Grave Danger (42 page)

Jackson sat on her left at the table, his hand on
the back of her chair, his fingers just barely touching her neck.
They were at the elegant dining table of Cyrus Cercopoly who was
seated several seats down at the head on the table on her
right.

She fidgeted on the soft cream colored cushion of
her chair, hating the lingerie under her rose colored satin dress.
Clarissa felt more than naked and reprimanded herself for allowing
that ‘little girl’ to put this contraption of undergarments on
her.

“
You will wear these garments from now on,
Clarissa. It pleases me. Do you understand?” Isabella Canova had
said through a tight smile. Then she had touched her hand, a light
caress sending shooting pains up Clarissa’s arm straight to her
heart – the core of her soul.

Taking a quick glance down to where Cyrus sat, his
posture reading that of a king surrounded by his subjects, she
caught sight of Isabella seated to his right. Isabella looked to
Cyrus for a moment then her golden cat eyes caught Clarissa’s
stare. She smiled down the table toward Clarissa, showing teeth. An
evil teenage look of superiority reflected on her deceivingly
youthful face before turning away to whisper something in Henry’s
ear, who sat on her right. His date to the function, Millicent Carp
placed on his right.

Isabella had swept Clarissa away on a shopping spree
to Paris days earlier. Contracting a private plan out of the
Sanford Airport, they had spent the day and part of the evening
darting from store to store, amassing a hefty bill that could very
easily make a mockery of the national debt. Clarissa had been
measured and poked at for much of the day. Until that day she never
thought she could say with a straight face that shopping was
torture; with Isabella Canova she had found those words to ring
true.

When she wasn’t commenting on the differences
between Clarissa’s adult body and her own younger looking physic,
she was insisting on garments that would help boost or disguise her
obvious physical flaws. However, while Clarissa stood for hours in
nothing but her ‘grandma-looking’ underwear, not once did Isabella
remove any of her clothing.

Clarissa felt Jackson’s fingers on the cool flesh on
the back of her neck and it instantly brought her back to the
moment. She refused to look at or acknowledge the man sitting next
to her. If she did, she was sure she would have some kind of
conniption and pass out. Could a ghost even pass out?

Her brain was scrambling through so many sequences
of events, flashing through her brain like a slideshow on drugs.
The images whizzing by in a blur, yet each somehow crystal clear.
Once again she saw that woman lying on the floor, her life’s blood
draining out in dark rivers on the floor beneath her. The dagger
poised over her stomach where it had made sure work of tearing into
the meat of her body. Then the image of the man above her, only now
the face was no longer held in shadow, it was clear of the allusion
her brain had forced into place out of self-preservation. She could
see clearly the handsome and charming face of a man whose heart she
had foolishly believed had held a lasting connection to her own.
But he had ripped her heart to shreds, both emotionally and
physically, leaving her to die on the hard sidewalk outside the
Orlando hospital.

Clarissa held herself in check as a horrible and
sick feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. Olivier Prince sat
with his dinner knife poised over his lamb chop using the gentle
movement of his hand to slice the meat from the bone, a precision
that was both beautiful and deadly. That hand had cut out her
heart. Clarissa refused to look higher than that hand lest she do
something she couldn’t take back.

The death bokor brought his fork to his mouth, a
satisfied grin on his face as he took a bite of the tender meat.
Everyone around him was deep in conversation or into their plates
of food. Two options had been served, one for those of the living
persuasion and those that were not.

Olivier knew Clarissa was watching his hands, just
as he knew she finally recognized him. He’d wondered how long it
would take for her to come back to herself; to remember from her
past. When they were first being introduced she had given him a
blank stare as if he were a stranger in her eyes. Then as they were
seated for dinner he felt the change come over her, washing through
her system until her mind was flooded with repressed memories. The
only one who had noticed however was the boy she had come to the
function with. He seemed to be watching Olivier carefully over
Clarissa’s head as if he knew more than the others.

Olivier reached for his dinner roll just as Clarissa
reached out for her glass of water. Their hands collided sending a
spark of electricity that knocked her glass over and left a burned
mark on his dinner roll. Clarissa hastily brought her hand back,
holding it to her middle in the exact same spot where she had first
felt the knife in his hand slice through her flesh.

At once heads turned, curiosities rose as they
turned to the cause of the commotion. Cyrus’s gaze fell on
Clarissa’s, his stormy gray eyes closing a fraction as he connected
with her. He was one of the few who could delve deep into the
psyche of others. She couldn’t stop him even if she wanted to and
her terrible truth was exposed to him. She swore she could feel the
range of emotions coming from him as their connection lasted; only
a fraction of a second but for him it was enough. She could feel
his anger at her deception. When he pulled back she felt coldness
steal over her heart, but it didn’t stop or overshadow the ache in
her stomach.

Clarissa rose from her seat. She couldn’t stay here
anymore. Even as voices called her back or questioned each other as
to what had just happened, she fled from the dining room, not
caring if it was rude to her host. He could stuff it up his ancient
non-corporal ass.

As she reached the safety of the foyer, she expelled
a breath of cool air from her lungs.

“
Clarissa,” she heard Jackson’s voice just
behind her. Clarissa turned about in the direction of his voice as
Jackson was closing the double doors behind him that lead to the
dining room, sealing them in. “What was that about?” he said as he
came to stand in front of her.

“
I saw what happened when your hands
connected. That wouldn’t have happened unless your mind was else
were.” Jackson stared down at her as she stood so still not looking
at him, but behind him. It was then that he felt another
presence.

Jackson turned around in time to see Olivier Prince
shut those same doors that led back to the dining room. The
expression he wore was that of genuine sympathy, but Jackson could
see underneath the older man’s mask to the cruel streak that
touched the corners of his mouth and flashed in the dark brown
eyes.

“
I’m sorry to disturb you. I just came out to
see if Ms. Schofield was feeling unwell.” Olivier walked casually
over to them, a prowling gate that said he was a man who bowed down
to few if any. He reached out to touch her forehead, but Clarissa
quickly jerked out from under his touch.

“
Don’t you dare put a hand on me, you
bastard,” she swore at him while keeping her voice on a low level
so the others in the dining room couldn’t hear. “I’ll kill you
before I ever let you touch me.”

Jackson, at hearing those words, took up a
position in front of Clarissa, blocking her from view of the death
bokor. He didn’t like this man, not since the moment he’d laid eyes
on him when he’d been driven into town to see to their
problem
with the flesh-eaters and
event then he known that there was something off about him. Jackson
had seen the way Clarissa had clutched her stomach, seen her
worried eyes when she’d sat next to him at dinner. And her outburst
only made him dislike this man more. Even though he wasn’t bokor,
he knew his family’s abilities could hold up enough against Olivier
Prince.

“
Are you Clarissa’s little champion, boy?”
Olivier said, a hint of his Cajun accent creeping into his
otherwise bland speaking voice. “How extremely brave of you to
think that you could stand between me and my fiancé, but then I
always thought teenagers a rather reckless species.”

“
Fiancé,” Jackson quoted back, his head making
a quick jerking motion to look behind him at Clarissa who still
refused to meet his eyes. “Clarissa doesn’t have any family,” he
said, believing his own lie.

Olivier shook his head, a sardonic smile touching
his full lips. He was about an inch taller than Jackson, his ego
even taller than that. A man in his mid-thirties with stylishly cut
dark brown hair, he was considered by many to be a catch with the
ladies as well as being the best at his craft. Clarissa had been
one of those foolish women. But then Olivier had perfected the
politician’s talent of two-facedness better than any in
Washington.

“
Clarissa and I have been engaged for over a
year now; up until her unfortunate demise. We were going to marry
just after her birthday.” He chuckled to himself as if something
he’d said was funny. In his twisted mind it was.

In the next instant Olivier had Jackson by the
collar of his dress shirt, pulling him up until his feet dangled
inches off the ground. Jackson kicked the air trying to get loose.
Their eyes met, Jackson looking down as Olivier grinned up at him.
For several seconds their eyes locked before Olivier threw Jackson
into an antique table in the corner that collapsed beneath the
sudden weight of Jackson’s flailing body.

“
I have to say, Clarissa, I’m surprised to see
you here,” Olivier continued as he took Clarissa by the arm,
holding her close to his body. “I never thought to see you in this
very interesting form.” His eyes were alight with cruel passion as
he forced her closer to him. “You were always very pretty in your
flesh, but outside it you seem to be even more beautiful. It must
be that your soul was more desirable than the body. You positively
outshine the other spirits in that room.”

Clarissa jerked out of his restraining hands, but
was only free for a second before he had both her arms pinned down
by her sides. She could feel the strength in his touch, not just
the physical strength of his body but the strength of his bokor
powers. She wasn’t sure she could compete with him.

His lips captured hers despite her attempts to turn
her face away from him. At one time she had loved kissing this man,
loved everything about him. It had been far too late before she
recognized the signs about his true nature. He loved the kill, more
than she did.

That lump tried to rise in her stomach. It made her
insides hurt to know what she had been before death had hidden the
truth from her mind. She had loved the hunt for the creatures she
believed didn’t deserve to be on this earth. Clarissa had taken
them all down, even the very young ones who didn’t know that what
they were was wrong. But in Clarissa’s mind a child monster was
just as bad as a grown one.

Olivier had been worse though. At least she had been
merciful. He had taken great satisfaction in torture. Clarissa
couldn’t stand to have those lips on hers, not when she knew those
lips had commanded his victims to humiliate themselves before he’d
ended their existence. It was like kissing the devil himself and it
made that lump in her stomach – in her soul – burn to know that she
had loved this devil.

Clarissa managed to pull her mouth away from his,
hating the taste of him on her tongue. “I hate you,” she whispered
as he leered down at her.

“
You were always so overly dramatic, Clarissa.
I wondered why I put up with you as long as I did.” He brought one
manicured finger up to her lips. “Maybe it was this little talented
mouth of yours.” He rubbed his finger over the seam of her mouth,
an evil gleam coming to his eyes. “I wonder how it would work now
that you don’t need to breathe.”

That sent Clarissa over the edge as a new found
strength stole through her. She pushed at him, not only with her
hands but with the strength of her own bokor powers. She was a
Sorcière, a female bokor, and just as capable as he in the use of
her magick.

Olivier stumbled back, his arms going wide to steady
himself. Clarissa was on him, her movements sure and fast as his
had been, pinning him to the far wall near the door to the dining
room. She would wonder later why no one came out to investigate,
but right now her mind was on the matter at hand.

She could feel Jackson behind her as he righted
himself and stumbled a bit to get to his feet. In a moment she’d
make sure he had nothing broken. Now she’d make her feelings clear
to her ex-fiancé.

“
You ever come near me again and I will take
you down.” Her voice laced in the venom of her magick. She held
Olivier to the wall with little effort even though he was a good
deal taller and bigger than she. His face remained beautifully
impassive as she continued. “Just because I no longer have flesh
doesn’t mean I can’t see you destroyed. And trust me when I say it
will be my pleasure to see that your soul goes back where it
belongs.”

“
Go hIfreann leat!”
To hell with you!
She
released him, stepping back as she watched him fix his collar with
a calmness that she knew was likely only an illusion. He gave her a
final once over before he turned and opened the doors, retreating
back into the dining room.

Clarissa went over to where
Jackson was standing on shaking legs, his hand holding his back.
She missed the
malevolent smile that came over
Olivier’s face just as he passed through the double doors and left
them.