“She was here when I arrived and had no twouble looking in your pool. I think she’s very clever. It took you ages to get the hang of it.”
“It did not. I decided to do it right.” Soul Selector stomped over to Jesse. This was getting ridiculous. The kid needed to move on, and hopefully not in the way Aphrodite decreed. Soul Selector had to find somewhere safe to store Jesse until she could be reincarnated so she could meet her soul mate in another lifetime and pick up where they left off. They had lost their synchronicity, but it might still be possible. And Death could damn well help her with the synchronization, as it was all his fault they were out of whack in the first place.
“Where’d these trees come from?” she said, noticing the changes around her pool. “And the rocks.”
Jesse looked up. “Death said I redecorated with my mind, but it was a totally subconscious thing.”
Soul Selector shuffled from foot to foot.
“I’d put it back the way I found it, but I don’t know how I did it in the first place,” Jesse said. “If you don’t like it change it back, okay?”
Soul Selector was unhappy. “Maybe,” she mumbled. Why was this girl so much better at everything than she was?
Jesse raised an eyebrow. “You’ve no idea how, do you?”
“Maybe I’ll change it, maybe I won’t. That’s my business. And stop messing with my things. I leave you alone for a couple of weeks and look what happens, you refurnish.” She kind of liked the trees but was damned if she would show it.
“A couple of weeks!” Jesse glanced over to Death. “Has it really been a couple of weeks?”
He shrugged. “Look in the pool and see if anything has changed.”
Jesse looked. The bright hospital ward was gone, replaced by an intimate, candlelit restaurant. “It’s totally changed.”
“Then time has moved on,” Death said.
“Hard time.” Soul Selector pointed out.
Death rolled his eyes. “Hard, soft. Who cares?”
“I care,” Jesse said. “I care very much. That’s my soul mate down there. On a date. And I’m stuck up here with you two.”
Soul Selector stiffened. “You told her she had a soul mate?” she asked Death. “You actually told her?”
“It sort of popped out.” Death smoothed his shell suit with anxious hands.
“Your brain sort of popped out,” she yelled. “It popped out of your toaster oven head like a poisoned waffle.”
“I can’t believe she’s on a date.” Jesse was almost falling into the water she was leaning so far forward.
“What do you mean on a date?” Soul Selector loomed over her to look. “She’s supposed to die an unhappy old maid. What in Hades—” The restaurant scene left her wordless. Her nice, freakishly controlled world was spinning away from her. Nothing was as it was supposed to be.
“It’s not right.” Jesse echoed her own sentiment. “Who’s that with her?”
“Who?” Now Death was hanging over the pool for an ogle. “What are you looking at? Oh, she’s lovely, isn’t she? I like her top.”
“Stuff her top. They’re on a date, aren’t they? It’s hardly a business meeting with candles and champagne.” Jesse was belligerent in her distress.
“And you had to tell her this particular woman was her soul mate?” Soul Selector glared at Death. “What kind of personality disorder compels you to do these things?”
“I told you. It just popped out. Can we zoom in on that top?”
“No, we cannot zoom in on that top. This is a scrying pool not a periscope. What are you planning to do? Torpedo the waiter? I can’t believe you told her.”
Death sighed. “No one forgets or forgives around here. It’s an emotionally unhealthy atmosphere.”
“Can you at least tell me her name?” Jesse asked, still transfixed.
“No, I can’t,” Soul Selector snapped. “I don’t know her.”
“You don’t know her? But she’s my soul mate.”
Soul Selector realized she was staring not at Norrie but at her dining companion, and not because of her nice top. The woman’s soul interested her even though she was not one of Soul Selector’s charges.
“Well, can we at least see her slacks?”
“No! I told you before, this is a scrying pool not a fashion supplement. Go buy a Vogue.”
“Peevishness is an ugly look,” Death said.
Soul Selector ignored him and concentrated on the restaurant. There was something about her, the woman sitting across from Norrie Maguire. Something important that she should make note of, but Soul Selector didn’t know what it was, and that disturbed her more than any of Jesse’s antics. She was getting a headache, something she had not experienced since…since forever. She never experienced pain. When had she ever felt anything physical?
“What do you mean you don’t know her name? You have to know her name,” Jesse said.
“Will you both shut up and let me think!” She massaged her temples. One thing at a time. Try and deal with one thing at a time. “Jesse, your soul mate is called Norullah Bernadette Therese Maguire, or Norrie for short. She’s a musician, she lives in Ireland, and stop looking at her. It’s against the rules.”
“Strictly speaking, this is a unique situation so there are no wools,” Death said.
“Oh, shut up.”
“Norrie.” A huge smile spread over Jesse’s face. “Norrie. What a lovely name.”
“I like Norrie’s sense of style.” Death hunched over the pool beside Jesse.
“She’s wonderful, isn’t she.” Jesse slipped onto her stomach. Her gaze was so intent on the couple below, she barely blinked. Soul Selector frowned. Norrie’s name had made Jesse even more bewitched. Her left temple throbbed. What was she doing here? This situation was skewing out of control, Aphrodite was biting at her neck, and she had no idea what to do.
“Oh, for Zeus’s sake, would you all step away from MY pool? Stop looking. It is not for spying on your soul mate and definitely not for window-shopping. Get away, both of you.” She shooed at them, but they refused to budge.
“She’s tetchier than usual today,” Jesse said.
“The goddess of love tore her a new buttonhole.” Death wiggled down beside Jesse and got more comfortable. “This place looks posh. What’s on the menu?”
They were completely ignoring her. Soul Selector dithered near their prone bodies, then, feeling stupid, she stomped off to stretch out on the grass several yards away. She was unsure what to do next, and she hadn’t the energy to deal with Death’s and Jesse’s obstinacy right now. It was probably better they were harmlessly occupied ogling in the pool. It gave her time to think, if only her head would stop throbbing.
Who was that woman with Norrie? And why did her soul catch Soul Selector’s attention like that? Soul Selector was definite the woman was not one of her souls. The look and vibration was all wrong, and yet…What was it? And why was she hurting? Her body never hurt. She never felt anything, so why was she feeling terrible now?
“Can we pull back and see what the other diners are wearing? Oh, you are good at this. I’m sure Soulie couldn’t do that.”
Soul Selector lay flat out and moaned in her private misery. She gave up. What was the point of anything anymore? Her self-pity was interrupted by Death who loomed over her blocking out the sky.
“Finally,” she said. “The shadow of death.”
“Soulie.” His big, brown eyes were huge with worry. “You need to come see this.”
“Leave me alone.”
“Please.”
“It’s Soul Selector, not Soulie,” she muttered, not expecting him to pay any attention.
“I need you to look at this.” His wheedling was making the pain in her head worse, and she knew it wouldn’t stop until Death got his way. With great effort, she climbed to her feet and followed him to the pool. She was hot and tired, and her long black robe felt cumbersome and ridiculous. It wrapped around her legs so that stalking through the prair
ie grass became hard work. Everything about her body itched and irritated. Something was wrong, seriously wrong.
“Look,” Death whispered, pointing toward the restaurant scene. Soul Selector focused her tired eyes on the image. Immediately, she was drawn to Norrie’s companion. She was concentrating so hard on the woman she almost missed it.
“See?” Death breathed into her ear. He took a surreptitious peek at Jesse to make sure she hadn’t overheard.
Soul Selector did see. A flaming arrow arced over the heads of the other diners and slammed in a plume of fire into the table between the young women. It spat and fizzled out. They didn’t see it. The blackened, burned out shaft of an earlier arrow also lay on the charred tablecloth. Soul Selector took a quick glance at Jesse. She was totally oblivious. She couldn’t see the celestial archery any more than the two at the table did. Which was a mercy. How could she explain any of this to Jesse when she had no idea what Eros was up to? How dare he fire love arrows at her charge. What in Hades was the little runt thinking?
“Why is he doing that?” Death asked, voicing her own question. “Does Aphwodite know?”
“If not then I’m damned well going to tell her.” Soul Selector was furious. Another hail of fiery arrows sailed across the restaurant. Hundreds of them rained down like molten raindrops on the young women. Arrows pierced their bodies until their flesh scorched and split. Their clothes lay in cinders around their feet. Their hair burst into flames, and the women laughed. They sipped wine and discussed the menu unaware of the firestorm engulfing them.
Soul Selector sat in shock. It was a hellish, unprecedented, maelstrom.
“In the name of all the gods!” Death was aghast. “Even the Norse ones.”
“They’re not hitting their hearts,” Soul Selector said.
“What?”
“The arrows. They’re not hitting their hearts.”
It was true. Eros’s arrows flew in their hundreds until the entire restaurant was a furnace. The table linen ignited. The chairs, the carpet, other diners, everything burned. Central to it all, the women sat tête-à-tête, blazing like hilltop beacons in a field of fire, and still not one arrow had hit its target and pierced a heart.
“He’s missed them every time.” Soul Selector was mystified.
“But Ewos can’t miss,” Death said. “He’s the messenger of love. How can he miss?”
“Because they’re mine!” Soul Selector slapped her chest. “They’re protected. He couldn’t hit them if we nailed them to a barn,” she said, awed by the idea. “It’s as if their hearts are armor-plated.”
“Both of them? I thought only one soul was yours?”
Soul Selector didn’t answer him. She had no answer. She had no idea what was going on.
Chapter Twenty-five
The Lon Dubh was famous for its fish. Local trawlers landed their catch at Killybegs Harbor at dawn, and the best was on the Lon Dubh menu that evening. Norrie was pleased she had managed to book a table at such short notice though she felt a pang of guilt that her fame had most likely enabled it. It was worth it though, selling out her celebrity ass to see the look of pleasure on Loa’s face when they were shown to a table in a quiet corner. Candlelight silvered the wine glasses and splashed the white linen with a soft romantic glow. The waiter took their coats leaving them to peruse a pair of enormous menus.
“This place is fantastic.” Loa kept peeping over her menu to check out the rest of the restaurant. Norrie began to worry she had overdone it, but she wanted to treat Loa, and this was the best restaurant for miles. She considered this their third date. After the private piano recital, they had met again a few days later. Their follow-up date was a long walk on the beach and a pub lunch. This dinner date was more formal, but Norrie wanted it to be special. Slowly, they were declaring their hands though neither had much of a poker face to begin with. It was obvious the attraction was there. The question was did they want to go along with it? Norrie could feel a heat rising between them. Her face felt hot, and Loa’s eyes had a sharp, diamond edged sparkle. They were both giddy and they hadn’t even ordered wine yet.
“Why did you come back to Ireland?” Loa asked her once they had made their wine selection and placed their food orders with the waiter. “I thought America was the heart of the music industry. Wasn’t it best to stay in the thick of it?”
“I’ve paid my regards to Broadway,” Norrie said, smiling. “I loved America, but once I’d made my name as a songwriter rather than a performer, I couldn’t wait to get back home. I can write music anywhere in the world so why not on my own doorstep?”
“I’d love to live in America, if only for a little while.”
“It is a wonderfully diverse country, but I found I missed my family more than I expected. And I love Donegal. It stimulates me. The landscape suits me. It kindles my creativity.” Norrie played with the stem of her wine glass. “I’ve done some of my best work here. I think I need the solitude.” This was an old conversation for her. She had gone over this ground many, many times, and her answers were almost rehearsed. Secretly, she hoped Loa would lead them into more personal territory. Surely by the third date that was to be expected.
“Maybe America had too many distractions.” Loa’s switch in tense caught Norrie’s ear. In certain magazines, sleazy gossip rags more like, it had been intimated she’d had a string of girlfriends. All nonsense really. There’d have to be more than twenty-four hours in a day to do all the sleeping around she’d been accused of.
“America had maybe two long-term distractions,” she answered honestly. “But they didn’t work out. The last one came so close it hurt, and I ran back home to cry myself out.” She held Loa’s gaze as she spoke. Those beautiful, expressive, caramel-colored eyes would never grow old on her; she knew that much already. Hope and excitement fluttered inside her. If they chose to have an affair, it would be a big one. All the ingredients were there for one hell of a love cake.
“I know what you mean,” Loa said. “But I’m an incurable romantic, and I never seem to learn. I blame Disney. When I was a little girl, I wanted to fall in love forever, but not necessarily with the prince.”
“Fairy tales did it for me.” Norrie laughed. Was it her imagination or were the candles glowing brighter? They seemed to be giving off a steady stream of heat. Loa looked hot and flustered, discreetly dabbing her face with a napkin. Norrie was beginning to regret ordering the paprika crusted salmon; she was overheated enough.
“Same thing,” Loa said. “Disney homogenizes everything.”
“So we’re brainwashed into happy ever afters from year dot. What a waste. They should brainwash kids into sensible stuff like education.”
“Says the woman who’s made her fortune from love songs.” Loa laughed at her. Their food arrived, but the conversation continued. The heat built, skin glowed, and eyes glittered. A tendril of Loa’s hair slipped from behind her ear. They were burning up, and the looks they exchanged grew hotter and hotter.
“Is your car outside?” Norrie asked. They were saying good night at the restaurant doorway.
“I took a taxi.”
“Then I’ll give you a lift home,” she said, secretly delighted. She wanted this night to go somewhere, and she was more than happy to be in the driver’s seat.
Outside, the heat of the restaurant still clung to them. The night breeze was surprisingly balmy for the time of year making them shrug off their coats and stash them on the backseat. Loa slid into the passenger side, fanning herself with her purse.
“Boy, but it was hot in there. Was the central heating on or what? I was melting in my seat.”
Norrie grinned. She’d been melting in her seat too, but not necessarily from the heat. She leaned over and kissed Loa on the mouth. Loa started for a split second, then her mouth softened and she moved into the kiss. Norrie half expected Loa to withdraw from the kiss, hopefully excited and wanting more. Then Norrie would offer to drive them both back to her place to continue their lovemaking in com
fort. It was asking for trouble making out in the car park like a couple of horny teenagers, even if it was well past midnight and the place half empty. Loa’s hands moved to her thighs. Norrie hadn’t expected that. Loa’s fingers left trails of fire across her skin.
“I’ve got to get you home,” she whispered against her lips.
“Your place is closer,” Loa murmured into her mouth.
“That’s what I meant.” Her words were lost in a moan. She slid her hand into Loa’s blouse and under the lace cup of her brassiere. The nipple hardened under her fingertips. She pinched it and Loa growled so deep and rich that Norrie’s insides liquefied. This was passion well out of her control, out of both their control. She was practically devouring Loa on her front car seats. She could feel the heat rolling off Loa’s body and smell the warm spice of her skin. She ran her tongue along her neck and began nibbling at her ear.
With a throaty moan, Loa spilled her over onto her back and covered her. Norrie buried her fingers in the silken curls that tumbled over Loa’s shoulders and spilled against her face while Loa stroked the bareness of her shoulder and up her arm to her wrist where she kissed the hammering pulse. Then she lowered her head and nuzzled the sensitive spot below Norrie’s ear, moving to the hollow of her throat, up to her eyebrow, and trailing little kisses into her hairline. The teasing stopped when Norrie grabbed Loa, a hand either side of her face, and kissed her hard, sucking on her full lower lip. Norrie lapped her up, the scent, texture, heat of her mouth and tongue. Tasting until her own tongue burned.
Norrie moaned, her fingers playing with hair as heavy and black as the night surrounding them. She twisted the hair into hungry fistfuls, and wrapped her arms and legs around Loa. They were not gentle. They were hungry for each other. Their kisses were urgent, their hands greedy. Loa pulled aside Norrie’s underwear. She could hear it rip. Then Loa was plunging into her, and she was cresting to meet her and closing tightly around her. She tore at Loa’s blouse ripping buttons off and exposing the tantalizing lace and the soft flesh spilling from it.
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