Stained (4 page)

She led him all around town, past the Orpheum Theater, down Beale Street. Past the Peabody Hotel, famous for its parade of fat, white ducks. She managed to keep her mood distant and frosty until early afternoon, when her bravado bled out and her feet started to throb, just as she walked past the Bean Bag, a riverside cafe Suzanne had liked. Cayne's nearness kept her from sinking into despair, and it was only later that night that Julia thought that maybe she should be thankful he was around. Maybe.

The next day was much the same.
Cayne followed her across the bridge into West Memphis, always lurking behind her like some kind of weird stalker. He had an amazing knack for blending in; sometimes, even when she knew where he was supposed to be, Julia couldn't see him.

She entertained herself wondering who and what Cayne really was. If he thought he could fight Sam, he must have some kind of supernatural ability. Then again, she'd had to resuscitate him, so maybe he was just a normal human, or someone like her. She could heal people, but she wasn't anything special otherwise. She was, as she had told him, just a girl.

It was obvious that Cayne wanted to fight Sam, and Julia burned to know why. She tried to direct all her emotion into curiosity about that, which was better than where it would go otherwise. If she could see her own aura, it would be red: anger. Sometimes when they were walking, she'd see a particularly smug person, or maybe someone really happy, and she'd have the briefest desire to punch them in the face. Other times, they'd be somewhere completely ordinary, and she'd feel a burst of sheer terror.
Or anxiety. All the time she was anxious. Because she did and didn't want the bait plan to work. Because now that she felt safer, her mind was awake again, thinking about what could come, and the future seemed bleaker than the present. And because of Cayne.

Being near him made her crazy. In addition to being stupid good-looking, he was also infuriatingly tight-lipped. He'd somehow managed to avoid saying anything revealing about himself, despite the many sneaky questions she dropped on him when they sat around the warehouse at night.

It was only at the end of their second day of Samyaza stake-out that Cayne was "
kind
" enough to explain that he had followed the half-demon to Memphis.

"So that makes you, what, a guy that hunts half-demons?" she asked him, eager for his answer.

"Just this one."

And that was the end of it. Julia wondered if he got off on talking in riddles and being oh-so-mysterious. Sometimes she wanted to slap him. Most of the time she just kept to herself. Prim. Angry. Extremely put out.

Of course, it was worth it, if barely, for the peace of mind. As stodgy as he was, she felt certain Cayne would try to keep her safe. Which was better than being a sitting duck, alone.

On their third day together, he moved them into a new warehouse--this one tin with a flat wood roof--because it was easier for Sam to penetrate. (
Nice
.) It was there that Cayne started to show his true...well, colors wasn't really the right word, because she'd already seen those. Craziness, maybe?

The first strange thing about him that Julia noticed--other than, of course, his brawl with a half-demon--occurred the first morning in their new home base, a dusty, almost-empty furniture depot. She awoke to find him in the exact same place he'd been when she dozed off the night before.

He looked at her, and Julia pulled her tarp to her chin. "Tell me you didn't stand there all night."

Cayne lifted one shoulder.

"Did you sleep?"

"No."

"
Do
you sleep?"

"Sometimes."

But he didn't seem to. In fact, when she thought about it, she didn't remember seeing him look tired since his fight with Sam.

He didn't understand traffic, either. This wasn't immediately evident; Cayne watched people and moved when they did, always inconspicuous, but on their fourth day together he'd made the mistake of following an elderly woman's gaze to the foot-traffic screen--the one with the orange hand signals--and the next time they crossed Union Avenue, he trusted the hand.

And walked right into traffic.

And nothing happened.

All the cars stopped. Most of the drivers smiled; a few looked mutinous, but none honked their horns. It was almost like he had pressed pause with a magic remote. When Julia grabbed his arm, he'd flinched so quickly her head spun, and there was the flame she'd seen in his eyes when she'd tried to heal that cut on his face--as if he'd never, not once ever, been touched.

But the coup de gr
a
ce of weirdness, the confirmation that the boy wasn't right, came later.

On their fourth night together, as Julia lay under a jacket she'd swiped from a coat rack in a bookstore and Cayne did his best impersonation of a standing lump, he said, out of nowhere, "We need to get you some stuff."

"Huh?" The comment was so random, it almost made her laugh. "What kind of stuff?"

"Clothes, for one. A sleeping bag. And, I don't know, whatever you need."

He wanted to get her clothes... She suppressed a little smile, trying to keep the odd pleasure she felt out of her voice.

"And how are we going to pay for these things?"

In the dark, she saw a flash of teeth. "I've got it covered."

So she went to sleep dreaming of Anthropologie.

Chapter 6

The next morning, Cayne shook her awake and led her to a taxi, parked outside their warehouse. A grumpy Indian man drove them to one of Memphis' many Wal-Marts, where Julia quickly noticed that everyone Cayne encountered seemed to love him. All the customers smiled, like he was a good friend. So did the store's cashiers. Even the men seemed charmed. And the lanky cross-dresser who helped them find the canned foods.

"How much can we spend?" she asked him.

Cayne's mouth quirked. "It doesn't matter."

"Are you sure?" Julia was suspicious. He seemed...amused.

Cayne nodded, and when she asked a third time, he said, "Trust me. Money is not a concern."

So she got a value bottle of White Rain, cocoa vanilla body lotion, and deodorant. The rest of the essentials she had already klepto'd. She got a new pair of jeans, a pack of underwear (which she shoved under her blue jeans) and a hooded black sweatshirt, plus two pairs of fluffy socks.

When they rolled their buggy to the register, Julia was surprised to find a sleeping bag waiting in a plastic shopping sack. A shapely woman in a vest smiled at Cayne. "I thought you might need this," she explained as she handed it to him.

Cayne returned her cheerful smile--that was
weird
--and passed it to Julia. Then an old guy with an "Assistant Manager" nametag appeared. He slapped Cayne once on the back and waved him to the door, wishing he and Julia an "excellent" day.

To Julia's utter astonishment, Cayne pushed their cart outside without dropping a penny. He
seemed oblivious.

She glanced behind them twice, convinced that the police would storm up any second, and then waited till they got into the parking lot to ask him, "What the
hell
?"

He looked into the buggy, and when her brows hurt from arching at him, he winked and graced her with a rare, brief smile. "I told you I had it covered."

"How did you do that? That was crazy!"

It turned out "crazy" was an understatement.

Mind control.

Cayne practiced mind control.

He explained it after a taxi cab pulled up--unbidden, as far as Julia could see--whispering while the driver followed his orders to "Just drive around for a while."

"Are you in my head right now?" she asked. "Is that why I'm doing this crazy Me As Bait plan? Because--"

"No."

"And why should I believe you?" She thought of how little she'd cried over Suzanne and Harry. She'd actually been handling things remarkably well. "Are you the reason that I haven't had a breakdown--because you hypnotized me?"

"I can't do it with you."

"Oh, and I believe
that
, Edward
."

"Edward?"

"
Twilight!
" He didn't seem to recognize it. "You've never heard of
Twilight
?"

"No."

Amazing. "Well whatever. I still don't believe you."

"You should."

"Why?"

"Because. "And he broke into a radiant smile. "If I could influence your mind," he waved, "there would be none of this."

That was the last night they stayed in the warehouse. After Cayne explained that his mind control wasn't actually mind control--more like heavy suggestion, which most people were pleased to accept--they moved to the Peabody. Julia didn't necessarily approve of his voodoo, but she was tired of bathing with the fishes. Plus, she'd always wanted to stay there.

When they got to their room--okay, a penthouse suite with room-
s
that must have been furnished for visiting royalty--Julia flopped down on an overstuffed couch, set her gaze on a wall of sparkly windows, and said, "Now this is a talent worth having. How do you do it?"

"I'll tell you," he said, cryptically, "when you tell me how you do what you do."

She crossed her legs and stuffed a seashell-shaped pillow behind her head--the better to view the sunset.

"You've been holding out on me, huh?"

He arched one brow, and for a second, she figured he wouldn't reply. Finally, he sat in a wing-backed chair and said, "It didn't seem fair, you helping me for all these days."

Julia nodded, impressed. "I'm glad you came clean. Especially since I saved your life."

"I would've been okay."

She snorted. "Right."

While Cayne ordered a plate of oysters--of all things--Julia got a long, steamy shower. Then they walked to the adjoining mall to "shop."

She racked up in a major way, and was thinking of heading back to the hotel when she realized Cayne hadn't gotten anything. She had the feeling Mr. Mystery wouldn't know stripes from solids, so she took the liberty of picking him a few new outfits. He refused all but three shirts and two pair of jeans, which helped alleviate her conscience. Because, well, she felt a little guilty, but she wasn't just going to refuse free clothes. Who would?

When, that night, Julia asked if he was an angel, he actually laughed--so hard, in fact, that she decided to quit guessing.

Chapter 7

Julia awoke to stark white light. She groaned and pulled the covers over her head. Too... early... to... be... so... "Ugh."

She heard laughter, low and thick, like morning fog.

Cayne.

She curled into a ball, thankful for the protective shell of her thick gold comforter.

Julia still hadn't gotten used to that. Cayne, who did not sleep, awake with her while she did. Cayne, who was movie-star hot, seeing her with bed-head.

It was crazy. She hardly even knew the guy and they were sharing a hotel room! Sure, they were friendly-ish now, and it wasn't like he was a serial killer or anything. He was...well, she didn't really know, now did she? Maybe human? Maybe not?