Genesis (The Legend of Glory Book 3) (4 page)

“This thing is afraid, but not for the reasons it’s stating,” Bridget said.

“How do I know I can believe you?” Rory asked Gaia.

“There’s going to be a bombing at the United Nations Building in New York City. Any minute now. Foreknowledge of that should prove my omniscience to you.”

Bridget gasped. “Yes, she’s right. Evan’s there! You have to warn him. He has a huge role to play in future events and can’t die now.”

Kaia’s husband, Evan, belonged to Rory’s coven and worked as a reporter for
CNN
.

Rory shook her head. “Evan’s on the Navajo reservation covering the religious apparitions happening in Monument Valley.”

“He was supposed to be, but at the last minute they sent him to the
UN
to cover the Dalai Lama’s address,” Bridget insisted, her alarm transmitting like a shriek to Rory.

Rory looked back at Gaia for confirmation, but the apparition disappeared, taking the fog with her.

“Call Evan
now
,” Bridget said. “Get him out of there.”

Rory reached into the pocket of her hoodie, but her phone wasn’t there. She had left it on her nightstand.

“Now, Rory!”

“Crap.” Rory took off at a hard run toward the house.

Hurry
, her mother’s voice whispered in the wind.

Rory’s mind tuned into Evan and she realized her mother had been right. He was at the
UN
. She tried to reach out to him with a message, but couldn’t get through. Death danced in the shadows gathering around Rory, her legs tangled with its dark feet, and she went sprawling. She screamed with rage.

“Hey, you okay?” The voice that pierced Rory’s inner tempest wasn’t familiar, but when she glanced up she recognized his face.

The veterinarian who took care of the horses ran to her and knelt by her side. “You okay?”

“I need a phone. It’s an emergency.”

“Sure.” He patted down his pockets until he located his cell.

She snatched it from him and dialed Evan’s number.

A distracted voice answered. “Evan Killian. Not good timing, whoever you are.”

“Evan, it’s Rory. Get out of the building. It’s going to blow.”

“Rory? What?”

“Evan, the
UN
’s going to blow up any second. Get out
now
.”

He hesitated. “If that’s going to happen, I have to try to evacuate—”

“There’s no time! Get. Out. Now.”

Rory heard muffled voices. She heard Evan trying to hustle his camera crew out an emergency exit. She heard a roar. Then the line went dead.

Rory dropped the phone and flopped onto her back. “Holy crap.” She tried to feel Evan’s energy. Had he gotten out in time?

“Honey, are you okay?” An edge of panic sharpened the veterinarian’s voice as he went into doctor mode and tried to examine her.

She shoved him away and scrambled to her feet. “Stop trying to feel me up, you perv. Where’s your truck?”

Picking his phone off the ground, he laughed. “My, you’re a feisty filly.” Pointing to the barn, he said, “Parked on the other side.”

Rory raced to the truck, opened the door, but didn’t see his keys in the ignition. She spun on her heels, saw him sauntering in her direction, and threw her hands onto her hips. “Keys. I need the keys now.”

Maddeningly, he didn’t come with any sense of urgency, but did throw his keys to her as soon as he was in range. “You gonna steal it?”

“Radio. I need the radio.”

Trembling, she shoved keys into the ignition until one fit. Country music blared from the speakers. She had reached out to hit the control buttons when a voice interrupted Luke Bryan’s song.

“This just in to our newsroom: moments ago a massive explosion rocked the United Nations Building in New York City where the Dalai Lama was scheduled to address world leaders about the recent global wave of religious-based violence. There is no word on the fate of the Dalai Lama or any of those gathered—”

Heartsick, Rory turned off the radio.

“How did you know?” the vet asked.

Fighting rebellious tears, she snatched the phone from his hand and hit redial. After an eternity, Evan answered. “I’m good. Can’t talk now.” He disconnected, and her knees gave out.

The man buoyed Rory up and lifted her to the driver’s seat. “Your friend?”

“He made it.”

“How did you know?” he asked again.

“I see things sometimes.” She expected at least a derisive snort, but instead he took her hand.

“I’m Doc Jerry.”

“Rory Devlin.”

His hand jerked in hers and then he squeezed. “Related to Bridget Devlin?”

Rory’s eyes met his. “You knew my momma?”

He looked away, took off his cowboy hat, and slapped it against his leg to shake off hay residue. “She saw things too, sometimes.”

Rory waited for him to say more. Finally, he looked at her with a sad smile. “I let her favorite horse die and she never forgave me. I thought we were friends until then, but I guess some things can’t survive a broken heart.”

Her mind tried to read his, but she couldn’t push through his barriers. “Tell me.”

He sighed and plopped his hat back onto his head. “Your momma gave me a call in the middle of the night and said she had a dream that her mare, Star, was going to die. She said I needed to come soon. It was the middle of the night for chrissakes, no symptoms of any kind, just a dream. I didn’t rush to get here. By the time the horse showed symptoms, it was too late. Bridget never spoke to me again.”

“What killed Star?”

“Oleander poisoning.”

Rory thought about that. “No way Father would let oleander grow on his property with all the critters.”

Doc Jerry nodded. “It was a mystery at the time. It’s almost as if the poisoning was deliberate.”

Rory’s mind turned to demons.

“So, old man Barry’s your father?”

“What? No. He adopted me after Momma died. Let me keep her name, but adopted me legal. I don’t know who my daddy is.”

“I heard Bridget died in a fire in the big house?”

Rory nodded.

“What caused it?”

“A demoness,” Rory said without thinking.

“Huh?”

“Um, I was young and, well, blamed it on evil.”

Doc Jerry waited for her to say more, but she figured less was more under the circumstances.

Finally, he said, “Sometimes evil is the only explanation that makes sense for those kinds of tragedies.”

“Yes, sir.” She hopped down out of the truck and gave him back his cell. “Thanks for the phone and sorry for the perv crack. I was stressed.”

He took her hand and gave it a firm shake. “You’re definitely your momma’s daughter. Hope to see you again.”

“I’d like that. Maybe you could tell me more about her.”

“That’d be my pleasure, honey.” He slipped one of his business cards into the pocket of her hoodie. “Call me if you ever want to talk.”

Rory debated going back to the garden to see if her mother had hung around, but decided not to. Sometimes it was just all too much to handle.

Instead, she headed to the big house.

The mansion was huge, built in the 1800s, designed in the gothic revival style with pointed arches, steep gables, and stained glass windows. A cobblestone walkway led to a beautiful cast iron portico that opened into the house.

When she let herself in, she could tell that no one was home. A small part of her felt disappointment. After all these years, she still hoped maybe someone would fuss over her birthday, but the coven had always treated her like a little adult. They said to coddle her would weaken her, and that she needed all her power to survive the ongoing war with evil.

She trudged up the graceful curved stairway to her bedroom. A big box addressed to her sat inside the door, and the return address showed Glory’s farm in Colorado. She pulled a switchblade from her boot and sliced it open. Immediately, half a dozen small helium-filled balloons popped out and floated toward the ceiling. A note inside said it was a remote birthday party from her circle of friends, since they were scattered all over the country.

She laughed and tore into the gifts.

First, there was a letter from Sasha:

Happy birthday! Kaia, Evan, Zane, the Goth Girls, and all of us here contributed to the enclosed gifts. Since supply lines are still in chaos, we scoured swap meets in Georgia, Texas, and Colorado to find everything.

And Hallelujah asked me to send you her favorite dessert: organic French vanilla ice cream. Hopefully, the dry ice works its magic and it arrives safely.

We love you and celebrate your birth. xox

Other gifts included
DVD
s of her favorite action movies, a new pair of steel-toed Doc Marten boots, and some very cool tee shirts.

For a short time, Rory was an ordinary thirteen-year-old girl reveling in the experience of her first birthday party.

Then, at the bottom of the box, she found Kaia’s birthday card. Inside, it said,

My guardian has been doing battle with yours and mine has a lead on who your real father is. If you want to go see White Bear and find out, I’ll take you. We can make it a road trip—the sisterhood of the traveling psychics. Call me, I’ll come get you, and we’ll have an adventure. Love you lots,
K
.

Kaia. Rory’s stomach punched her and she had to wrestle it into submission.

She thought about everything Gaia and Bridget had said.
But I must see clearly for myself
.

What choice did she have but pick up the gauntlet and face the challenge? Even though she loved Kaia more than anyone else, if it turned out she got her dark on, the only choice was to consider the greater good and take her out. It was her duty.

Despite how irrevocably her heart would break.

CHAPTER THREE

Zane

†          †          †

Late in the day, Zane arrived at the Goth Girls’ Victorian mansion in Savannah’s historical district. The girls were family to him. He loved his sister Trinity and her husband Caleb, but after Caleb’s brother Bo forcibly turned all of them in 1876, the Goth Girls had become his strength. He loved them unconditionally and visited at every opportunity.

He parked his truck in front of the house, grabbed his leather haversack, and walked up the front steps of
The Jewel
. The girls’ name for their lair was inspired by the home’s colorful, multi-faceted architectural design. Zane, who always preferred substance to style, considered the women who lived there to be colorful, multi-faceted jewels. Each one exquisite.

On a chain around his neck, he wore a key to the mansion that the girls had gifted him when they bought this house in the late 1800s. At first, out of respect, he had never used it—after all, it was a house filled with women. However, they had taken offense that he didn’t use the gift with the spirit in which it was offered. That was the first time he bent to their will. They were an irresistible force of nature.

He opened the door and stepped into the cool, dark foyer, inhaling the heady smell of women he loved. He dropped his haversack, then removed his cowboy hat and hung it on the wrought iron coat rack. Jasmine appeared from nowhere and, in a blur of motion, ran into his arms.

“Missed you so much.” She giggled and hugged him hard.

He rubbed his rough cheek against her soft skin, enjoying the scent of jasmine flowers she wove into her intricate dreadlocks. The girls never wore perfume because their fellow vamps’ sense of smell was so acute. However Jasmine—the most feminine of all the girls—enjoyed flowers. Incredibly shy, she was also fond of telling others that jasmine bloomed at night. It was a motto reflecting her personal aspirations.

Zane kissed her and looked into her luminous, dark eyes. “Watcha been up to?”

She blinked. “Oh, you know, the usual.”

“Being a hero?”

She giggled and glanced down. “Well, yeah, that too.”

The Goth Girls devoted themselves to saving others from certain death. Of them all, Jasmine impressed Zane the most. Bold women like their leader, Jinx, found heroic deeds easy. Timid girls, like Jasmine, had to overcome more to accomplish the same. He admired her.

“From flowers come fruit,” Jasmine said.

Zane kissed her. “Incredibly sweet fruit.”

She giggled. “Did ya bring me somethin’?”

Zane always came bearing gifts.

“I did.” He released her, bent to root around in the haversack, and pulled out a book. “It took me a long time, but I found this.”

She snatched it excitedly. “A book by Miss Laura?”

He nodded. “Published in eighteen eighty-seven. Her autobiography.”

Jasmine’s eyes widened. “She doesn’t talk about what happened with me, does she?”

“No, she was discreet.”

Zane could sense her relief. Jasmine, once a slave on a cotton plantation, had helped the famous abolitionist, suffragette, and social reformer Laura Haviland run her underground railroad during the Civil War.

She clutched the book to her chest. “This is more than wonderful. Love you so much.”

“You too, kitten.”

Before Zane could take another step, a tiny vampire child clutched his leg.

Zane looked down into the delightful little four-year-old face of Joy staring up at him. He scooped her up onto his hip.

She placed her hands on each of his cheeks and smothered his face in kisses while mumbling, “Love, love, love.”

“How’s my prettiest girl?” Zane asked.

Joy giggled. “Better now you’re here.”

“I brought you something.”

Her mouth pursed in a perfect O of surprised expectation, and Zane pulled a tin box out of the pocket of his leather jacket.

“What is it?”

“My sister made them just for you. Dark chocolate and maple butter truffles.” He placed the small tin in her waiting hands.

“Ohhh. I love sweets. Almost as much as blood.”

He ruffled her curly blonde hair and walked into the parlor where he plopped her down onto a plush sofa. “Then dig in, honeychild, ’cause they’re as sweet as you.”

“Nothing’s as sweet as me,” Joy said.

Zane laughed. “I see your new family’s been spoiling you something fierce.”

“Yes, we are,” came the voice that always made Zane’s heart melt.

Sultry, sexy Jinx slipped into Zane’s arms. Their passionate kiss, long and slow, stirred him into a rare state of breathlessness. “Well, now,” he finally managed to say. “This is the kind of family reunion I enjoy the most.”

“What did you bring me?” Jinx asked. She raised an eyebrow, but he sidestepped her implied suggestion. Even though they had been lovers in the past, Zane clung to the hope of a union with Glory and wouldn’t betray that commitment.

Zane dug into his inside coat pocket and withdrew an intricately carved wooden figurine he had made of Jinx. The labor of love captured her exotic beauty born of a Spanish mother and Irish father. “You’ve been on my mind a lot, darlin’, so I whittled this.”

Her sexy smile lit up the world and Zane felt her approval. Damn, she was a thing of wonder. She always made him feel like a mere peasant in the presence of royalty.

“Been on your mind a lot, huh? Good to know.” She placed the carving in a place of honor on the fireplace mantel.

“You grow more beautiful every time I see you,” he said.

“I never change, cowboy.”

He scratched his chin. “Hmm. Must be the eyes of the beholder then.”

Jezebel marched into the room behind them and threw herself at Zane, quickly capturing him in a headlock. “What’s up, desperado?” Her British accent was cultured, belying her tough-girl image.

He twisted round and pinned her arms behind her back. “Feeling tough are we, witch?”

She growled and struggled to break free. “Arsehole.”

“Bitch.”

Joy stared at them, her lips once again an O, but now overflowing with chocolate and maple butter.

After a silent stare down, both Zane and Jezebel burst into laughter and kissed each other. He slapped a sheathed hunting knife into her palm. “For you, since you’re such a badass. I carved the handle from a prime rack of elk antlers I found in the Rockies.”

“If I were into boys instead of girls, I’d so be into you,” Jezebel said.

“If that was the case, you’d have to take it up with Jinx because she scares the hell out of me.”

Jinx gave a self-satisfied laugh. “And don’t you forget it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Zane said.

“Jade’s in her garden retreat,” Jezebel said.

Each of the girls always expected him to greet them before he settled in.

Zane retrieved a single yellow rose from his bag and headed out back to see his spiritual mentor. Before being turned he had been a Christian, and she was a devout Chinese Buddhist. Both mourned the loss of inner light that the vampire virus had brought with it. She handled the internal struggle with far greater equanimity than he did, and for over a hundred years she had been his light in the darkness.

Even in winter, the garden thrived. Enclosed by a high, ornate wrought-iron fence, it wasn’t  manicured and pretty, but lush and wild, overflowing with ferns, boxwood, and confederate jasmine. White, red, and pink camellias bloomed, and creeping fig climbed the wrought iron. A large statue of Kuan Yin, the Chinese goddess of compassion, formed the centerpiece of a fountain located by the back fence. Intricately carved wooden benches dotted the garden, and Zane found Jade perched on one, deep in meditation.

She was delicate but radiated inner strength. Born in China, she had longed to be a Buddhist nun. However, the teenager’s family sold her into white slavery in the 1800s. Jinx found Jade dying of disease in one of San Francisco’s notorious prostitute cribs and wrenched her from the grasp of the iron-fisted Tong. Turning her, Jinx had given Jade a second chance at life.

Zane sat next to her and remained silent until she opened her eyes and acknowledged him. He kissed her cheek and handed her the rose. “You look lovely.”

She regarded him for a moment. “And you look ... different. You’ve got news.”

Jade could read him in a way no one else could. He nodded. “You know I’ve been working with the scientists who discovered that vampirism is a virus? Well, I think they’re getting close to finding a cure. Glory’s mother, the scientist, has gone to work for their team in Arizona, and she’s real smart.”

Jade smiled. “To be human again is your dream.”

Zane nodded. “To be human, marry, have children, regain my soul, die, and be with God.” An uneasy feeling washed over him. “I won’t go to Hell, will I? I mean, I’ve tried not to sin, but I lost my soul and—”

“You never lost your soul, Zane. It’s just been hidden in shadows.”

He sighed. “How can you be so sure? You don’t even believe in the soul.”

“We just use different words. Your pure essence has never deserted you. All that happened is your awareness of it became clouded.” She looked at him with those penetrating eyes of hers. “So, what each of us lost when we became vamps was our connection to the clear white light.”

Zane thought about it. “One of Glory’s angels told me that what happened to me was an ultimate test of faith. You know, could I still believe in the light even if I couldn’t sense it anymore?”

“And did you lose your faith?”

Zane sat up straighter. “Never.”

“There you are.”

“So, when I die?”

“That which you truly are—beyond the transitory nature of body, mind, and yes, even soul—will awaken from the dream. Then if you desire to go to Heaven, you will.”

“And your spiritual journey?”

“I want liberation from all that’s false and impermanent. The changes brought on by this virus make that impossible for me to attain. But I find comfort in practicing mindfulness. It helps me function better.”

“Will you take the cure, if they find it?”

Jade laid her hand on his knee. “Ask me then. This is now.”

Joy’s laugh cut through the fog. A moment later, she ran up to them, took a flying leap, and landed in Zane’s lap. “Jade was meditating,” she announced.

He wiped a smudge of chocolate off her mouth. “Yeah, I interrupted her.”

“Do you meditate?”

“No, but I pray.”

“You pray?” she asked.

He nodded. “I pray once every day, and twice before a fight.”

“You fight?”

“When I have to.”

“Do you have to a lot?”

“More than I’d like.”

“Who do you fight with?”

He couldn’t tell her about evil vampire gangs, vicious demons, nasty witch hunters, and corrupt mercenary soldiers. “What about you?” he asked, deflecting. “Do you ever meditate with Jade?”

She bounced on his knee with excitement. “I do. I can hear Earth’s heartbeat.”

Zane grinned. “You can?”

“She hears the ocean,” Jade said. “The waves have a frequency of once every six seconds.”

He tweaked Joy’s ear. “That’s pretty good hearing for a tyke with such little holes in her head.”

Joy erupted in delighted giggles; her new name suited her.

Zane wrapped his arms around her and held on tight. A familiar ache arose—he had never once held his own son, Jeremiah. Joy was the first child he ever had a relationship with, and he cherished her.

Joy pulled back, reached out, and rubbed his whisker stubble. “That tickles.”

Jade laughed. “Yes, but it drives all the big girls crazy. It’s very sexy.”

“Sexy,” Joy said. “My moms call you sexy. They say it a lot.”

Jade threw her head back and groaned. “Out of the mouth of babes. No secrets around here anymore.”

Zane grinned. “Well, worse things could be said about me.”

Joy’s eyes grew wide. “They never say anything bad about you ever.”

“Good to know.” He didn’t want to let Joy go, but there was something else he wanted to discuss with Jade. “You’ve got chocolate all over your face. Why don’t you go inside and wash up?”

Joy scrambled off his lap, but instead of going into the house, she ran back toward the fountain.

Zane used the opportunity to say what he’d been thinking of since learning about the potential vampirism cure. “If the cure’s found, Joy could have a normal life.”

Jade sighed. “I’m not entirely sure Jinx will go for that.”

“Go for what?” Jinx asked. Zane had been too lost in his own thoughts to sense her approach.

Jade stood and threw them both a nervous look. “I, uh, got a thing.” She scurried into the house, leaving them alone.