his clothes. His very grubby clothes. I said, “When was the last time you had a bath?”
“I don’t know.”
Jason caught on and gave him a little push toward the bathroom. “Why don’t you take one now, and then we’ll go find breakfast?”
Geordi wasn’t stupid. He knew we wanted to get rid of him. “I’ll take one later.”
Jason sat up, wincing and touching his forehead. “Now, kiddo—or no sugary slugs.”
“Did you find some?” I asked, surprised, since I still hadn’t told Jason what they were.
“No, but I said we’d look for a market today after the university. If he takes a bath now.”
Geordi glared at us. “I don’t need one.”
I reached over and lifted his arm, making a show of examining the large blotches of dirt and old sunscreen coating it. “Hmm. Nice and clean.”
He rolled his eyes, in a perfect imitation of Lily. “Okay. Fine.” He even sounded like her, and I fought down the sudden lump in my throat.
“Do you need me to start the water for you?”
“No!” He jumped up. “I can do it!”
With that he was off. A minute later, the tub was filling loudly, and Jason and I were as alone as we could be. “So,” I began, but Jason cut me off.
“I’m sorry.” I stared at him blankly, and he grinned then winced. “Your expression is priceless.”
“I just don’t get why you’re apologizing. I mean, not to remind you or anything, but you were kind of mad.”
“I know. You scared the hell out of me. When I came in here and found you gone, I thought—” He paused, scrubbing a hand over his face. The dark circles under his eyes attested to how little sleep he’d had, and the red welt was becoming an ugly purple bruise. “I thought the Rousseaux took you. I couldn’t leave Geordi, and I didn’t know what to do—what to think. So I sat and waited, all night. And then you came back, safe.” He stopped again, searching my face.
“Safe, but…not necessarily sound?” His silence said it all, and I hurried on. “Look, it’s not what you think. Probably. What do you think?”
He shrugged. “It really isn’t any of my business. You didn’t ask me to come with you—I offered. You don’t owe me any explanations.”
Which was maybe our biggest problem. If we didn’t owe each other the truth, then where was this going? Whatever this was, and not that it could go very far before Michael whisked me away. Still, Jason’s calmness was almost more painful than his anger, because it felt so…distant.
He watched me, ever observant, and I wanted to crawl into his arms and be comforted. Which was a bad sign. “Damn it. Why do you always have to be so nice?”
“It’s a curse. If it makes you feel better, I can yell some more.”
What I had in mind had nothing to do with yelling, and a lot to do with kissing him, and unfortunately, my thoughts must have shown on my face. He didn’t reach for me—I so wanted him to—but I could see the tension in his frame, different than his anger, but just as powerful.
“Why do you have to look at me like that? Like you want me as much as I want you, but something’s in the way. What is it? What’s stopping you, us, from getting what we both want?”
My breath caught, and I shook my head helplessly. We were only a few feet apart, but it felt like miles. I might have reached for him, despite everything, except that just then, Geordi shut the water off, leaving us in silence.
“That’s one reason right there,” I said, nodding toward the bathroom. “I have to find the thing I’m looking for—return it—and get Geordi settled.”
Jason’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, get him settled? Where will you be?”
Crap. “I—”
“Fuck. You’re going to leave him, aren’t you? Find him a family and go back to your single life.” I tried to respond, but he shoved himself off the floor. “Forget it. I said you didn’t have to explain. And if you won’t stick around for him, why the hell would you do it for me?”
“Jason—”
But he was gone, stalking to the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. I gave him credit for not slamming it, which would have scared Geordi again. Everything was so messed up. If Jason only knew how much I wanted to stay. Maybe I should tell him—come clean about everything. But would he believe me? Or think I was making up crazy lies, to put him off?
Since he clearly didn’t want to talk now, and I had other things to worry about, I stood and knocked on the bathroom door. “I forgot something in the car. I’ll be right back—I didn’t want you to worry.”
Silence.
Finally, Jason said, “Thanks.”
Eric might have stormed off, but I had a feeling he hadn’t gone far. I just couldn’t see him leaving so soon after choosing to stay. And besides, where would he go?
Sure enough, I found him right outside the hotel, leaning against the wall. I joined him and we stood in silence, watching the people passing by. Natives on their way to work or school, tourists either blending in or not. A myriad of humanity, of Life, but I felt no more connected to it than I had to the Dead of last night.
“They do not know I exist,” Eric said at last.
“None of them?” He shot me a curious glance, and I clarified, “They’re all alive?”
“You cannot tell?”
“No,” I admitted. “Not by sight, anyway.”
“Eh bien. And…why is that?”
I hadn’t meant to tell him, but suddenly it all came pouring out. Vadim, the rock, the Rousseaux, Lily, Geordi, and Nick—and then Michael, the landing pad, and being sent back—so jumbled and rushed, I was surprised Eric understood half of it.
When all the words had left me, he said, “That must have been very hard for you.”
Which struck me as funny, in a more-than-slightly hysterical way. “Yeah. About as hard as what you’ve been through. What right do I have to complain?”
He reached for my hand. His skin was cooler than before, but still warm, his grip firm. “You have every right to be upset. Being dead, yes, that is stressful.” His expression hardened. “But to see your sister killed before your eyes—no one should see this, no matter their sins.”
My blood chilled. “Is that—did you—”
His face was devoid of emotion. “When I was sixteen. She was a police officer.”
“Who…?” But I already knew.
“The Dioguardis.”
I didn’t know what to say, but it didn’t matter. He looked through
me, remembering. “She was to testify against them, so they raped and shot her. They made me watch, then let me go, as a warning to anyone else who might think to challenge them.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, the words horrifically inadequate. “I can see why you hate them.”
“Not only them. All like them—anyone who commits such vile, evil acts against the innocent. Murderers, rapists, thieves—each in their own way is despicable.”
I swallowed. What would he think, if he knew what I’d been in life, and what I might be in death? A thief, a fence, a liar, and someone who hoped to cheat the Angel of Death out of a morally binding contract? Did it matter that I’d be stealing from Satan? That the lies I told and the promises I broke were to protect Geordi, and keep him from the very family Eric despised?
As if sensing my gaze, Eric turned. “Leave him—leave your friend. He is not who he claims to be. He will hurt you—I am sure of it.”
I shook my head. “You’re wrong. Maybe he hasn’t told me everything, but he would never harm me.” I couldn’t keep the doubt from my voice, and self-consciously crossed my arms.
Eric glanced pointedly at my hands, covering the bruises Jason had made. “He already has. Leave now, before he does worse.” I opened my mouth, and he lifted a hand. “Chiant! I can see you will stay. Eh bien, perhaps he will not hit you. But emotionally—he will destroy you.”
“You don’t know him like I do,” I said lamely. In truth, I didn’t know Jason at all.
Eric’s gaze softened, and he reached out, lifting my hands off my arms and replacing them with his own. His fingers were strong, and he smoothed them gently over the bruises. “Perhaps. But I know you, and you deserve better.”
I shook my head again, caught in a fierce need to set him straight. “You have no idea who I am. You think because I can see you, it makes me special and good. I’m not—I’m really not!”
He smiled, and the irony was back. “I know more than you think.” He took my hand and kissed it, his lips lingering on my skin. He straightened, holding both the hand and my gaze. “When I died, I lost my way. You helped me find it. That is who you are—who you have always been. Now, I will help you. I will not desert you.”
It seemed I’d acquired another minion, which was touching and surreal and not necessarily a bad thing. “Thank you,” I said at last. “You don’t have to do this.”
He gave my fingers a final squeeze and released my hand, then added softly, “I also do not poach. But if your friend hurts you again, ever, I will kill him.”
I believed him. Now that I knew about his sister, I understood why Jason’s actions upset him. “What happened upstairs, anyway?”
His eyes darkened, and he gave off a frisson of electricity, like a power line ready to arc. “I was afraid for you. I thought if I was alive, I would smash his face in. Then I saw the vase. I did not think, I will use this. It simply…moved…the way I wanted it to.”
“You didn’t pick it up? With your hands?”
“Non. It was more that the vase became an extension of me. I thought of it, and it rose to the occasion, so to speak. But objects—I cannot move them with my hands.”
“And the door?”
His mouth quirked up. “Now that I am ‘full Dead,’ comme l’on dit, that at least is easier.” The smile vanished. “And I am Dead—I can touch them, feel them, in the same way I felt the Living when I was alive. The Living, whom I can no longer touch. But you…I can touch.”
“I told you—I’m not really alive.”
He gave a fast, hard shake of his head. “That is where you are wrong. You are not less alive than these people around us. You are more so.” He moved closer and, placing one hand on the wall next to my ear, he used the other to gently brush my cheek. “Being reborn—it is a gift. The choice is yours what you do with it.”
His gaze dropped to my mouth, and he ran his thumb lightly over my lips. They parted, and my breath caught as I wondered if I was about to be kissed by a dead guy.
“Mon ange…” He leaned in, and without conscious thought, I angled my head to meet him.
Then abruptly he pushed away from the wall, and I fought to hold myself up on suddenly weak knees.
“I do not poach,” he repeated, eyes hot and hard. “But that does not mean I will not remind you of your other options from time to time.”
Hoo-boy.
****
Two hours later, Jason, Geordi and I parked at the University of Pamukkale, sans Eric. After beaning Jason on the head, swearing fealty to me, and nearly sizzling my clothes off, he’d refused to come back upstairs. Instead, he said he had “something to do,” and he’d tell me about it later if it panned out. Once a detective, always a detective—which could be bad for me in the long run, but for now, I let it pass. I did remember to ask if he knew anything special about September fifth, which he didn’t, so I was still at square zero on that one.
Jason was still pissed, but he relented halfway through breakfast, which we’d had at an American-style café near the hotel. He watched me take an unenthusiastic bite of my veggie omelet, then took the sausage from his plate and dropped it onto mine, ordering, “Eat.”
It smelled so good, and I felt so low, I didn’t put up much of a fight. He signaled the waiter, and somehow, I downed six more links.
After which Geordi said solemnly, “You look better, Tata.”
Ouch. I must’ve been in bad shape. “Thanks, sweetie. If only sugary slugs did the trick.”
He giggled, then took one of his own links and put it on my plate. “It’s a salty slug!”
I smiled through an overwhelming urge to cry. He’d watched, seen what Jason did, and tried to help. This had to stop—I had to get myself together, so I could care for him. With that in mind, I picked up the link and ate it, trying not to moan with pleasure, then evaded Jason’s penetrating gaze and finished my eggs. It was now Meat—two, Vegetarian—nada.
Feeling frustrated—but physically much better—I waited while Jason paid the bill, and then we made our way to the university. Despite its name, it’s located across from Pamukkale, on this side of the valley, in Denizli, so parking took longer than our travel time. Once we found the library, Jason conned the girl at the entrance into letting us in by claiming we were foreign exchange students who’d forgotten our ID badges. She caved so fast, I didn’t feel so bad about being deceived by him.
Once safely inside, I looked at him sideways. “You speak Turkish? Really?”
“Only the tourist version.”
“Enough to say please let us in, and how about a date?”
He nodded at Geordi, standing nearby. “You want to get into this now?”
“Not really.”
“Okay, then. What’s the plan?”
I got the camera out of my bag. “Can you find a computer and print out the photos I took? I’m going to look for books about the nearby ruins.”
“Sure,” Jason said and took the camera.
Geordi immediately concluded that playing with computers would be more fun than searching through boring old history books. “Can I go with Jason, Tata? Please?”
“Of course,” I said, and they headed off.
Thirty minutes later, I sat at a table littered with books, feeling more confused than when I’d started. Thanks to the library’s multilingual online catalog, I’d located several English-language tomes, and many more in Turkish, which had pictures at least to help me get a better sense of the locale. Along with geographic wonders and gorgeous scenery, the area is rife with sites of religious and archaeological significance, none of which screamed Demon Lair at me. Quite the opposite, in fact, as most are dedicated to various ancient gods, to the Christian God, or to innumerable saints. Plus, I’d felt the rock in Hierapolis, and nothing I read changed my conviction that it was there. The question being, how to get to it?
But of course, the only book about the site at Pamukkale was in Turkish. It even contained a photo taken inside the necropolis, that looked to
be of the place where I’d felt the rock. I couldn’t be sure, though. It had been very dark, and one bricked up archway looks much like another. I tried asking a librarian to translate the text, but his English, while better than my Turkish, was still limited. He said something about “the place of the Dead,” but when I explained I already knew the arch was in the necropolis, he shook his head and pointed at the photo again.
“Door—kapi. For the Dead. Ölü.”
Disappointed, I took the book back. “Thanks.”
“Tuğla. Brick.” He tapped the wall inside the arch, searching for the words to make me understand. “Ah…Kalsiyum silikat.”
Now that I recognized. Calcium silicate is a very strong, heat resistant type of brick, achieved when quartz and lime are added to the clay from which the brick is being made. The process wasn’t common in ancient times, but then, I’d noticed that the wall inside the arch seemed newer than the arch itself. Why was its composition important, though?
“I know those bricks are newer,” I said, and he nodded vigorously, beaming.
“Evet—yes—tuzak. Trap. Ah, heat.” He motioned with his hands, like heat rolling in waves. Did he mean the bricks trapped heat inside the passage? I shook my head in confusion, and he tried once more, saying something I swear sounded like “plutonium.”
What the hell? Was he implying that the necropolis was a source of nuclear energy?
“Er, okay,” I said, and he smiled and nodded again, pleased he’d been able to help.
I returned to the table. Along with the historical and geographical tomes, I’d also grabbed some books on Christianity, and I now switched to these.
About one percent of Turkey is Roman Catholic, so one of the books was in Latin, of which I knew enough to get by, while the other was in English. Both listed a litany of Saints’ Feasts for September fifth, but I didn’t recognize the names, and on cross-referencing, none of them seemed to have any bearing on the situation at hand. No glaring connection to Michael, or the episode at Colossae, or anything else. To be thorough, I also looked up Michael himself, but his feast day was listed as September twenty-ninth. I shoved the book away just as the guys walked up.
Debriefing the Dead (The Dead Series Book 1) Page 18
