The Wanderer's Children

by L. G. O'Connor

  Cara glanced down their row and frowned. Everyone had arrived except Michael. He’d better not bail, she thought, knowing how excited Sienna pretended not to be to see him.

  Besides the Guardians interspersed among her girlfriends, she felt the Nephilim energy blanketing the building, locking it down tighter than Fort Knox.

  Sinking back into her seat, Cara was mesmerized by Brett. She recognized many of the songs once she’d heard them, and felt like a dunce for not making the connection. Brett’s talent was beyond impressive; he truly was a sensational performer. From the moment he came out onto the stage, he owned it. On top of being a skilled musician and vocalist, he knew how to work the crowd. Not to mention he looked like a schoolgirl’s dream in black leather with his tawny hair loose at his shoulders. Her chest swelled with pride as she watched him.

  Michael slipped in next to her and Simon at the end of the first set, wearing a sheepish grin. Cara eyed him suspiciously, wondering if his delay had anything to do with Sienna, who was conveniently seated at the opposite end of the row. Deciding not to pry, she let it go.

  Still stewing over Brett’s American Idol comment, she sat up straighter in her chair when he picked Jessa out of the audience to come up on stage with him. For a split second, Cara thought that he might choose her, and breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t.

  And then it hit her… Jessa. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? Constantina mentioned he was meant for another…

  Jessa is perfect for Brett, completely perfect! Oh, my Lord! Cara was elated, watching him sing to Jessa, holding her hand delicately in his and lacing his fingers through hers. His energy told her what she wanted to know… he was intrigued. But her elation turned to puzzlement when Jessa’s bitter lemon fear hit her tongue. Why would Jessa be afraid of Brett? Why would anyone be afraid of Brett?

  “Is everything okay?” Simon asked with his lips close to her ear.

  She leaned in to his ear. “Does Jessa seem afraid to you?”

  Simon stared at Jessa for a few seconds and then leaned back down to Cara. “Strange. I sense more than mild apprehension. She does seem afraid.”

  Cara’s brow bunched in thought. How could she find out without getting all up in Jessa’s business? But if there was a chance Jessa could make Brett happy, Cara was all in.

  As Brett finished off the acoustic set, his eyes traveled frequently to where Jessa sat.

  Simon tapped Cara on the shoulder. Wearing a wide smile, he said in her ear, “I think he likes her.”

  Cara nodded. She couldn’t agree more. Things could get interesting as the night unfolded… barring any demon attacks, that was.

  Chapter 31

  BRETT

  New York City. Beacon Theatre. Saturday, May 25, 11:30 PM ET

  AFTER THE SHOW, Brett couldn’t have showered faster if someone had told him the place was on fire. If nothing else, he didn’t want to waste a minute of his time getting downtown to the after-party.

  He threw on a pair of underwear. Thank you very much, he thought, glad that he didn’t have to go commando for the rest of the night, before slipping into a clean pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. Glancing in the mirror, he decided to duck into his room at Simon’s to change before he went up to the roof party.

  Like a man possessed, he needed to find Jessa before she disappeared into thin air. He couldn’t explain what had come over him when he’d taken her up on stage. Yesterday, he’d been pining away for Cara, and tonight a whole new world of possibilities opened up for him. Although he could be impulsive, he wasn’t normally fickle when it came to his choice of women; he abhorred one-night stands and avoided groupies like the plague. His feelings for Cara hadn’t disappeared, but had faded into proper perspective—she was engaged and in love with someone else. On the other hand, he was drawn to Jessa like a magnet.

  Fuck. He took a deep breath. I need a drink to calm my nerves. He glanced at his watch—eleven-thirty. The party was just getting started, and he didn’t want to miss a minute more than necessary.

  “Amigo, you ready to go?” Paco asked, as Brett emerged from the dressing room with his hair still damp. He left everything behind for Roxy to handle, as usual.

  You have no idea. He nodded.

  “Angel’s waiting out front.”

  Brett let go a sigh of relief. “Lead the way.”

  “I’ll cloak you and we’ll slip out the front door,” Paco said, putting his arm around Brett and leading him through the empty theater, past the crowd of fans into the waiting car. A fully visible Guardian entered behind them, leaving the crowd none the wiser that three people, rather than one, had gotten into the vehicle. Angel took off the moment the door of the SUV closed. Paco released Brett, and they became visible in the backseat.

  Angel peered into the rearview mirror. “Great show, m’ijo. You looked like a piece of beefcake up there,” he said with a chuckle. As always, Angel laid down the opening salvo with the creative use of a meat-related term.

  Brett let out a small laugh. “Thanks, amigo. Glad you enjoyed the show.”

  “I thought I might need to protect your ass from Simon. Now, maybe not,” Angel said. “Pretty lady you chose from the audience tonight. The face of an angel on that one.”

  Brett found that ironic coming from Angel. “You should know, my friend,” he teased and then blushed. “She was pretty, wasn’t she?” His voice took on a dreamy quality, thinking again of those beautiful curls of hers and how much he wanted to run his fingers through them.

  Angel’s dark eyes glanced back at him from the rearview mirror. “You have it bad, I can tell.”

  “Come on.” Brett rolled his eyes. “I just met her for like thirty seconds. How can you say I have it bad for her?”

  Angel chuckled again in his annoying fashion and said, “You’re a walking hormone. I can smell it on you.”

  “You can smell me?” Brett squeaked, turning beet red. His heart beat faster.

  “I’m Nephilim. I can do a lot of things. But don’t worry. The pretty lady won’t know unless you tell her.”

  Relief washed over Brett. The whole Nephilim thing had really freaked him out at first, but the more he understood, the less it bothered him. Their cloaking ability was a Godsend, and he’d be using that one whenever he could.

  Brett froze. “Hey, what did you mean about protecting my ass from Simon?”

  Angel gazed back at him. “Are you kidding me? After what I just said? Simon can smell you a mile away from Cara. You’re like a regular ‘Eau de Brett’ perfume factory!”

  Brett’s cheeks grew hotter, and he threw his head back onto the headrest. “Shit, I had no idea.” Mortification wrapped around him like a straightjacket. Angel’s comment in Connecticut about the “hormone meltdown” finally made sense.

  Brett furrowed his brow and shoved Paco into the silent Guardian sitting on the other side of him. “Why didn’t you warn me, man? You’ve been up my ass since I got here and you couldn’t have given me a heads-up?”

  Paco looked stoically at Brett. “It wouldn’t have helped, amigo.”

  “Just be lucky he can’t read your mind.” Angel snickered.

  “Are you shitting me? Don’t tell me you can read my mother-fucking mind!” Brett said.

  “Only a Telepath could. I think you’re safe on that one. Don’t get sus calzones in a wad.”

  Brett’s shoulders slumped with relief. “And I thought I needed a fucking drink before I got in the car.” First order of business when he got back: slamming back a shot so he didn’t make a jackass out of himself in front of this girl.

  “Get ready for that drink, li'l bro, we’re here.”

  An adrenaline rush ignited the nerves in Brett’s stomach. He took another deep breath and reached for the door handle. “Thanks for the ride. You comin’ up?” he asked Angel, opening the door of the SUV.

  “After I park. In the meantime, these two will continue to cover you for the foreseeable future.”

  “Oh, come on, giv
e me a break!”

  Angel gave Brett a hard stare. “We’re not doing this for fun, m’ijo. If you want to spend time alone with the señorita, stay on the deck or take her inside. Don’t get cute and disappear outside of the safe house. Otherwise, I will hunt you down and kick your ass in front of her. We clear?”

  Brett put his head in his hands and rubbed his face. “Fine,” he spat. “You’re starting to make me feel like a goddamn prisoner.”

  “Beats the alternative. Remember that.”

  Frustration furrowed Brett’s brow, making him feel like a temperamental two-year-old. “See you inside,” Brett grumbled and slammed the car door. He needed an attitude adjustment, stat.

  He could see the glow of the lights on the roof, but the building was blanketed in silence.

  “Shouldn’t we be able to hear the party from the street? What’s up?” he asked Paco.

  “Veil of Silence. We figured it wouldn’t be too cool for the cops to shut down our party for violating a noise ordinance.”

  Brett shook his head, impressed. “I should take you guys on tour with me.” No sooner had he said it than he realized with annoyance that it was exactly what he’d be doing when they went back on tour in September.

  Pulling out the keys Simon gave him, he took the elevator up to the apartment with the Guardians silently in tow.

  Everyone was already on the roof. Brett stopped at Simon’s bar and poured a scotch—neat—slamming it back before bee-lining his way back to the guest room to change.

  Still fuming over his conversation with Angel, he ditched his T-shirt and pulled on a fitted black button down, leaving it open at the neck and untucked from his jeans. He took the elastic band out of his hair and combed his fingers through it, giving it a shot with the blow dryer before he was satisfied enough to be seen in public. The drink had given his cheeks a healthy glow. After dousing himself with cologne in an attempt to mask any hormones, pheromones, testosterone, or any other random, telltale signs of his interest in anyone, he was officially ready to make an entrance.

  Chapter 32

  BRETT

  New York City. Roof Party. Sunday, May 26, 12:15 AM ET

  BRETT TOOK A DEEP BREATH when he got to the top of the stairs and surveyed the crowd. Even though the place was packed, he spotted Cara, Simon, and a few other familiar faces almost immediately. Then he spotted Jessa, talking to a petite redhead with cool glasses in the corner near the bar. Formulating the best approach, he made his way over to Cara first.

  Cara caught sight of him and turned as he approached, beaming at him. He pushed down any emotional reaction beyond a smile.

  She ran up to him and grabbed his hand. “Brett, you were fantastic! It was an amazing show.” It pleased him to hear that she’d had such a good time. She stepped back and wrinkled her nose. “A little heavy on the cologne, my friend.”

  His shoulders slumped, suddenly worried. “Long story. Is it terrible?”

  She laughed. “No, it’s not terrible. My sense of smell has been a little sharper lately.” She narrowed her eyes and socked him in the arm—hard. The force of her punch made him wince. “That’s for telling the world about my American Idol comment.”

  Uh-oh. Guess I had that one coming, he thought, and gave her a sheepish grin as he rubbed his arm. “Sorry. It came out of my mouth before I’d really thought about it. By the way, Ow! You punch like a guy. That really hurt.”

  She gave him an overly cheerful smile. “You can’t say you didn’t deserve it.”

  “No, but did you have to leave a bruise?”

  “Don’t be a baby. You want me to kiss it and make it better?”

  He let out a nervous laugh, thinking about the conversation in the car. “Will you stop? Are you purposely trying to get your fiancé to kick my ass or what?”

  Her eyes softened and she touched his arm lightly. “I’m sorry, really. I think I’ve already had one too many.”

  He winked. “I think you’d better cut yourself off. Otherwise there might be bloodshed… mine.”

  “I think we’re past that, don’t you? It’s all good. So…” She batted her eyelashes at him and looked over in Jessa’s direction. “Want an introduction?”

  He blushed and nodded, relieved that Cara didn’t seem upset or act weird about it, given their discussion yesterday. Not that she would, would she? he reasoned.

  She looked him straight in the eye. “This is my rule. I’ll introduce you, and then it’s all you, kid.”

  He nodded, smiling.

  She took him by the hand and led him over to Jessa and the other girl.

  “Jessa, Irene,” she said, “I’d like to officially introduce you to my friend, Brett King.”

  Both women looked up. Jessa gave him a small smile and then looked down, avoiding his gaze, while Irene reached out for a full handshake. “Brett, it was a great show. Thank you so much for the ticket.” Her warm and bubbly demeanor made him smile as she pumped his hand.

  “It’s nice to meet you both. I’m really glad you had a good time. It was a lot of fun.”

  Cara tapped Irene on the shoulder and gave her a wink. “Eye, would you mind coming with me? I’d like to introduce you to someone who’s been dying to meet you.”

  Irene’s eyes lit up. “Lead on, MacDuff. Nice to meet you Brett,” she called over her shoulder.

  Brett was left alone with Jessa who looked like she was contemplating a jump over the side of the roof deck. Not exactly what he’d hoped for. He hadn’t expected her to fall all over him—that would have been a turn-off—but something bordering on friendly would’ve been nice.

  He looked at her warmly, trying to gauge her strange reaction. “Hey, thanks for being such a sport and coming up on stage tonight.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, looking uncomfortable. She glanced at him only briefly before she looked back at the ground. “You’re welcome,” she mumbled.

  “Did I do something to offend you?” he asked slowly.

  She looked at him with a nervous smile and a sparkle in her eye. “No, not at all. I’m sorry, I should go.”

  She made a move to squeeze past him, and without thinking, he reached out and gently grabbed her arm. The feel of her skin under his fingers sent a tingling sensation up his arm, stirring him and leaving him short of breath.

  “Please don’t leave,” he whispered.

  Her breath caught with a small gasp. She turned her head to meet his gaze with wide, hazel eyes. Her lips parted exactly like they had when he’d touched her on stage during his song.

  Panic hit the center of his chest when he realized that he didn’t want to let her go.

  She looked at his hand on her arm and tried to keep walking. “This isn’t a good idea,” she said more to herself than to him.

  Brett frowned and held her in place. “What’s not a good idea? I’ve barely said two words to you. All I’d like is a chance to fetch you a drink and talk to you for five minutes. Unless, of course, you find me totally repulsive and are honestly considering taking a leap over the side of deck—which is basically the look I saw in your eyes the second I got you alone.”

  He dropped his hand from her arm and waited for an answer. Again she looked up to meet his eyes. A genuine smile dappled with sadness graced her lips. “I find you far from repulsive, Brett,” she said softly. The sound of his name from her lips startled him; the effect so intimate that it gave him chills. His eyes widened in surprise.

  “Then why are you leaving?” he asked gently.

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” she whispered. Before he knew what had happened, she rose up on tiptoe and touched her lips gently to his, kissing him tenderly before running away as fast as her legs could carry her.

  Brett stood in stunned silence, touching his lips where she’d kissed him. They tingled with the memory of her velvet touch. He turned and tore after her.

  The numbers above the elevator showed its descent. She would be in the lobby before he could even push the reca
ll button. Instead, he took the emergency stairs two at a time. But by the time he reached the front steps, she was gone.

  JESSA

  Jessa had jumped into one of the black SUVs waiting outside of Simon’s loft. All were manned by Simon’s security company. As soon as she’d asked to be taken back to the penthouse, the driver took off like a shot. She caught sight of Brett out of the back window as he reached the front steps. By then, she was already halfway down the block.

  Leaning back into the seat, she let out a deep sigh of relief. She’d been tempted to ditch the party all together, but she didn’t want to disappoint Cara and Irene.

  Ever since she was a kid growing up in California, she loved rock ’n’ roll. Her mom had been a professional musician with the rock band Miscreant Passage, and Jessa had been raised on music. Concerts had been a staple in her life since she was a toddler, complete with a custom-fitted set of tiny ear plugs. Most of her early memories were of rock concerts and being in the company of her mom and other musicians.

  When Cara had told her about Brett’s concert yesterday night, she’d been both shocked and excited. A fan of King Metaljam, she couldn’t deny that Brett was a breathtaking performer. The fact that Cara even knew him was the most shocking part.

  The moment he’d caught her eye from the stage, he’d taken her breath away. Joining him on stage had terrified her for reasons having nothing to do with him. But when he’d looked at her with those eyes, she couldn’t refuse. And then when he’d touched her, it was like wildfire spreading thought her veins.

  The same thing happened when he’d taken her arm on the roof deck—there was an undeniable chemistry between them that threatened to knock her socks off. Having seen all sides of a musician’s life, the last thing she wanted was to be a notch in some rock star’s headboard.

  Get real, Jessa. If that was all that troubled her, she wouldn’t have run. It’s what could’ve happened if she’d stayed that troubled her. The vision slammed her right between the eyes as he sang to her on stage, winding his fingers around hers. Two images assaulted her at once. One of his beautiful face as he sang to her, and another of him bloody, broken, and writhing in pain because of her.