Dark Angel's Ward (5 page)

And I'm not innocent,
I thought bitterly.
Not anymore.

I ignored him, focusing on the road as I maneuvered the car through the sleepy suburban streets and into my driveway. The house was obscenely big, considering I lived there alone. Two stories, four bedrooms, two-and-a-half baths, with a formal dining room and a spacious upstairs den. The property had been signed over to me free and clear upon my retirement from warding. Apparently, the Society had assumed I'd move on with my life, settle down, and raise a nice, normal family.

And who knew, maybe someday I would. But within the presence of the man at my side, it didn't seem very likely.

"This is your home?" He climbed out of the car, stretching his long limbs gracefully as he straightened up. There was an odd note to his needless question. I took it to mean,
So this is where you've been hiding from me?

"Yep. Come on."

As I made my way up the walk, the first waves of dizziness hit me. I cursed under my breath--usually I had hours after an exchange before the excess energy inside me began to play havoc with my body's systems. Damn, but I'd been careless with him. I grimaced, clutching a porch post for stability.

He appeared at my side in an instant. "You're unwell."

"Ya think?" I shied away as he reached for me, instead thrusting my keys into his outstretched hand. "Here, get the door open. I'll be all right once I sit down."

Fortunately, by the time he'd tried half the keys on the ring and finally found the right one, my head had already begun to clear. I straightened up and led the way inside, crossing the room unerringly in the dark to flick on a floor lamp. Zeph trailed after me and closed the door behind us, standing just inside the entryway.

His eyes roved over my possessions, taking in everything. Not that there was much to take in. The furniture was sparse and functional, the walls bare, everything colored in warm neutral shades. The hallmark of a single person who never entertained. And I actually spent time in this room--the upstairs sat almost unused, and even more desolate.

I could practically feel a comment burning on the tip of his tongue, but he only said, "You should rest now."

"I will." I pointed toward the short hallway leading to my bedroom and its adjacent bath. "In the meantime, go wash up. You look like the clown from hell."

He gazed down on me, a rare, radiant smile lighting his painted features. "I think the twins did a fine job of disguising me."

"Yeah, so they did. But I don't want to try to get that glop out of my pillowcases, so again, go wash up."

"As you wish." He didn't leave, though, until I'd reclined on the sectional per his insistence.

With him gone, I was left alone with my thoughts, which were even more of a mess than usual. The events of the evening had riled me badly enough, but that smile had almost unmade me. I could easily see how such a story could end in tragedy, with a mere mortal throwing herself to her death for one glimpse of that perfect face, one touch of that flawless skin. Just one of those burning kisses.

Grumbling under my breath, I rose from the couch and grabbed a change of clothes from my bedroom, ignoring the sound of running water and the mental images accompanying it. I beat a hasty retreat up the stairs to the little used second bathroom. A cold shower sounded right up my alley about now.

Five

Strains of ethereal music led me back downstairs as I emerged from the bathroom. I found Zeph, much to my annoyance, perched on the edge of my bed. His wet hair was slicked back from his face, showing off the high angle of his cheekbones, the steep curve of his jaw. The very sight of him made me want to turn right back around and spend the night on the couch, but he looked up before I could retreat.

"Jandra."

"What?" I grumbled, ready to go on the offensive.

He said nothing more for a long moment. Instead, he closed his eyes and tilted his head toward the CD player he'd turned on, soaking up the soulful tune. "This is the same music that played in your store," he murmured as the vocals trailed off into an instrumental solo.

I nodded. "My favorite band."

"I like it as well."

"I'm so glad."

He didn't respond to my sarcasm, saying instead, "I, too, feel as if I've found home again after a long journey."

"Please," I muttered. "This place is barely even
my
home."

"I wasn't referring to the building." His gaze intent on my face, he asked, "Do you ever sing anymore, Jandra?"

"You're kidding, right?" I gestured to the speakers, which were now blaring a boisterous ode to suicide. "At least that guy's artfully depressed."

Zeph nodded. "He sings truly of love and loss."

"And sometimes, of having sex with dead people."

"Excuse me?"

I shrugged, biting back a laugh at his thunderstruck expression. "Ah, I guess you just have to be into that sort of thing. Now get out of here. I need sleep."

He stood, but made no move toward the door. "Allow me to stay at your side tonight, Jandra. Your reactions have been unpredictable."

"No, no, and no." All the more reason to have him far away from me. I pointed to the door. "Upstairs, first room on the right. You can sleep in there."

He tensed visibly. "I don't want to be that far from you. You may have need of me."

"It's either that, or the back yard. Your choice. Besides, should I need you, you'll know it." I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling naked despite my tank top and pajama pants. "This isn't old times, Zeph. My body isn't your plaything anymore."

"It never was." Mouth tight, he advanced on me. Or rather, he went to leave the room. I fell back to let him pass, but he stopped in front of me, head cocked to one side. "What is this?" His hand brushed my left shoulder.

"A tattoo." I hadn't thought about it showing now that I'd changed clothes. I reached up and let my hair down from its plastic clip to cover the design.

"Show me," he insisted.

The note of command in his voice irked me enough that I turned, defiantly flicking my waves aside and shrugging the tank top down off my shoulders. The ink covered the entire span of my upper back, ending just above the shoulder blades. The Latin words "Ex Virtus Dolor" curled in elaborate script within a frame of black roses, their petals and leaves flecked with droplets of red.

I flinched as his fingertips grazed my skin. "Strength from pain," he translated in a strained whisper.

"Yeah." I shook my hair back into place, closing the curtain on the show. "We'd know all about that, wouldn't we?"

He sighed, his breath warming my skin. "I'll leave you be, Jandra. Sleep now, and so shall I."

His hands slid over my shoulders and I stiffened. He pulled them quickly away. Good. Let him think I was angry with him for touching me. It was even almost true.

He drifted out the door. "Goodnight."

"If you have any more dreams, I want to know," I called after him.

"No doubt you will."

After he'd turned the corner into the living room, I shut the door, picked up the phone from the nightstand, and dialed a number I never thought I'd use again. I spent the next twenty minutes holding, being transferred, and explaining myself over and over again. Finally, I managed to request a meeting with a Society contact, only to be told to wait on a return call in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. Bureaucratic red tape at its finest.

I sighed in helpless frustration as I hung up. Two whole days with Zeph under my roof--I'd been hoping for twelve hours or less. Whether I'd survive it without killing him, kissing him, or killing myself remained to be seen. As I lay down to sleep, I wondered which outcome I should hope for.

*****

My rest that night was hard-won and unsatisfying. I woke with a pounding headache and a sour stomach--almost like a hangover, but without the fun beforehand. For a long time I just lay in bed, listening to the silence and trying to pretend I was really alone, like any other morning. That Zeph's disastrous appearance the night before had been nothing more than a bad dream.

But I knew better. I could feel him even without the sixth sense that still connected us. His presence hung in the in very stillness of the house, the thickness of the air. As if the walls themselves waited with bated breath to see what we would do next.

How I wished I had something more constructive to do than drag my butt out of bed and get going. That much, at least, went just like any other morning. Well, except for the sick dread churning in the pit of my stomach. It seemed my mundane existence wouldn't protect me this time. Not when my past seemed so determined to haunt me.

I left the bedroom reluctantly, bypassing the closet after only a moment's hesitation. What the hell did it matter? He'd already seen me in my pajamas. I plodded out to the living room to find him on the same chaise where I'd sat the night before, his long legs dangling over the edge. His tone was familiarly distant as he said, "Good morning."

"Mornin'," I mumbled back, surprised to see the hour hand on the wall clock edging past eleven. Apparently I hadn't slept as poorly as I'd thought. "You're looking better today," I added.

At that, his aloofness crumpled into a timid half-smile. "I'm not."

"Hmm." I let our minds touch briefly on my way past into the kitchen, and saw he spoke the truth. He didn't seem much better off than he'd been at the shop last night. His mind seethed with fear, doubt, and confusion. And beneath it all his spirit crackled and raged, like a wildfire looking for something to consume.

I puzzled it over as I grabbed a caffeine-laden soda from the fridge and popped the tab. I stuck my head back through the archway. "Have you eaten yet?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Fine." I poured my drink into a glass over ice and carried it back to the living room.

Zeph straightened up as I approached, folding his legs as if he expected me to join him on the chaise. I kept right on walking and perched on the edge of an armchair across the room. He frowned. "Jandra...."

"This is weird, okay?" The words burst from my lips in a near shout. I toned it down a bit and added, "I don't like having people in my house anyway, and you...."

"I was supposed to leave you alone for the rest of your life," he recited without rancor. "And now I've invaded your home and your privacy."

I blinked in amazement. "You mean you understand?"

"I'm trying to." He sighed, staring down at the throw pillow in his lap. "You don't want me here. I realize that. But since I am...I'd like to spend some time with you."

"What the flaming hell are you talking about?"

"I've missed you, Jandra. You were a part of my life for so long."

"Oh yeah, ten whole whopping years. That's a drop in the bucket for you. What made it so damn special?"

"You did." He turned those beautiful eyes on me again, their dark depths fathomless. "I told you last night. No one has ever known me the way you do. Whether or not you can believe that I lo...." He stopped in mid-word, shaking his head. "You meant a great deal to me."

"Past tense?" Sarcasm warred with bitterness in my tone. He just stared at me as if willing me to understand. But I was in no mood to try. I took a long drink and changed the subject. "Have you been up for very long?"

He nodded. "I slept very little. I had another dream."

"What?" I scowled at him. "You were supposed to call me if you had another."

"But you were resting."

"So what?" Again, my perfectly valid question met with a blank stare. I sighed in frustration. "Do you remember any of it this time?"

"Yes."

I waited about thirty seconds. "Care to elaborate on that?"

Judging by his expression, he didn't. "I stood in a hallway that stretched as far as the eye could see," he said finally. "Both sides of it were lined with hundreds of windows--rooms without doors, really. And you stood inside every one of them, crying, calling out for me. I could see you, but I couldn't reach you."

"Mmm hmm." Not too trite. "Is that all?"

"No. Sometimes there was someone, something, looming behind you. A shadow."

"Meaningless," I scoffed triumphantly.

He looked stricken. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, please. The long road, the shadowy figure--they're archetypical constructs. Your mind draws a picture for you, and you fill in the blanks. Any psychiatrist can tell you that. Trust me, I've been to more than a few. Doesn't mean a damn thing."

"No? And how would your psychiatrists explain the changes in me?"

Well. There was that. "A freak accident?" I offered with a shrug.

"You don't believe that."

"The hell I don't." I gulped down the rest of my soda and stood. "Listen, I've got to get ready for work. Watch TV or something, all right?"

He cocked his head, frowning. "Do you leave for work this early?"

No, actually, I didn't. I wasn't due at Dissonance until three, but I needed the hell out of here as soon as possible. Playing house with the bane of my existence was just too disturbing, even for my tastes. I'd been planning to send the assistant manager to the bank with the deposit I'd never gotten to drop off last night, and giving her the rest of the afternoon off.

"We've got inventory coming up," I replied vaguely, avoiding his gaze. How had he seen through my bluff? "I've got a lot to catch up on."

"And you intend for me to stay here until you return?"

"Well, what were you planning on doing? Taking in a show? Getting a mani-pedi?"

"I've told you." He rose to his feet, too. "I want to be close to you."

Aw, great. Now I'd have Karen Carpenter singing in my head all damn day. "Well there's no way you're coming to the shop with me. Wasn't last night exciting enough for you?"

"Jandra...."

"Save it. I've got to get dressed." I fled back toward my bedroom, half expecting him to follow me, jam his foot in the door, and argue some more. He didn't, but he did continue to call out for me.

With clenched teeth, I tried to ignore him, though it was damn near impossible to do. His voice no held magnetism now, no hint of his power. He was simply playing on my emotions again. Finally, I turned on the hair dryer and let it run just to drown him out.