by Jen Ponce
Bethy sniffed, her voice clotted. “I love you. Please don’t die, Mom. I don’t want to be an orphan. Who would we live with? We wouldn’t go into foster care, would we?”
“No honey. No. Gramma Alice and Grampa Bill would love to have you. Or Ann. Or Uncle Travis.”
“Uncle Travis lives in Alaska! I don’t want to live there.” Her voice pitched high and I kissed her again, rubbing her back with my palm.
“It’s all right, Bethy. Gramma and Grampa live here and they would be glad to keep you. But I’m here and I don’t plan on going anywhere.”
“Mom. They grabbed him and dragged him to the park. They killed him there in front of us. For a reason.” Liam’s voice was steady, but it wasn’t his natural voice, his happy-go-lucky cadence.
He was right on the money. I just couldn’t tell him how right he was. “Yes. And I’m sure the cops are working hard to figure out why and who they were.” Bethy was trembling. “Why don’t you and I talk about it later, okay?” I tipped my head down to catch his eye, then jerked my eyes toward his sister.
He looked at me then Bethy, and nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay. Why don’t we go down and get breakfast? I’ll bet Ann is starving and we can show her how we make pink pancakes, okay?”
“She doesn’t know how to make pink pancakes?” Bethy sounded so incredulous, I smiled despite the sorrow pinned to my heart.
“I know, it’s a travesty. We really need to educate the poor woman. Come on. Let’s save her.”
“Mom.” She drew out the word so it had several more syllables than it should. The pain had lifted, at least for now. We went downstairs talking about inconsequential things, forcing light and smiles into our conversation to keep the sadness at bay.
Ann was sipping hot cocoa, bracelets tinkling on each arm. Her eyes went to mine first, gauging the emotional atmosphere, I guessed. I raised my hand behind my kids’ heads and waggled it. So so. She set her mug down as Bethy sat on the bar stool next to her at the kitchen counter. “Do you really not know how to make pink pancakes?”
More jingling as her hand went to her chest. “Pink pancakes? Ew. No.”
“How could you not know what pink pancakes are? Mom, she does need help.”
I lifted a pan down off the rack. “I told you.”
“I’ve lived a sheltered life,” Ann said.
For a while, all was normal in our kitchen. Liam stirred, Bethany poured and flipped. Ann and I buttered, syruped and ate. When the kids started complaining, I spelled them, making a show of teaching Ann each step with the next batch. She looked as shocked as Bethany wanted her to when I added a packet of Kool-aid to the batter.
When the last bite of pancake disappeared into Liam’s mouth, we dumped everything into the dishwasher and cleaned up our mess. There would be a lot of company later in the day. Tom’s mom was sweet but his dad always managed to say something snarky. First time he’d visited our home after Tom and I married, he stood in the doorway and gazed down the hall. “When I was in the army, I went through the house with white gloves on and if the fingertip turned even the slightest bit grey, we cleaned everything again. Tops of doorjambs included.” He gave me a look I figured meant he didn’t even need to do the white glove trick to know my doorjambs were dirty. Alice had smiled and patted her husband on the chest. “You aren’t in the army any more, Bill. Quit bitching.”
Her strategic use of profanity instantly endeared her to me the first time I ever met them. “Don’t mind Tom’s father. He’s a real son-of-a-bastard.” She looked like Mrs. Claus so when she did let one rip, it usually made an impression.
Someone banging on the door confirmed my fears of visitors. Ann rose. “I can get it. Do you want me to tell them to come back another time?”
I was tempted to say yes. “No, that’s all right. It might be Tom’s parents.” I gave her a quick hug then went out to the door, taking a deep breath before I opened it. Not sure why I didn’t check the peephole first but I didn’t. The man on the porch had pale grey eyes and messy, shoulder length hair. He leaned against the house as if he didn’t have enough strength to stand on his own. Deep in my gut I knew he had something to do with the heart, Midia, or the Slip so I opened my Magic Eye. Brilliant light exploded, dulling everything else in comparison. I slammed shut my senses and stumbled outside, shutting the door behind me. I realized I was barefoot the minute my foot hit a patch of unmelted snow we hadn’t gotten scraped off the stoop. “Who are you?” I danced from foot to foot, breathing shallowly as I tried to ignore the icicles that used to be my feet.
His eyes shone before he bowed his head and fell to his knees. “Mistress. I come. To beg for your protection.”
“Uh.” I looked down the street and up, not wanting anyone to see him kneeling before me. “Get up!” He didn’t move so I grabbed his arm and tugged him to his feet. He sagged against me and I sucked in my breath as a shock of pure energy hit me. What the hell was he? Good? Bad? Shit. “Who are you?”
“Jasper, she called me.”
I shivered. “Ravana?”
“She used us to keep her spawn in line. I managed. To escape. But they will come for me again soon. Or Ellison will find me and kill me to take your place.”
Ellison. Ravana’s favorite torture toy. Which meant Jasper was his soul. Fuck. “Come on, get inside before I get frostbite.” I opened the door and helped him inside, my feet burning from the cold. Ann heard the noise and poked her head in the hallway. When she saw Jasper her eyes bulged. I took another look at him. Tall. Lean. Muscled. Blue from cold and hurt. “Let’s get you upstairs.” I gestured Ann toward the living room where I could hear Liam and Bethany arguing over the TV. “Keep them busy,” I whispered.
She nodded but didn’t move right away. Seriously? Ogling now?
“Go, Ann.”
“Oh! Oh yes.” She disappeared but not without another backwards look.
Good grief. I helped Jasper down the hall and up the stairs, taking it slow, sure one of the kids would race up the stairs and see him. I had to think of some plausible reason why he was here. Then again, if I could get him upstairs in the guest room, I could figure out what to do with him without nosy children poking around.
Guest room. Ann’s room.
I eased him onto the bed, the scent of patchouli thicker inside. She’d draped red scarves over the bedside lamps and that’s where the smell was coming from. Sighing, I shut the door behind me and leaned against it, picking up one foot and then the other to rub the bitter cold from them. “What’s wrong with you?”
He struggled to sit up and I pointed a finger at him. “Down.”
He eased back, wariness etching his face in worry. “I apologize, Mistress.”
“Please don’t call me that. I may be Ravana’s replacement, but that doesn’t mean I’m anything like her.” I put my hands in my pockets and tried to look harmless. Well, not harmless. Unlikely to snap and beat the shit out of him...ish.
“Ravana hid the souls away. Except those whose spawn she wished to torture. Sometimes she would hurt us, dangle us in front of them to tease them. For the last hundred years I have been held in relative peace along with my sister. When Ravana died, the bonds of agreement broke and the group split as well. My sister and I were separated. I tried to find her but she disappeared.”
“Your sister? Cyres?”
His grey eyes were solemn as he looked at me. “I swore to her I would protect her and I failed.”
“I don’t think that’s your fault.” My hands clenched in my pockets but I kept my face relaxed. I didn’t want to scare him. “Things changed when I killed Ravana.”
“I believe so. I also believe another Originator sent men to take Cyres. They smelled like Skriven. Powerful Skriven. You are in danger. One of your kind is attempting to help your spawn ascend.”
Amara? Some other Originator I pissed off just by being my sweet self? “Do you have any idea at all where Cyres is?”
“Midia. I believe she was taken
deep into the Anwar.”
Goody. That sounded terrible. Par for the course. “What’s wrong with you?” This time when I asked he only jerked a little.
He shrugged though carefully. “Only Skriven can kill souls. Humans or Midians cannot. My captors took great pleasure in my durability.”
Just when I thought I couldn’t learn anything worse than what I’d already knew and here was a new low. “So they could do whatever they wanted to you and you were guaranteed to survive it?”
He nodded, winced, then his breath left him in a long sigh as his extraordinary eyes shifted to study my ceiling. “Thank you for taking me in.”
Well hell. I couldn’t keep him here but I certainly wasn’t going to kick him out to be torture-fodder. Or worse, for his Skriven to find him and kill him. Not after all he’d gone through. I would just have to figure out a good reason for him to be here. “You’re welcome.”
“Cyres said we would be saved by our mistress. I thought she’d gone mad but I did not let on I doubted very much our mistress would do anything but make sure we regretted every moment we drew breath.”
The doorbell sounded through the house. Inwardly I cursed. “Okay. You can stay with me until I can find a safe place for you to be. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you again. Well, I’ll do my damnedest. Right now, if you wouldn’t mind staying here I would appreciate it.”
“You must protect your family. I understand. I can go if you worry my presence here will imperil them.”
“No. Stay put.” Your presence won’t imperil them any more than mine does. My mind leaped to Tom again, Tom dying in the snow. “Sleep. Ann or I will come check on you. The bathroom is right across the hall.”
“Thank you.”
I shut the door behind me and went back downstairs, hearing the sound of Tom’s mother and the lower grumbles of his dad. Bethy was crying. My stomach flopped hard and I had to stop on the stairs to take a few breaths and decide whether I needed to race back up to the bathroom. When my stomach settled, I followed the sounds into the living room.
“Oh Devany. I’m so sorry.” Alice had Bethy pulled up tight against her bosom but she held her arm out to me. I let her pull me in for the hug, appreciating her big heart was willing to comfort me too.
“I’m sorry too Alice.” After that I strangled on my words and had to swallow hard to keep from blubbering all over her shoulder.
“Oh sweetheart, it’s not your fault. I knew you’d feel guilty. Didn’t I say she’d feel guilty, Bill?” She patted my face when I pulled away, her thumb sluicing the tears off my cheek. “Tom felt so bad about,” her eyes cut to Bethy and back, “things. You need to know that.”
I nodded and looked away. I couldn’t take her gaze nor her certainty it wasn’t my fault. Would she think differently if she knew what had happened since I’d discovered Tom had been cheating on me? Would she blame me then for his death?
Bill and Liam were on the couch, not talking but I saw Bill was patting him on the shoulder. Ann walked in with a tray full of iced tea and milk and she passed out the drinks. As she handed me mine, she gave me the look.
“Your room,” I mouthed. She looked like a kid on Christmas morning. I couldn’t imagine she was after his body no matter how hot he was considering she was gay but hell, what did I know? She certainly looked excited enough when she said, “I just need to go upstairs for a moment. Won’t be long!”
I sighed.
“Did Tom have a will?” This from Bill, who wouldn’t know discretion if it swooped in and crapped on his lap.
“Oh Bill, really? In front of the children?”
He looked at Liam, his trim brows wrinkling. “What? They know he’s dead, don’t they? Pretending it didn’t happen won’t do them any good.”
Alice opened her mouth to say something else, something in the four-letter range, I imagined. I put my hand on her arm and told Bill, “Yes. He did. We both had everything arranged. His idea. Always better to be prepared.” I smiled at Alice whose eyes were shimmering. She nodded and turned away toward Bethy.
“Let’s go make some cookies, shall we?” Her eyes settled on Liam. “You want to help?”
“Nah. I’ll sit here with Grampa.”
“All right.”
I didn’t particularly want to sit with Bill but wasn’t too sure about leaving Liam alone with him. Then again, Liam had a knack for talking to Bill so perhaps all would be well. When the TV went on and they began talking sports, I left them. In the kitchen, grandmother and granddaughter were bent over the recipe book though it didn’t sound like their conversation had anything to do with baking. I had a fierce longing for my mother that I tamped down. If I was lucky, my brother would be able to make it in time for Tom’s funeral. If not, I’d take comfort in my kids, Ann, and Alice.
I went upstairs to find Ann sitting by the bed staring at Jasper. He was asleep―either that or he was faking so he didn’t have to lay around while a strange woman stared at him. “What are you doing?”
“He’s beautiful.” She must have spotted something in my face because she flapped her hand at me. “Not that way. His aura. It’s pure gold. I’ve never seen one so beautiful. It sparkles and glitters like gold fire.” She sighed. “Beautiful.”
“Okay, well, you should let him sleep. Figure out something to do with him besides stash him here. I mean, eventually the kids are going to notice him. How would I explain him to Alice or Bill?”
“You need him.”
I pressed my fingers to my forehead. Could people get instantaneous migraines? “Why?”
“Destiny. Fate. I don’t know. But when you came in, your aura mingled with his.”
I curled my lip. “Would you stop?” I had a feeling I knew why my aura was mingling … though I didn’t particularly like the notion of any part of me frolicking with a stranger, no matter how handsome he was. If I knew how to yank it back, I would.
She smiled at him and rose, her bracelets jingling. “I know fate when I see it.”
I grabbed her by the shoulders and eased her out of the room, shutting the door with what I hoped was quiet finality. “I know he’s in your room and I know you’re wowed by his aura but I’d rather no one know about him. Not right now.”
“Do you take me for an idiot?” She held up her hand before I could say anything. “No. Don’t answer that. I know most people take me for a flighty fool and that’s okay. Just know I do have a gift.” Her voice, normally light and airy, was solemn as she said, “And he’s a very important part of your future from now on.”
-SEVEN-
Very important part of my future. Ridiculous. I flipped over and glared at Ann’s arm flung halfway across my pillow. Since Mister Mysterious was still sacked out on Ann’s bed she was sleeping with me. Yay me. I hadn’t appreciated having the king sized bed to myself until tonight.
Damn. I rolled again, my mind sticking on the soul in the other room and the danger he posed to my family and me. Could the Skriven come to my house to grab him? Would he? I’d sent Ellison out to spy on the Theleoni but how the hell did I know if he was actually doing what I asked or jaunting off gaily on his own? If he came for Jasper and killed him, then I’d be forced to face him down in the arena. I’d gotten lucky last time and I’d had Arsinua’s help. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to kill another Skriven without her.
Hell.
Maybe I would have to visit the swamp sooner than I thought. The problem with that was time went by slower in Midia. I might spend a day there but lose a couple here on Earth. There was no way I would leave the kids that long, not right now. Christmas break was coming up soon though. Maybe they would like to spend a few days with Alice and Bill and I could pop off to the swamp to fix the barriers and hide Jasper. Ugh. The thought of it made me tired. And scared.
I needed training. I’d survived by sheer gumption and help from the witch riding in my head, with a sprinkling of assistance from Ty and Marantha. I didn’t think I could count on getting lucky this time around
. It wouldn’t be easy.
I rolled out of bed and dressed in jeans and an old t-shirt. Then I padded across the hall to the guest room, expecting the guy to still be asleep. He wasn’t. He sat in bed looking right at home as he stared across the room at the muted TV, watching some claymation cartoon about Christmas. The moment I poked my head in, he slid off the bed and knelt on the floor.
“Knock it off.” I slipped in and eased the door shut behind me. “You shouldn’t be out of bed.”
“I am a fast healer. And you are my mistress.”
“No. No I’m not.” I waved my hands at him and finally grabbed his arm to pull him up. He straightened and I realized he was taller than I thought. “I need to ask you some questions. If you don’t know the answers, fine. But I really don’t want to die anytime soon or watch you die so I’m hoping we can figure some stuff out.”
He nodded. Standing next to him made me antsy and I didn’t want to spend the conversation craning my neck at him so I sunk down on the comfy chair by the door. “Might as well rest. Fast healer or not, you should relax.”
Once he was seated, albeit stiffly, I asked, “Can the Skriven come here and take you? I mean, how does that work, exactly?”
“They aren’t allowed on Earth or Midia without your approval. They can, however, buy corporeal time from other Originators.”
Great. If Ellison went to Amara, I had a feeling she’d grant him whatever he wanted. Yeah, she’d been nice to me but damn it, I didn’t trust her. “Do the other Originators often do that?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know.”
“How safe are you? Can you tell if he’s coming to grab you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know that either. I know when he’s corporeal. He is right now, in fact, though the feeling is muted. I believe he’s on the other world. Midia.” His grey gaze slid over to me then he eased back onto the bed into a more relaxed position, though he still looked like he might bolt at any second. “When he thinks about me I can feel that as well. It might allow for a bit of a warning were he to turn his thoughts to finding me. He’s enjoying himself though.” His face went distant as if he were listening to a far off whisper.
