Oblivion (The Watcher Chronicles #3) (10 page)

BOOK: Oblivion (The Watcher Chronicles #3)
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My dad’s smile turns into a full fledged grin.  “Pleine means pregnant.”

I feel blood rush to my face immediately.  No wonder they started to act so weird.

I close my eyes and shake my head.  “Not exactly something you want your father to hear,” I say.

“So are you and Mason…” my father lets the rest of his sentence hang in the air unfinished because we both know what he’s asking.

“Not yet.”

“I see,” my dad says, nodding his head.  “But I take it you will be soon?”

“Do I really have to answer that question or can I plead the fifth?” I ask, leaning my elbows on my thighs and burying my face in the palms of my hands.  “And please tell me you aren’t going to try to have ‘the talk’ with me now because I’m pretty sure I know everything I need to know.”

I hear my dad chuckle.  “No, I’m not going to have ‘the talk’ with you, and I can see the answer to my question for myself without you having to say it.”

I spread my fingers and peek over at him through the slits.  He looks worried.  I sit up.

“What’s wrong?” I ask him.  “Why do you look so worried?  I’m not going to go to Hell for having pre-marital sex am I?  Because I really don’t think I could take an eternity with Lucifer.”

My dad smiles.  “No.  You’re not going to Hell.  It doesn’t work that way.  If it did, Heaven would practically be empty.  Besides, you and Mason love each other.  It’s different.  But, honestly, I just thought Mason might be the one who would want to get married first.  He seemed rather old fashioned when we talked while you were recovering from what Asmodeus and Mammon did to you.”

I sigh and slouch against the back of the couch.

“He does want to get married,” I tell my dad.  “But I don’t know if I want to.”

“Why not?  You
do
love him right?”

“With everything that I am.”

“Then what’s holding you back?  Why don’t you want to get married?”

“I don’t know,” I admit.  “Every time it’s brought up, I get this panicked feeling in the pit of my stomach.  I mean, do we really have to get married?  As long as we love each other, I don’t see what it matters.”

“Marriage is a declaration of that love,” my dad tells me.  “It shows the world that you want to spend the rest of your lives together, through thick and thin.  It’s a way to show how committed you are to one another.  I don’t think Mason is a man who would be completely happy without being married to the woman he loves.”

I know my dad is right.  Mason would go through life unmarried if I asked him to, but could I really be that selfish?  I sit and think, trying to filter through the reasons I don’t want to get married.

 

1. 
I don’t really love Mason
….Hell no, definitely not it.  I love him beyond reason.

 

2. 
I don’t think we’ll get along as a married couple
…No possibility of that ever happening either.  We get along too well.

 

3. 
I think he’ll cheat on me
…. I laugh.  No chance of that ever happening either.  Mason is as loyal as the day is long.

 

4. 
I don’t want to have to walk down the aisle in front of all our friends and family in a big poufy white dress and have them gawk at me
….My stomach churns and I feel like I’m going to be sick.  Yep, that’s the one.

 

“It’s the wedding,” I tell my father.  “I don’t want the wedding.”

“Oh,” my dad suddenly looks disappointed.

“What? Why do you look like I just shot your dog?”

“Well, I was hoping since I’m allowed to be in your life now that I could give you away at your wedding.”

Men.  Geesh.

Isn’t it supposed to be me who wants the sweet romantic wedding with all the bells and whistles?  But no, it’s the men in my life who get all mushy about it.

“Maybe there can be a compromise,” I suggest, not wanting my dad to look like I’m going to make him miss one of those monumental moments in my life.

If he looks this disappointed, I can’t imagine what Mason’s reaction would be if I suggest just going to the Justice of the Peace for a quickie ceremony.  A picture of Mason looking completely devastated appears in my head and I quickly squash it out like a bug running across the floor of my mind.  No, I can’t have that.  I’ll think of something.

“He hasn’t actually popped that particular question yet.  We had a talk about it and I basically told him I didn’t want to get married,” I say.

“You know he wants to.”

I sigh.  “I know.  Don’t worry.  I’ll think of something.”

The gears in my mind begin to go into overdrive as a plan forms.

 

 

 

 

Remy walks into the living room.

“Hey, could I talk to you guys for a second?” he says to us, taking a seat in the chair by the couch.

“What’s wrong, Remiel?” My father asks.

Remy scratches his beard like he’s not completely sure how to start what he wants to say.

“It’s about where Leah’s crown is.”

“Where is it?” I ask.  “Can you take us to it?”

“Yeah,” Remy says, drawing out the word, “see, therein lies the problem. I don’t really want to take Leah to where it is.”

“Why?” I ask, suspicion creeping in.  “Where did you leave it?”

“Where her mother worked,” Remy whispers like it’s something he doesn’t want to say too loudly.

“I take it by the way you said that that she didn’t work somewhere nice.”

Remy looks toward the kitchen to make sure Leah is still at the table talking to Chandler and JoJo.

He leans in towards us and says, “She worked in a whorehouse just outside of Las Vegas.”

“You left the crown of an archangel in a whorehouse?” I ask, attempting not to make it sound like I’m calling Remy a complete idiot.  I’m thinking it but trying not to say it to his face.

“I didn’t have much choice,” he says with a shrug.  “There wasn’t a lot of time to find a better spot.”

“Did you at least hide it in a safe place there?”

“I think so.  I put it in an air conditioning vent.”

“So it’s been sitting there for the past fifteen years?”

“I hope so.”

“Then why don’t you just go get it and bring it back?” I say.  “You can carry the box.”

“Oh,” Remy says.  “You know I forgot about it being in a box.”  Remy stands up “Be right back.”

I turn to my father.  “I thought all angels were smart.  How the hell was he put in charge of making souls?”

“Jess,” my father admonishes, “you shouldn’t talk about him like that.”

“Sorry.”  Now I feel like I’m five years old again.  “But, come on, Dad, even you have to admit he’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer.”

“He used to be quite sharp, actually.  I think being over in that alternate reality for so long had an adverse effect on him.”

“How?”

“His body wasn’t meant to be there.  Anyone who travels between worlds ends up getting their molecules scrambled and when they are in that world for a long time their body is forced to live at a different frequency.”

“Is that why tearers who come here glow red to me?”

“I always assumed so.  You can see their bodies vibrating at a different frequency than people who normally live here.”

Remy reappears.

“Yeah, so about that air conditioning vent,” he says, scratching his beard nervously.  “Looks like they recently renovated the place.”

“What does that mean?” I ask.  “Where is the box?”

“The box is gone.”

“Where is the crown?”

“Sitting on the Madame’s desk in her office.”

I sigh.  “Well then we don’t have any choice.  We have to take Leah there to get it.  She’s the only one who can pick it up.”

“Pick what up?” Leah asks, walking into the living room looking between me and Remy.

“Your crown,” I answer, not quite sure how I’m going to tell Leah her mother was whore.  How do you tell a kid that?

“Leah, your mother used to work in a whorehouse near Las Vegas,” Remy says.  “We’re gonna have to go there to get it.”

Well, I guess that was one way of doing it, not exactly tactful but truthful.

“Ok.” Leah says, not as phased about this revelation as I thought she might be.

“Hold on,” I tell them.  “Let me grab my sword.  I’m going with you.”

I look down at my dad.  “Don’t say anything to Mason about you know what,” I tell him.  “I’m planning a surprise so don’t go spoiling it.”

My dad smiles.  “Ok, Jess.  Not a peep.”

I walk into the hallway and grab my sword from off the top of the Bombay chest there.

“Let me help you with that,” Mason says coming up behind me and taking the baldric from my hands.

I put my arms through the straps and Mason spins me around so he can fasten the belt’s buckle for me.

“What were you and your father talking about?” Mason asks, curious but not wanting to appear too curious.

“He told me what pleine means.”

Mason grins.  “Yeah.  JoJo surprised me with that one.  Who
doesn’t
know that we’ll be making love soon?”

“Probably nobody now since my dad and I just had a long discussion about it.”

Mason sighs.  “Should I expect a lecture from him while you’re gone?”

“No, he won’t say anything about it to you,” I say, smiling at how uncomfortable Mason looks at the possibility of having such a discussion with my father.

“Well, since everyone seems to know about our soon to be sex life,” Mason says, pulling me into his arms and looking completely irresistible.  “Would you like to go out with me tonight, Agent Riley, so I can completely have my way with you afterwards?”

I suddenly feel a little nervous but I refuse to let it get in my way.

“Why yes, Mr. Collier, I would love to.  What time?”

“Let’s say five.”

“How should I dress?”

“I’ll speak to JoJo about it while you’re gone.  That way it will be a surprise.”

“Ok.  Since she’s here, I seriously doubt she would let me dress myself anyway.”

Mason chuckles.  “Maybe after tonight you’ll let me see you the way I’ve wanted to for a while now.”

“Well you could have seen me that way last night if you had taken me up on my offer to join you in the shower.”

“True.  But it just wasn’t the right setting.”

“And will you be arranging this setting while I’m gone?”

“Yes, after I speak to JoJo.”  Mason leans down and pecks me on the lips.

“That’s all I get?” I question with a raised eyebrow.

“Until later,” Mason promises sweetly.

“I plan to keep you to that promise,” I say walking past Mason towards the living room.

I suddenly feel a pinch on my butt and jump.  I whirl around to face Mason.

“Sorry,” he says, not looking the least bit sorry.  “I couldn’t stop myself.  It’s just so cute.”

I narrow my eyes at him.  “Have I told you you’re completely incorrigible?”

“Often,” he says with a smile, not looking sorry about it one little bit.

 

Chapter 8

Remy phases us and we soon find ourselves standing outside what I assume to be the whorehouse.  Surprisingly enough it looks rather normal considering what goes on within its walls.  The house is your basic two story style farm house replete with white clapboard exterior and wrap around porch.

Leah presses her hand into one of Remy’s as we walk up the wooden steps to the porch and front door.

Remy rings the doorbell.

A curly haired blonde woman dressed in a regular pair of cut off jeans and white tank top answers the door.

“Can I help you?” She asks in what sounds like a Boston accent.

“We came for the crown,” Remy tells her.

I roll my eyes.  Apparently subtlety wasn’t Remy’s strong suit.

“Could we speak to the owner, please?” I ask.

The girl shrugs and opens the door wider for us to enter.  We walk down a dimly lit hallway and around the corner.  She knocks on a door and another woman calls out for us to come in.  The blonde sticks her head inside the room.

“There’s some people here to see you, Terry.”

“Show them in.”

The blonde opens the door wider and looks at us.  “Go on in.”

When we walk into the office, my eyes are immediately drawn to the crown sitting on the Madame’s desk.

The owner of the whorehouse isn’t what I expect.  She’s a woman in her forties sharply dressed in a dark blue suit.  She stands when we enter and has her lips stretched into a well practiced smile.  Her long brown hair is straight and falls evenly on either side of her face.  She isn’t wearing much make-up which gives her a clean appearance.

“Hello, can I help you?” She says.

“We came for the crown,” Remy replies.

I feel like banging my head against the wall.  Remy seemed to be a one note wonder.  Getting the crown was the only thing his scrambled brain seemed to be able to concentrate on.

The woman sits on the edge of her desk and crosses her arms over her chest.

“You’re welcome to have it if you can pick it up.”

Remy lets go of Leah’s hand.  “Go ahead, Leah.”

“No.”

Remy and I both look at Leah.

“What do you mean no?” I ask.

Leah looks at the Madame.  “I want you to tell me about my mother first.”

The woman stares at Leah for the space of ten seconds and then nods.  “I thought you looked familiar when you came in.  Your mother was Grace, right?”

“Yes, that was her name.”

“She went through the Tear the second year it opened.”

“She was pregnant with me at the time.”

The woman looks surprised but then she nods.  “I guess that explains things.  I was wondering why she was crying all the time.  She wouldn’t speak to me though.”

“I was born on an alternate Earth.”

“Ahh, the one we saw the other night?”

“Yes.”

“You got really lucky to make it back.”

“Had some help.”

“So what do you want to know about your mom?”

“Everything,” Leah begs.  “Anything.  All I know is her name and that she left me after I was born.”

“Your mom wasn’t like most of the girls here.  Usually they can distance themselves from the Johns but not your mom.  I don’t think she was cut out for the business to be honest.  She ended up falling in love with one of her clients but he didn’t want anything to do with her.  He even asked to have another girl become his regular.  Your mom went ape shit crazy after that.  Now that I think about it, that happened just before the Tear opened and she disappeared.”

BOOK: Oblivion (The Watcher Chronicles #3)
4.27Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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