Disenchanted (23 page)

Nyssa has joined Rey in observing me at the foot of the bed. Nothing like being considered a freak of nature by others in the same category. Gingerly, I move myself off the bed, no need to worry about them following me to the living room.

I nod to Dara, hovering by the front door. Thankfully, someone was smart enough to make coffee. Grabbing a cup, I head over to the window. May as well check the circus below.

Mourning doves cluster on the outcroppings of the building and windowsills. When I was a child, I thought my constant companions were called mourning doves and that was the reason they sounded so sad. I could relate, not being a morning person. Later, I learned it was mourning and as much as I love my little friends, it kind of creeps me out that they continue to hang around.

Across the street, Alric stands at one end of the block, Teiran at the other within sight of my building. Continuing their surveillance, NTF agents stand out in their black suits. The crowd below shouts my name. Subtract the not–so–flattering adjectives and it would be exhilarating. Like a monarch addressing her subjects. Letting the curtains drop before someone catches a glimpse of me, I turn to the room.

“Can someone fill me in on what I missed during my forced nap? Did anyone find Jenny?” I plant myself on the couch next to Rey.

“Nope, no one else saw her, it’s like she just disappeared after she got out the door. Probably skittered off into the crowds of morons hanging around outside.”

I nod. She wasn’t the one they were waiting to get a glimpse of, or better yet get their hands on. That would be me. It doesn’t matter that I’m not The Collector, or that the attacks have ceased. That little fact actually plays into the public perception that I am what they think. Sick, but I almost wish he would attack again while I’m under surveillance.

Rey is the only one who’s said more than one word to me. Makes a girl wonder when two of her best friends won’t say boo to her. But they’re still hanging around, that’s something.

“What’s with them?”

He shrugs, then looks over his shoulder into the kitchen. “No clue.” He leans in closer to me. “What happened? I mean after you passed out.”

I toy with my cup, unsure if I should, or want to tell him about Vereinen. I haven’t told anyone about him. Partially because I don’t want them to think I’m crazy chatting with what I thought was my imaginary childhood friend. I’m not so sure he’s imaginary any more. Matter of fact, I’m almost positive he’s very real. The first Schattenkind.

“Hey,” says Rey softly, “you okay? I didn’t mean to upset you, was just curious.”

“It’s okay. The last two weeks have just been a living hel.”

“I know darlin’.” Dropping a chaste kiss on the top of my head, he snags my cup and heads into the kitchen.

One freaky assed thing after another keeps dropping in my lap. I keep trying to wake up, but there’s no hope, it’s like being stuck in a nightmare loop. Turning, I watch the others congregated in the kitchen. My support team consists of people I want to trust. I’m just not sure if I can trust them.

Rey is, well...Rey, easygoing and smooth to a fault. I know he cares, but deep down I fear he’ll do whatever it takes in the name of self–preservation. Nyssa is a sweetheart, but typical sprite behavior—trickiness, malice and vengeance—lurks in there somewhere. Dara has her own secrets and agenda, reaching far beyond the others. She refuses to answer, or deny anything, making it hard to confide in her.

Then there’s Royd, Brand and Rand. Who knows with them? Something makes me want to trust Alric, but he’s under Royd’s thumb. Teiran Rand would prefer me served up on a platter; the hatred practically rolls off his skin. Then there’s the Sun King—whatever the fuck that is—Var Royd. Indebted to him? Yes, in more ways than one. Trust him? Not in this, or any other lifetime.

I could run home to The Sisters—who, very likely aren’t really my grandmother and aunts—and Annya, but that would only put them in danger. Not to mention, the NTF would follow and drag my ass back, probably tossing it in the pokey, or worse the C.U.

Vereinen. Seems my imaginary friend isn’t so imaginary after all. After spending time with him, I know there’s more to the story. If someone placed a block on my Talents as they began to emerge it could explain his
abandoning
me. Maybe it blocked him too. Which leads me to The Sisters, but why would they do something like that? He claimed love, or protection. Were they protecting me from my Talents, him, or something else? Aunt Liza said Royd was dangerous, evil even. Was that what they were protecting me from? And why did they lie to me about being my family and about what I am?

I feel a little like
Alice
in the
Red Queen’s
court, waiting for the ax to drop. Confused and tired. Tired of the intrigue. Tired of being used. Tired of having to rely on those I’m not sure I should. Tired of worrying about everything I say and do.

I need some quiet alone time. Leaving my little group to discuss whatever it is they feel the need to leave me out of, I head to the office and grab a favorite book. Something to lift me out of reality, make it all go away, even if it’s just for an hour, or two.

It seems C.C. has the same idea, curled up on the bed, ignoring life as only a cat can. I crawl in under the covers, for comfort not warmth. The June humidity takes care of that. His little motor starts up as I stroke his fur.

“Why couldn’t I have been born a cat?”

He answers with a yawn as he stands and stretches before moving onto my lap.

“Yeah, I know you’d have to break someone new in to fill your bowel and dump your box.”

A damp little nose nudges my hand. Taking the hint, I stroke him again. Maybe I just need some quality kitty napping. Leaning back against the pillows, book forgotten, Einen’s silvery beauty paints my closed lids.

***

My heart thumps against my breastbone. I stand in a vaguely familiar room. I didn’t realize this is where I wanted to be until I saw the glow of the fire and gigantic, curtained bed. Parting the curtains, I see what truly brought me here. The paleness of his skin, enhanced by the deep red of the bedding, hair artistically spread across the pillows, sharp features softened in sleep. He’s beautiful, not in the model perfect way of Var Royd, or the ruggedness of his elven spies. There’s a delicateness to his features, slender, angular, yet graceful even when still.

Slipping onto the bed, I try not to disturb him. I curl myself against him and he stirs in his sleep, turning to drape a leg and arm around me.

“I did not know if you would come back,” he whispers against the top of my head.

“I didn’t know if I could.”

“I’m glad you did. It is becoming more difficult for me to come to you.”

He tightens his hold on me drifting back to sleep. I sigh, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. Without a doubt I can finally relax, at least until this nap is over.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

I wake back in my own bed, alone except for my furry friend, more refreshed than I have been in the past two weeks. I can’t say it’s love I’m feeling, but there’s certainly a warm fuzzy spot in my heart for the man.

Glancing at the clock, I see I’ve only been out a couple of hours, yet it feels as if I slept eight. Talk about a rush. Sliding out of bed, I crack the door open and see the others gathered around the TV. My stomach growls when I smell the popcorn. Rey chuckles, nodding in my direction and the others turn to look.

“Nothing like hot buttered popcorn to bring sleeping beauty out of her slumber. Feeling better?”

I nod, joining him and Nyssa on the couch, groaning as I see the movie playing. “Who let Nys pick?”

“We had too. She wouldn’t stop whining.”

“It is actually not that bad,” says Dara, legs swinging over the arm of the chair.

“Whoa, did I just hear that?” I pretend to clean my ears.

Rey’s mouth hangs open, the handful of popcorn he’d shoved in rolling down his shirt.

“Told you,” Nyssa says, grinning like a fool.

Dara laughs, swinging around to face us. “Got you.”

Nyssa’s grin fades and her lower lip protrudes.

“Okay, so I’m not in the
Twilight Zone
.
”

“Nope, just sitting in your apartment watching crappy chick flicks.” Rey tosses a kernel at me, grinning. “That nap must have been what you needed. You’re almost back to normal.”

“Yeah, I know, as normal as I could ever hope to achieve,” I say before they can and toss the piece of popcorn back at him.

“Any thoughts as to how you would like your hair done for Lorelei’s party?” asks Dara.

“I don’t even know if I’m going, let alone what I want done with my hair. I don’t even know what I’d wear.”

“You’re going,” says Nyssa, “Lorelei made us promise not to let you chicken out.”

Dara shrugs. “I am sure we can find something in that bottomless closet of yours that will be appropriate.”

“If all else fails,” says Rey with a grin, “she can wear something of Nyssa’s.”

“No amount of rolled–up tube socks will help me fill one of Nyssa’s dresses.”

“And you’re too tall,” she says with a grin.

“You could raid Dara’s closet, but this is a party we’re talking about, not a funeral, or a bloodbath.” Rey flings a handful of popcorn at Dara.

Casually she picks up the pieces that hit home and turns back to the movie. I try to decipher which mushy piece of crap Nys had to watch, until the over-spray of Rey’s unswallowed beer clouds my vision. Nyssa laughs so hard she starts hiccuping, pointing at Dara. Turning, I see the last thing expected. She sits there blank—faced, hands held out and shoulders raised, kernels of popcorn attached to her fangs.

“Looks good,” I say, trying and failing to contain the shock–induced laughter. “You should wear them to the party.”

Rolling her eyes, she flicks them off with her tongue, pulling them into her mouth.

Rey shakes his head. “It’s not a costume party.”

Dara flips him something other than popcorn and he laughs.

Not normal by any means, but still better than it’s been for a long time, more relaxed. Dare I say it? Fun?

***

Leaving the house to go shopping was pretty much out of the question. Going to the party without being hassled is going to be challenge enough. This leaves us with the great dress debate. Yes, my closet holds an abundance of items, but very few are of the formal variety.

I manage to find two bathing suits, a startling white bikini and a haltered one
–
piece the shade of a cloudy day. I don’t think I’ve ever worn them. Heck, I don’t even lay out. Flesh this pale and the sun don’t a couple make, but this party is held by moonlight, so no worries.

I’m feeling a little guilty being excited about this party. Jenny’s still missing and The Collector is still out there, leaving a big ol’ target of blame on my back, but the fashion police told me not to worry about things I have no control over. I know they’re right. Speaking of things I have no control over, what if my newly annoying Talent goes haywire and I end up sending people–eating shadows loose on Lorelei’s boat? Or somehow raise the dead? What about Vereinen’s warning about vamps?

“Huh?” I ask the three sets of eyes staring at me.

“That’s what you will wear,” says Nyssa.

“What?”

She waves a hand toward the pale grey one piece and a charcoal wrap skirt draped across my stylist chair. Rey holds a moonstone pendant and earrings. Dara dangles a pair of strappy silver and acrylic hooker heels from her fingers.

“Looks like you’re set darlin’,” says Rey, grinning at my fish impersonation.

“I can’t wear those!” I point to the shoes.

“Why not? You obviously thought they were wearable when you bought them.”

“I bought them for a Halloween party, years ago.”

Dara shrugs. “So they will be going to another party. It is not as if you have never worn heels before.”

I sigh, closing my eyes, no use fighting. Three against one is a losing battle. “Pole dancer heels, it is. Just don’t make me look like a total slut when you do my hair.”

“Would we do that?” she asks with a smile as she places the shoes in my hands.

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“Clothing is decided, now it’s time for your hair. Chop, chop.”

“No chopping, Rey, just styling.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, get a move on.”

***

“I ol you mot ta wa er air,” says Rey, around the bobby pins held between his lips. Yeah, I know major code violation, but we’re not open so I let it slide.

“Just apply more product,” replies Dara, drying her newly bobbed locks, looking chicer than usual. The cropped back accentuating the longer sides jelled to curved points along her jaw leading to heart–shaped bangs, or fringe as our European counterparts call them. What can I say? I do good work.

Rey continues to mumble incoherently, nothing I probably want to understand. Between the acupuncture and the backcombing, I’m getting the mother of all headaches. He covers my face and the whoosh of spray fills the air. Just when I think it will never stop, he lifts his hand and stands back.