Forever (19 page)

Marissa was looking at him with soft, considering eyes, the blue of them so warm, in spite of it being such a cool color. But her eye color was closer to the blue at the center of a flame, like when a Bunsen burner is lit and it roars with its little storm of fire on the tip. And then, as intransigent as the wind, they would turn toward green, hovering on the brink of it, but not quite achieving it.

“You’ve come so far since I first began counseling with you,” she said, her tone so genuine that he didn’t feel she was patronizing or even doctoring him. It was as if she were a friend, and not a doctor. “When we first met you were so determined to not acknowledge your grief. And now look at you. You’ve come to understand you’re allowed to mourn, and more important, to let go enough to move on. You were so determined to punish yourself, to blame yourself not only for Chico’s death but for replacing him with Sargent. So much so that you
wouldn’t allow yourself to connect with him the way you needed to.” She smiled softly at him. “Now you love him so much you can’t even let him go.”

She nodded toward the dog sleeping soundly on the floor near the fireplace.

“I’m stealing him, you know. If I’m going to be a murderer, I may as well be a thief besides.” He frowned a little. “You know, three weeks ago, I would have never done something like this. I would rather have died than let someone think ill of me or accuse me of a crime, never mind flat-out commit one. But … maybe it’s because of Menes’s influence, that I am willing to do something because it is right and not just because it’s the rules. Sargent belongs with me. He depends on me just as I depend on him. And I have no intention of leaving the department ill equipped. They will receive a donation of two new pups from an anonymous donor to replace him.”

“Somehow I knew you were going to say that,” she said with a smile, impulsively reaching to hug him. It was an affection he hadn’t expected, and he certainly hadn’t expected her to initiate it. But, of course, she realized what she was doing and pulled away moments later, her head dipping so her loose hair hid her blush-pink cheeks. She stepped back and smoothed her skirt and blouse, though neither were out of place. It was, he realized, more like her version of donning armor. She did it almost like a reminder to herself that there were protocols to be acknowledged.

He wondered, once more, why she felt the need to hide her true depth of compassion and emotion, not to mention her carnal side. She was so incredibly passionate. He should know, he’d held that passion in his hands and had felt the sensual power of it. He had felt what it was like when she released all her inhibitions and just lived for the sensations of the moment.

Not that her conscience and ethics were inconsequential, but there were other things equally, if not more, important. And while she bestowed nothing but respect and understanding to others, he wasn’t quite sure she gave the consideration to herself.

He wanted so badly to kiss her right then. It wasn’t about the desire that constantly crawled through him whenever he looked at her. Or the fact that she was unbelievably beautiful. Nor was it the way her gorgeou certainly ag.s red hair framed her delicate features hinting at the passionate woman within her. All were present and accounted for, but what compelled him most was her kindness and the understanding he knew she felt toward him in spite of him having screwed up her entire life and thrown her into the deep end of the Bodywalker world with absolutely no forewarning whatsoever.

“I’m so sorry about your friend,” she said, her bottom lip pulling between her teeth as though she wanted to nibble on it but caught herself in time to quell the undisciplined action.

Good god, she’s wound up tighter than a watch
, Menes thought with no small amount of frustration. A feeling Jackson shared. In fact, he was noticing a lot more similarities between him and Menes than in the very beginning. They both had strong personalities and both had this powerful need to do something when they saw what needed to be done. It was just that sometimes it seemed like Jackson wasn’t as willing as Menes was to do whatever necessary to see the right thing done. Or what he
felt
was the right thing.

For instance they felt that the right thing to do would be to grab hold of her and pull her close. To kiss her and force her to see the passionate woman she was inside. But they knew it wasn’t going to be as easy as that, and they knew that heaping that kind of revelation on top of all she was dealing with bordered on selfishness.

“And,” she said, “thank you for keeping my sister safe. She means more to me than anyone else on earth and the idea of her getting hurt just because of me …” She shook her head, mute with all the negative things that came after such a thought, too disturbed to voice the possibilities.

“It was the very least I could do, considering I’m the reason you are in this mess to begin with. Come,” he said, pulling her with him as he left the room, “let me get you something to eat.”

“I’m not very hungry.”

“You haven’t eaten since … good god, when
did
we last eat?”

“I suppose it has been a while,” she said as he drew her into the enormous custom kitchen in the center of what had to be the largest home Marissa had ever been in. It was large enough, he had told her, to house several Bodywalkers in comfort. They tended to travel and live in groups, a way of protecting one another from Templars or any number of hazards. This was to be Jackson’s new home and, for the time being, hers. She took the seat he offered her on a barstool near the counter and he went to the fridge. He started pulling out enough food to feed an army.

“You can’t be that hungry,” she said with a laugh as he began preparing what looked like at least three sandwiches. “No mustard, please. I’m allergic.”

“Really? I never knew that about you. And I don’t think I’ve heard of a mustard allergy before.”

“It’s something of a pain in the neck when I go out to eat. I constantly have to ask if they use mustard or mustard seed in something. It’s used much more often than you might think. And it’s kind of a downer because every time I hear about honey mustard dip or honey mustard dressing it always sounds so delicious.”

“What happens if you eat it? Rashes and such or full-on anaphylaxis?”

“Oh, I’m the grand src="kindle:embed:000 and the l prize winner. I get the whole deal. Blisters, anaphylaxis … I almost died the first time I ate it when I was five. Fortunately, since we’d been outside at a picnic, my parents and the doctor thought I might have been stung and that I was reacting to that. The adrenaline treatment stopped the worst part of the reaction long enough for everyone to figure out what had happened.”

“Fortunate indeed,” he said, his tone seeming to go a little distant, a small frown toying at the spot between his brows. “No one really knows when the fates will decide to end our lives. It is inevitable for us all. Except perhaps Gargoyles. They are virtually indestructible and it takes some pretty specific series of events before it … well, that’s neither here nor there.”

“But in a way, aren’t you really the immortal ones? If I understand this correctly, you are the exact same soul, if not the exact same physical rendition, of the pharaoh Menes. Isn’t that immortality at its plainest?”

“In simplified terms, I suppose it is. But with every generation, our souls are touched by the soul of another, Marissa. There is nothing to compare it to, I know, but learning someone … 
knowing
them that completely changes us until, by the time we part from each other, it is as though all of what Jackson is will have been included into my soul and he too will have immortality through that means.” He put a sandwich in front of her and came around the bar so he was standing close to her. He reached to touch her chin, tipping her head back so she was looking into the sea green of his eyes. “Think of it like finding a soul mate. Like loving someone on such a visceral level that it becomes almost impossible to think of living without them. To know that they are etched in your heart and your soul for all time, that is
how deep an impression they have left. That is how it should be. And everyone should know what that feels like, though I’m sad to say that I know they won’t. I think in that way we are truly blessed, we Bodywalkers. Sometimes I look at a human being such as you and I think, how do you do it? How do you move through this world knowing you are so alone in everything that you do? And then Jackson remembers what it was like and that it wasn’t so bad. It eases my worry.”

That was when Marissa realized she was talking to Menes more than she was Jackson in that moment. Someone else might have found that reference to himself in the third person obnoxious, like some kind of star or something, thinking he was so glorious that he must be referred to as something outside of an individual. But she realized she was coming to understand the fluctuation between the disparate personalities living inside of Jackson. And it was funny, but she could see physical differences as well. Not in form or features, of course, but in mannerisms. The way he held his posture, the deep confidence in his body language. Jackson was a confident man of course, but there was something
more
to the way Menes projected himself. She realized then it was because he was a being who had lived and died in some of the most turbulent times in history. The relative cushy lifestyles that humans had now must be amusingly simple to him.

It was a little unnerving to her, to know she was sitting in front of a great Egyptian pharaoh … and that he had been there when Jackson had touched her and kissed her.

She blushed without knowing why. She wasn’t exactly known for her lack of confidence. She might feel moments of insecurity from time to time, mostly when trying to find a way to fit in with the rest of her coworkers around him and huggedan better on a social level; but the nature of her job and the role
she played made it very difficult. Sometimes she was convinced they thought the only thing worse than her was Internal Affairs. That made it very hard to cultivate relationships. They couldn’t separate who she was as a human being from the threat they perceived her to be professionally.

“Now what’s that expression for?” he asked her gently. “That looked like a very troubling thought.”

“I was just wondering … I thought you told me that you’re Blending with Jackson and becoming one in essence. But I can very easily tell who I am talking to from one topic to the next.”

He made a small contemplative sound. “I find it intriguing that you do. But we are newly Blended, and over time you will not see any distinctions. Nor will we feel the need to use plural pronouns when referring to ourselves.”

He smiled then, all gentle magnetic charm as he touched his thumb to the corner of her lips. It seemed to be a favorite caress of his, she thought as warm frissons of indefinable emotion swam through her. It wasn’t arousal or desire, though she did acknowledge that both were also present at that moment. It was …

It was enough to make her shy away from him, turning abruptly out of his tender touch. She reached for her sandwich, stuffing it into her mouth before she got some crazy notion in her head like wanting him to kiss her.

Menes watched her shift away from him, drank in the pretty flustered color on her cheeks. She was perfect. In every way he could possibly hope for. Jackson’s desire for her was a volatile, virulent thing, and Menes didn’t blame him in the least. She was beautiful, intelligent, capable of deep emotions and equally capable of hiding them. That was important when one was in a position of authority. Like, say, a queen. Oh, he could see there were flaws, that she had control issues, and had very
little ability to trust. However, he would never discover any of these things nor other more crucial answers if Jackson didn’t stop locking down his needs and emotions where Marissa was concerned. All of the recent progress
he
had made up to date had been as a direct result of Menes’s internal influence. Jackson was completely unaware of that fact, of course. Menes was a far more powerful soul than Jackson was, which allowed him to have his secrets in spite of the Blending. He wasn’t subjugating Jackson in the least, merely … encouraging him to follow his natural instincts where she was concerned.

She was a beautiful creature, but she was in desperate need of a complex sort of wooing. An aggressive sort of wooing. She was too powerful a personality and had extremely strong walls for defense shored up against … well, that part was still a puzzle. Was it just Jackson or was it men in general? Or was it people that she mistrusted altogether?

“I imagine that, as a psychiatrist and as one that tends to the needs of police officers, you see and hear a great many terrible things,” he said, watching her carefully to see how she reacted to his change in topic. It would throw her off, keep her off balance a little, which he suddenly realized was what he had been doing to her all along. He was keeping her from finding her footing, so she couldn’t try to ward him off.

She frowned a little just before letting a professional mask slip over her features.

“It’s part of the job, yes. The men and women on the force are very complex certainly ag. people, but for the most part, in spite of their strength and dominant personality traits, they became cops in order to do something good. For the most part they have very powerful moral compasses. Do some get lost along the way? Absolutely.” Again a brief frown turned down the corners of her mouth. He
would have missed it entirely if he hadn’t been on high alert for it. “For people with such a powerful sense of right and wrong and a need for justice, it can be very psychologically damaging for them to see such terrible things. And to see those terrible things go unpunished makes it even worse.”

“Yes. Believe me I know.” Menes knew this not only from the parts of Jackson that were now a part of him, but he knew this from lifetimes of watching injustices occur right before his eyes. It was the essence of the war between the Politic and the Templars. He saw the horror of the crimes Odjit and her brethren committed and it made him righteously sick to his soul. He refused to leave the world open to her victimization. The only reason why it had been so easy for him to let go when Hatshepsut had been taken from him in their last incarnation was because Odjit was already dead herself. Had she not been killed he would have forced himself to remain. But he was a shell of himself without Hatshepsut. He was half the man he was capable of being when he was without her.