Madly & the Jackal (18 page)

I wouldn’t ask not to go.  I needed to see for myself that I was right, that I hadn’t made a colossal mistake.  But after I’d confirmed it, I’d let Jackson do whatever he needed to do.  I just wanted to go to sleep and wake up two weeks ago.  Or years into the future, whichever held more peace and less heartache.

I walked past him and kept right on going without giving him the chance to respond.  Two could play his game.  The problem was, I didn’t think it was a game.

It seemed to take forever to walk to the beach.  I was stewing for the first leg of the journey, so my monologue was entirely internal.  But then other feelings began to resurface.  Betrayal, disappointment, loss, confusion.  We weren’t far from the beach when a question finally burst forth.

“Do you remember the cave in Atlas?”

Jackson’s head jerked toward me.  I would’ve given anything to see his eyes at that moment.  I didn’t know how he could see in the dark wearing sunglasses anyway.  Just another bizarre behavior he’d recently adopted. 

He looked quickly away and answered stiffly, “Of course.  We hid there until we could escape.”

So he did remember. 

That hurt. 

Profoundly. 

I felt mortally wounded.  I had apparently been harboring some hope that his memory had been toyed with, that he just didn’t remember me in
that way. 
But apparently he did.  He’d just chosen to live his life without me, as if we had never been.

“Why?”

I was surprised I could even find my voice. “No reason.”

Neither of us spoke the rest of the way to the beach.

By the time my feet hit the sand, I had but one mission: find the body, prove to myself I hadn’t made a mistake and get the hell out of there.  I pushed my way relentlessly through the cool sand, trying not to notice the scent of the man I loved as he walked at my side. 

I recognized the dune the instant I saw it.  My stomach fisted around a ball of dread and held on tight.  I veered toward the hill of sand and ascended the front side, knowing full well what lay on the other side.  When I reached the top, a warm steel band clamped down on my wrist.  I looked back at Jackson.

“You don’t need to see this,” he said quietly.

Did that mean he believed me?  Regardless, I needed to see for myself, if only for a moment.

“Yes, I do.”  I shook off his hand and continued my quest. 

I’d no sooner topped the dune when my eyes fell on him. He looked exactly as he had in my vision, only much more graphic, much more…real.

Drops of mercury dotted the sand.  Mer blood.  They glistened like silver diamonds in the moonlight, a macabre tribute to the dead.  The copious amount and the spray pattern left us in little doubt that this Mer had died a violent death. 

Careful where he stepped and what he touched, Jackson moved in to get as close to the body as he could.  Bending, he reached forward and turned the faceless head toward him. 

It was unrecognizable.  I wondered how they’d be able to identify who the body belonged to, as nearly every piece of skin had been removed from the corpse.  There would be no fingerprints, no face, no scale pattern, nothing to link this cadaver to a once healthy and hale Mer.

Using two sticks, Jackson manipulated the limp left arm of the body, rolling it outward, exposing the wrist.  I could barely make out the dark stain there.  It looked like a series of faint letters and numbers.

“What is that?”

“A muscle tattoo.”

“A muscle tattoo?”

“Yes.”

“What’s that?”

Jackson straightened.  “It’s the marking of a Sentinel.  From the length of this one, probably a high ranking one.”

I had no knowledge of the Mer providing such markings.  Of course, if it wasn’t common knowledge, maybe the killer didn’t know either.  “High ranking as in possibly Commander-high?”

Jackson nodded curtly.  “Yes.”

“Can you read it? Or is there a way to tell who it belongs to?”

“There is a way, but it won’t be easy if I can’t talk to anyone in Transport about it.”

“Why can’t you talk to anyone in Transport about it?”

“Because if this is a dead Sentinel and no one has reported it to Transport then either someone is covering it up, which would be hard with a high-ranking official, or…”

“Or what?”

“Or that Sentinel hasn’t gone missing.”

I was a little slow on the uptake.  I was tired, though.  That was a good enough reason, wasn’t it?  I thought so.  Either way, that was my story and I was sticking to it.

“Sooooo, what does that mean?”  Jackson grunted in frustration.  “Look, my mind doesn’t work like yours.  And I’m tired.  You’re just going to have to spell it out so we can figure out what to do,” I snapped.

“Why doesn’t anyone know this Sentinel is missing, especially a high-ranking one?  Think Madly!”

Of all the times for a lesson in critical thinking skills!

I let the facts flow through my mind again and I dissected them as they drifted by, cataloging every important detail.

“You mean maybe the Sentinel
isn’t missing?”

But that made no sense.

“And why wouldn’t the Sentinel be missing?” he asked, leading me on, letting me find my way to his conclusion.

“If he’s not missing then…” I drifted off, still stumped.  And then a random, crazy, outlandish thought occurred to me.  It popped out before I could stop it and save myself the embarrassment.  “Someone else has taken his place?”

Jackson’s single nod assured me that there would be no embarrassment.  I was right.  I was thinking what he was thinking.  But it only spawned more questions.

“But who?  And how? I mean, how is that even possible?”

“There is only one way that I can think of, something we learned of very recently.”

My mind was a runaway car, speeding so fast I felt out of control and helpless to guide it.  Then it came to a screeching halt.

And I gasped.  “Leviathan.”

Again, Jackson nodded.  “It’s able to shape shift, so this scenario is a distinct possibility.  The question is: does the shift include things like tattoos?”

My mouth dropped open.  Jackson really was brilliant.  His mind had worked all this out in a fraction of a second it seemed. 

“If not then the Sentinel missing his tattoo…”  Again, a nod.  “But how do we find out?”

“You just let me worry about that for now. I need to get you home and then hide this body.  This whole situation is getting much more dangerous by the second.”

And that was saying a lot because it had already been pretty dangerous.

“Why not just leave it here?  I’m sure that’s why the killer hid it here.  It would likely decay long before—”

 “Normally, yes.  But what if there is a huge storm moving in?” Jackson interrupted.  Even as he mentioned it, I could feel the disturbance in the tides. I’d just been too distracted to make note of it before now.  “A storm that’s expected to bring the tide almost a hundred yards inland?”

A hundred yards would more than reach the body, likely sweeping it out to sea.  Leviathan would know that, would know that in a few hours, Commander Jessup’s body would be gone and his identity could be taken over completely.  Permanently.  And no one would be the wiser.

But Leviathan didn’t factor in me.  Or Jackson.   As the only two people alive who knew, we held a certain advantage.  As well as a certain big red target on our backs, should anyone ever find out.

“Jackson, what are we going to do?”

“We have to take things one step at a time.  Let me think about it, but first I need to move this body somewhere else until I can get you home and think of a place to store it for longer.  I don’t think I should leave it here unattended, right where the killer left it.”

Jackson spun in a slow circle, looking for a suitable location.  “Do what you need to do.  I can make it home by my—”

 “Stop!” he spat.  “Why would you even consider going home by yourself?  It’s reckless and you know it.  Stop acting like a rebellious child. You are important to our race.  It’s time you start acting like it.”

His words stung as much as his tone.  I felt duly chastised.  Wounded, even. 

For the first time, I wished I had no feelings for Jackson, that his words and his actions didn’t have the power to hurt me, that I just didn’t care.  But that wish was short-lived.  Deep down, I wasn’t ready to give up on him, on what we had.  Not really.  I doubted I ever would be.

“Fine.  Where do you want to take the body?”

After several minutes of searching and strategizing, Jackson decided to put the body in a nook up under the pier.  It would be difficult to find and pretty safe during his short absence while he babysat me.

As he reached to pick up the body, I stopped him.  “Wait!  What about the crime scene?  I mean, won’t there be useful evidence and stuff around here?  Won’t it mess it up to move the body?”

“There won’t be a formal investigation.  It will be up to us to figure all this out and…take measures.”

Take measures?  Take measures to what?  That sounded ominous.

“Well, you’ll get blood all over your shirt.  Don’t you think people will notice?”  Shining silver on black?  Yes, people would notice.

Without hesitating, Jackson kicked off his shoes, stripped off his shirt and his pants, and stood before me wearing nothing but his underwear.  “Happy?”

Actually I was.  I couldn’t even answer him; I just nodded. I was transfixed by the way his smooth coppery skin glowed in the moonlight. 

I watched as he shifted the lifeless body of Jessup, hoisting it onto his shoulder.  Jackson’s muscles rippled and bunched as he situated the corpse and then turned to descend the sand dune.   Mutely, I grabbed his clothes and shoes and followed. 

Not once did my eyes stray from Jackson’s perfect form, not until we’d reached the pier and he disappeared beneath it.  I waited for him to reemerge. When he did, he accelerated into a jog, made his way to the surf and dove beneath a wave. 

He was under for several minutes, long enough for me to wonder if he was going to surface or if he’d just up and decided to leave, to run away to a place where there were less troubles.  But then I saw his dark head break a wave and he swam toward shore until he could stand.

He’d rinsed off.

Shaking his head like a dog, Jackson walked toward me, his muscular legs cutting through the water effortlessly.  In his hand, he held those stupid sunglasses.  Finally, he’d taken them off.  Unfortunately, he was too far away for me to see his eyes, but I knew he watched me.  I could feel it like warm fingers all over my body.

In the shallows, Jackson slipped the aviator glasses back into place and jogged up the sand toward me.  His abdominals rippled and his pectorals danced beneath the light dusting of ebony hair on his chest.  My breathing grew labored as I remembered the feel of that hair, of that skin and that muscle as his body moved against mine.  Heat flooded me.

Several feet away, Jackson stopped dead in his tracks. It was as though he’d run into an invisible wall.  He faced me, neither moving nor speaking for the longest time. 

I felt like both predator and prey.  And it felt wonderful!  In that moment, I felt like I had Jackson back. 

My mouth went bone dry as I watched drops of water snake their way down his body in glassy rivulets.  I wanted to dry him.  With my hands, with my mouth, with my body. 

As if responding to a supernatural cue, a stiff breeze blew, slowly drying Jackson’s skin.  He stood motionless and let it.  Finally, he raised one hand and ran his fingers through his short hair, the muscles in his biceps bunching.

He lowered his arm slowly and took one step toward me.  And then another.  And another, his pace speeding until he was upon me, his hands in my hair, his mouth devouring mine.

I was deliriously happy.  I didn’t question the hows or the whys of it. I just wanted Jackson and was elated that he still wanted me.  There was still some life left in him, some life left for me.

His tongue tangled hungrily with mine as his hands left my hair to rove the curves of my back.  Down over my hips and back up my sides to the swells of my breasts, they left a trail of fire everywhere they touched.

And then he was pushing me away. Like I was hot.  Like I was toxic.  His brow was knitted as if he was confused by his actions.  But which actions?  By kissing me? Or by pushing me away?

Either way, the moment was lost.  So was the brief rekindling of our connection, or so it seemed.  I felt the absence of Jackson’s ardor just as I felt the absence of the breeze that had dried him.  Neither was perceptible.  Because both were gone.

It was over.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

If I’d thought there was tension and strain between us before, apparently I knew nothing.  I was almost quivering with unease as Jackson dressed and we made our way back to the dorm.  And Jackson couldn’t get away fast enough.  As soon as I was back in the company of Clary and Gere, Jackson gave them a fake status report and was out the door without a word, disappearing into the night.

Dejected and rapidly losing hope that things would ever be the same again between us, I let myself into my room.

Jersey must’ve been pacing.  She was on me like a jungle cat the instant I closed the door behind me.

“What’s going on?  What did you find out?  What happened to Jessup?”

“Jersey, please!  Give me just a second.”  I was unnecessarily sharp and I knew it.

Jersey looked taken aback.  She was only being concerned, as we all were, and I’d met those concerns with toxic run off from my dissolving relationship with Jackson.

“I’m sorry. I’m just so tired.  And frustrated.”  Emotional angst having sapped my physical body, I made my way to the bed and sank down onto the soft mattress.  I couldn’t help but moan; it felt like every bone in my body was broken.  Or at least bruised.

“You really are turning into an old woman, you know,” Jersey observed waspishly.  “You moan, you’re tired all the time, you give bad medical advice, you’re grouchy and now you smell like funky feet.”  She wrinkled her nose in distaste.

“That’s because I’ve been in the river.  It’s probably my wet shoes you smell.”  I took one off and stuck my nose in it.  I held it out to Jersey and she sniffed.

“You stinky freak!  Ew!  Why would you want me to smell that rank thing?”

“I just held it up. You didn’t have to smell it.  It’s not like I held you down and shoved it in your face.  What kind of weirdo
wants
to smell the rank shoe of a stinky freak? ”

“I was tricked.”

“Tricked?  How did I trick you into smelling my shoe?  Please, tell me how I did that.”

“You held it up there like it didn’t stink.  You drew me in with false advertising.”

“I
told you
it was probably my shoes. It’s not my fault you didn’t believe me.”

“Stop talking to me,” she said quietly, putting the back of her hand to her head.  “I feel faint. I might pass out.  From funk,” she breathed dramatically.

“You’re such a faker,” I said, lobbing my shoe at her head.  She squealed, as I suspected she would.

“Ohmigod, get that thing away from me!  For all I know, it’s a petri dish for flesh-eating bacteria.”

“You don’t even know what a petri dish is,” I teased.

“I’ll slap you in your petri dish, you saucy wench,” she replied tartly.  I could see her lips twitching in an effort not to grin, though.

 I couldn’t help but chuckle over that.  “Saucy wench?  What have you been watching now?”

“Discovery channel.  It teaches you all about petri dishes, flesh-eating bacteria and saucy wenches.”

“Good to know.  Good to know.”

“So,” she said, kneeling in the floor in front of me, all humor gone from her eyes.  “What happened?”

I got the distinct impression she was talking about much more than just the facts.  Much more, as in Jackson more.  But the tightness that clogged my throat assured me it wasn’t the time to start pouring out my heart to her.  If all that heartache started flowing it might not stop, and I had things to do.

Like find a way to get my Jackson back before it was too late.

“Turns out I was wrong,” I said simply, casually shrugging it off.  “Commander Jessup was in Transport when we got there, perfectly alive and healthy.”

Jersey grimaced.  “Was Jackson mad?”

I quirked a brow.  “What do you think?”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, ouch.”

“So what now?  What’s the plan?”

“Well, we go back to Plan A, before we visited Kellina.  We keep an eye on Dustin and we watch for new ticks and oozing sores.  Not much else we can do.”

“It could take a while for us to find them.”

“Lucky for us, we have a little bit of a break before the next spirits arrive.  I think it’s time I learn Dustin Hyden’s schedule, don’t you?”

Jersey grinned.  “Like more spy stuff?  Like more Double-0 Jersey stuff?  Hells yeah!”

She held up her fist for a bump.  Obligingly, I tapped it.  She splayed her fingers and made what was supposed to be an exploding sound.

“You really need to stop watching so much television, Jersey.”

“It’s that or amuse myself in other ways,” she explained.  From behind her back, I heard
bling bling. 

“Okay.  Television it is.”

********

I was standing in front of the window, staring at the huge moon that hung overhead.  I felt melancholy, although I didn’t know why.  The room was quiet.  Jersey was just…gone, I didn’t know where.

The adjoining door opened, drawing my attention, and Jackson appeared.  He was nude.  Half his body was bathed in a shaft of silvery light, the other half in deep shadow.  It reminded me of something important, some other dichotomy, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

He studied me for what seemed an eternity before he approached, and when he did, he did it slowly, cautiously, as if he were afraid he’d spook me. 

Or maybe he’s just afraid,
my mind elaborated, to which I laughed.  Jackson was afraid of nothing, least of all me.

He stopped within inches of me, his chest so close to mine I could feel the heat radiating from it.  He reached out and touched my cheek, reverentially almost.  He trailed his fingertips down to my mouth and traced the outline of my lips.  They parted of their own accord.  His eyes were trained on them, unerringly.  Carefully, he slipped the tip of his finger inside, testing first my teeth then advancing further. 

I closed my lips around the digit, sucking gently, flicking his fingertip with my tongue.  He inhaled sharply.  I watched his pupils dilate.  Heat poured through me in answer to his reaction. 

He tugged and I released my hold on his fingertip.  He raised that finger to his mouth and tasted it.  He closed his eyes.  A deep
mmm
rumbled at the back of his throat.  “I know that taste.  And I miss it,” he breathed.

When he opened his eyes, they were ablaze.  I remembered that look.  I’d always remember it.  It turned my insides to lava and made me forget the world.

Languidly, as if he had all the time in the world, Jackson threaded his fingers into the hair at my temples and he brushed his lips over mine, feather light.  I leaned into him, but he leaned back, refusing to increase the pressure.  I felt the heat of his tongue as it snaked out to lick my lips.  I tried to capture it, to bring it into my mouth, but he was elusive.

“Please,” I whispered.  I was starving for him, for his love, his attention, his touch.

I raised my hands to his sides and laid them against the tight skin of his narrow waist.  I felt the muscles contract beneath my palms.

And then I melted into him.  And he let me.  Like the coils of a python, he wound his arms slowly around me, gathering me to him, pulling me against his chest.  But still, he was careful, handling me as if I were made of glass.

Bending he scooped me up and carried me to the bed, laying me down in the center and stretching out beside me.  One by one, he unbuttoned each tiny pearl that held my pajama top closed.  When he finished, he pushed the pieces apart, revealing my body to his eyes. 

He sucked in a breath as he brushed his fingertips from the hollow of my throat down my chest and between my breasts.  I felt my nipples pucker, as if begging for him to pay them homage.  Finally he did, circling one tight bud with the tip of his finger over and over again until I thought I might burst with longing. 

Taking it between his thumb and forefinger, he rolled and tugged it until I was arching off the bed and biting my lip to keep from crying out.  Then he took it into his hot, moist mouth.

I drove my fingers into his short spikey hair and held him to me, writhing beneath him.  I wanted more.  I knew what it was to have him inside me and I wouldn’t be satisfied until I felt it again.

A loud bang woke me.  Confused, I looked for the origin of the noise.  It was Jackson.  He was standing in the doorway between our rooms, chest heaving, staring at me.  He looked angry.  Or passionate.  Or maybe both.

“Get out of here before I stab you in the leg, douchebag!” Jersey grumbled angrily, tossing something across the room at him.  “It’s the middle of the night.”

Jackson and I stared at each other.  On his face was the dream I’d just lived, enjoyed, reveled in.  The dream I didn’t want to be over.  All he had to do was say the word and I would follow him back to his room and finish what we’d started, Jersey be damned.

But he didn’t.  He watched me for several tense seconds. Then, with a growl, he turned and slammed the door shut behind him, leaving me awake and confused and yearning for the rest of the night. 

********

I was ready for school way, way, way too early.  That happens when you can’t sleep, yet you can’t stand to lie in bed and think any longer.  But, since Jersey sleeps like the dead, I was able to keep myself occupied.  I straightened up our room, cleaned out my closet, showered and got ready for school, all before my alarm even went off.

After scribbling Jersey a note, I crept quietly out of our room, locking the door behind me and hurrying past Jackson’s door.  I had no idea if he was in there or not, but I didn’t want to chance running into him.  His mercurial mood swings from
passionate
angry to
angry
angry were wearing on me something fierce.

My two hulking shadows fell in line behind me as I exited the dormitory.  Dawn had just broken and the air was already warm and humid.  It was going to be a scorcher of a day!

I stopped on the steps and inhaled deeply. I loved the smell of the breeze.  In Slumber, the air was a combination of sweet jasmine and salty ocean.  The only thing that ruined the moment was the flash of red I caught from the corner of my eye.  I turned just in time to see Nadia’s fiery head duck around the corner of Building C.

What on earth is she doing out so early, sneaking around?

My heart thudded painfully as I wondered if she was meeting Jackson.  Maybe they couldn’t carry on in his room because of the people with whom he shared a wall and the Sentinels that were posted in our hall.

The thought made me feel queasy.

If I’d given it more thought, I’d have used better judgment and talked myself out of it.  But as it was, I was blindly driven to see if Nadia was meeting Jackson.  Turning to shush my two gawking goons, I took off across the grass to follow her.

Turns out they were better at stealth than I was which shouldn’t have been a surprise.  At one point, I had to turn to see if they were even still behind me.  They were.  They were just that quiet. 

I motioned them flat against the brick wall of the building as I peeked around to see where Nadia was.  I swallowed a gasp.

Nadia was whispering heatedly with none other than Dustin Hyden. My mind whirled with the implications.  I cautioned myself not to jump to conclusions, but it was hard not to, especially when I saw them sneak into the basement door of the building.

I had too many questions
not
to follow them.  Where were they going?  What were they doing?  How did they know each other?  Were they the two Lore I sought?  All the pieces seemed to fit…

Pausing only long enough to let them get a little bit ahead, I darted across the grass to the basement door and gently opened it just a crack.  I put my ear to the space and listened, hoping to hear…something, anything.  But there was nothing.  No sound at all.

Glancing back at my two Sentinels, at their scowling faces, I knew no one would approve of me cavorting around, chasing could-be dangerous criminals, but there was much at stake.  I had no choice. 

Quickly, I opened the door and slipped inside.  As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I held my breath, hoping not to be attacked by a madman. Or a madwoman.  And I wasn’t.  They had already moved on.  I was standing inside what looked like a storage room, all alone.

Clary and Gere were already inside with me by the time I’d made my way across the room.  A door at the top of some stairs opened and closed.  Dustin and Nadia. 

I knew if I continued on my journey, there would likely be much danger at the end.  But to me, it was worth it.  Worth anything.  Even if I wasn’t concerned about what havoc the spirits could wreak on land or in the sea, I
had
to find a way to reverse whatever they’d done to Jackson.

It was that need that drove me more than any other.  When it boiled right down to it, Jackson came first, even before Atlas.  It wasn’t right, wasn’t the way I was supposed to feel or act, but it was true nonetheless.

I still wanted to ensure the safety of others as much as possible, though, to take their situations into consideration.  It was for that reason I sought a way to keep Clary and Gere out of harm’s way.