Slipping the Past

by D. L. Jackson

  “Lacking in modesty, but I can’t argue with you there.” She reached over and ruffled his hair. Nate knocked her hand away.

  “I’m not a kid anymore, Joce. Don’t do that. I don’t like it. Makes me feel like a child.”

  “Is my baby brother growing up?” She reached to muss his hair again, and he caught her wrist.

  “I asked you not to do that.”

  Jocelyn nodded and pulled her hand free. “Okay, just trying to kill some of the tension.” That, and she needed to get her thoughts off the ghost in the back of her mind.

  “Don’t. We need to stay alert. This isn’t anything to joke about. I don’t have a good feeling about it.”

  “What? You’re psychic, now?”

  “No, but I’ve lived by my gut long enough to know when trouble’s coming.” He turned the holo toward her and pointed at a warrant. “Lots of trouble.” He hit a couple more buttons and the screen went dead. “I can’t pull up your file. Someone’s got it locked down tight.”

  “You can’t pull it up?”

  “Is that so hard to believe?”

  ***

  Gabriel dropped the curtain and walked away from the window. The longer the separation, the crazier he felt. He’d stood in the same spot for hours. Nobody had come in or gone out of the room since yesterday. He’d know. He hadn’t taken his eyes off it in hours. Yesterday, Nate had left for about half an hour and then returned. His arms were loaded with bags. After that, no activity.

  Perhaps she wasn’t awake yet? He’d reached out with his mind and tried to touch her. No connection, no indication she even knew he sought her. Gabriel struck out at a lamp, sending it crashing into a wall. Had he taken too much, destroyed her mind?

  Not knowing made him nervous. No calls from Diego, no new leads. Things weren’t looking good. Everything was going to hell, quick. He dropped onto the bed and stretched out. The queen-size sleeping surface did little for him. His feet hung off the end and made getting comfortable damn near impossible. Not that he’d be able to relax long enough to get to that stage. His dick strained against his jeans.

  Gabriel snorted. He hadn’t slept last night and had already begun to work on a second restless evening. He should just go over there and arrest her. Take her soul and get it over with. Why the hell did he give her time?

  She was marked from birth, her crimes clear-cut, and in the history books, her soul linked to past lives by the most brilliant psychic minds of the time. No court on any world would set her free. Bad souls didn’t change. She’d killed in the past, her crimes brutal. She’d do it again. It had been proven over and over with other criminals. Her history overflowed with violence.

  She was also over the age of eighteen and no longer immune to prosecution. On the run for the last eight years and a danger to society for every second she remained out of containment. He’d tracked her for two months and had finally gotten lucky when he picked up her energy outside the store. He couldn’t prove it, but Gabriel was certain she’d been up to something illegal, enough in itself to arrest her.

  How could he look at all the evidence and doubt it? Black and white, all there. He should feel certain of her guilt, but he didn’t. There was more to it, his gut told him. The only way to find out more was to do the one thing he’d sworn he wouldn’t. He needed to get close to her again.

  Jocelyn’s huge head-price had swelled and every Enforcer out there wanted to be the one who took her in. Every Enforcer but him. He knew where she was, yards away, and hadn’t done anything about it. He could have taken her soul in the closet at the hospital, but hadn’t.

  What possessed him? He acted like a love-numbed fool. Enforcers didn’t fall in love. Enforcers didn’t have lives that belonged to them. They ate, slept, and dreamed of captures. They were feared and revered heroes who saved society from the monsters that wore pretty skin, like Jocelyn Miller. They didn’t fuck their captives. That was their life. That was his life.

  Or it had been.

  Jocelyn made him dream of a different one. A life with children and her smiling by his side. She also made him dream in hi-fi porn. She looked, tasted, and felt like temptation and addiction.

  “Fuck.” Yeah, he had to go over there. Avoiding her wasn’t getting him anywhere. He needed to talk to her, feel that connection again. Perhaps it would spawn memories of the past.

  Gabriel’s pants grew tighter. It would spawn something, all right. He growled and jumped off the bed. Just thinking about her made him a walking erection. He tried not to make it personal, but every time he thought of her, she was naked. How could he let his quarry get to him like this? What about her made him crazy with lust? Why couldn’t he picture her with clothes?

  He walked into the bathroom and started the shower. He cranked the dial to ice and undressed, dropping his clothing to the floor. It should take the edge off, if not at least knock a little sense into him, or shock him—maybe hypothermia would help. He needed to build his resistance before he went over there. Something better work. He certainly couldn’t go on like this. He scared the general public enough.

  He stepped in and jumped out so fast he nearly hit the wall on the other side of the bathroom. Gabriel threw his hands out and caught the towel bar as his feet slid out from under him. He only had seconds to register the tile wall and the imminent collision. Bright lights exploded through his vision.

  “Please. You can’t go. I need you.” Jocasta grabbed his hand and squeezed, trying to keep his spirit grounded to terra firma, to her. She slid her body over his, holding him. The blood on his chest stained her dress, but she didn’t seem to care. “Come back to me. Don’t go.”

  “Let me go, Jo.”

  Jo released his hand and a tear slid down her cheek. “I can’t live without you.”

  “You can and you will for our child.” He slid his hand over her belly and he gazed into her eyes. “I will always come back for you. Always. In this lifetime or the next. I’ll always come.”

  “No, don’t go. I love you.”

  “Live your life. Raise our child to make me proud. I’ll see you again. This parting won’t be forever.” He reached up to touch a loose strand of her hair, soaked in blood. She’d made a mess of herself. Her hair. “It’s painted red.”

  “I don’t care. Don’t leave me.”

  “I’ll return to you. Always.”

  His hand dropped to the bed. With a raspy hiss, his last breath blew past his lips, and he felt as if he lifted from his body to float above, staring down on the remains and love of his life.

  “On the gods, I swear I’ll find a way for you to come back to me.” Jocasta stumbled back and sank to the floor. She threw her head back and screamed at the top of her lungs. Her hands raked her face, hair, and the fabric of her gown that draped across one shoulder, knocking it loose, leaving it bare over her breast. In that spot, blood, the remnant of his battle wound and her desperation to hold him to life, had marked her skin in an upside-down heart.

  His brother and killer rushed in, lifting her from the floor. She kicked and screamed, fighting him, wanting to stay. “You have to let go, Jocasta. Let him be at peace.”

  “No. No. No.”

  The end of a wet mop brushed his face. Gabriel blinked. The shower no longer ran and someone had discreetly dropped a towel over his body, covering what would be a bare backside. The mop slid by him again and he glanced at a shoe. He followed it up to see a maid, working around him.

  “You shouldn’t drink so much. The morning after always sucks.”

  He touched his forehead and flinched. “What time is it?”

  “Why? You got the room for another night, buddy. You’re two hours past checkout. We’ve already charged your account.” The mop swiped in front of him again. “For the water, too.” She eyed his forehead. “That’s a nasty lump. You want some ice?” Her back-alley Stratus City accent bounced around in his skull like a pinball.

  Gabriel cringed and shook his head. “What time’s checkout?”

 
“Noon.”

  “Noon?” Gabriel probed the lump and glanced up.

  “Our policy….” The maid sucked in a breath when she looked in his eyes. “Oh my—oh God.” She grabbed her bucket and ran for the door, leaving the mop behind. The door slammed, reverberating through the walls, shaking his throbbing cranium more. The mop dropped to the floor beside him with a loud whack. Gabriel flinched and rubbed the bump again.

  “Nice to meet you, too,” he mumbled and pushed to his feet. He threw his hand out and braced against the wall. Damned if everyone didn’t freak when they realized what he was. He’d have to see about getting some glasses like Jocelyn.

  Jocelyn. His cock twitched and began to swell again. Gabriel groaned, snagged a fresh towel off the bar, wrapped it around his waist, and tented the front. “Well, that worked great.” He stumbled to the window and stared across the street. The curtains were drawn. Was she still there?

  He reached out with his mind. This time he felt something. If he wasn’t mistaken, irritation and general crankiness. He couldn’t be sure. He didn’t read minds, only sensed energies, and hers had a definite zing to it. He pushed again and a wall slammed up, shutting him out. Pain shot through his head and he closed his eyes. Okay, so she didn’t like his intrusion. But something about her reaction told him she didn’t recognize his probe. He’d the feeling she thought about him and didn’t want to.

  Maybe.

  For all he knew, she could be plotting his demise. He wished he could get inside her head and read her thoughts. Gabriel pushed again. Nothing. Time to face her again. He focused on the layout of her room. As it came into view in his mind, the towel around his waist slipped and dropped to the floor, bringing him back to reality. He glanced down and stopped the shift. Yeah, better put some clothes on.

  His other head seemed to like the brush with her energy, cranky or not. Any more, and he’d have to pack it on ice to get it down or find the object of his desire and fuck her to exhaustion. Since he’d sworn off sex with Jocelyn for her own protection, option two didn’t look like a good alternative, even if other parts of his body thought so. He should have said yes to the ice.

  He strode over to the bed, grabbing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt from his bag. He hadn’t thought to pack a long-sleeved shirt because he had his coat. Regardless, what he had was warmer than wandering over there bare-assed.

  Yeah, that would go over well. With the baseball-bat psycho watching over her, someone would get hurt and chances were pretty good it would be the kid.

  Besides that, he’d no idea how Jocelyn would react to seeing him. Would she remember him? She could hate him. One thing was certain, he needed to see her again. Touch her. Would she freak? He’d dropped her off without so much as a goodbye after he’d drained her energy and rendered her unconscious. Gabriel’s heart thudded against his ribs. He’d give anything right now to be a reader. He’d give anything for a do-over.

  He pushed his cock into his jeans and carefully zipped. With a sigh, he collapsed on the bed, reaching for one of his combat boots. At least she was awake. He’d worried that wouldn’t be the case, that he’d taken too much and left her comatose or vegetative.

  Perhaps a peace offering? An excuse to go over.

  Food?

  No.

  Information?

  Yeah, if he had some.

  Flowers!

  He slipped into his boots, yanked the laces tight, and reached into the bedside stand. He tossed the tourist pamphlets, a notepad, pencil, and Bible to the floor. He snagged the phone book, flipping to the yellow pages and florists.

  The energy he’d drained gave him a brief glimpse of who she was, and blue definitely fit her. Those eyes in the vision. He picked several shops then collected the addresses, ripping the pages from the book. He’d pop in, get the flowers, and then, like a normal human, walk up to the door and knock. Wearing clothes. He still had manners and could be civilized, even if other bits of him were acting like a raging lunatic.

  “Reaper.” The woman at the counter backed up and bumped into a refrigerated display. Her eyes popped open and her heart pounded loud enough for him to hear.

  “We prefer the term ‘Enforcer.’” He eyed the cooler behind her, looking for blue. Not just any blue, but Jocelyn blue, the color of the sky, the color of her eyes. Eyes he hadn’t forgotten in centuries and never would. Since tasting her energy, he’d begun to remember. He rubbed the lump on his head. That impact with the wall seemed to jar a few memories loose, too.

  She hadn’t lied. She’d loved him once. Perhaps she hadn’t lied about her being innocent of her past-life crimes, either.

  “I didn’t do anything.” The florist shook her head. Her eyes watered and her lip quivered. Gods, why did people have to cry when they saw him? All this weeping was giving him a complex.

  Whatever. He didn’t want her soul. He’d come for flowers and he wasn’t leaving without them.

  “Blue.”

  “Blue what? Oh God. Is that the color of my soul? It was an accident.”

  Gabriel groaned. “Can we not make such a big deal out of this?” He slapped his hands down on the counter and leaned in. The woman cried out like he’d struck her. “I’d like a bouquet of blue flowers. Something pretty.”

  “Flowers?” She barked out a nervous laugh and reached for the cooler door with a hand that trembled so hard, Gabriel got dizzy looking at it. Tears rolled down her cheeks in streams and snot began to trickle from her nose. She sniffed and wiped it away with the back of her hand. “You only want flowers?”

  “Without the crying, please. I’ve got a monster headache from an unexpected encounter with a tile wall.”

  “Tile wall?”

  Gabriel groaned. “Look, I’m as human as you. I get headaches. I have a life, and I have a girlfriend I’d like to give pretty flowers to. Simple. I’m not here to suck your soul. If I had a warrant, you’d already be contained, so, please, can I get some flowers?”

  She nodded and swallowed. “Blue is a hard color to find. Blue what? Carnations?”

  She pulled out a handful of navy flowers from a vase. The stems dripped down her front of her smock, raining onto her feet.

  Gabriel shook his head. “Like the sky.”

  “Like the sky,” the woman mumbled and drew her brows together. “I don’t think I have anything that will fit. I could spray—”

  Gabriel vanished. Maybe the next place would have what he wanted. Did he ask for too much?

  Apparently.

  After six shops, he decided to give her red roses—if he could find someone to sell him a dozen without freaking out. One florist passed out; two had run out the door, leaving him at the counter.

  Another burst into tears and begged him not to take him. Then he began to confess all his past sins. You’d think he thought Gabriel a priest and not a reaper with the way he kept going, and going, and going. It took a great deal of control not to suck his soul and stick him in containment to shut him up. Instead, he shifted to the last address, leaving the blubbering idiot behind.

  A cramped but cozy shop that smelled like dried herbs and cinnamon. Not unpleasant. Actually, it felt comforting.

  “I’ll be right there,” a woman called from behind a beaded curtain.

  Gabriel tapped his fingers on the counter and took the time to study the shop further. Bright colors everywhere. Brilliant shades, clustered together in monochromatic groups. Complementary colors sat next to each other, making the shop nearly vibrate with excitement. Someone had an eye tuned to color and knew what they were doing.

  The florist parted the curtain and stepped through.

  Gabriel swung his gaze in her direction and did a double-take. Young, perhaps twenty-one, no older than twenty-two. She had long, dark braids that hung over her shoulders and high cheekbones that graced an oval face, accentuating a straight, regal nose and a beautiful, dusky complexion. One look and her Native American ancestry became abundantly clear.

  “Cherokee.” She smiled. “P
eople always ask.”

  “Wasn’t going to,” he mumbled. He hadn’t done the double-take because of her heritage. Over her eyes, she wore dark glasses, and turned her head toward him as though she followed the sound of his voice. A blind florist?

  “Can I help you?”

  Gabriel frowned. How the heck would she even know what the color blue looked like?

  “I know what you’re thinking. I was born this way, but I can feel color frequencies. I may not be able to see with my eyes, but I see in other ways.”

  “Blue flowers, like the sky.”

  “That’s a challenge, but I happen to have what you’re looking for.” She spun on her heel and headed through the back, calling out to him through a beaded curtain. “I got them in today, special hybrids from my grandfather’s greenhouse. He’s a botanist and has a knack for coloring the world.”

  The beads rattled and the girl stepped through with a sky- blue bouquet.

  “Orchids.” She held them out to him. “They have a slight vanilla scent, too.” She pushed them under his nose. “Sniff.”

  Gabriel inhaled and smiled, taking the bouquet from her hands. He couldn’t have picked them better. What were the chances it would be a blind florist that found the exact flowers he’d had in mind? A promising sign. “Perfect.”

  “I told you I’d have what you were looking for. Now make sure you tell her you’re sorry.”

  Gabriel frowned. How had she done that? He hadn’t sensed she was a full-blown psychic. She did possess some intuition, the reading of colors, but not as strong as Jocelyn. “Are you a…?”

  The girl smiled. “I heard a little inner guilt in your voice. You’re in trouble?”

  Gabriel nodded. He wasn’t losing his touch. “Something like that.” He pushed a credit chip across the counter, brushing her fingers.

  She yanked her hand back. “Sorry, I’m touch-sensitive. I don’t like to make contact with anyone.” She rubbed her fingers where they’d connected. “You have some seriously strong energy. Are you a reader?”