by Jaime Rush
A quick fix of her face, a brush through her hair, and she looked as normal as she had when she left.
Glen looked up when she walked in. “Must have been a hectic lunch break,” he said with a smile.
Damn, not exactly as normal. “Had to fit in a lot of errands.”
“If you need a couple of minutes to defrazzle, go ahead and take them. I know you’ve got a busy weekend.”
Glen and his wife Toni were great bosses, and even better people. The Tripps ran the store together. She was their only employee, running the storefront, handling calls and paperwork. She was good with numbers. They were stable, dependable, and impersonal. She liked working in small businesses where her employers wouldn’t be bothered as much by her erratic work history. That also meant settling for menial jobs that didn’t pay much.
Toni and the two grade-school Tripps came rushing in at mid-afternoon, as they did every weekday.
“Hey, Jessie!” the girls called as they gushed with enviable energy and innocence, dropping their backpacks on the floor. “Carnival’s tomorrow!”
Toni rolled her eyes as she picked up the packs, as she did every day, and set them behind the curved desk where Jessie worked.
“Yep! You gonna ride the scary rides?” Jessie asked, bending down to their level.
“Will you ride with us?”
“Sure.”
Both girls giggled and exchanged looks. “We might throw up, though,” they said in unison, more like twins than girls who were two years apart.
“Ewww!” Jessie said, pinching her nose. “Then definitely do not ride the scary rides. I’d be tossing my cookies right along with you.”
The girls commenced to making barfing noises until Toni shushed them. She set them on their homework just off the main desk. Jessie watched them asking their mom for help and felt a lump in her chest even as she smiled. When she was their age, she’d had a mom and dad, too. Thank God they didn’t know how tenuous life can be, how all that matters can be ripped away in minutes.
Five other children came in for guitar lessons, and Jessie entertained them until class started. For a few minutes no one was in the front room. Glen was in the repair shop in back and no customers wandered in. Her head still felt light, as though she hadn’t eaten for hours. She logged into the security software and clicked on the link for her system. It recorded any activity once it was triggered.
Her throat tightened at the sight of the man—Magnus’s brother—walking into her apartment. He wasn’t even creeping or sneaking, just walked in like he owned the place. Bastard. He looked around, taking pictures of a couple of pages in her notebook, walking to the doorway of her bedroom but not walking in.
The video quality wasn’t good enough to see fine details. She realized she’d hoped to see his face again. He had dark, thick hair that fell past his shoulders and brown eyes with an exotic slant to them. He was good-looking, yeah, even though she felt pretty stupid thinking of him that way when he’d broken into her home and manhandled her.
Where have I seen him before? Oh, yeah, here! Right before she’d dashed home for lunch. He was stalking her! Her gaze went to the collection of signed pictures on the back wall. She remembered thinking he looked like one of those rockers from the eighties that Glen was so into, like Kip from Winger. The jerk probably followed her home.
Her attention went back to the monitor. She knew the moment the intruder heard her unlock the door; he ducked inside her bedroom doorway and waited for her. Even though she knew what would happen, watching it was odd, surreal, and scary. She didn’t have this security system the last time she’d gotten a surprise visit.
She watched their fight. I fought pretty damned good. Not good enough, though.
He pinned her with his body, and she could feel all that muscle and hardness again, crushing her. Especially that hardness, which had thrown her, because she’d thought for sure he was connected to Russell, and the man’s erection signified a different threat.
But he wasn’t there for that. Thank you, God.
She glanced around to make sure no one had come in; she was engrossed enough to have missed it. Then she turned back to the screen. As her fear and anger had heightened, a smoky aura formed around her. But . . . there was something around him, too; not smoky, but a blurry form.
What the heck?
She paused the frame. Even studying him she couldn’t make it out. That nothing else had the same blur meant it was attached to him. Either he also had Darkness, or he was some other kind of weird. No matter, he was bad news.
Her abilities had taken the man off-guard. If he, or Magnus, were working with Russell, they would have been prepared. She would be dead. The supposed brother claimed he’d had a vision of her killing Magnus. That was all he seemed concerned about, wanting to know why.
When she continued the video, it hit her: she would see her Darkness for the first time. She steeled herself as she watched the black mass that threw him across the room. Me, but not me. It just took over; I had no control over it. She shivered and closed the program. What if the whole seeing-a-vision thing was true? Darkness could kill. Could she?
She picked up her cell phone and called Magnus. Please let me go to voice mail.
Relief when his deep voice said, “ ’Lo, this is Magnus’s phone. I hate that I missed your call. Don’t make me hunt through the call log. Leave a message.” Both men had a Scottish brogue to their voices. Magnus had told her he was born in the U.S. but got the brogue from his Scottish mother.
“Hi, it’s Jessie,” she said. “You’re off the hook for tonight. I don’t need any help with the carnival, and . . . I can’t see you socially anymore. My life is too complicated in ways I can’t explain. Take care of yourself.”
Her mouth stretched into a frown. It wasn’t like they’d done more than chat at the store, have a cup of coffee, and meet for lunch once. He’d kissed her cheek when he walked her back to the music store and said goodbye. She’d had the sense that he wanted to kiss her on the mouth, though, as his lips had lingered against her skin for a few moments. He probably would have, if the sensible part of her hadn’t made her turn at the last second. She’d wanted the kiss, because she wanted to feel like the women in the romance novels she devoured, just for a little while . . .
You knew better. Why bother starting a flirtation when you’re going to have to back away if it goes any further? Russell’s going to find you eventually. You’re either going to die or run again. No place for a man in that mess of a life.
Yeah . . . complicated. With a sigh, she deleted Magnus’s number from her contacts list.
Chapter 3
Lachlan could hear the drums through the front door, which meant there was no point in knocking. So he turned the doorknob and walked into the small flat. He’d only been here once, when Magnus insisted he come check out his new digs. Lachlan followed the racket to the back bedroom where Magnus sat behind his kit in his skivvies, headphones on and eyes closed, lost in the music. He suspected Magnus escaped into his drumming the way he had escaped into astral projection back when they were bored and isolated.
Magnus was good, sounding every bit like the original version of Jet’s “Are You Gonna Be My Girl.” His singing was not quite as good as his drumming, but not bad, either.
Lachlan walked up and pinched the cymbal so that when his brother struck it, it went flat. He opened his eyes, blinking in surprise. He flipped his sticks, snapped them up in one hand, and set them on the top of his drum. The headphones, he hooked on the back of his chair.
He rubbed his eyes and stared at him. “Am I imagining things? My brother Locky, here in my flat?” The levity dimmed, though. “What’d you see now? My kit blow up?”
“Yeah, and all they found were your bloodied skivvies hanging on your cymbal.”
Magnus came out from behind the kit. “Maybe I should play in the nude, then.” He made to yank down the white briefs.
Lachlan held out his hand and walked toward the hallway.
“Seen enough of your bare white arse growing up. Got any tea?”
“Nothing gourmet,” Magnus called out. “If you came round more, I’d keep a stash of loose tea for you.”
Lachlan went to work searching out a box of tea bags and set the kettle to boil.
His brother walked in a few minutes later, having pulled on a pair of sweats. He grabbed a can of Mountain Dew from the fridge. “This isn’t a social call or the beginning of your awakening to life,” Magnus said to him. “You look too somber and uptight for that. So this will have something to do with your vision or whatever you want to call it.”
Lachlan faced him. “The shy girl you’re sweet on swiped someone’s identity, has a Satanic symbol on her wall, studies demons, and fights like the devil.” He lifted his shirt to reveal an assortment of bruises. “This wasn’t me thrashing myself. She threw me across the room like I weighed ten pounds. I’m no hulking beast like you, but I’m no wee thing either.”
Magnus listened without expression, but his eyes hardened at the end. “Do I want to hear how you came to be in a physical altercation with her?”
“That wasn’t my plan. I let myself into her apartment and looked through her things.” He thought of the penguin. “But she came back unexpectedly, so I took the opportunity to question her.”
Magnus slammed his can onto the counter, sending yellow liquid splashing onto the top. “You broke into her apartment?”
“You’re going to quibble about that? Did you not hear anything else I said? She did something to me, something unnatural. Put it together, man. I see a vision of her killing you, and it turns out she’s hiding under someone else’s identity and has some ability that gives her superhuman strength.”
“Bloody hell, Lachlan, you could have been arrested. Your imagination is making more of this than it is. Okay, so she can fight. Maybe she grew up in a tough neighborhood, used to dealing with thugs like you. You thought she did something unnatural, but women can be strong when they’re proficient at martial arts. What did the symbol look like?”
“Here, take a look for yourself.” He pulled up the picture on his phone.
“A cross? Not a goat’s head in the center of a pentagram? Was there no blood dripping down the wall?” He reluctantly took the phone.
“Look at the next couple of pictures.”
Magnus’s eyebrows furrowed. “I can’t see what’s in the notebook.”
“Sketches she’d done of creatures, with notes and everything.”
Magnus handed him back the phone. “You’ve gone mad.”
“I’m not the one blinded by my pecker. I’m going to find out who this girl is before she lays you low.”
“Wait a minute. You said you questioned her? What did you say to her?”
“I asked why she was gunning for you.”
Magnus slapped his forehead. “Now she knows I have a mad brother. Damn you, Lachlan, I’m no idiot. And no babe either. Or blinded by my pecker,” he added in a low, menacing voice. “You’re the only one blinded around here. Don’t make me put you away, because if you become a threat to yourself or anyone else, I will. I’ve seen madness in your eyes.” His shoulders shuddered. “I don’t ever want to see it again.”
He turned and stalked down the hall, returning a second later with his cell phone in hand. “I’d better call her—she called me. I can just imagine what she’s got to say.” He touched the screen and listened, his face tightening. “She’s blowing me off.”
“Good. Thank me for saving your arse, and I’ll be on my way.”
Magnus spoke, but his words were drowned out by the kettle’s harsh scream. It didn’t look like they were words of appreciation, though, by the fierce look on his face. Or the way he grabbed onto Lachlan’s sore shoulder and marched him to the front door.
“I save you, and you’re kicking me out?”
“I told you there was something about her, and I intended to find out what it is. Now I may not get a chance. Go, before I add to your bruises.”
There was gratitude for you, Lachlan thought as he left, hearing the kettle screaming behind him.
After one of the longest afternoons in her life, Jessie locked herself in her apartment and collapsed on the couch. An end table lay on its side, and a chair was still toppled over where she’d launched the intruder. She jumped up and righted everything so it looked like nothing had happened.
Like Darkness hadn’t happened.
As though you could forget.
At least he had nothing to do with Russell.
The moment she dropped back into the cushions, a knock sounded on her door. The thought that it was Magnus’s brother prickled through her, which was plain odd, because more likely it was Magnus, except he didn’t know where she lived unless his brother had told him. She didn’t want to deal with either of them right now.
A peek through her security lens showed a teenage girl with short pink hair, a little too much makeup, and the long, lean build of a colt. Hayley. She wasn’t in the mood for her either, but she opened the door anyway.
“Hey, Hayley. What are you—”
The girl walked in, gave her a hug, and took a deep breath. “I took a cab here.”
“Does your mother know? Are you all right?”
Hayley looked pale, worried, and Jessie’s heart clutched. Don’t tell me you’ve had a relapse. Don’t, don’t, don’t. She couldn’t take that, not on top of everything else. Her hair was just now growing back, her color a healthy glow.
“I’m okay, and I know you’re really busy, but I need to talk to you.”
Hayley sometimes came over for no serious reason at all. It was hard to push away a teenager, especially one she’d been paired with at MDA summer camp, and whose bones now held a touch of her own marrow. That scared her, because Jessie didn’t know if Darkness could be transferred by blood. But with leukemia ravaging the girl and no matches for her rare blood type, she hadn’t had a choice. Now she held her breath, waiting for Hayley to tell her why she was there.
Jessie nodded toward the couch. “Want to sit?”
Hayley shook her head, her spiky hair not shifting at all with the movement. “I know you’re a private person. You weren’t happy when I put your name in my blog, and now you’re really going to be mad. Please don’t be mad at me, Jess.”
Now her heart tightened in a different kind of dread. “What happened?”
“’Cause you’re so wonderful, and that’s not only because you saved my life. You’re the only person who doesn’t treat me like I’m made of the thinnest glass in the world.”
She hated having to push the girl away after they’d bonded in camp, but the whole thing with Magnus was a harsh reminder of what happened when she let people into her life. “Spill.”
“Someone from the paper came over to do a story on me, you know, for the carnival. Which is great. You keep talking about getting publicity.” She gave Jessie a fake smile. “I figured you’d be happy about that.”
She waited until Jessie said, “Yeah, that’s great,” with as much reservation as Hayley had said the last bit.
“My mom accidentally said your whole name.” She pushed the words out and let them drop on the floor. “She didn’t realize it until later. She did call the reporter and left a message asking him to keep it out of the article, but she hasn’t heard back from him yet. The story will run tomorrow. So maybe it’ll be all right . . . Jess, why are you so worried about your name being in the paper? Are you, like, hiding from the law or something?” Another fake smile.
Jessie’s hand went to her throat. She smoothed out her expression, even managed a smile that was probably as fake as Hayley’s. “No. I don’t want my family to find me. We don’t get along.”
Hayley plopped down on the couch. “Mom drives me crazy, but I can’t imagine never seeing her again. What happened?”
Give an inch . . .
So she’d give her a yard. “My mom’s dead. My uncle killed her, and now he’s out of prison. I don’t wa
nt him to know where I am.”
There, that wasn’t so bad. Except she’d left out the bizarre stuff.
“Ohmigosh, Jess, that’s awful!” Hayley sprang up and hugged her.
“I don’t want to talk about it, ’kay? I have to head down to the carnival grounds in a bit, go over some last minute details.”
“Can I come? It’s for me, after all.”
She shook her head. “It’ll be late, and you need to take it easy. Tomorrow’s a busy day. Come on, I’ll give you a ride home.”
“So, are you totally not freaked about the article? I’m so sorry. We could call the writer and tell him why it’s so important—”
“No!” The harsh order cut Hayley off. Jessie smiled to soften it. “But if I leave town suddenly, you’ll understand why.”
“Oh, Jessie, I’m—”
“Don’t say it. And don’t cry.” That’s all she needed. She had managed not to cry, not over any of her past. She reached out, and Hayley took her hand, painfully grateful that she wasn’t angry.
Jessie walked out feeling fatigue and weariness weighing on her, heavy as her Yukon. The thought of packing up, leaving again. She blinked back the hot tears that threatened. No crying! Maybe it was time to change her name again.
He’ll find you. Someday, he’ll find you.
Lachlan pulled into the grass parking lot, staying at the outer edge. The Ferris wheel and other rides looked like dark, hulking monsters, the carnival grounds quiet. Only two other vehicles sat in the lot: Jessie Bellandre’s SUV and Magnus’s BMW.
“Bloody hell.”
Earlier, he’d followed Magnus to a pub, then to his flat. He considered talking to him, but Magnus’s surly expression didn’t bode well. Afterward, he drove by the carnival grounds, seeing several vehicles, including Jessie’s. Then he almost went home but decided to go to Magnus’s after all. Only to find that he wasn’t there.
“Yeah, there’s something about her, all right. She’s a devil worshiping demon-possessed killer . . . with a stuffed penguin. Who clips coupons. And gets misty at a kid’s violin practice.”
