The feeling of being watched was so strong, that I could almost feel a hole boring into the back of my head. The overwhelming urge to run or confront my stalker put my entire body on edge…on alert. My power awakened in my chest, a big powerful cat uncurling itself from a long siesta in the sun. My fingers twitched in anticipation.
I sat at the bar, guzzling a bottle of water and wondering if my brains had been addled from the alcohol and dancing, when a hand grasped my upper arm. A large man who smelled like he had bathed in booze, with lovely bloodshot eyes, leaned in as he tightened his grip on my arm.
“Sir, get your hands off the young lady.” The bartender narrowed his eyes at the drunk.
“Mind your own damn business!” Yeah, the big, offensive-smelling guy was definitely past the point of reasoning. My smile was one-third pissed off and two-thirds you-have-no-idea-who-you’re-messing-with, but he couldn’t tell the difference. His smile was lascivious, and his ripe smell nearly caused my eyes to cross.
Several things happened all at once. The bartender motioned to someone behind me. I heard the security guy whisper “shit” from impossibly far away, and I felt a rage course through my body that was beyond me and beyond my own understanding. I swear on all that is holy that my vision became shuttered in a red haze for a few dangerous seconds.
The big dude was oblivious to everything going on around him.
“Hey, baby, you want some company, don’t you?” His grip tightened even harder on my arm, and I winced. I’d be bruised the next day.
“You really should get your filthy hands off me.” My tone should have been warning enough. I gripped his offending hand and gave him a little power-filled shove away from me. I turned back around, ignoring the snickers and gasps around me, to finish off the last guzzle of my water. The bartender raised his brow in surprise, and then his eyes widened as he caught sight if something behind me. I steeled myself. Big idiot was back.
“Who the fuck do you think you are, little girl?” His eyes were dilated and a huge vein stood out on his forehead. I felt more than heard the security guard come up behind me. I held up a finger.
“I’m the wrong “little girl” for you to put your hands on. Maybe your momma should’ve taught you better manners.” Okay, so maybe I shouldn’t have antagonized the guy further, but seriously, he was an ass. I turned around and stared the security dude in the eye. “I can handle this.” His eyebrows shot up into his hairline, and his grin told me he thought I was full of crap. Just as someone bumped into security dude, effectively distracting him, my drunken companion made his move.
Fortunately for the drunken butt-head, I only used a little of my powers. His hand clamped on my arm in a bruising grip as he swung me around to face him. I narrowed my eyes.
“Last chance, Bubba. Better let go while you still can.” His laugh was cut off prematurely by his outraged cry of pain. One quick incapacitating wrist twist and broken nose later, he was writhing in pain on the ground at my feet, probably wondering where it all went wrong that night. I stood there looking down at the second man I’d punched in less than twenty-four hours. I would say that I felt bad, but I’m pretty sure the smirk on my face wouldn’t have backed up that outrageous claim. I glanced up and found the security dude watching me with a smirk of his own. I raised my brow, daring him to say I hadn’t been provoked. He motioned for me to go with him with a crook of his finger. Awe, crap.
I stepped over the still-prone figure of my latest assault victim and made my way over to the security guard. I crossed my arms over my chest and waited with a defiant tilt of my chin. He spoke quickly into his little security gadget and started walking towards the back of the club. I shrugged and followed. Once again an icy breeze ruffled the curls around my ears. A cloak of calm and relief settled into my heart as a frown creased my forehead.
The security guard motioned for me to enter a room ahead of him. I peered inside and found security camera central. I shuffled inside, raised my chin, and waited to get chewed out.
“I was defending myself…that asshat needed…” I began.
“Would you like a job?” Security dude cut me off mid-sentence and my mouth swung open. I stared stupidly at his tanned face.
“Excuse me?” That was my brilliant reply. His smile showed very white, even teeth. His tan skin, army buzz cut, and overly muscled arms and chest, all reminded me of G.I. Joe…G.I. Joe meets undercover agent. The overall package was a bit intimidating.
“I believe I just offered you a job. Would you consider working security part time nights here at the club? We need a mujer, a female, who can blend in and who can handle herself. You’re eighteen aren’t you?” He had a light Spanish accent, and he asked the last as if it had just occurred to him that I could’ve been a minor. I nodded mutely. He was offering me a job after I’d just laid a guy out in the club? I smiled so big, I felt unused muscles in my face groan in complaint.
“I’d like a job very much.” I shook hands with my new favorite person.
I laid wide awake in bed, staring at my ceiling, thinking over the night’s events, glad to be back home and in my flannel pajama bottoms and t-shirt. Matt had dropped me off at my apartment building with a still talkative Trina in the front seat. I don’t think she ever stopped talking on the ride home. I grinned—Trina was pretty great to hang out with.
I rolled over and glanced at the clock, next to my bed. 1:00 AM. I needed to try and get some rest. I had a ton of things to accomplish the next day before I had to meet Jorge, my new boss, at Club Strange. When I clicked off the lamp, my heart rate immediately accelerated and my hands clenched into fists. I was so disgusted with myself—unable to get over the ridiculous sense of dread that clutched my heart in its unnatural grip. It was the same every night. Every night since I’d warped back to my own time, I’d lay in bed terrified. Terrified, I’d dream, and my dream would lead me gently through a dream forest only to wake up screaming into another time. Terrified I wouldn’t dream of laughter and splashing, of the sound of waves washing up on a beach, of the wind carrying the intoxicating scent of honey, spices, and herbs to my dream self. Terrified I wouldn’t catch a glimpse of a scarred, gentle face, smiling at me from a place of mists and shadows. I closed my eyes tightly and willed myself to sleep…willed myself to forget.
The next morning I stood in front of my bed staring at my reflection in the mirror. I ran my hand over my stomach. I’d definitely lost a little weight over the last few months. I looked myself in the eye, noting the bags underneath them. I looked worn out. I sighed and grabbed my favorite faded blue jeans and shimmied into them, frowning at my plain, white cotton bra. I could use some new under-things, I thought to myself. Nothing could make a girl feel more confident than some new lacy panties and bras. I yanked a black sweater over my head, pulled my hair back into a pony tail, and wrapped a soft red scarf loosely around my neck. I jammed my cell phone, wallet, and laptop into my messenger bag and headed into town in hunt of new undies—just what every girl needs for her first day on a new job.
I sat on a bench outside several hours later with a caramel latte and a cinnamon bagel smothered in butter, soaking up the warmth of the mid-day sun. My shopping had been a success, even though I had bought a little more than I’d intended to. The panties and bras had been a slight splurge, and I’d found a great deal on some pants and tops that I figured would be appropriate for my new job. I shook my head. Who would’ve ever thought I’d be working in a night club? Life was just way too unpredictable. I took a deep breath of the chilly air and stretched my legs out in front of me. The bench I sat on was located in a lovely little park in Charleston. It was one of my favorite spots in the world—one of the very few places I could remember spending time with my parents when they were alive. I felt a connection to the place. Right then it was quite empty, but the wintery scenery didn’t keep me from enjoying it any less.
After I finished off my bagel, I leaned back with my eyes closed and indulged in memories from my childhood. My dad s
winging me around and around until I couldn’t stand up straight…my mom smiling at us from a blanket spread out for a picnic under a huge, old oak tree. Her laughter was one of the most carefree sounds I’d ever heard. A sigh escaped my lips as I reluctantly opened my eyes, effectively snapping out of my reverie.
I stood up, getting ready to leave so I could finish a few more things on my to-do list, when the world literally shifted beneath my feet. I reached out a hand to steady myself. I watched my hand become suspended in mid-motion as the air around me rippled out from the place where I stood like the ripples a rock makes when it hits a still pond. I pulled my hand in front of me, mesmerized by the way it glided slowly as if I were deep under water or if the air were made of clear gelatin. A small gust of warm air washed over me with the sweet scent of magnolias in full bloom riding on its wings. I could hear a bird singing in the distance and the sound of children playing and laughing. I smiled despite the bizarreness of the situation. The picture of a little girl skipped in front of me so suddenly that I gasped at the hazy vision. Her red curls bounced as she skipped along, singing out to someone behind her, “Come catch me, Daddy!” The air shifted and thinned slightly, allowing me to breathe a little easier. A laugh rang out from somewhere close by, a joyous sound that I would have recognized anywhere, raising the hairs on my arms. Shock coursed through me, causing the air around me to thin so quickly that I landed on my knees in front of the bench I’d eaten lunch on. The warmth of the vision’s summer day all vanished in an instant as I was thrust back into the chilly February day.
I gasped and stuffed my knuckle in my mouth to keep from crying out. I pulled myself up onto the bench and glanced around. Everything was back to normal just like I knew it would be. I leaned forward with my head in my hands and rubbed my face as hard as possible. I looked up again and tried not to scream in frustration. What the hell? Why would I have a mental breakdown in the middle of a park? I hadn’t thought that hard about my parents in a very long time, and I had never had an episode like the one I’d just experienced. I needed to talk to someone badly, but who? It’s not like googling my warper issues would bring up any relevant results on my laptop. The library was useless, and the only people I knew who could possibly tell me anything about what I was experiencing, I’d left a hundred years in the past, back in 1904. The unfairness and impossibility of my situation had just slapped me in the face and hit me in one of the very few soft spots I had left. I sat there on the bench in a daze another half hour with my arms wrapped around my waist before I was able to summon the strength to get up and make my way back to my apartment. I didn’t feel much of anything on the walk home, which was a huge improvement over the despair and overwhelming loneliness I’d felt while in the park.
I dressed in my brand new, dark indigo blue jeans and a lime green tank top. I pulled a loose white cashmere boat neck sweater over the tank top and slid my dagger into my boot. My new underwear felt great, my new clothes felt great, and I was feeling pretty amazing wearing it all. I even took the time to slap on a little make-up and light perfume—it was a miracle. I braided my hair to lie over my right shoulder and was pleased with the overall picture. I sat on my bed and pulled my pendant from my shirt. I held the stone in my hand and once again thought about getting rid of it. My heart thudded painfully at the thought. I sat my sgian dubh on the bed and lovingly caressed the engravings on the blade. “Ta mo chroi istigh ionat”. That’s what it said. I didn’t know what it meant back in 1904 when it had been given to me, and it took me several weeks to bring myself to find the meaning. My heart is within you, and it was true—Aldwin would always be in my heart.
I had gone through this many times over the past weeks…but I always came back to the same thought, the same memory, the same conclusion. I could hear Aldwin’s voice in my head as if we had met only twenty-four hours ago instead of a hundred years and three months ago. He’d told me that I couldn’t change my destiny by simply taking off the pendant. With or without the pendent, I was a warper, and I didn’t want to screw up my life or the life of other people just because of the pain and loss I’d endured. I’d be strong, I’d continue down the path that had been laid out before me, and I hoped I’d have made Aldwin proud.
I sat in the back office of Club Strange filling out paperwork an hour before the place opened for business. The pay was pretty good—a whole lot better than what I would have been making at Taco Hut, that’s for sure. At least I wouldn’t feel so idle anymore. I’d have something to occupy my time, and getting paid for it was a definite plus. Jorge entered the office and I handed him my completed paperwork. He glanced over it quickly, made copies of my ID, and gave me a rough schedule for the next two weeks. We left the office to take a tour of the place and to discuss my duties.
“So, where did you learn how to defend yourself like you did last night?” he asked as we walked past the stage where the band was warming up.
“Here and there. I took a few self-defense classes a long time ago. I also had a pretty great teacher teach me some more advanced techniques.” The picture of a disheveled Aldwin, smiling at me from across a sparring mat, flashed in my mind. “But, he’s gone now,” I said stiffly.
“Do you carry any weapons?” I came to an abrupt stop.
“Why would you ask me that?” I asked defensively. No way I was giving up my sgian dubh.
“It’s just that I have almost a sixth sense about people. You strike me as the type of girl who wouldn’t walk around without some kind of protection.” He noticed my defensive stance and held out his hands, palms up. “Listen, I only ask so I can be informed….I don’t like to be surprised by the people I’m responsible for bringing on the team. I won’t ask you to give it to me. Mi jefe, my boss, doesn’t mind weapons—as long as they are in the hands of responsible, level-headed people.” He shrugged his overly muscular shoulders.
I bit my bottom lip in thought. He seemed genuine, and if he insisted I give up the weapon, I could always tell him to shove it and go home. I reached down and lifted the leg of my jeans. I held out my most cherished possession for his inspection. His eyes widened as he reached for the sgian dubh, and I involuntarily flinched when he grasped the hilt in his hand. No one had ever touched the dagger besides Aldwin and me. He gave a low whistle in appreciation as he turned the blade over in his hand, his eyes caressing the beautiful craftsmanship.
“Well, I didn’t expect this. Mace…a gun, maybe…but this…this is a thing of beauty.” He studied my face, his brow furrowed in thought. “Do you know how to use this thing?” he asked after a moment. I gave a quick nod in the affirmative. He held the dagger back out to me and I nearly snatched it out of his hand. I quickly put it back in its sheath inside my boot.
“Is this going to be a problem?” I crossed my arms over my chest and raised a brow.
“As long as you don’t go on a drunken rampage with that thing or go around flashing it in a crowd…it should be okay.” I snorted. He flashed a big grin in my direction. “Somehow I don’t think you’re that type either. Let’s go and finish our little tour before it’s time to open the club.” I let out a relieved breath and followed behind him. “This is the only place you haven’t seen yet,” Jorge said as he opened a large door in the very back of Club Strange. “You won’t be in here much, but I wanted to show it to you. Just in case the owner needs you to do anything for him, or if he ever needs to speak with you, you’ll know where to go.” He flicked a light on as we entered the large room.
The room was massive, with a huge desk in the far corner and a bookshelf filled with well-worn books standing behind it. Something seemed a little odd about the whole set up…something bothered me about it. I frowned at the desk and bookshelf and tried to put my finger on what was bothering me, but nothing came to mind. I walked further into the room and glanced around. A large, comfortable, brown leather couch and huge throw rug gave very little away about the owner of Club Strange. No photos sat on the desk; no photos of any kind adorned the walls. A sketch
of a woman lying on her stomach asleep, sprawled across a huge Victorian bed, was the only art in the whole room. I stepped closer and inspected the picture. Whoever drew it was very good, and I could tell they cared deeply for the woman. Her face was peaceful in sleep; a small smile adorned her lips; hair tumbled around her shoulders and fanned out on the bed. I frowned—a crackling light bulb in the back of my skull sparked and popped, trying to make a connection—but for the life of me, I couldn’t put it all together.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Jorge came up behind me and nodded at the picture I was studying. “I’d love to know if Señor Black drew it himself, but he is a very private man. Let’s go. It’s about time to open up.” I glanced at the drawing once again and then over at the desk. Mr. Black had nice taste—surprising for the owner of a night club, I thought vaguely. I flicked off the light as I walked out the door, suppressing a shiver. I shook my head to dislodge the feeling of déjà vu before it could freak me out any more than it already had.
The next thing I knew, the club was thumping and people were jammed inside, thrilled to be a part of the hottest night club in the city. I mingled amidst the throng of people, keeping my eye out for any troublemakers, checking the women’s restrooms out for anything going on. I broke up a fight an hour into the night and my reputation spread through the place like wildfire. The respect was totally unexpected, but that’s what it came down to. Big guys looked like they wanted to argue, but in the end they didn’t want to take a chance that their ego would suffer at the hands of a five foot six inch girl.
Relativity (A Sage Hannigan Time Warper Novel #2) Page 2
